Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Let’s say right before the Chiyan rebellion—betrayal—massacre happened, Lin Xie had been camping for a week at the foot of the cliffs of Meiling, revising their strategies and plans to battle Da Yu.

Let’s say there were valuable maps of several border terrains in Da Yu’s hands that Lin Xie very much wanted to retrieve, but knew the enemy would burn them in the instant the tide of war flew in favour of Chiyan.

Let’s say that they also had a coyote problem—their food rations kept getting ransacked; it was the way the sacks of tapicoa were ripped, as well as that god awful urine smell at the edges of the crates, despite at least five guards keeping watch twenty-four seven.

Let’s say that Lin Xie’s son, the young marshal Lin Shu, thought otherwise and set out to prove him wrong—as usual—and came in into his tent the next night dragging a dirt-covered, lanky, small child in his grip.

The nameless orphan boy was about twelve, perhaps thirteen, more gaunt and pale then Lin Xie thought he was after he wiped the mud off his face. Lin Xie had seen enough orphans in his lifetime, and he knew that he could not save them all. A crime was a crime—much less raiding the rations bestowed by the emperor meant to sustain an imperial army protecting the kingdom.

It was flogging—to certain death.

Lin Shu insisted on saving this one. 

It won’t be a charity case, Lin Shu had argued. If the boy could sneak into their heavily guarded stores, surely he could infiltrate the enemy camp and steal those invaluable maps for them. Lin Xie knew that his son was very adept at getting what he wanted, but he also knew that Lin Shu spoke sense. Perhaps this deed—if successful—could soften the severity of his punishment.

The orphan boy didn’t look up from where he was staring at the plush fur rugs lining the floor of the tent to keep the cold out, but he did give a considered short nod at the deal. Survival, no matter how harsh, seemed preferable to death. When Lin Xie watched the boy step out into the snow in his tattered cloth bound shoes, he realised that there was no guarantee the boy would set out to do the task he agreed to. Lin Shu had only shrugged, and Lin Xie decided not to further pursue the troublesome whims of his own son.

Before dawn broke, Lin Xie was shaken awake rather roughly. His son was waving a roll of thick parchment in his face, while the orphan boy huddled silently in front the brazier Lin Xie kept burning by his bed. The stolen maps were more detailed and meticulously annotated than Lin Xie had expected—there were even notes lightly scribbled in the margins outlining various attack formations along the border of Da Yu and Da Liang. Lin Xie had lived through many of them, but not all of them. Yet.

There was one map in particular, that Lin Xie was interested in. Thick brush jagged brush strokes showed the cut of the Meiling cliffs, where they rose and where they fell, as well as several marked places in the rock, likely to be passageways for ambush or retreat.

Lin Xie has never lost a war, and this map made sure he wasn’t going to lose this one. He looked over the little boy, and thought to ask,

“What is your name?”

The boy did not reply even after repeated promptings, only lowered his head slightly. Whether the boy couldn’t speak or did not know how to, Lin Xie did not know. But he knew a deal was a deal, and told Lin Shu to fetch Wei Zheng, one of his lieutenants.

“Get him cleaned, some food and bedding,” he said when his subordinate arrived. “He’ll join your troop. Keep him away from the front line when we march,” and then a pause before dismissal. “His name is Zhanying.”

A war hero.

For turning the tide in a war that he’d never be recognized for.

When Zhanying was led out of the commander general’s tent by another soldier, he wasn’t trusting enough to believe he was out of trouble. He tracked the openings and cracks in case he needed to slip past through the camp as he followed the solider obediently into another larger tent. It was plainer on the inside, bear rugs on the floor with several cots placed side by side.

He was given some clean garbs, much thicker than the ones he’d scavenged and wrapped around himself, as well as shoes made from some kind of hide and fur. Once he cleaned himself and redressed, he was brought to another tent, where a soup bowl ended up in his hands and its contents went into his stomach in record time. The nice soldier let him eat three bowls while everyone else was eyeing him with interest, and then was led to yet another tent.

This time Zhanying obtained an oversized helmet, some strap on leather armour—the chain metal ones were too big and heavy for him—and also a dagger, because he could not swing their lightest short sword with ease.

The last thing that he was given was a metal bracelet.

It was too big for his wrist as was everything else, instead it settled snug on his arm near his elbow. Zhanying wondered how much he could sell it for while the soldier rattled on about how it was a symbol to show he now belonged to the strongest and most highly favoured imperial army of the emperor. Zhanying could care less—the emperor has never given him anything, but he did like the new clothes and food and what he hoped, warm bedding for the night.

The next morning, he lined up with the other troops, held his dagger close, and waited for an opportunity to escape.

None came, because the nice—or not so nice now—soldier gripped him firmly by the shoulder and ordered him to follow his every word when they were out on the battlefield, or he would personally slit Zhanying’s throat himself. Zhanying eyed the sword on the soldier’s hip and decided to obey.

Zhanying had never been in a war, and he was sure he shouldn’t be in this one—but the commander general probably didn’t trust him to be left alone in the camp, which was why he ended up together with the reserve troops. He heard the sound of yelling before metal clashing, and the soldier’s grip on his shoulder became reassuring instead of harsh, and Zhanying looked up to see that no one else around him was afraid.

Inevitably, it was their turn—he was given the order, “Stay close to me, don’t turn your back towards the enemy,” before everything was rush and blur and blood splattered onto the dirty ground speckled with dry snow.

By the end of three days, Zhanying killed so many men that his face and hands were stained with blood. The other soldiers patted him on the head and it sounded like it was a great achievement, but Zhanying vomited out his dinner and sneaked out to where the snow had fallen thick. He shoved his hands over and over again into the pile, until the white snow bled red too and his fingers burned and ached with sharp pain.

The commander general’s son found him like that—just like how the other found him carefully ripping open a sack of tapioca in the rations tent—and dragged him back towards the camp.

Along the way, Zhanying tried to cut him at least three times before the dagger was swiped easily from his hand and tossed carelessly somewhere. This time he was brought into the young marshal’s own tent, dropped onto the rug near the brazier. The young marshal’s own face was splattered with blood he’d only smeared when he tried to it wipe off, and Zhanying flinched when the other drew out his sword.

The blade was placed gently onto the ground before the young marshal squatted down and sat next to Zhanying near the brazier, giving out a tired sigh.

“You got Wei Zheng into trouble, you know, sneaking out like that, Xiao Ying,” the young marshal said as he unhooked a flask near his hip. “Here, drink some water.”

Zhanying eyed the flask suspiciously, and then at his own hands, all swollen and aching and dyed red with both blood and inflammation.

“Hm, we should get that treated. I’ll get someone,” the young marshal said, and then promptly stood up and left the tent.

The young marshal’s sword was still lying on the floor. Zhanying didn’t know if the young marshal was just that careless or if this was a test, but there wasn’t much time to ponder as he was distracted by the sound of a loud drum and blow horn coming from the outside. There was someone shouting something—Zhanying caught the words traitors and execution and emperor—and the flap of the tent burst open again.

It was the young marshal, demeanour stony, who grabbed him roughly by the front and yanked him out. “Get out of here. Before they come,” he said urgently.

“Who,” Zhanying asked, and his voice broke because he hadn’t used it in more than a year.

The young marshal didn’t answer, only that he started pulling Zhanying down rows and rows of tents, heading towards the forest edge.

“You’re not on record yet, so they don’t know you’re part of Chiyan,” the young marshal continued. “Go. And don’t look back.”

Zhanying clutched his aching hands towards his chest, equal parts confused and scared, and he ran.

Zhanying shouldn’t have looked back, because he saw the white tipped cliffs of Meiling burn red and black in fire, smoke, blood and ash.

He vomited again, and took a desperate run towards the nearest village. By the time he’d arrived his feet and hands were nearly frost bitten—but he hadn’t survived all this while without knowing how to take care of himself. He stole a knife, dried food as well as a thick robe for extra warmth before sneaking out again to a hideout he found before he stalked the Chiyan army up north. He stoked a small fire after wrapping his hands with cloth cut from his garb, and melted some snow the best he could for water.

He stayed alone for perhaps a day or two, huddled in the dirt, before he needed to scavenge for food again. He briefly thought about the hot soup that was so freely given at the army camp, but the images that flashed immediately afterwards were of fire and blood.

He thought about the soldiers who fought in front of him on the battlefield against their enemy, and none of them were afraid to die.

He thought about that nice soldier who took care of him for the four days he was there.

He also thought about the young marshal, and wondered if he was alive.

He swallowed.

But Zhanying didn’t return to the cliffs, instead, wandered down south to where his feet could carry him with the metal bracelet on his arm hidden under his clothes.

It was about ten months before he was caught again, this time by a young man robed in white with a paper fan that rapped his head painfully every time he tried to break from the other’s hold.

Zhanying knew he should’ve been more careful—a sanctuary with the finest stash of fresh fruit and vegetables and grain in the middle of a huge forest ought to have sounded alarm bells. He did think it was strange that someone owned a piece of land that big, but then again Zhanying had never lived the life of the wealthy, and the entire area was empty except for the buildings on top of the mountain.

Sometimes he saw travellers climbing up and down the mountain, but past the main gates of the estate, there were only young boys and old men robed in similar white walking briskly about with some sort of purpose. The food shed was never guarded, and only the cooks went in as when appropriate, so Zhanying helped himself to whatever he need; it wasn’t like the rich owner was going to miss anything.

The weather was really nice too—it was cool in the day and just warm enough during the night that Zhanying could sleep where ever he found safe without a need to forage for more clothing. He’d thought he’d found the perfect place to settle, as much as an orphan could settle anyway, and then on one of his daily break-ins for food, someone had been already waiting for him and easily knocked him out by a hit on the back of his neck.

Zhanying learned that the someone—with the annoying paper fan—was the master of Langya Hall. Or the son of the master. Zhanying didn’t really care. He’d heard of Langya of course; everyone knows it’s the place where questions get answered, but even if Zhanying’s questions were answered, they would not feed him.

The son of the master of the Langya Hall spent about close to twenty minutes scolding him but Zhanying could tell that his heart was not in it, especially given the way that the other kept looking at him curiously. And then, abruptly in mid-sentence,

“What are you hiding under your sleeve?”

Zhanying had startled, because he hadn’t even made any movement to give away that he had anything under his sleeve. The young man’s eyes narrowed, and before Zhanying could react, held him still and pushed his sleeve up to reveal the metal bracelet around his arm.

The metal bracelet was a death sentence. He’d seen the posters and soldiers stationed in every village he’d lurked around—death by the imperial decree. Zhanying should’ve casted it off, but it was…

…shame…

…that he ran away without a second thought and left the nice soldier and the young marshal to die.

And yet, if he were to chose again, he still would’ve ran, because it was burned in his blood to survive.

He lunged at the son of the master of the Langya Hall, managing to land a scratch with the element of surprise to bolt his way out. He got as close as to the sliding door before a hand grabbed his ankle and he fell painfully on his chin—and heard the other tutting, obviously irritated. The paper fan whacked the back of his head again.

Zhanying didn’t know what was happening, only that he was dragged rather unceremoniously to another room, where a still figure in bandages lay on the cot. Zhanying stopped struggling when he was made to kneel by the figure’s bedside, attention caught by the same metal bracelet he had that was next to the pillow. He couldn’t read the letters inscribed on it, but he knew the symbol, and more importantly, the bandaged person had opened their eyes to stare at him.

The other couldn’t speak, mouth covered by the white cloths, but his gaze softened when it rested upon Zhanying.

“Changsu,” the son of the master of the Langya Hall spoke, his arms crossed. “Do you recognise the brat?”

The wounded (?) person, Changsu, blinked twice in response, and the Langya Hall heir sighed terribly when the other struggled to shift his limbs to get up. Zhanying flinched when the paper fan rapped beside him loudly.

“Didn’t I say you have to lie down and do nothing to strain yourself,” the Langya Hall heir muttered as he prodded Changsu before addressing Zhanying. “Brat, do you recognise your young marshal?”

Zhanying frowned. There wasn’t a face for him to see, but the words ‘young marshal’ only meant one person. Zhanying considered the figure looking back at him carefully, and then decided not to say anything.

“Oi,” the Langya Hall heir poked him with the fan after ten beats of silence. “Are you mute? Or you don’t understand what I’m saying?”

“…Hungry,” is what Zhanying said eventually, face unwavering while he stared back at Changsu—or Lin Shu?

The Langya Hall heir huffed, called for someone, and a bowl of soup, rice and steam vegetables was brought forth. As Zhanying ate, the other conversed with the one lying on the bed in the most curious way; through a series of tapping patterns that seemed to mean something, and occasionally the Langya Hall heir said things like ‘why are you so stupid’ or ‘are you dumb’ or ‘I’m not taking care of the brat for you’.

Zhanying next spoken words were, in the middle of some furious tapping by the bandaged young marshal, “Will he be okay?”

The other two stopped to stare at him, and both of them closed their eyes briefly shut. It was an enough of an answer—and Zhanying didn’t say more.

Somehow, Zhanying gets boarding and an education at the Langya Hall. The bracelet was sure useful, unexpectedly, Zhanying had thought, when he got clothes and food and shelter again. He was made to sit with the other young boys in the estate in the mornings in a huge room to copy texts—he did it only because he was promised he’d be fed.

It wasn’t like Zhanying didn’t want to do honest work to earn his survival; it’s just that no one ever wanted to keep him on after they found out what he was. Stealing things had been the easiest and safest way to live, and it’s not like he ever took anything from people who couldn’t afford to spare.

About a month passed and Zhanying got used to waking up before dawn to sweep the estate and copy texts in the morning and then fetching items as he was told to in the afternoons. He learned to read and write though many of the things he copied were too difficult to understand.

The actual master of the Langya Hall came back about three months in, questioned about his presence, and then gave him several gentle pats on the head when he was asked to come closer. Zhanying had never been given affection like that before, and instantly liked the old Master especially when he remarked that Zhanying’s handwriting was much nicer than his own son’s.

The said son rolled his eyes and led the old man towards the room where bandaged Lin Shu was kept, and they didn’t come out for more than five hours. Zhanying knew it took this long only because he kept his eyes on the shut door of the room.

He hadn’t visited the young marshal much during his time in Langya—he didn’t know what to say, nor did he know if he should say anything. Lin Shu giving him an out at the cliffs was Lin Shu’s choice; Zhanying just took the opportunity that had given been to him. He couldn’t apologise for the things that ultimately befell—being burnt, poisoned, bedridden.

When the old Master finally came out, he beckoned Zhanying into the room, like he’d known Zhanying would be secretly watching from a distance.

On the bed now sat a young man who was clearly not Lin Shu; but when he spoke, the first name out of his mouth was,

“Xiao Ying. Do you believe who I am?”

Everything was different.

The facial structure, the curve of the bones. The shape of the eyes, the nose, the mouth. Body frail and pale, unlike the young marshal he saw on the battlefield wielding a sword Zhanying could not lift properly with one hand. Even the voice.

But yet it’s the name.

The Langya Hall heir just called him ‘brat’, and everyone else called him the ‘Chiyan child’.

So Zhanying nodded, and Lin Shu smiled.

Chapter Text

Zhanying stayed at Langya for four more months before he got sent away, (not really) voluntarily.

In that time, the old Langya Master left for another trip, the Langya Hall heir and Lin Shu started arguing nearly every night, and Zhanying understood the truth of the Chiyan massacre and Lin Shu’s condition on his own by reading through the notes the Langya Hall heir wrote and left lying around. He tried to stay out of the Langya Hall heir and Lin Shu’s way, but he ended up getting called in at various points over the months, where both of them dumped him with information about the royal family and basic court affairs.

And then, finally, at the end, Zhanying thought to ask why he was being told these things—it wasn’t like he was interested in working in the royal palace; not that he ever could with his status.

The Langya Hall heir gave Lin Shu an exasperated look and said, “Brat. Changsu wants you to go on an adventure.”

That was mildly put.

What Lin Shu wanted, as Zhanying was eventually explicitly told, was for Zhanying to protect one of the princes because Lin Shu had to stay “dead”. In all honesty Zhanying could’ve said no, but he still wore the metal bracelet on his arm—lower now that he shot up and his muscles were filling up thanks to proper nutrition—and he thought of the nice Chiyan soldier (likely dead) and the way Lin Shu had pulled him away from the grasp of death, and the commander who gave him his name,

Zhanying.

(What war was won? Zhanying wondered.)

“Jingyan will feed you, I promise,” Lin Shu said, with only his lips twitching upwards in amusement.

He rarely ever smiled wide in his new skin.

It took nearly two months to find this Jingyan.

The seventh prince.

Zhanying was told that he would find the other out on a military excursion. The basic plan was to raid their rations, get noticed, then beg his way into serving the prince for redemption to implant himself into the Jing army. He was rather unconvinced that he wouldn’t be executed—just like what the Chiyan commander general wanted to do to him, he reminded Lin Shu with an untrusting stare—but Lin Shu insisted that his friend, the prince, was a total softie and would never hurt a fly.

Zhanying should’ve known that a soldier, a man trained to kill, would have no qualms hurting a fly.

The first part of the plan went smoothly. Zhanying stole their food, a rather pathetic stash when he thinks about the store the Chiyan army had, but he was also hungry himself as the provisions he was given two months ago had long been spent. No one noticed. The soldiers just increased their complaints about declining food rations and everyone was grumpy and annoyed with each other. He decided to deliberately leave some sort of indication that they were being raided and a sword was pressed against his neck on the next night.

It was the prince himself.

He was young for a leader, probably just two years older than Lin Shu. Zhanying recognised him because he had been observing the soldiers of the camp bowing and kneeling to him. It was rather unexpected to be caught red-handed by the person of the highest authority. Not to mention his neck was starting to bleed from how the prince was pressing his sword deeper against his throat.

Zhanying was supposed to start begging for his life, but he was so stunned by the way the other had grabbed the front of his robe right over where the brand of a whore house lay that he said nothing and let the prince draw more blood. In no lifetime he’d ever have the status to have a prince touch him like that—Zhanying wondered, for the first time, if he really needed to do this.

The prince lowered the sword after a while when it was clear Zhangying was not going to struggle. In fact, Zhanying couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say other than ‘Lin Shu said you were nice’—which he could not. He was briefed very thoroughly on keeping anything relating to Lin Shu a secret.

Jingyan was nice, Zhanying supposed. The prince could’ve killed him there. He had battle worn soldiers to feed, under the protection and authority of the emperor.

Maybe it was how Zhanying looked lost, or maybe Jingyan didn’t feel right to threaten an unarmed kid who broke in for food. Jingyan looked at him with pity and told him to go, before his other soldiers came in. Zhanying didn’t want to be told that again—it felt like the army at the cliffs, and Lin Shu’s hard unreadable expression.

He trembled, took a deep breath, and begged to stay.

It was easy.

Zhanying told the prince about scavenging for survival since he could remember—no family, no friends, no one willing to take him in no matter how earnest he worked, because of a brand seared above his chest that marked him as someone else’s property. He had to steal, and would go on stealing.

But if Jingyan let him, Zhanying would steal for him. Anything.

It was also not easy.

Zhanying had never showed anyone the mark on purpose, he didn’t even think Lin Shu nor the Langya Hall heir knew about it. He was known as the brand on the mark before he was Zhanying—

“…No more stealing,” Jingyan said eventually, looking pinched. “What is your name?” he asked, and Zhanying knew he had passed.

The Jing army was very different to Chiyan. Everyone was much happier in Chiyan, for one. There were plenty of petty squabbles in the Jing army, and everyone seemed to be really scared of their commander, the seventh prince. Jingyan himself didn’t help as he often isolated himself away from the men and only barked orders with a blank expression on his face.

Zhanying kept quiet and observed his environment like he was told to by Lin Shu while on their way back to the capital of Da Liang. He was assigned to a battalion of their newest recruits and did the mundane, low level work of cleaning, packing and washing up for the army. No one really spoke to him because he was another mouth to feed while they barely had enough rations for the trip—and Jingyan must’ve not told his men that he was the one responsible for it; he’d surely been beaten for that.

In the Jing manor, he was given a place to sleep in the barracks and put into basic training. He’d learnt a bit when he was in Langya, so he had to stagger his improvement believably. In between the weeks he snuck out to send updates to Lin Shu as promised, though many of them were just the odd scribbling or two about the prince. Lin Shu hadn’t mentioned specifically what he wanted to know, just updates—so Zhanying sent him things like ‘I think the minister of defence doesn’t like his highness’ and ‘his highness had to kneel outside the palace for three hours again’.

In time, Zhanying got promoted to an actual soldier and was able to follow the Jing army out on those military trips that the emperor seemed to really like sending the prince on. He was put into a group with Qi Meng, his first official Jing army superior on the battlefield, who turned out to be an enabler for Zhanying’s worst habit.

The low provisions given to the Jing army for every trip was deliberate, and no matter what Jingyan did to get more fell on deaf, old, and likely vindictive ears. In the end, the prince just ate less than what he was portioned and distributed the rest. Being on the streets desperate to squelch hunger for almost all of his life, Zhanying couldn’t believe that, for once, he was willing to go hungry if the stubborn prince would just eat his stupid share.

There was an easier solution to that problem—if there was enough food, Jingyan would eat, and then Zhanying wouldn’t have to go hungry. When they were camping across the enemy border ready to make skirmish in two days, Zhanying sneaked into the enemy camp and stole nearly a quarter of their rations.

Qi Meng stumbled upon him when he was carefully placing the sack of grain in their food tent, but instead of reporting it to Jingyan what he’d obviously done, the other only grinned and patted him on the back for a job well done. The army ate well that night, and many soldiers whom Zhanying had never spoken to before came up to him to offer him a drink. They also helped keep his secret from Jingyan, and it was only on the third excursion that the prince got suspicious enough at the insistence of the abundance of provisions that he investigated the food tent himself.

Zhanying had never seen Jingyan get that angry—the prince was often stern and clipped, but this time it was different that Zhanying had to kneel and press his head on the ground with his fingers put together. Zhanying expected flogging, the standard punishment, but after yelling at him a bit, the prince sent everyone out of his tent and told Zhanying to raise his head.

“What did I say when I took you in?” Jingyan asked after a while.

“…No more stealing,” Zhanying murmured obediently, eyes trained to the ground.

“I know you think it’s fine this time because they’re our enemy,” Jingyan continued. “But have you thought about what if you get caught?”

“I don’t. Get caught,” Zhanying found himself saying before he can stop himself, and looked appropriately contrite after. “Your Highness. They would never get anything out of me. I swear. On everything I have left.”

He had nothing left but the Jing army and the ghosts of Chiyan’s; Jingyan probably understood his sincerity.

“You cannot guarantee that,” Jingyan had said then, looking furious all over again. “And I didn’t let you live so that you can die by the enemy’s hands.”

Zhanying was assigned out of Qi Meng’s group to attend to Jingyan personally as punishment for the incident—it wasn’t a hardship, but no one saw it as a promotion because Jingyan was snappish and difficult. The real motive was so that Jingyan could keep an eye on Zhanying at all times, and everyone would take note if he went missing on his own.

It wasn’t a development that Zhanying could’ve planned, but it made for his purpose in joining the Jing army so much easier. He was sure Lin Shu would agree, and sent a relevant update when he managed to sneak to a pigeon post in the middle of the night at a village they stopped over.

Jingyan severely underestimated his abilities, but that was okay. It was just his way to survive.

During some of these military excursions, they would stop and make camp near villages for more than a night. It was rare; Jingyan’s pace was harsh and they usually never had luxurious breaks unless someone was in need of medical help that their military doctor could not provide. But on the occasion that some of the men managed to persuade the prince—usually if a battle goes better than planned, leaving Jingyan in a good mood—they would be granted a late morning start as well, and allowing the army would party the night away.

Zhanying experienced this the first time when a small group of them left for Dong Hai for inspections at the border. Everything was well and Jingyan seemed pleased that they could return to Da Liang ahead of schedule. After setting up camp, the men hooked their arms around Zhanying’s shoulders and dragged him into the village town that was nearby.

All of them were so excited and when they reached their destination, Zhanying realised why.

It was a pleasure house.

Zhanying unconsciously pressed his hand against his chest where his mark was underneath, but let the others bring him in. The establishment smelt heavily of sweet perfume, and lots of girls in bright coloured cloth and adorned with jewellery waved sultry at them when they entered. They were shown to a private room and girls came in with wine and food. Quickly enough the men were absorbed in entertaining girls that came to sit by them, and Zhanying himself was left with a girl with bright red eyeshadow and lipstick who sat on his lap with a curved smile.

Zhanying didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but he was polite and smiled back. The girl fed him wine and food and chattered about things he didn’t pay attention to. Everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves greatly, but Zhanying didn’t feel like it was the most comfortable thing to have someone sitting on him for nearly an hour.

He must’ve looked too disinterested because the girl on his lap pouted and drew herself closer, and with a thoughtless hum, kissed him on the mouth.

Kissing wasn’t something he had really thought about. It was kind of strange—the smooth pressure on his lips, how her perfume suddenly smelt so strong he had to cough after. It wasn’t horrible, but it didn’t feel good either, so he excused himself when the girl tried to kiss him again.

The other Jing army men catcalled behind his retreating back. Zhanying paid them no heed and left the pleasure house all together, suddenly needing a breath of fresh air. He idly made his way around the town, looking at various things until he got bored and went back to the camp.

Jingyan was there, sitting on a fallen log with a bottle of wine at his feet and looking up into the night sky. Zhanying hadn’t realised the prince stayed behind. When Zhanying greeted him, Jingyan glanced at him in acknowledgment and went back to drinking.

It was silent between them—only the crickets at night made any noise—and Zhanying felt it that it wasn’t the right protocol to ignore the prince and go back to his own tent. He gingerly asked if Jingyan wanted him to take over the watch, but instead the prince eyed him again and told him to sit down with him. Zhanying did, and Jingyan tossed over his water flask at him.

“Drink,” Jingyan said. “Or else you will get a headache tomorrow morning.”

Zhanying clutched the water flask for a moment, unsure if he really could drink from it—it was the prince’s personal belonging after all—until Jingyan narrowed his eyes at him and he hastened to obey.

“Wipe your mouth first, Zhanying,” Jingyan inserted right before Zhanying put the bottle to his mouth, and Zhanying startled.

“Um, your Highness?”

Jingyan only chuckled and drank his own wine. Zhanying ran his mouth over the back of his hand and saw a smear of bright red pigment—from the girl at the pleasure house. Zhanying felt his face heat up and mumbled an apology before drinking the water so that he didn’t have to say anything more. He wasn’t quite sure why he felt so ashamed.

“Zhanying, I’m not angry,” Jingyan said carefully after a while of quietness, looking intent. “You can do what you want in your free time.”

“It’s,” Zhanying tried. “It’s not,” he took a deep breath. “It’s not for me.” He caught the prince’s gaze flickering to his chest for a split second before looking away, and Zhanying continued just so that the conversation didn’t turn to be about him. “What about you, your Highness? I can take watch.”

“Hm,” Jingyan shrugged. “Not interested.”

They didn’t say anything more that night. Zhanying felt the alcohol rise to his head and retreated back to his own tent when Jingyan dismissed him after looking at his face.

It was the first time Zhanying sat with Jingyan while the others went out to indulge, but it wasn’t the last. Zhanying offered to keep watch to let the prince have his time off, but the prince didn’t budge and strangely enough no one bothered to try. It was only when he asked Jingyan about it on the fourth time they were camping near a village that Qi Meng intercepted him when Jingyan looked rather annoyed at the constant question. Apparently a lot of the men have tried—but after, in whispered tones, the Chiyan rebellion, the prince got really angry when they pushed the issue.

Zhanying kept silent for the first three hours that he was alone with Jingyan that night, toeing his feet together while Jingyan drank about five seats away from him. Eventually the prince told him to get him another bottle and Zhanying obeyed, coming closer to put it down. Jingyan didn’t normally drink anything but water—Zhanying noticed this habit early on—but the prince somehow always drank wine on nights like these when the men were away.

“Get a cup too,” Jingyan told him, and even though Zhanying protested, Jingyan didn’t look like he was in the mood to be unheard.

It could be the alcohol, but Jingyan started asking him things like if he felt happy in the Jing army and whether he had stolen anything recently. Zhanying answered as honestly as he could—he was content in the army because he had food and shelter and yes, he did steal some of Qi Meng’s blankets because it was cold at night. Jingyan’s expression lightened.

“I joined the military when I was about your age,” Jingyan said, looking up at the sky. “I hated it. But my best friend, Xiao Shu, loved it, so I stayed.”

Zhanying stilled, and Jingyan carried on.

“Many things are because of Xiao Shu, I suppose,” Jingyan drank another cup, and Zhanying wasn’t sure if the prince meant to share all of this. “When I was younger, Xiao Shu and Nihuang wanted to go to the red light district. They were curious. And because my eldest brother said no,” he half-chuckled, cheeks red flushed. “They went, of course.”

“…Did they like it?” Zhanying asked.

“Hm, they didn’t make it through the entrance,” Jingyan replied. “They got caught, because I ratted them out. And Xiao Shu still doesn’t know it was me…” Jingyan trailed off, looking into the distance. “Zhanying, I don’t go because I…when I think about that place…I think of people who aren’t here anymore. So I hope you’ll stop asking.”

“…Yes, your Highness,” Zhanying mumbled, and flicked his glance to the prince who downed another cup.

Zhanying chewed his lip as Jingyan said nothing more and drank the entire bottle on his own. When Jingyan asked him to bring another bottle, Zhanying looked at how glazed the prince’s eyes were and the way the other’s eyes started to slide shut. After a few seconds Jingyan seemed to be asleep, so Zhanying picked the empty bottle to clear it. When he came back, he didn’t feel that it was appropriate to leave the prince sleeping outside. He crouched down and got Jingyan’s arm over his shoulder.

Zhanying wasn’t the strongest, but he could at least half-drag the prince to his bed in his tent. He rolled Jingyan onto the cot and tucked him in well—Jingyan had looked after him for close to two years now, it was the least he could do. Before he retreated out, however, a warm hand grasped his and the whisper,

“Xiao Shu...come back to me....please, come back to me...”

echoed in the still air.

Zhanying felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He looked back at the prince’s sleeping face, and the way his hand was clutched tightly. Desperately. He knelt back down and held Jingyan’s hand back. Zhanying’s own hand was littered with marks. It was rough, dry, and cracked with blister scars that he’d accumulated since he was out fending for himself. Jingyan’s in comparison, though calloused from battle, was beautiful—mostly unblemished other than the nick or two, with long slender fingers.

Zhanying had never felt an amount of longing for anyone before. It felt like his chest hurt a lot. And for a prince…he swallowed and pushed those thoughts deep back into the recesses of his mind. There wasn’t anyone around, so Zhanying held Jingyan’s hand for a few more minutes, and then gently placed it back under the covers. For the next hour Zhanying sat by himself and looked at his hands, and thought of the way Jingyan had said please, come back to me.

He rummaged for a brush, some ink and scrap paper, hand poised to write.

‘his highness told me about the time you got caught going to the pleasure house,’ he noted down. ‘he said you never suspected he was the one who ratted you out.’

He also wrote, ‘he misses you’, but tore that section out before rolling the paper up to slot it into the canister carried by the pigeon.

A month later, he sent that section on.

Chapter Text

As the years passed, not only were the food rations not enough, the number of bedding cots they had also dwindled due to wear and tear. However, the minister of defence dragged his feet to ensure they weren’t replenished as they should. The Jing army solved this problem by sleeping horizontally after putting their cots together, while Jingyan still had his own cot and privacy tent. But after one particularly brutal storm where they lost almost half of their supplies, the prince decided that they had to completely revise their logistic allocations.

This somehow ended up that Zhanying was going to sleep next to the prince.

It wasn’t like they were going to share one cot together—there was another Jing army general who was going to sleep next to Zhanying, but Zhanying was the only one who had to face the prince since everyone agreed it was the least they could do to grant Jingyan some privilege to have a corner position.

Jingyan made no indication that there was any issue and promptly slept when it was lights out. Zhanying, on the other hand, slid in gingerly and tried his best not to look over. Ever since Jingyan held his hand, Zhanying knew he had feelings about the prince that ran deeper than it should. It wasn’t a bad kind of feeling, but sometimes he would catch himself staring at the other for too long, or sometimes he spent a lot of time pondering the other’s behaviour, or sometimes it hurt in his chest, like an internal dull wound. The latter often came at times when Jingyan sat by himself and stared into the night sky.

Zhanying eventually drifted off to sleep when he turned his back towards Jingyan, not willing to indulge himself for the sake of rest, especially when tomorrow would be another day of tiring travel. He jolted awake when he felt fingers gripping the back of his sleeping robe. There was a very faint whisper of Xiao Shu, but Zhanying couldn’t comprehend it in time and by reflex twisted around and scrabbled for a blade. There was a hiss and a yelp—and Zhanying widened his eyes when he realised Jingyan had sat up and was staring at the dagger in his hand.

Zhanying dropped it immediately.

“I—I-I….” he stammered, but Jingyan beat him to it.

“Did I wake you?” the prince asked, pressing a hand to his face.

He sounded extremely tired and not at all bothered at Zhanying’s on-edge reaction.

“…I’m sorry, your Highness,” Zhanying said finally, getting to his knees properly and lowering his head. “I…I thought you were someone else.”

“No, it was—” Jingyan began and then stopped. “…I’ll be outside. Go back to sleep.”

“You Highness—” Zhanying started, but Jingyan rose and brushed past him to get out of the tent.

Zhanying sat on his ankles for a while, and after tucking the dagger back into where it came from, went outside as well. The air was freezing, but Jingyan didn’t seem to care as he sat down on the grass.

“Zhanying, go back to sleep,” Jingyan said when he saw Zhanying step out. “That’s an order.”

Zhanying paused in his steps, hand gripping the flap of the tent tightly. He chewed his lip for a couple of seconds, and then did the unprecedented—he shuffled out and slowly sat next to the prince, who just looked at him with vague astonishment at the blatant disobedience.

“Before,” Zhanying said, fixating his gaze on the ground. “People sometimes hurt me when I slept. That’s why, I…”

“Zhanying, you don’t need to tell me that,” Jingyan answered, tone much softer than before. “We’ll reassign sleeping places tomorrow.”

“But I’m supposed to protect you,” Zhanying blurted before he could stop himself, and Jingyan blinked.

“…You’re my second in command, not my bodyguard,” Jingyan replied finally, looking amused.

At that, Zhanying blinked more. “…I am?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “But I’m not a general, or even a lieutenant.”

“You disseminate orders from me to the rest,” Jingyan shrugged. “…I guess, if you really want an official promotion I can consider it.”

“I, I’m not asking for one, your Highness,” Zhanying swallowed. “I’m grateful for what you have already given me.”

There was a long while of silence, where Zhanying’s face heated up when he realised Jingyan was just observing him with an unreadable expression.

“…I dream,” Jingyan said finally, looking away. “Often. About…my best friend.”

That, Zhanying already knew—he’d heard Jingyan murmuring Lin Shu’s name enough times when he glimpsed the prince sleeping.

“I will wake you up again.”

“…I can put a pillow between us,” Zhanying said after a few moments and Jingyan chuckled at the response. “Would,” he paused, wondering if he could say this. “Would you like me to wake you up…when it happens?”

Jingyan’s face turned contemplative and sorrowful and amused all at once. “…No,” he said eventually. “It’s the only chance I get to see him again.”

The first message that Lin Shu directly sent to Zhanying was about when Zhanying was three years into the Jing army. Zhanying had been sending Lin Shu scraps of paper as and when he thought of something to write, and he didn’t expect any replies since Lin Shu didn’t say he was going to give any. He was still serving as Jingyan’s personal assistant (or second in command)—Jingyan seemed to find him useful and the others in the army liked that the prince was a little less moody since Zhanying always completed his tasks obediently.

Usually the pigeon post station was empty when he went in, but this time there was a figure sitting at a corner petting a pigeon in hand. Zhanying pretended not to notice, turning to a cage to pick a pigeon for himself. It would be more suspicious if he left because he saw someone inside. Unfortunately, the other definitely noticed him, and came over with the pigeon.

“Use this one,” the young man said, and Zhanying flicked a glance to the sword resting casually on the other’s hip. “I just fed him.”

“Um, it’s fine,” Zhanying replied, trying to look busy opening the cage he’s chosen, as well as hoping that the other wouldn’t get a direct look at his face. “Thanks anyway.”

“Langya is a long way from here, you know,” the other quipped, and Zhanying froze.

His hand was ready to inch to the dagger he kept in his robes, but the other chuckled, petting the pigeon again.

“I should’ve introduced myself first—I’m Zhen Ping,” the young man said, and this time Zhanying turned to face him properly.

He came face to face with a familiar metal bracelet the other quickly brandished from under his sleeve.

“You look well, Zhanying.”

Zhanying swallowed, and tried to recall his face.

“You probably don’t know who I am,” Zhen Ping inserted, watching Zhanying furrow his eyebrows in thought. “We weren’t in the same troop.”

“Then how do you know who I am?”

“Everyone saw a little boy tag behind Wei Zheng for four days,” Zhan Ping replied with a grin, giving Zhanying’s height a once over. “Hm, not so little now I guess,” he paused. “And, the Chief might’ve filled me in about you. I have a message from him.”

“…Chief?”

Zhen Ping gave him a look. “Jiangzuo Alliance.”

When Zhanying’s face stayed blank, Zhen Ping sighed. “Our young marshal,” he said irritably. “Did he not tell you anything?”

“You’re the first he’s ever sent to me,” Zhanying said in return. “What does he want?”

Zhen Ping produced a piece of cloth, showing him a picture drawn on it. “We know you’re heading for Northern Yan in two weeks. He wants you to steal this particular token from them.”

Zhanying considered the object—it was rectangular but curved at the edges, with an intricate engraving of two lotuses and a crane in the middle.

“What is it made of?”

“Imperial jade,” Zhen Ping replied. “It should worn by the third prince of Hanhai, who will be the commander general of the army.”

“Okay. I’ll send it on when I get it,” Zhanying said. “Can I just give you my letter to give it to…the Chief then?”

Zhen Ping looked at him with raised eyebrows. “…You’re awfully trusting, aren’t you? What if I was an imposter?”

“Since you know the true identity of the Chief of the Jiangzuo Alliance,” Zhanying began in return. “You’re either who you say you are, or you will be dead before sundown. So, will you take my letter or not?

Zhen Ping stared, and then smiled slowly, hand reaching out to grasp the folded paper offered. “…I’ll be your personal messenger just this once. Anything else you want to tell the Chief?”

Zhanying considered this, but he’s always told anything he wanted to tell Lin Shu via pigeon. “…No.”

“Alright then. Take care,” Zhen Ping nodded, but before he left, he paused. “Zhanying…I’m glad that another one of us made it. Be well.”

“Me too,” Zhanying murmured as Zhen Ping disappeared over the roof of the compound.

As Lin Shu predicted, the Jing army set forth in two weeks. It was a simple task Lin Shu had asked him to do—sure, there might be greater consequences but sneaking into a heavily guarded camp and making away with precious items wasn’t something he hadn’t done before. He staked out the enemy camp on the first night they reached the border to figure out who the general commander was and to track their night watch pattern.

On the second night, he crept along the general commander’s tent, mind boggled at how the security was so lax—and cut a slit at the edge of the tent silently. There was a meeting going on inside, and Zhanying could spy the token that he needed to steal hanging off the general commander’s waist. Ah, that was a difficult position, but Zhanying had a couple of ideas.

He eyed the lone guard outside the tent, and then at a slow burning fire a couple of meters away, embers flicking under the cool breeze.

Before he moved to execute his plan, however, someone inside said,

“This is cowardice! There is no need for this!”

And another,

“I beg you to consider, your Highness. With the Da Liang prince dead, the army will surrender. You know that they’re only strung together by their commander, they are not favoured by their Emperor.”

And another,

“But if we’re caught, there is no hope for any talk of peace!”

And another,

“What peace is there, when we’re already on a battlefield?”

And finally,

“I will not take any chances to return without victory. You have my order to kill the Da Liang prince before sunrise.”

The air was chill, but it wasn’t the temperature that froze Zhanying’s insides. He could hear his own rapid breathing and heartbeat thudding—no, he couldn’t panic and slip up here. He needed to return to camp and…and…tell Jingyan? No, he couldn’t divulge how he came across the Northern Yan’s plans to assassinate the prince.

Jingyan had made it very clear that he did not want Zhanying sneaking off on his own.

There was no time to dwell on that as the flap of the tent was pushed open, and several men came out murmuring to each other. Zhanying made sure he ducked out of sight, chewing his lip in frustration as he stared at the slit he had cut into the tent. If he left now, there wouldn’t be another chance to retrieve that token.

Lin Shu hadn’t asked him to steal anything for three years, so it must be pretty important. Zhanying flickered his glance again to the slow burning fire, then to another bigger tent pitched nearby, and decided to act.

When he reached back to camp, he could see a faint glow in the distance across the border—thanks to his ‘accidental’ fire, but otherwise there was nothing out of the ordinary. The few guards taking night watch completely missed him while he slipped back into his tent. He was relieved to see Jingyan sleeping soundly, curled on his side at the corner—all was well, not a single man was out of bed, except himself.

Zhanying crept in beside Jingyan, and blood started rushing back to his head. Northern Yan was going to try and kill Jingyan tonight. He wanted to tell somebody, anyone—what if he wasn’t enough to protect Jingyan? What if his choice to wait and deal with it himself wasn’t the right one? He pressed his hand against the token he stole earlier on, now safely tucked tight under his robes near his hip, and thought hard.

His first priority was to protect Jingyan. Zhanying didn’t know how Lin Shu would react if he failed—and suddenly, the importance of the jade token seemed so inconsequential in comparison.

There were no suspicious movements for the next half hour, but Zhanying felt increasingly agitated. He went out the tent and decided to re-arrange some of the hanging lamps they had put up before going back in to lie down. Next to him, Jingyan continued to sleep.

When Zhanying was on the verge of getting up again because he couldn’t lay still, he caught a flicker in the shadows casted by the light he had arranged outside earlier. He stilled, flexing his numb fingers that had been clutching his dagger for the past two hours. It wasn’t his imagination, he concluded, when he observed that flicker again.

This was really it.

Zhanying did not like to kill.

The first time he had killed a man was before Lin Shu had dragged him into Chiyan. The memory was blur, but Zhanying knew he had grabbed the nearest porcelain shard and stabbed it into the man who tried to beat him with a metal rod. There was just something…sickening…and pitiful about the way the body went lifeless.

But when Zhanying saw a poison dart pipe stick through the edge of the tent, he did not think twice. He lunged at the other through the tent—one quick swipe to cut the tent fabric and the other’s stomach, and another to bleed his throat. Zhanying was straddling the other with adrenaline blowing his pupils wide while the tent collapsed behind him and erupted a scene from the waking men. Blood splattered messily to the ground and Zhanying made sure the other was truly dead by cutting his throat a second time.

It took him longer than it should to recognise a sharp pain by way of a knife stabbing into his back and he choked, head turning to glimpse a second attacker he hadn’t noticed. The noise in Zhanying’s ears died down abruptly while his vision went fuzzy.

He could vaguely comprehend that there was a lot of yelling and the Northern Yan assassin had started to bolt—he flung his dagger at the other in a last desperate attempt, but he could not see if he had hit his mark because he doubled over from the blood rising to his mouth.

“—ying! Zhanying!”

Someone was tugging him gently backwards, careful to avoid the knife, and Zhanying briefly saw Jingyan frowning down at him. He’s alright, Zhanying wanted to smile. Lin Shu would understand that he did his best. Besides, if this was his way to go, it was much better than fighting for survival on his own.

Jingyan took care of him.

Jingyan was worth it.

It was too much effort to stay awake, so he closed his eyes and welcomed the darkness.

It hurt so bad when he finally woke.

He was in a proper bed, in a proper room, not a tent. Zhanying tried to glance around through strained eyes, but all he managed was to tilt his head leftwards and a wet cloth fell off his forehead. He also saw Qi Meng slumped against the wall with his legs stretched over a cushion, and there were two other Jing generals who were dozing off side by side next to him. When he groaned, there was a soothing noise from his right side, as well as some hurried murmurs.

Someone came to take away the cloth and someone came to adjust his pillow—or maybe it was the same person. It was difficult to concentrate.

“Zhanying!” Someone yelled—oh that was Qi Meng, Zhanying could recognise the voice at least. “You’re—you’re awake! Quick, someone go fetch his Highness and the physician—oh, you’ve already sent for them?”

“…S’loud,” Zhanying winced, forcing his eyes to open wider.

Everyone in the room was awake now, and Zhanying felt bewildered to have people crowding around his bed side. Qi Meng helped him to sit up, ignoring the chiding from another man Zhanying assumed to be a medic assistant. He had so many questions to ask, especially since he did not know where they were, but before he could make out a sentence Jingyan came striding quickly in through the door with an old lady trailing behind him.

“Zhanying,” Jingyan breathed, coming to sit by his bedside immediately. “How are you feeling?”

Zhanying swallowed and tried not to blush at the sudden intimacy, casting his glance elsewhere for a moment.

“I’m, I’m…fine,” he managed after being fed some water.

The old lady reached forwards to take his pulse as she asked him to lean forward. It was only then that Zhanying realised he was bandaged from torso up and in a different pair of pants then when he was stabbed—he automatically felt for the token he had hidden under his robe then and tried not to show his panic when he found it was missing. Whoever had changed his clothes must’ve found it, and, and if they told Jingyan—

The next thing that dawned upon him was that the top of his chest was bare, and his ugly burn mark was on display for everyone to see. It hurt to jerk his hand to cover it by reflex, but he could not care when the shame hurt even more. The old woman tutted and gently reached for his other hand to take his pulse, ignoring his reaction.

“Physician Li, how is he?” Jingyan asked, his glance still lingering on Zhanying even though his head was turned to face the other.

“His fever is down, and the inflammation is down too,” she said after some deliberation, giving Qi Meng a pointed look after. “We will need to change the bandages again. The wound opened when he sat up.”

“When will he be fit to travel?”

“If you’re pressed for time, your Highness, the least is one more night here. He is out of danger, but I would like to make sure a fever doesn’t spike again.”

“Understood,” Jingyan nodded, and tilted his head in thanks when she left the room with her assistants, giving them a semblance of privacy.

Jingyan eyed the way Zhanying covered his mark and looked like he wanted to say something but did not seem to find the words.

“Don’t clench your muscles,” Qi Meng said instead, coming forwards to pull Zhanying’s hand away from his chest. “Didn’t you see the old lady glare at me for opening your wound again?”

“Physician,” Jingyan cut in, but Qi Meng didn’t take it to heed.

“Come on now, no one cares about that,” Qi Meng continued, still tugging at his hand. “We all have scars from our battles. Do you want to see the one I have when we were at Dong Hai? Remember when that fuckin’ guy cut me on the thigh—"

“Qi Meng!” Jingyan snapped, and Qi Meng mellowed.

“—I was just trying to…lighten the mood,” he muttered, and Zhanying couldn’t help but snort.

“Thank you,” he murmured eventually, and lowered his hand.

After all, anyone who had already seen it while he was unconscious had already seen it. There was nothing he could do now.

No one around him looked at him differently when he left the mark exposed. It struck him then that Qi Meng spoke the truth. No one cared about where he came from, what he was, or what he had done before. In the Jing army, he was Jingyan’s right hand man. He gave his respect to the men and Jingyan, and in return he was given the same.

Jingyan’s hand rested softly over his arm for a moment and he met the prince’s gaze. He could see relief and care midst the clearly tired dark circles under the other’s eyes. Jingyan opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by someone dashing into the room and calling for his attention to deal with an issue elsewhere. The prince sighed, said he would return and ordered Qi Meng to keep watch on him before filing out with the other Jing generals.

Qi Meng filled him in on their whereabouts— medical hall of the closest village to where they last camped—how long they’ve been here—three days after winning the battle with Northern Yan—and what happened on war day—

“After we got your bleeding under control as much as we could, his Highness sent you here for treatment while we stormed the border,” Qi Meng said, looking much too satisfied at the talk of people dying, “His Highness was soooooo angry; you haven’t seen that angry face level yet huh,” he quipped. “It was quick—Northern Yan seemed pretty frazzled when they saw our arrows coming with no warning.”

Zhanying nodded slowly. “That’s good.”

“Not good with you almost dying. Who’s going to handle his Highness if you’re gone?” Qi Meng crossed his arms. “By the way—how did you know an assassin was coming?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” Zhanying said easily in response; it was true—Jingyan had woken him up plenty of times from just the mere brush of his hand movement during sleep.

“Uh huh,” Qi Meng nodded. “Nothing to do with…this?”

From Qi Meng’s hand dangled a delicate green carved jade token—the one that Zhanying thought was safe under his robes. He made to grab it but his reflexes were slow from his injury. Qi Meng held it out of reach with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you go to the enemy camp to steal this?”

“…Maybe,” Zhanying said sullenly.

“And you overheard about their plans to kill his Highness?”

“Maybe.”

Qi Meng continued to look at him intently. “Were you planning to sell this?”

“What? No,” Zhanying frowned, looking at his hands on his lap. “It’s an imperial jade token from the general commander. I thought if it went missing…they would be distracted before we fought.”

“Like…distrust between the commander and his men?”

Zhanying nodded—it wasn’t the best lie he’s ever told, but it’s the only one he could drag out on such short notice. “…Are you going to tell his Highness?”

Qi Meng sighed. “I have a feeling if I do, he’s going to yell at both of us when it’s clearly your fault,” he said, and placed the token in Zhanying’s hands. “I’ll let this go this time, because you saved his Highness’ life.”

He clasped Zhanying’s shoulder with a little too much strength, and Zhanying gasped at it.

“But if you’re going to sneak into the enemy camp next time, at least bring back some food,” Qi Meng added, and Zhanying couldn’t help but laugh.

‘i’m a lieutenant now. his highness gave me a sword himself, even though only generals are bestowed one.’

There was a rip to the bottom of the paper, and Lin Shu snorted when he noticed it. He was sure the following section would come in a couple of weeks. As the years passed and Lin Shu felt his heart harden, Zhanying’s heart stayed honest, and it reminded him of that little boy who tried to wash all the blood on his hands in the cold, unforgiving snow.

Chapter Text

As a solider, Zhanying wasn’t the best at fighting.

He lacked the muscles and strength to wield heavy broadswords; he was better with small blades like daggers, but that could’ve been because of his (lack of) upbringing. Unfortunately fighting a war on a battlefield was much more efficient with a full-length sword. He was trained in archery, but pulling an arrow took a lot more strength than he realised, even though Jingyan always made it look so easy. There was also the matter of aim. No matter how hard he focused, his arrows didn’t shoot where he wanted them to land.

It was vexing, because by being in a visible position by Jingyan’s side, Zhanying felt that he should more skilled. More…qualified. Sure he had protected Jingyan once, but the prince was just as likely to be killed in an open battle as with a sneaky assassin.

On one of Zhanying’s off days, he went to a quiet corner of the training field in the Jing manor to practice his archery. It should be simple; point and shoot, but after thirty arrows and none had hit the center, his back where the stab scar was spread over started to ache. He sighed, resting the bow on top of his shoe while he squinted into the far distance where the target was and caught his breath.

“Mm, that’s terrible,” came a familiar amused voice from behind him.

Zhanying jolted in shock, hand immediately dropping the bow to press against his robe above his hip where he hid his dagger. He apologised profusely when he realised it was just Jingyan; it wasn’t the first time he’d acted defensively when the prince took him by surprise. By this time Jingyan just waved him off and dismissed the courtesy quickly.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying murmured, looking guiltily to the ground. “Is there something you need me for?”

Jingyan wasn’t in his royal robes—instead, the prince was in a somewhat similar robe to the one he wore underneath his armour. Out of the corner of his eye Zhanying spotted other soldiers carrying another target down the field to put it even further than where Zhanying’s target was positioned.

“Isn’t it your off day?” Jingyan asked instead. “Why are you training by yourself?”

Zhanying didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know what to do during off days—there wasn’t much in town that interested him, except the food stalls, also he wanted to be in Jingyan’s vicinity as much as possible in case anything happened—so he decided to speak the other third of the truth.

“I don’t usually practice archery during drills because I’m not good at it, so…” he trailed off. “What about your Highness?”

“Stress relief,” Jingyan said, stretching his neck and shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me—go on with your own practice.”

Nonetheless Zhanying politely waited until Jingyan accepted his bow from another soldier who came up to him with it before turning back to his target. The last five arrows he had shot were haphazardly around the center target. He closed his eyes and took a breath before notching the next one, pulling it close to his cheek like how he was taught. His grip wasn’t perfectly steady—the bow was heavy, and he was tired—but he felt like it was in a decent position when he let the arrow fly.

The arrow embedded itself on the fourth ring to the right of the center.

There was a considering noise from his right—Jingyan was watching him intently, and Zhanying winced inwardly when he realised the prince had been judging the entire way he had shot the arrow. He wasn’t prepared for how Jingyan called one of the soldiers standing in wait nearby and told him to hold his bow before stepping towards Zhanying.

“Notch an arrow,” Jingyan said, and Zhanying hastened to obey just from the voice.

The scar on his back started to ache again when Jingyan just walked in circles around him while Zhanying pulled the bowstring taunt, and he prayed so hard that he wouldn’t accidentally let it go.

“You’re trembling,” Jingyan noted rather nonchalantly as he came closer, and placed one gentle hand on in between the blades of Zhanying’s back shoulders. “Relax.”

Zhanying seized up with a sharp breath. All of a sudden Zhanying felt his cheeks rush red hot and his pulse got so loud it started thrumming in his ears. He swallowed, and tried to do his best to relax against Jingyan’s hand, but the prince was just getting started with his impromptu lesson.

“Your aim is dropping,” Jingyan said while wrapping his hand over Zhanying’s wrist to help him. “You’re still too tense here,” he continued, his other hand resting on Zhanying’s shoulder. “Relax more.”

It was a hard feat. On excursions, Jingyan bathed with the cheap unscented army soap, but when they were back in Jinling, the prince used some other kind that smelled like soft, heavenly musk. Whatever it was Zhanying really liked it, and it was worse when Jingyan this close.  

“Do you feel any wind?” Jingyan abruptly asked him, voice almost murmuring straight into his ear.

Zhanying didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

“Which direction?”

“…W-west.”

Jingyan gave a low rumble of affirmation, and Zhanying was very aware of how his ears burnt scorching hot. The soft pressure of Jingyan’s hands on his wrist and shoulder felt like mini braziers of their own—a prince touching him like that, Zhanying was sure it broke every protocol, it had to. He nearly fluttered his eyelids shut with a dreamy exhale.

“Concentrate,” Jingyan chided him, and he snapped his attention back to the field. “If the wind is coming from the west, you have to compensate for it,” he continued, guiding Zhanying’s aim to point off center towards the left. “Now focus, and let go when you’re ready.”

Zhanying was never going to be ready, but he steeled himself to concentrate and dutifully let go of the bowstring. The arrow hit the target with a swift thwack—it didn’t land in the center, but it was very close, just one ring away. Zhanying couldn’t help but smile when he saw it. It was much better than anything he’d tried on his own, and he turned to look at Jingyan so fast that he accidently nearly brushed their lips together because of the close proximity.

Zhanying didn’t realise his mistake then, he was so busy being delighted and surprised while thanking Jingyan that the close shave didn’t cross his mind. It was only when Jingyan called for his bow to demonstrate the proper stance—

And Zhanying watched the broad shoulders and muscled arms in action, steady as iron, pulling a longbow that Zhanying couldn’t hold in position for more than ten seconds. The arrow was sharp and dead to the center on the target they couldn’t even check from where they were standing. Zhanying felt his mouth go dry and wet all at once—it was so…beautiful and impressive that he thought back to the first time they met, when Jingyan wanted to slit his throat, and the prince could have.

Jingyan could have.

Zhanying wet his dry lips reflexively with his tongue and he stilled.

“Zhanying,” Jingyan spoke up, with his head tilted with slight concern. “Your face is reddening. Is it the heat?”

“Um, I. I need some water, your Highness. I ran out,” Zhanying fumbled, hastily eyeing the water flask he had brought along that was set on the grass. “Please excuse me.”

Jingyan shook his head and called for someone else to bring them water instead. Zhanying tried so hard to keep his facial expression neutral when the other soldier picked up Zhanying’s flask—that was still full—and looked back at him questioningly. Thankfully the other just left with the bottle without saying a word, and Zhanying made a mental note to thank the other later.

“Zhanying, your turn. Notch up,” Jingyan said, and Zhanying sucked in a slow breath to calm his rapid heartbeat.

Living in the Jing manor was comfortable.

The food was good (Zhanying had low standards, but the food was good), and he had his own designated bed in a room that was shared with five others. No one was particular about where they slept—the generals had their own rooms as a luxury, but otherwise they traded roommates depending on who were close friends with each other. Zhanying was initially assigned to a room with the then new recruits when he had first joined, but he moved to a room with Qi Meng and other lieutenants and captains because he worked with them a lot more than the rest of the army.

His bed was the one next to Qi Meng’s on the left side of the room while the others were on the right—it was just because Qi Meng snored really loudly and no one wanted to be in that close of a proximity to him. Oddly enough, while Zhanying was an extremely light sleeper, he was alright with Qi Meng’s rhythmic snoring; it felt like it was fine for him to let his guard down if someone was sleeping that soundly, that everything was safe.

Living in the Jing manor was also uncomfortable at certain times—but that was because army was their life and death, so they shared everything.

Zhanying learnt that if he wanted to eat something he had bought for himself, he should never bring any back into his quarters because he would never find it again. He also learnt that everyone was extremely open about everything—which was good considering Zhanying’s past, but also not good considering that he had absolutely zero interest in their sexual exploits.

Zhanying did wonder if there was something wrong with him ever since that day he left the pleasure house after his first kiss—he just didn’t see the point when it wasn’t fun at all. Everyone else bragged when they got laid, or traded gossip about hot pretty girls in town, or passed around explicit material for their…own activities. When Zhanying admitted that he didn’t feel anything, and the rest just slapped his back and told him he was probably too young to understand this sort of thing; he’d ‘see’ when he was older.

Zhanying was around seventeen and he still didn’t ‘see’ it—until the archery incident.

He had walked back after the session in a daze, thinking about the way Jingyan had held him close just for those few minutes. About how nice Jingyan smelled and how close Jingyan’s mouth had been and how utterly pleasant his deep voice was. He thought about his first kiss briefly, and then quickly realised why he thought about it, because for the first time…

He wanted.

The thought shocked him cold because it was improper. Extremely improper. Not just that Jingyan was also a male, but that Jingyan was a prince. The grandson of Heaven. Zhanying had never cared about the Emperor or royalty before, but living in a royal manor ingrained habits. Living with Jingyan ingrained habits. There was something different about the nobility—the way they carried themselves, they way they spoke.

He tried not to think about it, but it crept into his mind all throughout dinner and even when he was getting ready to sleep. When the candles blew out and Zhanying was huddled under the covers, it was even worse. The darkness made it easy to dream.

If Jingyan had held him closer, if Jingyan had brushed his lips against Zhanying’s cheek when he instructed Zhanying to look at the target and focus. Zhanying felt very warm under his covers even though the night air was chill. He thought back to the time Jingyan rested his hand on his arm when he was recovering from the stab wound, or the time Jingyan held his hand in his sleep and called him ‘Xiao Shu’.

His heartbeat was so frighteningly fast and loud that he thought Qi Meng would hear it, but Qi Meng’s snoring kept its steady rhythm. He tried to sleep, but sleep wasn’t going to come if his stomach felt like it had been flipping for hours.

It was also sort of uncomfortable how the fabric at his groin bunched up—it became tight because of how his cock swelled. Zhanying stuck a hand down his pants to ease the pressure, but instead ended up making it worse when his hand brushed against his erection. It felt hot. And somewhat good when he pressed against it harder. He felt something sticky and slippery the more he moved his palm, and it made it easier to rub his cock in his hand.

And then, he made some kind of breathy noise when he gripped his cock a particular way, pleasure running red hot down the back of his neck. He wasn’t even aware of it, with his eyes closed and heavy breathing against his pillow. And it was just…there, Jingyan was just there, in his mind space as he touched himself, especially how lovely Jingyan smelled earlier today.

His hips jerked when he came with a sharp inhale—and warmth washed over him nicely as he panted for breath. His hand was sticky so he wiped it absentmindedly on his bedsheet, turning over to lie on his back comfortably. It took a few seconds for the delicious haze he was in to fade out, but once it did, the first thing he noticed was that the room was absolutely silent.

Qi Meng’s snores had stopped.

He felt hot again for an entirely different reason, and refused to touch himself again, even though he thought about Jingyan a couple more times and his cock got stiff once more.

He was the last to wake the next morning—unusual, because he was usually the first one up, being that he woke whenever anyone else woke. It took a while for him to register that everyone else in the room was giving him a smirk before whistling their way to breakfast. Zhanying didn’t get it until Qi Meng smacked his back with unrestrained force in what the other thought was playful (but always underestimated how vulnerable Zhanying was without his armour) and reminded him to wash his bedsheets with glee.

“Let’s have a drink tonight to celebrate!” Qi Meng added while Zhanying was dying of mortification in his own cum stained sheets. “…Hey, you will be late if you don’t get up now,” he continued when Zhanying just sat there, pale as a ghost. “….Zhanying? You okay?”

“Can, can we pretend this never happened?” Zhanying asked, burying his hands into his hair. “Please. Please. Oh god, please.”

Zhanying didn’t think he could possibly face any of his other roommates today, or maybe in the next ten years. He didn’t think he could face Jingyan—how could he have done something so dirty while thinking of the prince, he deserved death if anyone ever knew, and, and yet. He still…

“Zhanying, it’s not a big deal,” Qi Meng interrupted his downward panic with furrowed eyebrows. “Everyone does it. It’d be weirder if you didn’t. It’s just, it’s the first time we’ve heard you do it, so it was funny as hell,” he paused when Zhanying just looked somewhat annoyed, disgusted and shameful all at once. “I-I mean, well. It’s. Not f-funny. You gotta admit, it is kind of funny,” he amended. “You’re a man now, it took you long enough to join us,” he said finally, giving Zhanying another one of those hard smacks to his back.

Zhanying lurched at the force, but his expression did not change.

“…So…are we going to have drinks?” Qi Meng tried, flopping down on his own bed when Zhanying stayed sullenly quiet.

“Qi Meng, I—…” Zhanying started, but the more he thought about what he was going to say, the more he wanted to throw up.

He still wanted to kiss Jingyan. He still thought about Jingyan in that way—that dirty, unforgivable way he should never look at a prince. He didn’t deserve Jingyan in this lifetime, and Lin Shu would be disappointed in him if the other knew. Or maybe the other would find it hilarious.

Maybe both.

He didn’t realise he was clutching the front of his robe till his knuckles went white until Qi Meng reached over to pry his hand away.

“Why do you always to do that,” Qi Meng clucked his tongue in disapproval. “If your fingers clench up, it’s going to be very painful to wield a sword,” he said pointedly. “Is it the brothel thing that you’re being very weird about jacking off? Like…were you touched before? And you don’t like stuff like that?””

Trust Qi Meng to be crassly blunt, but it wasn’t something Zhanying minded. Much.

Zhanying forcibly made himself not to look at his mark by reflex, and shook his head. “No, I…I escaped before I was brought into service. I’ve never…”

“So…truly your first time, huh.”

Zhanying nodded, feeling shame all over again.

“Like I said,” Qi Meng sighed loudly. “Not a big deal. I bet you’re going to do it every night for at least a month, like the time when—”

“We’re late,” Zhanying said over him quickly, tossing his covers to get out of bed and hastily arranging it to make sure the stain he left on it yesterday was covered. “I. I-I’ll wash this after.”

Qi Meng just looked amused and called out after him when he ran off to the wash area.  “So, what about drinks?!”

“…—only if you’ll buy me food too!” Zhanying’s voice echoed back.

Qi Meng snorted, but he didn’t say no.

Zhanying’s sexual revelation didn’t tear him away from his job—soldier or bodyguard. Sometimes Jingyan stood too close or sometimes Jingyan looked at him in a way that made his pants uncomfortable, but he very firmly drew the line between his fantasies in his bed and doing his duties properly.

Besides, he had sent a note to Lin Shu about three weeks after the first time he masturbated to the prince that read: ‘i thought about his highness in a way that i shouldn’t. i am sorry.’, but the subsequent time Lin Shu contacted him via a pigeon was just a picture of a scroll holder that Zhanying was obviously tasked to steal from the upcoming excursion he would be sent on. If Lin Shu had no response to his note, then Zhanying would just continue his position in the Jing army as usual.

Zhanying still didn’t visit pleasure houses with the army, but he started reading the explicit novels that were often passed around between the men. At first it was just so that they would stop teasing him about ‘having his first real experience’ and badgering him to ‘get his first real experience’, but then it had been a while since he read anything other than reports that Jingyan asked him to check through and some of the words and phrases and expressions used in the books were new to him.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the sort of thing he should bring to read while waiting for Jingyan outside the palace. It was quite the sight to see Jingyan staring at him with the sort of expression where the prince didn’t know what to settle on.

Whenever they’re back in Da Liang, Jingyan would put forth requests to visit his mother in the palace. Zhanying never understood why Jingyan had to seek permission to see his mother—but he accepted that royalty had inconvenient protocols because asking questions was often viewed as challenging authority; it was a big no-no. Jingyan always looked happy on visitation days and also smiled a lot more after the visit, so Zhanying liked Jingyan’s mother a lot, even though he didn’t have the status to meet her personally.

The mother and son pair tended to spend quite a while together, so when Zhanying followed Jingyan to the gates of the palace to escort him there, he assumed he had plenty of time to kill before he needed to be back to pick the prince up. Jingyan had told him multiple times he didn’t need Zhanying to tag along, but it felt entirely too awful to have Jingyan go to the palace by himself, especially when Zhanying knew how the palace guards looked down upon the unfavoured seventh prince.

This time Zhanying went into town to buy a meat bun before going back to the palace gates and sat a short distance away so he could still see when the other walked out. He took out the raunchy novel he was reading—it was all words anyway, and there was no one around besides the guards at the gates—and only got through half a meat bun and three pages when he heard Jingyan clear his throat from above him.

It wouldn’t have been bad if Jingyan just cocked his head and said they could go; instead, Jingyan looked surprised that Zhanying liked to read in his free time, and asked to see the book. Zhanying ate the other half of the meat bun while Jingyan’s eyebrows went higher and higher as he flipped through the book, the juicy texture of the meat turning dry in Zhanying’s mouth from sheer embarrassment.

“You shouldn’t read this kind of thing…here,” Jingyan glanced at the palace gates.

Jingyan’s expression when he handed the book back was definitely trying his best not to look judgemental—and Zhanying felt compelled to explain.

“I’m sorry. It’s. The only kind of book anyone has. And there are a lot of new words to learn,” he mumbled, face heating up. “So.”

Jingyan chuckled in amusement at his reasons. “If you want to read something less…” Jingyan just decided not to say what he was going to describe, “…I have books in my library. You are welcome to borrow and read them as you like as long as you put them back.”

“…Your Highness…” Zhanying started slowly. “…Is that…allowed?”

Jingyan just raised his eyebrows. “The books are mine. Do you need anyone else’s permission besides me?”

Zhanying had no answer to that, so he obediently took the black lacquer box that Jingyan always carried when he left the palace and followed the prince back to the manor. Jingyan absentmindedly told him to come inside his room when they reached, and Zhanying gingerly stepped in. He’d only been inside a couple of times; when there was urgent news to be relayed, but otherwise he usually waited outside.

Zhanying immediately glanced to the wooden bow on display beside Jingyan’s seat—he’d never seen Jingyan use it, despite it looking like it was in good condition. His attention was drawn when Jingyan held out a bound book towards him, picked from his bookshelf. It was obviously a read copy, with the way the edges were frayed and the cover creased.

“This is a classic,” Jingyan told him. “My mother loved to read it to me when I was younger.”

Zhanying was going to take the book but stopped when he heard the second line, aghast. “Your Highness, I can’t possibly handle anything that her Lady Concubine Jing has—”

“It’s not my mother’s copy,” Jingyan almost rolled his eyes. “I’ve accidentally stepped on this book multiple times, you don’t have to worry about its condition. Zhanying, take it. If you don’t like it, just put it back on the shelf.”

Zhanying bowed and thanked him before tucking the book into the front of his robes. For some reason, his heart beat faster from just knowing he held something personal from Jingyan.

“Your Highness,” he started when the thought popped into his mind. “Is everything alright at the palace?

“Hm?”

“I mean, usually you spend more time in the palace, but today you left early.”

“Ah, my mother was attending to some duties given by the Empress, it can’t be helped,” Jingyan explained. “Bring me the reports from the border at Dong Hai. I have to read through them by today anyway.”

Zhanying did as he was requested, but instead of asking him to leave when he placed the scrolls on the table, Jingyan told him to sit down.

“I need you to write a quick summary of these reports, just a brief heading for each of the letters—you’ve seen me do it before,” he started, pulling out blank paper and handing Zhanying a brush and an inkwell. “…You, you can write, can’t you?” he thought to ask when Zhanying just looked at him blankly.

“…Yes,” Zhanying nodded—he wasn’t sure if he’d written anything in front of Jingyan though.

“It doesn’t have to be neat,” Jingyan added in a manner the other probably hoped was reassuring. “It’s just for my reference.”

Zhanying nodded again, but Jingyan was already picking up the first report to read. Zhanying took another one from the other stack and skimmed it quickly, unlike the deliberate slow reading that Jingyan was doing. He noted down the date first, and then the sender, and then a short sentence describing the contents, like ‘complaints about rations’ or ‘movement at the border’. They read and wrote in silence, until Zhanying sneaked a look over and saw Jingyan taking a bite from a pastry in his hand.

It was a pastry from the black lacquer box that came from the palace—it looked so delicate and crumbly and smelled faintly savoury. He was so intrigued by the snack that he didn’t realise he was dripping ink all over the paper until Jingyan called for his attention.

Zhanying looked down at the portion the ink had ruined—and sighed heavily when he realised he had to write all over again. He caught himself, embarrassed, when Jingyan choked in an aborted laughter at his reaction.

“…You write well, like a scholar,” Jingyan commented, looking pleasantly surprised when he peered at Zhanying’s paper. “Where did you learn how to write?”

“Um. I…copied words.”

It was true—though he had some guidance with the correct way to hold a brush.

“By yourself?” Jingyan looked even more surprised now, blinking. “Did you learn how to read by yourself too?”

Zhanying wondered if the Langya Hall master’s son would get offended from the lack of acknowledgement for his education—the man tended to be petty about things like that. He couldn’t think of a plausible detailed lie, so he just nodded his head and hoped Jingyan wouldn’t ask more.

“Zhanying…do you want to be in the army?” Jingyan asked abruptly.

“Yes, I want to,” Zhanying replied immediately in alarm. “There’s nowhere else I would rather be.”

“You don’t have any interest in reading literature, or writing poetry, that sort of thing?”

“No…” Zhanying answered slowly.

Jingyan gave a considered hum and dropped the subject just as suddenly as he brought it up. There was a short pause before Jingyan took a pastry from the black lacquer box and placed it on the table edge closer to Zhanying.

“For helping me out today,” Jingyan said before turning back to the report he was reading.

Zhanying didn’t touch it even when he was done with his summary and Jingyan was nodding as he read through it. It was torture because the pastry was golden and perfect and Jingyan looked so happy eating his share but it was made by Jingyan’s mother and Zhanying couldn’t bring himself take it. Sweets were a luxury—they didn’t fill the stomach, so it wasn’t something Zhanying usually chose to steal, or buy, since he stopped stealing.

It wasn’t until Jingyan bluntly told him that he would just leave the pastry there and let the maids clean it if Zhanying wasn’t going to take it, did Zhanying accept the gift. He popped the whole thing into his mouth, only realising he probably shouldn’t have done that because Jingyan was looking at him—but he was distracted by how the cookie melted in his mouth like soft butter and released a wash of sweet nutty flavour. It was by far the most delicate and flavourful thing Zhanying had ever eaten in his life, and he wondered how Jingyan could stand to eat army rations with them when he had such delicious and luxurious snacks from the palace.

It was gone before Zhanying could mourn for it—and Jingyan was smiling at him, as though expecting his reaction.

“Good, right?”

‘Good’ didn’t encapsulate it—Zhanying wanted to cry, because he wanted another one.

“That one was hazelnut, my favourite,” Jingyan continued. “If my mother makes something different the next time, I’ll let you try it.”

Zhanying tried not to look too eager at the mention of ‘next time’, and properly bowed and bid the prince good night before he left. The sweetness of the soft cream still lingered in his mouth, and Zhanying felt himself smile for no explicable reason at all.

It was a taste he never had before and he wanted to memorise it the best he could.

Maybe it was like how it would be to kiss a prince.

Chapter Text

Zhanying should’ve known never to leave Jingyan’s side—but often it was necessary; to delegate Jingyan’s orders, or the run errands for the prince. It wasn’t like Jingyan was helpless either, on the contrary, Jingyan would beat him in a one-to-one fair fight. (Zhanying would definitely win if he cheated though. Jingyan, for some reason, seemed to think Zhanying wasn’t the type to cheat.)

But Jingyan was still a person of high importance and standing, and therefore often the choice for a target. That was the reason why marshal Lin sent him to be by Jingyan’s side, wasn’t it?

Zhanying wondered what Lin Shu would say if he failed his duty—he wondered this plenty of times over the years, especially when Jingyan got injured, but none as much as when Jingyan got captured by Dong Hai and was taken into the enemy camp.

It just had been a rather simple inspection. A small group of them came to do customary checks with the troop stationed at the border; it wasn’t supposed to last past a week. However Jingyan—being diligent (and rather untrusting, Zhanying had thought then), decided to inspect everything himself personally instead of accepting the reports. The prince discovered a couple of weak points along their stone border that he ordered to be mended. It was unsaid that Jingyan was going to be there until everything was fixed, but Zhanying knew it anyway from the dark annoyed expression on the other’s face.

A quick check of their inventory that night told Zhanying that they didn’t have enough supplies to last another week, so he asked for permission to stock up their rations from the nearest village nearby.

Nothing was suspicious.

Zhanying left for the village with a couple of men the next day, while Jingyan glowered at the men hastily mending the wall. On the way back after buying the cheapest grains he could find—trying to maximise the little budget they had—there was a sole Jing army lieutenant riding hard towards them yelling something that was difficult to hear because of their distance apart. When they got closer, it was clear that something was wrong, so Zhanying picked up the speed of his horse to meet the other first.

“His Highness—” the other breathed, face pale and frantic. “His Highness was—”

Zhanying immediately thought the worst, but he managed to listen to the choppy recount of Jingyan being kidnapped at the border. Apparently Jingyan and a couple of men were at a more remote area of the wall when they were ambushed by a group of masked men. It didn’t make sense, not to Zhanying at least—because why did anyone think it was alright that Jingyan wasn’t properly guarded at all times; they were at an enemy border for Heaven’s sake. But what had been done had been done, and Zhanying took off quickly back to the border station without another word.

When he reached, there was a soldier who seemed to be waiting for him, and he was quickly led into a tent. Zhanying heard yelling and arguing long before he entered, but when he did everyone fell into a silence. There were scrolls and scrolls rolled open on a table, with Qi Meng staring at them looking extremely furious. They were maps, Zhanying noticed—Dong Hai border maps.

“How long as it been,” Zhanying asked in more of a statement—he couldn’t control the flat inflection in his voice from how fast his mind was spinning.

“About five hours,” someone answered. “We sent some people to stalk the Dong Hai camp but they haven’t returned—”

“Who did you send,” Zhanying interrupted, eyes scanning the maps.

A list of names was rattled off to him quickly, and Zhanying chewed his lip while he listened and thought. There were a couple of skilled generals who went, so Zhanying wasn’t too worried about them—but they probably couldn’t get access into the camp, or else they’d have news by now. He was more worried about Jingyan.

He wasn’t sure what Dong Hai wanted with the prince—if it was Dong Hai. They were masked men, but there was no one else in these parts of the land. Kidnapping Jingyan meant that they wanted the prince alive, but what for? Dong Hai and Da Liang weren’t on good terms, but they weren’t in an outright war at the moment.

Maybe more importantly, how long would they keep Jingyan for?

“Where was his Highness taken from.”

Qi Meng looked over to him and grabbed one of the scrolls at the bottom to show him. “Here, by the hill,” the other pointed.

“The stream behind it,” Zhanying noted.

“Yeah, the bastards were probably waiting there,” Qi Meng nodded sourly.

“Did you see it happen,” Zhanying looked over to him.

“No, I…I was over at the main camp, running afternoon drills with the—”

Zhanying shook his head. “Right, you were supposed to oversee the sword drills, I—I forgot, sorry,” he breathed out, closing his eyes briefly. “…Fuck,” he muttered under his breath after a moment.

His curse seemed to echoed in the very silent tent.

“Zhanying,” Qi Meng said after a moment. “…I think you need to sit down.”

Zhanying blinked. “Why.”

“Other than the fact that you look like you want to murder everyone here,” Qi Meng explained, looking a bit wary, “Your hands are trembling. Sit down before you stab someone, please.”

Zhanying looked at his hands and saw that Qi Meng was right. He placed them flat on the table to steady himself.

“Oh. Right,” he said, but he didn’t sit.

He didn’t think he could, not when Jingyan was in enemy’s hands. How could they be so careless? How could he be so careless?

“What are we going to do?” is what he asked instead.

There were several looks casted all around, but no one dared to speak, especially when they met Zhanying’s gaze. Qi Meng eventually coughed awkwardly to break the tension and started talking.

The tight-lipped atmosphere in the discussion tent didn’t last long—soon enough there were protests to the hasty plan thrown together that delved into accusations and insults and curses. Zhanying took a map and studied it while the shouting continued in the background, noting the land and water features around the Dong Hai camp. He’d sneaked in before to steal things for Lin Shu, but it didn’t hurt to refresh his memory, especially since a mistake would be vital this time.

He hoped that Jingyan was still at the camp—if they sent the prince towards the capital, they were very much fucked. He had to hope; it was not a small feat to capture a Da Liang prince, it would be an all-out declaration of war if news travelled back to Jinling, no matter how unfavoured Jingyan was to the Emperor. About six hours had passed since the incident. Zhanying thought hard about the time they were wasting trying to decide what to do while Jingyan closer to a bad end with every passing second. Qi Meng was in a rather impressive yelling match with another Jing general when Zhanying smacked the scroll on Qi Meng’s shoulder to get their attention.

He cut in quickly before the shouting turned to him. “I’m going into the Dong Hai camp,” he stated plainly, pulling the scroll out again to show the rest. “Over here,” he pointed to a forested edge, and on the other side, the stream, “and here, are likely to be guarded. Don’t waste your time there. Bring our troops to their main gate.”

“What?” someone spluttered. “Their main gate?”

“Yes,” Zhanying nodded. “We don’t have enough numbers to storm the camp, but we should accuse them of kidnapping his Highness. As loud as we can. Make it ugly. They will deny it.”

“Zhanying, they did kidnap his Highness,” Qi Meng reminded him like he was crazy.

“They were masked, and they haven’t sent any terms of negotiation nor declaration of war, so we don’t have any real proof,” Zhanying replied, thinking hard. “I don’t know why they’re keeping his Highness, but I’ll get him out. I just need a distraction, just in case.”

“So—so we’re the distraction?”

“Well—…yes,” Zhanying admitted, knowing that soldiers would rather be doing actual fighting. “I can get his Highness out. I can,” he repeated, more firmly when most of them looked unconvinced. “Please trust me.”

“If you get killed, you know that his Highness will kill me twice, right?” Qi Meng said flatly. “Like, he would definitely cut my head off and reattach it to cut it off again. Zhanying, I get that you’re worried—”

“We don’t have a better plan,” Zhanying cut in, words coming out faster in impatience. “You know we don’t. And none of the scouts we’ve sent have found a way to break into their camp. But,” he paused, taking a soft breath. “I have. A few times.”

Qi Meng’s eyebrows rose. “…Zhanying, you—”

“You know I can do it. Please. I just want to get his Highness back,” Zhanying said, staring at him in challenge, and Qi Meng eventually groaned.

“…Fine. Fine,” Qi Meng grumbled. “What do you need us to do?”

Zhanying stole into the camp while it was still bright. It was remarkably more difficult then nightfall, but still possible. He watched their patrol rotations and tried to look for where Jingyan might be while Qi Meng and the rest gathered at the main gate outside. He tried searching some tents but he only found personal belongings from the Dong Hai’s soldiers and nothing of importance. And then he caught sight of a group of soldiers in a different coloured armour coming in his direction, so he veered around the tents and sat behind the one where they entered. Murmurings came from inside the tent, but it was difficult to hear, so Zhanying slit a small cut to hear what was being discussed.

He was right in guessing they would be useful when he heard them mention Da Liang’s seventh prince.

“He’s not breaking,” one of them said, sounding annoyed. “We don’t have time left. If word gets out that we kidnapped their prince, Da Liang will declare war.”

“What do you suggest, then?” another voice came, accusatory. “I told you it was a bad idea, but you said the prince could be convinced to betray his Emperor!”

“Everyone knows that after what happened to the Chiyan army—”

“Enough!” another voice cut in the bickering, louder and more authority than the other two.  “We’ve taken the prince, and now we have to live with the consequences. Has the Da Liang camp sent word towards the capital?”

“Our spies have been watching the pigeon post in Da Liang, and it doesn’t seem like they have. It is not a small thing to accuse us when they don’t have any proof.”

“Small mercies,” the other muttered, but it sounded more frustrated than anything.

A beat of silence.

“Commander Zhang, if I may—…” one started slowly. “We should just kill the prince and be done with it…since he isn’t proving to be useful.”

Zhanying gripped his dagger so tight his knuckles went white.

“Da Liang can’t prove that we have the prince…we get rid of the body cleanly, no messes, no traces…” the other continued. “If we let him go, he will not forgive us for this.”

There was a thoughtful hum and Zhanying’s first instinct was to leave and find Jingyan. He had to, before…before—

“Commander Zhang! Commander!” came a soldier shouting wildly from the other side, and Zhanying heard it even before the other went into the tent. “There—t-there’s a commotion at the gate!”

“What commotion?”

Zhanying held his breath in tightly as everyone in the tent filed out to go inspect what was going on. He hid for several more minutes before he felt confident enough to sneak away—by then, most of the soldiers in the camp had wandered towards the main gate, leaving lots of blind spots to blend into. Zhanying ran over as many possibilities as to where they might keep Jingyan; he couldn’t see any prison cages, and he’d already checked the obscure places of the camp where he thought they might keep a prisoner of war.

The revelation came the same moment he noticed that only one of the tents had soldiers standing guard around it—a large fancy tent, the commander’s personal tent. Certainly not the kind of treatment he expected Dong Hai to give to an enemy, but then again, Jingyan was a royal prince.

It was rather dumb that the soldiers guarding the tent only stood by the entrance, with their attention drawn towards whatever that was going on at the main gate even though they couldn’t see what was happening, because Zhanying easily cut his way in from the back and slipped into it unseen.

Jingyan was seated on a cushion with his eyes closed, hands bound behind his back and ankles also tied together underneath. There was no sign of injury except for a bleeding cut on Jingyan’s forehead, and that his skin was chafed red from the rough rope. Zhanying wasn’t sure what had transpired, but he was so relieved to see Jingyan in a better than expected condition that he nearly dropped his dagger.

“…Your Highness,” Zhanying whispered when he crawled close, and tugged on Jingyan’s sleeve.

Jingyan jolted in shock so hard that he toppled over—Zhanying grabbed him before he landed on the ground, because that would alert the soldiers outside.

“...Z-zhanying? How, how did you—”

Zhanying pressed his palm over Jingyan’s mouth in reflex, only realising he shouldn’t have done that when Jingyan quietened down. He redrew his hand back hastily.

“There are some soldiers outside, they might hear us,” Zhanying explained quietly, using his dagger to make quick work of the rope. “Come with me, your Highness.”

Jingyan’s eyes were wide and round, but he nodded and followed Zhanying out of the tent via the back way after rubbing at his chaffed skin. Zhanying chewed his lip as he pictured the way they were going to sneak out—there were a few dangerous points, but he hoped the Jing army were making a large enough racket to keep the Dong Hai soldiers busy.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying pressed his dagger into Jingyan’s hands. “Please take this, just in case.”

Jingyan looked surprised but he took it. Before Jingyan could say anything, however, Zhanying’s attention was immediately captured by a sudden loud yell he recognised as Qi Meng’s angry roaring in the air. It was the perfect distraction to escape—and Zhanying led Jingyan down the rows and rows of tents to freedom.

“Your Highness, are you okay?” Zhanying asked when they were safely across the border on Da Liang’s territory.

He glanced at the bleeding cut and the angry red marks on Jingyan’s wrists, inwardly noting to call the physician the moment they were back in camp.

“It could’ve been worse,” Jingyan replied, looking much less worried than Zhanying thought he would be. “Zhanying, go and get me my horse,” he said when they were about fifty meters from home.

Zhanying blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

“I’m going to Dong Hai’s main gate.”

“But your Highness—”

A look at Jingyan’s serious face reminded Zhanying that the prince was still very much in charge, so Zhanying stopped his protest and went forward first to do as Jingyan had requested. He wasn’t sure what exactly Jingyan wanted to do.

It was quite a sight when Jingyan trotted up to the troops that were still yelling insults and accusations at Dong Hai’s soldiers who were yelling denials right back.

There was absolute silence for five seconds before the Jing troops cried out of happiness and relief—while Dong Hai stayed stormy quiet, though the commander—Zhanying remembered him from the armour he wore—had a look on his face that spelt he was severely fucked.

“What are all of you doing here, making so much noise?” Jingyan demanded.

“Your Highness—” some started indignantly, but Jingyan raised his hand and they shut their mouths.

“Go back to camp. That’s an order.”

There were grumblings but eventually their troops turned away obediently. Jingyan stayed put to face Dong Hai’s commander, and Zhanying didn’t want to leave Jingyan alone again so he waited a step behind on his own horse.

“Prince Jing,” the other had the nerve to smirk, though it looked uncomfortable. “You should discipline your troops better.”

“You should manage your camp better,” Jingyan replied coolly. “There were several health hazard violations I recognised.”

There was smoke arising from deep within the Dong Hai camp that Jingyan and Zhanying could see from the direction they were facing, but it took a couple more beats for Dong Hai to recognise that there was a fire spreading in their camp.

“COMMANDER! IT’S AN EMERGENCY!” came a loud wail from inside the camp, and the commander gritted his teeth.

“You—!”

“Take care, Commander Zhang.”

There was a ghost of a smirk on Jingyan’s lips before he turned away and trotted back towards the Da Liang camp. Zhanying casted one final glance at the commander clenching his fists at the Dong Hai border gate before hurrying after Jingyan.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Jingyan said abruptly when they were on the way back together, and Zhanying stilled.

“Um, your Highness?” Zhanying swallowed.

“You spilled oil around the tents. The smell of oil sticks, you know.”

Zhanying paused, looking contrite. “…It wasn’t my intention to…to…”

“Start a fire in the enemy camp?”

Zhanying looked away. “I didn’t start the fire,” he murmured. “I just thought they might be clumsy enough to. At some point.”

“Mm. I knocked over one of their lamps when we left,” Jingyan said, and Zhanying snapped his gaze to him in surprise.

Jingyan was looking forward and he was smiling, and it was a beautiful sight.

Zhanying got the physician to look at Jingyan the very first moment when they arrived back at camp, even though everyone was clamoring to ask the prince about the ordeal. Jingyan wanted to write a report and he also wanted everyone to write reports about what happened in the time he was gone—Zhanying thought that was insane and begged Jingyan to at least sit in his room to rest.

The physician tutted disapprovingly when Jingyan tried to write while being looked over and Jingyan eventually gave up and sat still to be checked properly. His head wound was cleaned and a salve was given to soothe the rope burn marks on his skin—Zhanying tried not to stare at the gentle way the physician rubbed the cream over Jingyan’s pale wrists, casting his glance elsewhere to keep his mind from being distracted.

Soon enough the physician deemed Jingyan was fine—but rest was prescribed, especially given how long Jingyan had gone for without food or water. Zhanying brought in some porridge and sat down to observe Jingyan eat, just in case the prince decided to do work again for whatever reason he couldn’t understand.

Jingyan snorted when he noticed Zhanying hovering. “You fuss like a concubine,” he rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m fine. They didn’t do anything to me, they just talked. A lot.”

“They could have,” Zhanying found himself saying, and shut his mouth quickly after. “I…we were…worried. Your Highness.”

There was a soft sigh.

“…Zhanying,” Jingyan said, and Zhanying looked up to meet his eyes. “I am…grateful, for what you did for me today. You will be rewarded as you deserve. But don’t do that again, okay?”

“Your Highness,” Zhanying began in shock. “I’m not doing this because of…of…I…I-I cannot let you—”

“Zhanying,” Jingyan repeated his name sternly. “I know your intentions. But I forbid you to do anything that reckless ever again.”

In hindsight, Zhanying should’ve known better than to tell a prince what he can or cannot do.

“…Yes,” he lied eventually, lowering his head. “Your Highness.”

Zhanying left the tent after Jingyan swallowed his last mouthful with the empty bowl, and brought it to the river to wash it. He could’ve brought it back to the kitchen to get someone else do it, but he wanted some time alone to deal with how his chest felt all clenched up. He was certainly not stressed or worried about Jingyan anymore, but he was…it felt…tight. And painful, with the way it squeezed till it was difficult to breathe. Zhanying pulled his knees to this chest and dropped his head down, clutching his legs close.

Why did it feel like this?

There was a very real possibility he could’ve lost Jingyan today. There was a very real possibility that he might lose Jingyan someday. Jingyan called his actions to break into Dong Hai camp alone reckless, but didn’t Jingyan know that he would do a lot more if the situation needed it? He wasn’t sure where he would draw the line, but many things seemed plausible—if he had to exchange his life, he would in a heartbeat.

Without Jingyan, what would he do anyway?

Would Lin Shu still need him?

What would he be?

“…Zhanying,” a large hand rested on his back, and Zhanying froze up until he realised it was just Qi Meng. “Are…are you okay?”

Zhanying uncurled, hastily trying to look more put together when he still felt all ripped up inside. “Just. Just taking a break.”

“Okay,” Qi Meng replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting water—we’re preparing a feast to celebrate getting his Highness back tonight,” Qi Meng held up the bucket he had brought along, but he made no move to fill it up; instead, plonked his butt down on the dirt next to Zhanying. “So, why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” Zhanying muttered.

“Well, you look like you want to,” Qi Meng stared at him. “His Highness is okay now, you know. Thanks to you.”

Zhanying looked down. “It’s not that.”

“Then?”

Zhanying shook his head. “Nothing.”

“If it’s not that then it’s something.”

Zhanying sighed and pursed his lips. “His Highness told me never to break into an enemy camp to get him out again.”

“So it is that.”

“It’s not.”

Qi Meng ignored him. “And?”

Zhanying shrugged vaguely. “I would never leave his Highness there. I can’t…I can’t sit by and do nothing if it’s something I can do.”

“Your speciality,” Qi Meng nodded.

“I just,” he swallowed, voice sounding smaller. “…wish his Highness would rely on me more. I shouldn’t—shouldn’t dare to think that I…” he trailed off into silence. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Qi Meng was trustworthy, but he did have a loud mouth sometimes. Zhanying buried his head into his knees again and groaned.

“His Highness relies a lot on you, I don’t know what more you’re referring to,” Qi Meng replied a bit skeptically. “He’s worried about you getting hurt, that’s why he doesn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

“But if his Highness isn’t around,” Zhanying retorted. “Then what use do I have left?”

He must’ve said it a bit too loudly because Qi Meng looked stunned at the sudden outburst. The other blinked for a few moments before looking like he finally understood something.

“…Zhanying,” he spoke up finally, looking awkward. “I won’t ask, because I don’t want to know. But. Just once, please think about yourself before his Highness.”

“What…what do you mean?” Zhanying frowned.

“You’ll know what I mean,” Qi Meng said evasively. “When it hurts.”

Chapter Text

About two years later, Mei Changsu came to Jinling.

There was no warning from marshal Lin.

A small group of the Jing army had accompanied Jingyan out of the capital to oversee some troop movements around the border, and when they returned, the city was abuzz with excitement about a tournament to win Princess Mu Nihuang’s hand. Zhanying had never spoken to the princess directly, but he had witnessed Jingyan and the princess exchange pleasantries and small talk before. There was always a lingering sense of awkwardness between their exchanges—like there was an elephant in the room and Princess Mu took care not to point it out in case Jingyan got upset. Zhanying gave a guess it was about marshal Lin, since Jingyan had mentioned the three of them were childhood friend in various passing stories, but he didn’t know the princess and marshal Lin were engaged before…well, cliff Meiling burned.

Apparently, it was common knowledge to the common folk and the Jing army—it was all what anyone talked during meal times: the chance to win the princess’ hand after her last engagement eleven years ago did not work out. A number of them signed up for the tournament; a lot of those that Zhanying thought were clearly merely fantasizing, because Princess Mu was on the Langya List. Jingyan wasn’t even on the Langya List, and no one in the army shot an arrow as well as he did.

Jingyan seemed unbothered about this, quipping that perhaps only one or two of them would make it past the preliminaries to fight in the one-on-one tournament anyway, which Zhanying thought was rather depressing for the Jing army reputation. (He couldn’t deny it was true though.)

Zhanying also asked the prince if he was intending to join, but Jingyan just gave him a funny half grimace and said of course not. He’d thought that Princess Mu, if anything, was the kind of lady Jingyan would get matched with. Jingyan just snorted in amusement and said that if his Majesty the Emperor thought that he was worthy of the princess, they would’ve been married off long ago.

Zhanying wisely did not choose to pursue the conversation.

Qi Ming and the other generals tried to rope him into joining the tournament with them (for fun, they said), but Zhanying wasn’t interested in fighting for the sake of fighting nor was he interested in the princess. He oversaw the Jing manor while Jingyan was in the palace doing whatever princely obligations, and then he heard the excited whisperings about some Northern Yan tough guy Baili Qi, some prison kids, and Su Zhe, the famed scholar who was rumoured to be Mei Changsu, the Chief of the Jiangzuo Alliance.

Zhanying thought rumours were just rumours—marshal Lin spun a lot of those to his advantage—but he asked around and found out that marshal Lin, or the Divine Talent Mei Changsu, had entered into Jinling with Xiao Jingrui a few weeks ago and was staying at the Xie Manor. A few weeks.  Zhanying couldn’t believe that marshal Lin just upped and came into the capital with no warning after eleven years, but when he sat and thought about it, he realised that the other would eventually come back into the city. After all, clearing Chiyan’s name was the sole reason Lin Shu asked him to steal important documents and tokens over the years.

Still, marshal Lin could’ve sent him a note.

Zhanying wondered if this was it; he wouldn’t need to be by Jingyan’s side anymore now that Lin Shu was here, and briefly panicked. Even if Lin Shu didn’t need him to protect Jingyan anymore, Jingyan would still let him stay, right? He was a proper Jing army soldier now. He didn’t really fancy returning to the Langya mountains; he couldn’t really think of anything he would do there.

During one of the nights, he slipped out of the Jing manor and sneaked into the Xie manor. It was remarkably easy, which made Zhanying frown because he thought marshal Lin should care to protect himself better.  Only Xiao Jingrui came out to check the courtyard looking a little suspicious, but he went back inside after a while. Zhanying got as far as secretly peering inside a room where he saw a somewhat familiar figure in bed robes lounging on a cot with a book in hand. Just as he landed quietly right outside the door to slide it open, however, he was suddenly lifted high up in the air.

Zhanying braced himself for the impact when he was thrown—rather painfully, he might add—against one of the pillars. It was dark so it was difficult to see, but a young boy was staring him down with the fiercest glare, stance ready to fight. Zhanying quickly got up, ignoring the throb of pain on his back, and slid his dagger out. Zhanying wasn’t stupid—he wasn’t going to fight someone who could physically lift him with one hand—so he threw the dagger past the boy’s ear (who caught it) and threw another hidden dagger into the sliding door at the same time.

The dagger went through.

There was a dull thud from the inside, barely a split second before the boy slammed the door open and yelled, “Su ge-ge!”

The figure in bed merely blinked at them when he glanced away from the said dagger stuck onto the wall on the other side of the room. The young boy’s shoulders relaxed, and then they tensed up again when he whirled to face Zhanying, features dark in anger.

“Fei Liu!” Marshal Lin shouted urgently, before the boy’s fist made it to Zhanying’s face. “Don’t hurt him. He’s one of us.”

Fei Liu whipped his head back in confusion, fist in mid-air and then glared at Zhanying again distrustfully.

“If I wanted to hurt him, I wouldn’t have thrown the dagger into the wall,” Zhanying said helpfully, but the boy just growled.

“Don’t know you,” Fei Liu said frowning, punctuating each word.

“You do know him,” Marshal Lin adopted a gentle tone. “He’s Xiao Ying ge-ge, the one I told you I sent to protect the water buffalo, remember?”

Fei Liu’s eyebrows furrowed even more. “…Little bird.”

“That’s right,” Marshal Lin nodded, smiling. “Now let him come in and close the door, it’s chilly.”

The boy seemed appeased this time and dropped his stance. He pushed Zhanying in none too gently and slid the door closed after him with snap and huff, like he was still miffed. Zhanying stood in the room alone with marshal Lin, looking about warily; the silence that settled suddenly was unnerving.

Zhanying last saw marshal Lin eleven years ago, in his new skin. It was natural that the elder looked different—he was less gauntly and frail than before, but he was as pale as ever, and his features had sharpened more maturely. There was a distinctively calculative feel around him—not that marshal Lin didn’t exhibit it then, but it was even more so now, with the way the other eyed him with a seeming nonchalant smile.

“Come and sit here,” Marshal Lin said, patting the floor space in front of him as he put his book down. “You’re too tall now—it hurts my neck to look at you.”

Zhanying obeyed, settling to his knees. “…I realise it is really late, I am sorry for intruding,” he started when Lin Shu just didn’t say anything more. “But I…wanted to see how you were doing. Marshal Lin.”

Lin Shu smiled; it seemed more like a smirk, to be honest. “I’m sure that’s not all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Zhanying blurted out immediately. “Or tell me when you arrived?”

“I did give you warning though,” Lin Shu tilted his head. “Northern Yan’s sixth prince was recently made the crown prince, didn’t you hear the news?”

“Yes, but what…”

“It’s thanks to you, you know,” Lin Shu continued. “The token you retrieved for me. A crane and two lotuses. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

“I steal a lot of things for you,” Zhanying said in return.

Lin Shu only kept his smile. “You look well,” he said instead. “I see that Jingyan’s been feeding you properly.”

“…Yes. And you look…better.”

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Lin Shu probed after they fell into silence again.

Zhanying wanted to point out that his first question wasn’t even answered. “Did you come to marry Princess Mu?”

Lin Shu blinked like he hadn’t expected that question, he coughed a few times that sounded suspiciously like a badly veiled laugh.

“The princess can’t marry a lowly scholar,” he said. “Even if I wanted to, His Majesty won’t allow it.”

“Then why did you send Baili Qi into the tournament?”

“Oh, how did you guess it was me?” Lin Shu shifted on the bed, settling into a more comfortable position.

“It seemed like the kind of thing you would do,” Zhanying said, after some thought. “To promise that three kids can defeat him.”

Lin Shu blinked. “…Well, kids are a talented bunch, as you should know yourself. If you trained with Fei Liu, he might teach you a thing or two too.”

“No thanks,” Zhanying said quickly, and Lin Shu quirked an eyebrow. “He doesn’t like me, I can tell.”

“You did try to sneak into my room like an assassin. Give it some time, he’ll warm up to you,” Lin Shu paused. “But maybe it’s better that he doesn’t. If Fei Liu is too familiar with you, Jingyan will suspect something.”

At that, Zhanying sat up straighter. “Are…are you not going to tell his Highness?” he questioned.

Lin Shu only gave him a pointed look. “Xiao Ying, you know that this…identity that I am now is for life,” he said. “’Lin Shu’ is a traitor. Do you really want Jingyan to go through what we did eleven years ago?”

“No, but…” Zhanying lowered his head. “His Highness can keep your secret.”

“Can he really?” Lin Shu snorted, looking amused. “Have you ever seen Jingyan trying to lie?”

Zhanying opened his mouth and then he shut it. He tried a different approach. “…Don’t you want to see his Highness?”

“I have already seen him,” Lin Shu answered leisurely. “Did Jingyan not tell you? We met in the palace a few days ago.”

Zhanying knew the question was deliberate—Lin Shu was watching his reaction carefully, because when Zhanying bit his bottom lip and curled his hands together, the other shifted up and sighed very gently.

“Xiao Ying—”

“I, I-I will take my leave,” Zhanying said, throat tight all of a sudden. “I am sorry for disturbing your rest, marshal Lin. I will come again another time.”

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu repeated more firmly, and pressed a hand over Zhanying’s wrist before he stood up. “I need you to continue staying by Jingyan’s side, alright? In the coming year, it’s going to get more dangerous than ever. You’re the only one I trust Jingyan with. And you’re the only one who Jingyan trusts. But there’re just some important things that the future of Da Liang depend on that Jingyan cannot share with you. Trust me.”

Zhanying closed his eyes briefly and withdrew his hand after letting the touch linger for a moment. “…Yes, marshal Lin.”

“Don’t sneak in again, it’s too dangerous,” Lin Shu told him before he left. “If there is anything I will send for you. Until then, keep Jingyan safe. Be safe.”

Zhanying wanted to say Jingyan never caught on to his sneaking off during the excursions but he refrained and just nodded before disappearing over the wall. As he walked back to the Jing manor, he tried to breathe in deep to cool his head. Jingyan not telling him things was expected, and certainly Zhanying knew that Jingyan didn’t tell him everything. Or needed to even tell him anything.

But it still hurt, to have it said, that Zhanying was not privy to lots of things in Jingyan’s life. Zhanying just…always wanted more, in ways he didn’t know what they were, even if he would be content to have however little Jingyan wanted to give him. He was already a general, the second in command of the Jing army—it was obvious to anyone that Jingyan trusted him the most. There was no other higher honour Zhanying could ever ask for.

And yet.

He hated that he...hoped…for more.

Zhanying didn’t sleep well the next few nights. He was always a light sleeper, but recently it felt like he had to be extra paranoid for Jingyan, even though the Jing manor was much safer than any of the campsites outside of the city. It was Lin Shu’s fault.

Jingyan visited the Xie manor a couple of times in the past week, saying something about checking up on the kids Su Zhe was training. Zhanying offered to accompany him, but the prince said he wanted to go in alone when they went to the Xie manor, so Zhanying waited outside instead. The excuse that Jingyan gave was that the famed scholar was not in good health and it was not polite to strain his company with an additional person. Zhanying was immediately reminded that revealing who Mei Changsu really was to him was not a good idea given the terrible quality of the prince’s lies.

And then the day which Baili Qi fought the three prison kids came.

Zhanying was waiting outside the palace for Jingyan to return from the event when Commander General Meng Zhi came out escorting three small kids in blue robes. They all looked equally lost and jubilant and excited and scared, which made for a strange expression on their faces. Zhanying greeted the commander politely out of courtesy and was surprised when the commander gestured to the kids and said they were Jingyan’s now. The prince certainly forgot to mention that they were adopting kids before the other went into the palace this morning, but Zhanying saw no reason for Meng Zhi to lie, so he nodded.

“We will wait for his Highness to return, thank you for escorting them, Commander Meng,” Zhanying bowed, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the three children mimicking his action.

“It’s no problem. Oh, uh, you should get going first,” Meng Zhi said, smiling. “His Highness Prince Jing will take a while yet, saving the princess and all.”

Meng Zhi snapped his mouth shut the same moment Zhanying stared back in urgency. “Did-did something happen in the palace?”

The commander general gave a sheepish wince. “Yes, y-yes, everything’s fine,” he said in a tone that Zhanying felt was not fine. “His Highness will just be held up for a couple of hours more, so you should bring them back first. I don’t think they’ve had the chance to eat anything since this morning.”

Zhanying looked at the kids who blinked their wide pleading eyes at him and then back at Meng Zhi again.

“…Please send word if anything happens to his Highness immediately,” he said finally. “Please.”

Meng Zhi’s eyebrow raised just a little bit at his insistence, but Zhanying didn’t care if he came off as overprotective; Lin Shu said it was going to be dangerous right? Zhanying suddenly felt really stressed just at the thought of not being able to enter the palace, but rules were rules.

The usual protocol was to take a horse or chariot to the gates of the palace, but Jingyan often did not do that, which resulted in three children trailing after Zhanying as they walked back to the Jing manor. They got distracted so easily by things on the street—looking like they were seeing everything for the first time, and it dawned upon Zhanying that it was their first time seeing anything outside of the palace.

Zhanying knew that feeling. It was like the first time he went out with the Jing army into a bustling town when he had his own coin to afford things.

Zhanying slowed his pace to let them stare at things they were interested in, but ultimately, they shuffled back in line when they caught themselves straying. When they got to the Jing manor, Zhanying arranged for them to stay with their youngest recruits and then brought them to the kitchen.

The cooks were familiar with him not only because he was Jingyan’s second in command, but also because Zhanying had a habit of sneaking into the kitchen to look for food when he was hungry at night. He felt bad about stealing the first time—so he bought a sack of produce the next day to apologise and make up for the missing food. The cooks thought he was naive and dumb as hell when Zhanying bowed to them, because as a Jing army soldier he was entitled to eat the food in the stores.

He chatted to a few of the cooks as the young boys sat in a corner and wolfed down some porridge and sweet potatoes, and then ate some himself because he could not resist when a bowl was passed to him. The three children were very quiet; they didn’t even speak to each other, which Zhanying thought was a little weird.

“Can you tell me who you are?” he asked politely.

He noticed that all three of them looked up at him, and then down again to the floor hastily, like they were afraid to say something wrong. Their hands tightened on the bowls, and Zhanying saw that they were equally scuffed and marred like his own.

“Tingsheng,” one of them said first.

“Luyuan,” another followed quickly, and the last one was from the smallest boy.

“…Shuhong.”

Zhanying nodded, then he realised he had no idea what else to say. He had no experience with children, nor was there any particular instruction he could act on until Jingyan arrived. He ended up giving them more things to eat because that was just how he felt better when he was younger, and they stuffed their faces eagerly without questioning.

When finally there was word that Jingyan had arrived back at the manor, he asked someone to bring the children to their room to settle while he hurried to the main gate. Jingyan looked rather pissed off when he stormed through the gate, but Zhanying was just relieved that he was not hurt.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying greeted, gaze dropping when Jingyan glanced at him, glare still on his face. “I am sorry I did not wait for you outside the palace. I brought the children back with me first—are there any specific arrangements that you would like for them? I’ve put them with our youngest recruits for now.”

Jingyan blinked, and almost immediately the glare dropped. “Oh. Yes,” he stood in thought. “No, what you’ve arranged is perfectly fine. Bring me to them.”

The three boys scuttled to attention when Jingyan came to their room. Zhanying stood by the side while the prince spoke with them. There wasn’t a trace of his previous bad mood in Jingyan’s demeanour, instead, he looked genuinely delighted to see the children. After a while he called for one of the captains in charge of drills to take the boys to see the training field, but one child in particular stayed behind because the prince had a hand on his shoulder.

“Zhanying,” Jingyan spoke when the rest left, and the child also peered up at him. “Tingsheng has lessons with Mr Su on some days. I will trouble you to see to those arrangements,” he said, and then looked at the boy. “Tingsheng, if you have any questions, Zhanying will help you.”

“Yes, your Highness Prince Jing.”

Jingyan gave a brief smile, and then patted Tingsheng’s head once. “Zhanying, bring him to join the other boys. I will retire to my room.”

“Your Highness—” Zhanying started before he could stop himself, and Jingyan turned in mid-swivel with a questioning glance. “…Would you…like something to eat?” he murmured.

“No,” Jingyan simply replied. “Don’t call for me unless there’s an emergency. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

Zhanying bowed in obedience and watched Jingyan walk away alone. He didn’t realise he had been staring after Jingyan’s steps for too long until Tingsheng tugged at his sleeve, eyes blinking curiously.

“Is there something important you have to tell his Highness?” the boy asked.

Zhanying looked down at the other. “…No, it’s…” he began, but shut his mouth quickly. “No,” he amended. “Let’s go see what the others are doing.”

Tingsheng looked at him like he definitely did not fall for the diversion attempt, but he nodded and followed after Zhanying footsteps through the manor.

Later in the week, Jingyan went to visit a teahouse and the bad mood that Jingyan had been stewing miraculously disappeared. Zhanying wanted to ask what happened, but it was too presumptuous; though Jingyan trusted him and shared a lot of things with him, he shouldn’t have any audacity to ask about things he was not told. He was also told not to visit Lin Shu, so he couldn’t find his answers there either. Instead, his time was filled up with some errands regarding a case with Duke Qing that Jingyan was appointed to oversee, which he did while fretting about all the possibilities.

The three children Jingyan had adopted settled in quickly—and Zhanying could see how much Jingyan favoured Tingsheng from just how the prince made himself available to the younger whenever the other approached him. Zhanying felt irrationally jealous of the child at times, but he also liked Tingsheng a lot, even if he was extremely inquisitive and asked about thirty questions a day.

The time that Lin Shu personally made a visit to the Jing manor came, and the only warning was from a messenger informing them that Su Zhe would like to come the afternoon after. Zhanying tried not to react to the news too weirdly, but everyone was excited and curious to see the famous scholar first hand that his lack of reaction was weird in itself. Truthfully Zhanying didn’t understand why soldiers were interested in Su Zhe.

Qi Meng felt Zhanying freeze when Jingyan brought Su Zhe to their discussion room to introduce him—“This is Mr Su Zhe, a friend of mine. Please look after him in the future.” That was the only conceivable reason why Qi Meng immediately turned to look at Zhanying, other than the possibility that Jingyan calling someone else his friend was a miracle. Zhanying shot Qi Meng a look in return and bowed with the rest of them when they greeted their visitor.

It looked strange, to see Jingyan and Lin Shu standing side by side. It wasn’t like Zhanying had seen them together before…before. But he knew they were friends—had been best friends—and he knew how much Jingyan missed Lin Shu. The marshal Lin did not look affected, smiling serenely, especially when his gaze landed on Zhanying.

“Zhanying, you will lead the rest of the meeting,” Jingyan stated before showing Lin Shu the way to the study.

Zhanying glanced after them, but Qi Meng was tugging on his arm. “Hey, did you know they were that close?”

“What?” Zhanying frowned in confusion, before realising Qi Meng meant Jingyan and Lin Shu. “They’re not,” he said before he could stop himself.

“They were standing pretty close, that’s all,” Qi Meng shrugged.

“It’s not any of our business,” Zhanying said this time.

“Mm,” Qi Meng grinned, and made to say something more, but another general cleared his throat pointedly.

Zhanying started the meeting refusing to think about it and made off quickly after it ended just in case Qi Meng wanted to tease him again. He headed for Jingyan’s study, but on the way he glimpsed a movement from one of the rooms with the door slid open from across the compound. Upon getting closer he realised it was just Tingsheng and the young boy who had thrown him against the pillar the last time fiddling with something in their hands.

Fei Liu immediately tensed when he appeared—Zhanying did the same out of reflex, but when the other grudgingly did not react, Zhanying stepped closer carefully.

“General Lie!” Tingsheng beamed wide when he turned around. “Look what Fei Liu ge-ge gave me!”

Zhanying’s eyes nearly bulged when he saw the chainmail armour. He wouldn’t know exactly how much that would cost, but it looked like pure gold.

“That’s…that’s very nice,” he said politely, shifting his gaze to Fei Liu who just looked pleased. “I don’t think it will fit you though.”

“Oh…”

“You will grow into it soon enough,” he added when he could feel Fei Liu’s stare going ice cold. “Keep it safe.”

Tingsheng nodded, stuffed the armour into a chest box and then ran out with Fei Liu towards the direction of the training field. Zhanying stared at the flimsy wooden chest box and made a mental note to tell Jingyan that they should keep it somewhere else for Tingsheng. He suddenly stopped in mid-walk when he realised Lin Shu was likely the one to give Tingsheng such an expensive gift.

Both Jingyan and Lin Shu seemed to shower the child with a lot of affection, but why?

If Zhanying had to squint, Tingsheng did look a little bit like Jingyan, but that…

No, it couldn’t be.

Zhanying paced outside Jingyan’s study when he reached, choosing to keep a bit of distance so that he wouldn’t hear whatever the two inside were discussing, and instead mused about his own thoughts. Tingsheng was like…eleven. There was no way Jingyan could have fathered the child, could he? Even if the prince did, there was no reason why Tingsheng would have ended up in the palace prison. That was stupid. That was ridiculous.

He was so preoccupied with his wondering that he didn’t notice Jingyan and Lin Shu had stepped out until they were a couple of steps in front of him. He hurried to greet them.

“Your Highness, Mr Su,” he bowed, keeping his face straight.

Lin Shu kept that serene smile. “Where’s Fei Liu?”

“At the training field,” he answered.

Lin Shu hummed for a bit and then suggested that they go take a look. Jingyan gestured for him to walk, and they fell into step and small conversation. Zhanying eyed the two—what Qi Meng said…wasn’t untrue. Jingyan and Lin Shu were walking close enough that their robes brushed.

Zhanying never strode that close to the prince; he would know.

And remember.

But they were friends, even if Jingyan didn’t know it. Zhanying watched the way Lin Shu carried himself as Su Zhe—or Mei Changsu—poised, curious about the beast that they were asked to help capture, while Jingyan smiled small upturned lips. Jingyan didn’t smile around people he wasn’t comfortable with, and yet with Lin Shu, with just a few times that they had met, something had already changed.

Zhanying trailed behind them as they walked to the training field, and for the first time Zhanying felt the distance between them like a physical chasm. He would never be able to walk beside Jingyan in the same manner. Even as the scholar Su Zhe who had no royalty in his veins, Lin Shu was just...different to Jingyan. Zhanying could never be that, not in any lifetime.

Didn’t Zhanying say he didn’t need that? He didn’t need to be on any par with Jingyan. He was happy being as he was. Being here.

It was it enough.

Was it?

Zhanying gripped the hilt of his sword to ground himself to reality, snapping out of it just in time to notice Qi Meng sparring Fei Liu while everyone watched in fascination. Qi Meng was by no means an unskilled warrior, but Fei Liu was definitely on a different level. Zhanying could personally attest to that, and it seemed like the entire field of spectators knew this too, especially when Fei Liu plucked the trip knife Qi Meng shot at the other out of thin air.

Qi Meng had pride that he didn’t like bruised, so it wasn’t much to Zhanying’s surprise that the other would try something stupid to regain it back. He was surprised, however, at the depth of Qi Meng’s stupidity.

When the small knife flew right past Lin Shu’s ear, Zhanying himself had a heart attack; it flew so quickly that he didn’t even have time to react, his hand was above the dagger he kept in his robes but just like that, it was gone. If Qi Meng had aimed just a bit off, he would’ve killed Lin Shu. If Qi Meng’s aim was more than off, he could’ve killed Jingyan.

Zhanying didn’t know which one to be more horrified at, and yelled Qi Meng’s name to stop blubbering excuses because Jingyan looked so angry.

“It looks like your Highness’ control over your army can’t even be compared to me, a pugilist Chief,” Lin Shu said in parting before seeing himself out.

Zhanying wondered if Lin Shu truly needed to say such harsh things, swallowing helplessly after the other’s retreating back. There was no wrong in Lin Shu’s words, but…

“Your Highness, Qi Meng has acknowledged his mistake,” Zhanying bowed urgently. “Please don’t be angry.”

Jingyan’s face only got darker. “Qi Meng has ignored army rules and will be punished accordingly. He will be given fifty beatings and demoted a rank. You will supervise the punishment.”

Zhanying lowered his head even more, and Jingyan strode off without glancing at either of them once. Zhanying resisted the urge to curse as the field emptied out, dragging his feet over to Qi Meng who was still kneeling on the ground.

“Fuck,” Qi Meng said for himself, but it felt like it was for the both of them. “Fuck.”

Nonetheless the other didn’t complain as he took his punishment, but he did whine and groan after on his bed, lying on his stomach. Zhanying was still mad but he brought some soothing cream and helped Qi Meng clean the whipping wounds.

“Zhanying, get me something to eat…I’m hungry…”

“You don’t deserve dinner,” Zhanying muttered. “What were you thinking…”

“Well you know, that scholar is so weak, even you could snap him in half—OWWWW—”

“Qi Meng!” Zhanying snapped.

“—It was a joke, a joke, sheesh!” Qi Meng glared at him, wincing at pain Zhanying induced with a pinch. “…I don’t know, it just seemed like a good idea at that time.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know that now,” Qi Meng muttered. “I just wanted to see what the Chief of the Jiangzuo Alliance could do…or why his Highness likes him so much.”

 Zhanying pursed his lips but kept rubbing the ointment.

“Oh, now you’re not going to say anything?” Qi Meng huffed.

“What has it got to do with me?” Zhanying blinked.

“Don’t you find it a little bit suspicious?” Qi Meng glanced at him. “His Highness never makes friends—oww—w-wait, Zhanying, you know what I mean!”

Unfortunately Zhanying did know what Qi Meng meant. “…Maybe they just have something in common,” he said eventually. “It’s not any of our business.”

“Of course not,” Qi Meng snorted, looking at him. “Of course not,” he repeated, and Zhanying had the distinct feeling it was aimed at him, but he chose not to reply.

Chapter Text

On New Year’s eve, Zhanying slipped over the dividing wall of the Jing manor and made his way towards the main house in the Su Manor. He was aware that Lin Shu had moved because he arranged for Tingsheng’s transport for the younger’s tutoring lessons, or accompanied Jingyan to the Su Manor gate. It wasn’t ever explicitly stated to him that the Jing manor and Su manor were side by side properties despite taking an hour to get there on the common road, but Zhanying had scouted out the Jing manor thoroughly enough that he knew where beyond the surrounding walls led to.

Although Lin Shu had requested him not visit unless called, but it was New Year’s eve. Jingyan was at the palace, the Jing men (those that didn’t have families to return to, anyway) were distracted in eating and drinking—it was all too easy for Zhanying to excuse himself past midnight saying that he was heading to the palace gates to pick Jingyan up.

When Zhanying got close enough to Lin Shu’s room, he heard the sound of vague amused laughter—which was cut off abruptly when the door slid open with a snap. The young boy, Fei Liu, glared out into the darkness with suspicion. Zhanying tensed, and then decided to just show himself before a fight happened, like the other time.

Fei Liu scrambled back with a defensive stance when Zhanying hopped down from the roof, lips pulled to hiss before remembering that Zhanying was not an enemy. But Zhanying did intrude, so Fei Liu made a displeased grunt and glared harder.

“Oh,” Lin Shu’s voice echoed from the room inside. “Fei Liu, let him in.”

Zhanying still eyed the boy warily when he shuffled in, and bowed briefly to Li Gang and an old doctor tending by Lin Shu’s bedside.

“What’s so important that you have to discuss it on the New Year?” the doctor grumbled, snatching away the empty medicine bowl from Lin Shu’s hands. “This is why you’ll never get well.”

“It’s…not important,” Zhanying lowered his head, suddenly feeling that this was a bit foolish. “…I can come back another time.”

“Don’t be stupid, Xiao Ying, you’re here already,” Lin Shu waved his hand at him. “Sit down. What’s happened?”

Zhanying gingerly took the seat that Li Gang vacated. With his knees together, he dug into his front robe and pulled out two oranges he’d bought from the market earlier this week—they were expensive, but Zhanying didn’t want to buy bad quality ones in case Lin Shu didn’t eat those.

“Happy new year, Marshal Lin,” he bowed formally, and there was an aborted choke of surprise coming from the other. “I wish you good health for the year.”

Zhanying caught Li Gang and the doctor smiling secretly to each other before they both steered Fei Liu out of the room, leaving him and Lin Shu alone. Lin Shu just blinked, propping himself upright to reach for the oranges.

“…Oh,” Lin Shu said, inspecting an orange. “This is why you came?”

Zhanying nodded a bit warily. “I know you said not to come, but everyone will assume I’m browsing the food stalls before picking His Highness from the palace.”

Curiously, Lin Shu smiled. “Does this mean I’m the first person you wished happy new year’s to?”

“Just before, the men at the Jing army, we—”

“Before Jingyan, I mean,” Lin Shu corrected himself. “I’m flattered.”

Zhanying wasn’t sure why Lin Shu pointed that out. “I didn’t want to come late in case you had already slept.”

“Mm,” Lin Shu nodded, but his attention was on a small cabinet by his bedside, which he opened and took out a red envelope. “Here,” he said, picking up two mandarins stacked in a pyramid on his low-rise table, “Happy new year. And this,” he pressed the envelope on the table forward, “Is for you.”

Zhanying shuffled closer to receive his oranges, but he paused at the red packet. Lin Shu seemed to sense his hesitation.

“Is something the matter?”

“…You’ve never given me one,” Zhanying said finally, looking up. “Why now?”

“You’ve never visited me before either,” Lin Shu countered.

“I wrote to you,” Zhanying said. “Every year.”

“And no oranges were sent along,” Lin Shu finished, but he did sigh and beckoned Zhanying to come closer.

It was only when Zhanying was sitting close enough that his knees touched the edge of Lin Shu’s bed cot that Lin Shu was satisfied, lying back comfortably on his propped-up pillow. Lin Shu put the red envelope on Zhanying’s lap, eyes glancing upward to his face.

“I keep all of the messages you sent me,” Lin Shu said, with a small curl on his lips. “They’re still with Lin Chen in Langya, if you don’t believe me. That,” he looked at the red packet, “Is for the eleven years that I didn’t send you anything in return. Open it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, why not,” Lin Shu shrugged. “Unless you are in a hurry to see Jingyan.”

“His Highness usually speaks with Concubine Jing after the dinner,” Zhanying replied on reflex. “I have time.”

Lin Shu smiled serenely, and watched him open the packet.

Inside was a document he could submit to the bank in exchange for money—red envelopes were meant to contain money, but it was a lot of money, as much as how much he earned in an entire year. He was about to protest at the extravagance when he felt something thin and hard between the parchment slip down to his lap.

A long thin blade in a beautiful leather stitched casing—both the handle and the casing had a small plum flower embossed on it.

“This one won’t corrode, unlike the other one you threw at me—” Lin Shu began.

“At the wall.”

“—and it’s perfectly balanced. Try it out.”

It was incredibly light too, and kept still when he placed it flat on his middle finger. Zhanying whirled it experimentally, marvelling at the metal quality.

“I’d appreciate it if you don’t leave it stuck on a door or on someone’s dead body,” Lin Shu continued. “The metal which it’s made from is extremely rare—you remember that sword you stole from the Northern Yan prince?”

Zhanying remembers trying to hide that blastedly ornamental sword with his belongings on camp—it was so gold and gaudy.

“I had it smelted down for better use,” Lin Shu said, smiling. “Its sibling is a light sword I left back in Langya. You can have it if Lin Chen remembers to bring it along later.”

Zhanying reflexively touched the hilt of his own sword, and Lin Shu did not miss it. “…I’ll give it to Jingyan to give it to you.”

Zhanying furrowed his brows. “Why do you keep mentioning his Highness on purpose?”

Lin Shu stared at him for a second before it eased into something more playful. “There’s a face you make,” he said eventually, drawing a circle with his finger in front of Zhanying’s face. “When I bring Jingyan up. Are you still upset that he hasn’t told you anything about what he talks about with me?”

“I’m not upset,” Zhanying replied immediately, although the tone of his voice edged sharper. “…His Highness does not need to tell me anything he doesn’t want to.”

“So…” Lin Shu hummed. “If he asks you to do something really strange, would you do it without asking why?”

Zhanying squinted. “Strange in what way?”

Lin Shu shrugged. “Sucking up to Prince Yu, for example.”

The frown on Zhanying’s face stayed on. “His Highness would never—”

“But if he did?” Lin Shu countered.

“…Then…His Highness must have his reasons,” Zhanying answered slowly. “Because you told him something.”

“I’m keeping it hypothetical here, don’t use me as an excuse,” Lin Shu snorted. “But, you wouldn’t be wrong. Why did I come into the capital, Xiao Ying?”

“To clear our name,” Zhanying said immediately.

“There’s one more reason, actually,” Lin Shu smiled, but the look in his eyes became distant. “It’s the same route, to be honest. We can’t have one without the other. That is, I’m going to put Jingyan on the throne.”

Zhanying blinked, and then blinked again. He wasn’t sure if he felt surprise or shock or actually knew it was coming all along.

“That’s why I said it’s going to be more dangerous,” Lin Shu continued softly. “It’s always been a bloody path, and I don’t want yours or Jingyan’s blood to be spilled. Do you understand?”

“…Yes, Marshal Lin.”

“I’m sure Jingyan will tell you of this ambition in his own time,” Lin Shu said. “He’s probably still debating if the idea is crazy, but I’m sure—”

“Why would it be crazy?” Zhanying asked abruptly. “His Highness is a prince. Even if he is unfavoured, that can change over time.”

When Lin Shu stared at him with wide eyes, Zhanying had the impression he just said something terribly naïve.

“Xiao Ying…” Lin Shu started after a while. “It’s time I tell you about Jingyu-ge.”

Later the news of the palace guards murder made Zhanying heave a huge sigh of relief that Jingyan took extra time with his mother in the palace, but he could not help but wonder if things would have been different if he had not stayed to listen about Prince Qi, also known as Xiao Jingyu, the dead first born of the Emperor.

The first time that Lin Shu called for his help came several weeks later—or rather, wasn’t so much as an explicit request, but when Jingyan told him to report to Minister Shen because of an assassination attempt on him related to the palace guards murder, he came face to face with a very familiar person.

“General Lie,” Minister Shen greeted when he arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Not at all,” Zhanying bowed, “I hope you aren’t hurt, Minister.”

“There isn’t a scratch on me, the Young Master Xiao shielded me,” Minister Shen said wryly. “This is Zhen Ping,” he gestured to the figure on his right. “Mr Su sent him on to me—he said that with you two, we can devise a trap for the assassins.”

Zhen Ping bowed respectfully like he’d never seen Zhanying before in his life. “General Lie, I hope I can be of help.”

“Likewise,” Zhanying returned the gesture.

They discussed possible strategies—but Zhanying knew Lin Shu had likely already devised a plan, and was just waiting for Zhen Ping to divulge it in his suggestions. Zhanying could provide the numbers needed from the Jing army—archers, because it was better to take them down from afar then directly engaging with a Langya ranked martial artist and his successor. Zhen Ping made sure their formation and positionings were solid and Minister Shen agreed to the details that would take place tonight.

After the meeting leaving Minister Shen, Zhen Ping asked if Zhanying wanted to have their early dinner together but Zhanying glanced at him worriedly.

“It’s not a good idea to be seen together, isn’t it?” Zhanying asked.

“You and I won’t be seen if we don’t want to be seen,” Zhen Ping said casually. “Let’s get some takeaway—we can eat by the stream.”

Before Zhen Ping turned heel, however, he put his big straw hat onto Zhanying’s head with an amused smile.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Let’s go.”

It was the most terrible attempt at being inconspicuous, but Zhanying had to trust that Zhen Ping knew what he was doing—he wouldn’t be one of Lin Shu’s trusted if he didn’t. Zhanying’s face was more recognisable in the city since he’d been in Da Liang for many years, so he dipped the big hat down while Zhen Ping bought dumplings and scallion pancakes from a food vendor. The elder led him to a quiet place by the stream after, away from the crowd, and they sat on the grass on the bank to eat.

“I wanted to say,” Zhen Ping started as he passed Zhanying’s share over. “You grew taller.”

“You didn’t,” Zhanying said, and then realised that was probably rude, but Zhen Ping was chuckling.

“And a General now too,” Zhen Ping continued, sounding impressed. “We’re all very proud of you, you know.”

“…’We’?” Zhanying blinked.

“Chief talks about you when he’s bored,” Zhen Ping says. “Which is quite often, even if he’s plotting some decade long complicated scheme,” he shakes his head. “But I wanted to hear from you personally, how you’ve been.”

“I’m, I’ve been well,” Zhanying answered, ducking his head bashfully. “His Highness Prince Jing takes good care of me.”

“Mm. I heard you took a knife for him.”

The scar on his back ached for a second at the mention. “It—it wasn’t serious.”

Zhen Ping did not call him out on the lie. “Well, be careful anyway. I always feel that the capital is more dangerous than the battlefield.”

“Isn’t it because Zhuo Dingfeng and Zhuo Qingyao are still out there?”

“I mean political games,” Zhen Ping clarified. “Which they are a part of. It’s inevitable that when Prince Jing gains favour, the Jing household will be dragged into it too. When Chief sent you to guard the prince, I don’t think he planned that you would be involved in the mess.”

“…I think Marshal Lin plans everything.”

“Nah,” Zhen Ping grinned. “I’d say he plans half of it and sees where it unravels. But what do I know, I’m a swordsman, not a strategist.”

Zhanying chewed his dumpling thoughtfully. “What about you? Where were you before you came into Jinling recently?”

“I was actually already in the capital,” Zhen Ping answers casually. “I was here since last year before Chief came in. I had to make sure his passage in was safe.”

“…Oh,” Zhanying blinked, and then realised that when Zhen Ping had said ‘you and I won’t be seen if don’t want to be seen’, he had absolutely meant it in confidence.

“But, I can tell you about where I was before that….”

They didn’t successfully trap Zhuo Dingfeng and his son that night (in fact, Zhanying suspected that their trap was never meant to), but Minister Shen was pleased enough that one had been wounded, and Zhanying parted ways with Zhen Ping back to the Jing Manor with a smile on his lips.

They were in the middle of a military drill when the explosion was heard.

Though there weren’t any excursions lined up and the New Year celebrations were still on going, Jingyan still wanted to make sure everything was in order for the upcoming year. It was mainly just a check up on their inventory as well as some formation practice. Everyone looked towards the sky in shock where a billowing of dark smoke was rising to the clouds upon the loud noise.

“Zhanying,” Jingyan snapped immediately. “I’m going to see what happened.”

“Your Highness,” Zhanying bowed, and hurriedly gestured for a couple of them to follow along.

It was a wreck site—thick smoke, blackened wood and debris, panicked crying and shouting. A couple of buildings were still on fire, and they hastened to put it out. As Zhanying sent word for more men and supplies to be brought from the Jing manor, he noticed Jingyan walking right into the explosion site itself to heave a broken pillar off a trapped citizen, ignoring that a fire was barely three meters away. Zhanying went over quickly in alarm, but before he could tell Jingyan about the danger, he was ordered to help—they spent about fifteen minutes dragging debris until they could carry the bloodied victim out, who had been crying in pain the entire way.

Jingyan’s face had grown as dark as the charred ground by this time. “Zhanying, have you—”

“I’ve sent for all of the tents and quilts from our stores, and some more from the army stores,” Zhanying reported quickly. “Our men are searching for any survivors. The injured are being brought to the medical hall. Is there is anything else I can do?”

Jingyan closed his mouth, and then opened it again. “No, you did well,” he said, and turned away to survey the area. “This was the illegal fireworks factory that Minister Shen…how could it just…”

“…Your Highness?”

“Let me know if Mr Su turns up,” Jingyan said curtly before striding deeper into the core of the explosion site.

Zhanying fidgeted to go after him, but he couldn’t leave the perimeter if he was supposed to watch for Lin Shu. Qi Meng popped up next to him in the space Jingyan had vacated out of the blue.

“Hey, Zhanying, what did his Highness—”

“Qi Meng, can you please follow his Highness and make sure he’s alright. I’m not supposed to move from here,” Zhanying cut in before Qi Meng finished his question. “…Why are you giving me that look?”

“Well,” Qi Meng said after a pause. “He’s not that dumb to walk into a burning fire, you know.”

“This was an explosion,” Zhanying pursed his lips. “Another one could occur.”

“Fine, if it makes you feel better,” Qi Meng huffed. “But I want to know really what happened here later.”

Zhanying walked back and forth in impatience, occasionally glancing over to where Jingyan was inspecting the burnt factory. Eventually Lin Shu did turn up, with Li Gang accompanying him. Lin Shu dipped his head in acknowledgement when their eyes met and came over.

“General Lie,” Lin Shu greeted. “Where is Prince Jing?”

“He’s inside. He’s still checking over the exploded factory.”

At the end of Zhanying’s response, however, Princess Mu arrived on horseback, and they all bowed in greeting.

“Mr Su,” she said, and Lin Shu turned away to hurry to the exploded factory after avoiding her gaze.

Zhanying’s gaze trailed curiously between them both—Lin Shu said he wasn’t here to marry the Princess, but it looked like they had some secrets between them.

“The Mu Manor has brought some things that can be of use. Go and receive them,” the Princess told him before going after Lin Shu.

Zhanying stared after their backs in curiosity, but he had to follow the order. It took a while before everything was settled, and he met Qi Meng while hefting out the aid supplies given by the Princess Mu.

“Qi Meng,” he hissed under his breath when they were both walking back in to report updates to Jingyan. “Aren’t you supposed to be with His Highness?”

“It’s not my fault he ordered me to do something more useful then to hover behind him,” Qi Meng grumbled. “Calm down, I left a whole troop stationed inside that area.”

Nonetheless, Zhanying’s steps were quicker to reach Jingyan, who was standing back towards Lin Shu and the Princess. Some kind of conversation had occurred, with tension hanging heavy.

“Your Highness,” he greeted. “Apart from the goods taken from our own stores, two hundred tents and four hundred and fifty quilts were borrowed from the army stores. Should we report this to the Ministry of Defense?”

Jingyan blinked. “If you hadn’t said it I would’ve forgotten. It’s not a huge issue, but it’s still better to report it.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“Wait,” Lin Shu called when they swivelled heel. “There’s no need to report these provisions.”

Qi Meng stared. “…Why?”

“Don’t ask so much,” Princess Mu cut in, clipped. “If Mr Su says so, then don’t report it. Just pretend that Prince Jing forgot about it, and so did you.”

“Do as the Princess says,” Jingyan said after a look between Lin Shu and the Princess.

Zhanying’s gaze was shifting rapidly between the three, but whenever it landed on Lin Shu, the other just looked back serenely at him.

“Yes, your Highness,” he said finally, and left with Qi Meng.

“…Was that weird or what?” Qi Meng muttered to him as they walked away. “Mei Changsu has also curried Princess Mu’s favour…I wonder how—”

“Keep your voice down,” Zhanying nudged him, and they moved a distance far enough they were they sure they couldn’t be overheard—but they also couldn’t hear what was being said at the other side.

“Don’t you want to go closer?” Qi Meng eyed the three before glancing at Zhanying. “Oh look, the Princess left them alone.”

Zhanying couldn’t help but have his attention drawn—they were definitely being terribly obvious that they were trying to spy.

“Oh shit, Princess Mu is coming this way, quick, pretend to be busy,” Qi Meng prodded him hard, and then looked off in the far distance.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Zhanying muttered, shuffling closer to the cart carrying several quilts in front of them to rummage in pretense.

“How do you feel about this Mei Changsu character?” Qi Meng whispered, and then poked him when he did not answer. “Zhanying, don’t ignore me to stare at them. You can’t lip read.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Zhanying huffed. “And I don’t have any feelings about Mr Su.”

“Oh?”

“It’s his Highness choice to meet who he wants to. Why, should I feel something?”

“He’s grown close to his Highness in just a few months,” Qi Meng said. “Thought you might be jealous, or something.”

At that, Zhanying turned to look at him. “…Jealous? What for?”

“Because, you know,” Qi Meng said pointedly, and then let out a depressing loud sigh when Zhanying just blinked. “Because,” he repeated, and then poked the top of Zhanying’s right chest meaningfully. “Hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Zhanying frowned slowly. “…It’s not because I’m jealous.”

Because, he cared a lot about Lin Shu. Lin Shu was the one who sent him to Jingyan in the first place. Zhanying didn’t have the right to be jealous of someone who had closer ties with Jingyan from the start.

“What do you think it is, then?” Qi Meng asked, and Zhanying didn’t have an answer.

Jingyan did eventually tell Zhanying that he was aiming for the throne, but it was in a rather sudden moment when a couple of construction men arrived at the Jing Manor. Jingyan himself had invited them in, and then brought them to his study while Zhanying hovered and wondered what was going on to have strangers intrude on Jingyan’s personal room like that.

Jingyan had seen his curiosity and stood with him outside while the construction went on inside, and said, “It’s for a tunnel to connect my study and Mr Su’s,” Jingyan looked at him and then raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look surprised.”

Zhanying froze slightly. “W-well, it’s not immediately clear but the Su Manor is the property next to the Jing Manor. I noticed this when I accompanied Tingsheng over.”

Jingyan nodded slowly. “And to build a tunnel?”

“…I imagine your Highness is tired of travelling over an hour to see Mr Su when we’re just a wall apart.”

Jingyan chuckled. “You’re not wrong,” he said, smiling. “But the reason why I have to see him so often is because I’ve decided to fight for the throne,” he glanced at Zhanying, and his words had a slight tremble in them. “I know it sounds impossible, but,” he sighed. “I can’t let my brothers do as they please anymore. Da Liang will suffer if they continue to fight.”

Zhanying didn’t know what expression he had on, but his response was muted when one of the men inside called for Jingyan’s attention, so he only followed the other obediently in silence.

Commander Meng visited on one of the following weeks after the tunnel was completed. Zhanying knew Jingyan had used the tunnel a couple of times, because he noticed that the books on the shelf were in a different order, though he hadn’t personally seen Jingyan use it. Commander Meng came to check up on Shou Chun, a soldier they accepted into the Jing army after the palace guards New Year’s murder case.

“He was introverted when he was with me, and he seemed depressed after he was demoted,” Commander Meng shared. “But with the Jing army, he seems much happier.”

“Here, no one cares or have questions. Everyone is carefree,” Jingyan replied, with a small smile on his lips.

It was true—otherwise Zhanying wouldn’t have fit in nor become Jingyan’s second in command. The Commander and Jingyan chatted briefly about a double-stringed bow Jingyan acquired from Northern Yan a few years ago (the same trip Zhanying stole that gaudy sword), and then asked if he could see it.

“Your Highness, there are so many people here,” Commander Meng said before Zhanying could go and retrieve it after Jingyan’s request. “If we brought the bow here, everyone is going to want to practice with it. Why don’t I go and see it by myself?”

Jingyan gave it a thought, and then nodded. “Sure. I’ll come with you.”

“Oh no, this is a small matter. Just let Zhanying go with me.”

“Alright,” Jingyan hummed. “Zhanying.”

“Yes,” Zhanying bowed. “Please come with me, Commander.”

Zhanying had a slight suspicion about Commander Meng, but it wasn’t fully realised until he led the other into Jingyan’s room and told him to wait a moment so that he could retrieve the bow. The commander waited when Zhanying’s back was turned before trying to sneak into the inner room—but Zhanying was aware that the Commander’s focus hadn’t even been on the bow where it sat on its holder on the other side of the room.

“Commander?” Zhanying called when he turned around, and saw the other flinch from prodding a shelf.

“Y-yes?”

“Here it is,” Zhanying offered.

“It’s beautiful,” Commander Meng commented, taking it in hand. “Say…His Highness has quite a few treasured weapons here, doesn’t he?” he said idly, walking about while casting his gaze around. “Do you think you can show me all of them?”

“I’ll have to ask his Highness,” Zhanying replied.

“Yes, of course,” Commander Meng nodded. “I can wait here, I’m sure it won’t take long.”

Zhanying bowed slowly, but he didn’t move. “…Commander Meng,” he started. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

The elder stared, hand starting to nervously smooth over the bow he held in his hands. “No,” he replied. “Just curious.”

Zhanying nodded. “Did Mr Su send you here?”

At that, the Commander tried to chuckle, but it came off rather tight. “O-of course not! Why would Mr Su send me here?”

“To find the tunnel.”

Perhaps Zhanying shouldn’t have been so direct about it, but he thought it was rather stupid that he had to pretend he didn’t know what Commander Meng was trying to do. If he played the part of Jingyan’s diligent second in command, he would never let Commander Meng step alone into the inner room out of respect for Jingyan’s privacy, even if he got scolded for being rude later.

Commander Meng blinked, and then blinked again.

“I know you were the only one Marshal Lin wrote to after Meiling,” Zhanying said instead, which made Commander Meng step back in shock.

“—Zhanying, y-you…how…with Xiao Shu…?”

“I was there in the battle with Da Yu,” he said shortly.

Commander Meng was still frowning. “…But…you aren’t….or…” he murmured, a new light of understanding coming to his eyes. “And all this time, with his Highness Prince Jing?”

“I would give my life for his Highness,” Zhanying said immediately, with a frown on his face.

“…I don’t doubt your loyalty to him,” Commander Meng said finally. “But his Highness trusts you the most. If he ever finds out you've been keeping this from him…” he trailed off. “Xiao Shu, why did you make this even more difficult,” he muttered angrily to himself before sighing. “I guess it makes sense too. Xiao Shu won’t be able to rest easy if he didn’t know his Highness was in safe hands.”

Zhanying lowered his gaze to the floor in the monologue. He hadn’t really thought about what if Jingyan found out he was sent by Lin Shu. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do about that fact—he was sent to protect Jingyan, and thus he stayed. It wasn’t like he was going to refuse the request if he could turn back time either. He liked being here, by Jingyan’s side.

He'd always seen his position as a sort of job bestowed by Lin Shu. Jingyan's bodyguard. He hadn't seen it as a...possible betrayal.

Maybe Jingyan would be angry, but he would accept that in a heartbeat to keep Jingyan safe over the past twelve years.

Maybe Jingyan would be angry, hurt and would never want to see Zhanying again.

Was that worth it to keep Jingyan safe over the past twelve years?

“—So, Zhanying, the secret tunnel?”

Chapter Text

When April came, Jingyan was unusually quiet and looked like he was worrying about something. Zhanying didn’t ask, because they had so many things to worry about now that Jingyan was being given more duties by the Emperor, and Jingyan often silently mulled over advice given by Mei Changsu alone anyway. He’d assumed it was one of those things until Jingyan asked him to bring him a small bottle of wine—drinking meant Jingyan was reminiscing of more personal things.

Zhanying brought the wine and was about to leave the room when Jingyan asked him if he had sent a present to the Xie manor for Xiao Jingrui this morning.

“I sent over the leather armguards you commissioned for Young Master Xiao four months ago, as well as well wishes,” Zhanying answered. “Was there anything else you’d like to send over?”

“No,” Jingyan answered, pouring himself the wine. “…How much do you know about my cousin Jingrui?”

Zhanying eyed the open door and Jingyan caught his look.

“Close it,” Jingyan nodded, and Zhanying went to do so. “Sit down. Drink with me.”

Zhanying sat, but he did not scoot close nor reach for the other cup Jingyan poured for him. Drinking with Jingyan in camp was one thing, but in Jingyan’s private room it was another.

“I cannot say as I have not interacted with Young master Xiao personally,” Zhanying said as diplomatically as he could to Jingyan’s question. “But he is on the Langya List, so he must be extraordinary.”

Jingyan glanced at him in surprise. “You keep up with the Langya Listings?”

“It’s er…gossip,” Zhanying told him, embarrassed, “Among the men.”

While that was true, Zhanying also knew of the rankings because he received the list every year since Mei Changsu was ranked the number one bachelor in Da Liang with a (笑) written next to it. It was no doubt from Lin Chen.

Jingyan hummed and drank his cup. “Yes, Jingrui is rather…extraordinary. Have you heard about the circumstances of his birth?”

“…Not exactly,” Zhanying said cautiously. “But I assume it has to do with why young master Xiao pays his respects to both Marquis Ning and Zhuo Dingfeng, the master of Tian Quan Manor?”

“It’s not exactly common knowledge, but it’s not a tightly kept secret either,” Jingyan replied. “Grand Princess Liyang was there with Master Zhuo’s wife on Rui mountain when they were both pregnant. Both of them had their child on the same night, but an assassin murdered one and they could not tell who the remaining child belonged to,” he continued. “Jingrui was that child and he was granted the royal surname to settle the confusion of which family he belonged to…so he has two families.”

“…Young master Xiao must be lucky to be well loved,” Zhanying said finally—after all, he never had the opportunity to have even one.

“I wonder,” Jingyan murmured, looking rather melancholic. “Marquis Ning was the one who tried to kill his own child and deceived the Zhuo family…it won’t be a happy night.”

At that, Zhanying startled. “Your Highness...is it alright to tell me this?”

Jingyan only waved his hand and drank more wine. “This issue will be out in the open by tomorrow morning.”

“A part of Mr Su’s plan?”

Jingyan looked surprised at how fast he caught on. “Marquis Ning is a very powerful supporter of the Crown Prince. He has influence, power and men,” he said slowly. “I…do not wish for Jingrui to be hurt but…for the crimes that Marquis Ning has committed before and for the throne, he will have to face justice.”

The candle light did not flicker in the still room. Jingyan drank a bit more in silence before he spoke again.

“Zhanying…do you think worse of me to let this happen to Jingrui?”

Zhanying shifted his gaze to his lap. “…I think your Highness does not make decisions recklessly when it hurts a loved one. How the young master Xiao deals with what happens does not make your Highness any less respectable or kind.”

Jingyan only smiled humorlessly. “Let me know when the birthday party is over. I will stay up until then.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one, and when he turned back to spy Jingyan staring at the wine bottle with pursed lips, he knew it was time to leave the other alone.

 “Yes, your Highness,” Zhanying bowed and got up to leave the room.

News of Marquis Ning’s arrest rocked the capital the day after, as Jingyan had promised. Understandably it was all everyone talked about—the scandal of Grand Princess Liyang and a Southern Chu prince, and Marquis Ning’s scheme to assassinate the baby only to complicate and manipulate Tian Quan Manor.

Zhanying had heard it was Prince Yu and Marquis Yan who finally stormed in to save those trapped in the Xie Manor—he didn’t think whatever unfolding inside the Xie Manor was supposed to unveil to that level of danger, but the Su Manor was refusing visits because Su Zhe had (reportedly) taken ill from the incident.

A whole night under cold, stress and seize; Zhanying could imagine the kind of toll that would take on Lin Shu’s frail deposition. Jingyan looked rather concerned when his request to see Lin Shu was denied but didn’t push the issue as he had some arrangements to deal before the upcoming Spring Hunt.

Zhanying crept into the Su Manor that night, simply wanting to see if Lin Shu was just sick with a flu or whether he was in much more critical condition (or injured) than Li Gang was telling Jingyan. Fei Liu was sitting outside Lin Shu’s room, plucking petals from a stalk of flower depressingly—flowers Zhanying recognized as those grown in the Jing Manor gardens.

Zhanying didn’t like to face the younger but there was no choice around it since Fei Liu was blocking the entrance. He sighed, straightened up and walked up to the other normally like he wasn’t creeping around just a second before. Fei Liu’s movements froze the moment he was spotted, but the other let him come to the ledge with a word of protest.

“…Is marshal Lin asleep?” Zhanying asked hesitantly when Fei Liu started plucking his flower again.

“Wants to sleep,” Fei Liu said, not looking up.

Zhanying frowned. “Wants to sleep but…he can’t sleep?”

Fei Liu nodded slowly.

“Why?”

“Heart became hard.”

“…Nothing your physician can help with?”

“No blood,” Fei Liu said. “Only pain.”

Zhanying glanced at the door. “…Can I talk to him?”

Fei Liu flopped the flower stalk against his knee a couple of times. “Won’t talk.”

“Then, can I see him?”

The boy pursed his lips but nodded after a short while. Zhanying took the cue to enter as quietly as he could; the room was only lit by a single candle near Lin Shu’s bedside, where the other lay soundless on the bed cot covered with a fur blanket. Lin Shu was lying on his side, facing outwards, which meant that Lin Shu watched him come in.

Zhanying murmured a soft greeting and sat on his knees. Lin Shu did not say anything to acknowledge his presence, only to shut his eyes and pull his blanket up to his chin. Even under the dim light, he could see that Lin Shu’s lips were unhealthily pale.

“Fei Liu said you can’t speak so you don’t have to,” Zhanying started quietly. “I only came to see if you were recovering well.”

“…I can speak,” Lin Shu rasped—it wasn’t terribly coarse, but it had a tinge of a recovering sore throat. “Just that I didn’t want to. Why do you keep coming when neither you nor Jingyan are in danger? It makes me worried whenever you do.”

“I-I—I didn’t intend to,” Zhanying said haltingly. “I’m sorry. I just…thought...about you. Your health isn’t…”

“Lin Chen told you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?” Lin Shu muttered. “As if an entire household isn’t enough.”

“Fei Liu said that your heart hurts,” Zhanying said instead, reaching into his sleeve for a tiny bag he kept. “I have a heart protection pill. You should take it.”

Lin Shu opened his eyes then. “…Where did you get that?”

“By post three years ago with a list of Da Yu’s shifts in command power,” Zhanying paused. “Was that…not from you?”

“The list was from me,” Lin Shu confirmed, “But definitely not the pill. Give it here.”

Zhanying had to move close to the bed to give it since Lin Shu was not going to move.

“…It’s the real thing, I suppose,” Lin Shu said after inspecting the small red pill for a moment, and then he put it back into the tiny bag. “Keep it. It’s yours, Xiao Ying.”

“I’m sure it’s meant for you—”

“I don’t need it,” Lin Shu said, and turned over his side so that his back was facing Zhanying. And then, in a smaller whisper, “I don’t want it.”

Zhanying fiddled with the bag. “…His Highness told me about young master Xiao. He was upset that night about allowing young master Xiao to get hurt,” he began, looking at the unmoving lump. “But I know it was only this way because of his Highness,” he leaned forward, and gently bowed until his head touched the edge of Lin Shu’s cot. “…So thank you.”

Zhanying did not move for a while—he tried to recall the words that he said and wondered if they were too bold or too inappropriate, but he was startled out of his own thoughts when a palm rested on his head, weight heavy despite the gentle touch.

“It’s not the kind of thing you should thank me for,” Lin Shu was saying, voice cracking slightly.

Zhanying raised his head slightly. “I’m not saying young master Xiao deserves to be—”

“I know what you meant,” Lin Shu interrupted quietly. “I chose Jingyan over Jingrui, and even if I could go back to make the decision again, the choice is the same,” he retracted his hand back. “You don’t think that’s cruel?”

Zhanying wasn’t in a position to judge, because if it were him—the choice between a royal family member whom Zhanying had no rapport with versus the prince he would die for, it was simple.

“If you were cruel, marshal Lin,” Zhanying murmured. “Your heart wouldn’t be hurting.”

Lin Shu’s robes rustled as he moved under the covers to lean on his side, staring at Zhanying intently.

“I did it because I know Jingrui will forgive me,” Lin Shu said, eyes glinting, and he wasn’t smiling. “Because I know he is the most understanding child on earth. And because I know of his feelings for me. Don’t you think…that’s cruel?”

Zhanying did not answer this time. There was a linger of silence, and a soft last pat on his head before the hand was gone again.

“What if I hurt you, Xiao Ying?” Lin Shu asked after a soft resigned sigh. “Would you forgive me?”

Zhanying lifted his head higher at the question, gaze settling on Lin Shu’s now closed eyes. The other was breathing very faintly, a gentle rise and fall of his chest, while his hand lingered outside the blanket, just next to Zhanying’s knee.

“…Would you make it up to me?” Zhanying asked.

Lin Shu’s reply was easy. “Would you let me?”

“…Yes,” Zhanying whispered eventually.

There was a faint curve on Lin Shu’s lips before it was gone.

“Xie Yu was the one, you know,” Lin Shu drew idle patterns on the floor as he spoke. “At Meiling. He slaughtered us...” he trailed off, voice going faint. “I dreamt of him everyday for twelve years. I couldn’t wait to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Hurt us,” he admitted. “I still want to stick my sword down his throat. Unfortunately, Xie Yu is very much more useful alive than dead. For now.”

Lin Shu’s hand upturned itself palm side up.

“…Xiao Ying…tell me I did the right choice,” Lin Shu murmured, flitting his gaze up.

Zhanying hesitantly touched the open hand and did not flinch away when Lin Shu grasped his hand back—it was trembling, or maybe he was the one shaking.

“You did the right thing, marshal Lin,” Zhanying murmured obediently.

Lin Shu was half way nodding, eyelids fluttering shut again. The other didn’t say anything more after that, just a track of tear sliding out of the corner of his eyes before his breathing evened out into slumber. Zhanying held the hand for a moment more before reaching for the heart protection pill. He wrapped Lin Shu’s palm around the pill gently before tucking the fist under the fur blanket.

After all that had happened, Zhanying almost expected something to happen during the Spring Hunt, but it passed quickly and smoothly. Meng Zhi showed off his prowess to Yuwen Xuan, who had a strange sour expression for most of the time, and the Emperor was in high spirits despite the traitor Xie Yu in his jail cell. Jingyan participated in the activities too, garnering an impressive hoard—but Zhanying could tell his enthusiasm was muted, mind distracted by something else. 

When they got back to the capital, Jingyan turned away all the gifts sent to their Manor except for the ones sent by his brothers—Jingyan only accepted theirs as a courtesy and left them in Zhanying’s hands as to what to do with them. Zhanying honestly had no idea where to put the huge purple stalagmite, nor did he know what to do with the equally large weird rock formation that was supposed to do something with the Feng Shui.

Jingyan visited the prison a couple of days after, through the back door—and came out about an hour later with Xia Dong, an executive officer at the Xuan Jing Bureau. Both of them were pale in their faces, and wordless, parting with a slight nod before Zhanying reached Jingyan from where he was waiting.

“…Your—High…ness,” Zhanying faltered when he saw that Jingyan’s eyes were starting to brim wet and decided to shut his mouth.

He followed behind Jingyan who was heading towards the palace and glanced back to see Lin Shu standing on the steps of the exit with an unreadable expression, watching them leave.

Jingyan dismissed him when they got to the palace gates, saying that he’d be spending a while at his mother’s, and did not want Zhanying to wait up. Zhanying could only watch him go, and even though it’d been a decade since Zhanying had served the prince, he’d never felt so useless as when he knew Jingyan was going to cry.

Zhanying saw Jingyan cry again for the second time in the week when the Grand Empress Dowager passed away. Funeral rites were tough—it was thirty days of mourning, and then a whole three years of subdued celebrations.

Given the difference in their status, Jingyan performed the rites with his brothers, while the Jing army could only pay their respects from the Jing Manor, so Zhanying didn’t see Jingyan for a month. Instead, he slipped over to the Su Manor intending to see how Lin Shu was faring—after all, the Grand Empress Dowager was too Lin Shu’s great grandmother; but from the rooftop he saw Princess Mu leaning on Lin Shu’s shoulder, with both of their faces wet with tears.

Zhanying thought back to their interactions at the exploded factory wreck site and decided to leave. Perhaps Princess Mu found out about Lin Shu’s identity all of her own, or maybe Lin Shu had told her. Or maybe Princess Mu was in love with the scholar Su Zhe. Either way, Zhanying was glad that Lin Shu had someone to comfort him—unlike Jingyan who had to suffer his grief alone in the palace.

Two months after Xie Yu had been jailed, the command for capitol patrol was assigned to Jingyan. When Jingyan relayed the news to Zhanying after exiting from a visit from the palace, the prince had looked rather troubled despite the bestowment of command. The frown went away after a visit to the Su Manor, and Zhanying went with Jingyan to meet Ouyang Chi, the in charge of the patrol men.

Soldiers who weren’t used to Jingyan’s command often disliked the way Jingyan handled things, and Zhanying could see that the capitol patrol men were wary about the change in command power, especially when Jingyan strode in with an impressive displeased glare that even Zhanying did not dare ask the prince to dial back on.

Nonetheless, Zhanying saw the need for Jingyan’s tough discipline when they were looking at the patrol records—there were so many unaccounted cash in and outflux, as well as poorly written reports and a whole stack of unaddressed complaints. Perhaps General Ouyang thought that Jingyan wouldn’t personally go through the records himself, because he had reduced from saying ‘Yes, your Highness’ to just nodding mutely with a white face when Jingyan drawled out yet another immediate change to implement.

Qi Meng, inappropriately, thought it was the funniest thing ever.

Commander Meng came by to visit on a day where Jingyan was observing capitol patrol formations, raising his hands together in congratulations when he greeted the prince.

“It’s not anything worthy of praise,” Jingyan said, with the edges of his lips curled slightly to indicate that he was just joking. “It’s only given me a headache.”

“I’m sure everything will be up to standard quickly given the…guidance,” Commander Meng said smiling slightly, “…that your Highness has given. I assume you will leave its command with Zhanying after?”

Zhanying glanced at the Commander, startled to hear his name brought up. He supposed it wasn’t unusual for Commander Meng to assume so; Jingyan’s increasing duties were starting to make it extremely difficult for him to supervise things personally, no matter how much the prince preferred it that way.

“No, Zhanying stays with me,” Jingyan said immediately. “General Ouyang will continue to manage the patrol.” At Commander Meng’s blink, Jingyan tilted his head. “Or do you think he is not capable enough, Meng-qing?”

“N-no, of course not,” Commander Meng replied, lowering his head slightly. “Even though Xie Yu rose through the ranks with evil deeds, he did not pick unqualified men,” he glanced over to the patrol men. “They are all skilled and loyal to the throne.”

Jingyan nodded. “Then a second chance to prove themselves without Xie Yu’s influence is the least they deserve, don’t you agree?”

Commander Meng bowed in acknowledgement. “…Your Highness, actually…I came over to borrow Zhanying for a minute, if you could spare him.”

“Oh. What for?”

“It’s a…” the other lowered his voice. “A matter to do with a scholar we’re familiar with.”

At that, Jingyan looked alarmed. “What happened?”

“N-nothing! Not an emergency!” Commander Meng quickly murmured. “There have been some developments that he would like to tell you. But I understand that you are busy now. He can pass the message on to Zhanying.”

Jingyan looked rather suspicious, but he eventually nodded to Zhanying for him to take leave. Zhanying hurried after Commander Meng’s steps away from the field, curious.

“What is it that’s so urgent?” Zhanying asked, and Commander Meng abruptly stopped in his tracks.

The elder glanced around to make sure that the corridor they were in was empty before turning to Zhanying.

“Actually, there is no message,” Commander Meng admitted sheepishly, and Zhanying just blinked in confusion. “I just needed your help with something. It is related to Xiao Shu though.”

“Couldn’t you have posted me a letter,” Zhanying muttered, and then at Commander Meng’s stare, he continued. “The Langya pigeon post. How do you think marshal Lin sends his letters anonymously? Or you could visit me at night. Isn’t this a bit too conspicuous?”

Commander Meng sighed. “Next time,” he resigned. “But now I need your help.”

“With?”

“There’s a book,” Commander Meng started. “That his Highness borrowed from Xiao Shu.”

“The travelogue?” Zhanying nodded. “His Highness has been copying the text every night since he got it back from her Lady Concubine Jing. Is it important?”

“Errr…it contains a clue to Xiao Shu’s identity. Has his Highness ever indicated that he might suspect something?”

Zhanying frowned and thought back to Jingyan’s behavior. “Oh. He’s certainly suspicious of something. Why else does he keep copying the book?”

“I need you to get it back,” Commander Meng winced. “His Highness lets you enter his room, it should be easy for you, right?”

“Won’t it be more obvious if it goes missing while his Highness is so fixated on it?” Zhanying raised an eyebrow.

“W-well,” Commander Meng sighed. “Do it subtly. Something. Xiao Shu said it’s unlikely his Highness would figure out the clue, but he’s getting more agitated. Worrying is not good for his, you know,” he gestured a vague area around his chest.

Zhanying pursed his lips. “…Fine. I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, you’re a life saver,” Commander Meng grinned, and slapped his back in the same way as Qi Meng liked to do. “You’re pretty useful, Xiao Ying.”

“…” Zhanying stared at him. “…Please don’t call me that.”

Commander Meng only smiled wider and turned his heel to walk away with a wave.

“Wait—” Zhanying only managed to grab the tail end of his cape when he thought of it. “What message am I going to tell his Highness?” he whispered.

The elder darted his gaze guilty around before it settled. “…Uhh…use your imagination, Zhanying.”

“Commander Meng,” Zhanying pursed his lips, letting go of the cape with a sense of faint annoyance. “I’m starting to dislike you.”

A fading cheery laugh was his only reply.

Zhanying successfully got the book back with a little faked curiosity and chitchat. He did idle his time for it though—if he tried to coax Jingyan too early, it’d have made the prince more suspicious. He hoped that waiting for Jingyan to give up on looking at the book counted as his job done.

He was about to bring it over to the Su Manor when the news came: Jingyan was being promoted to a five pearl noble prince.

Although the promotion was certainly well deserved—and frankly, late, considering how much Jingyan toiled over the years for the country, there was a flicker of hesitancy, not immediate joy, in Jingyan’s eyes when Zhanying relayed the news.

The Jing Manor was in full celebration that night, the men insisting that Jingyan join them—since it would be even more improper after his increase in rank. Jingyan indulged them, and also thanked them for staying by his side even though the past decade had been tough for them.

Jingyan drank, although his smile had ghosts of a strain from time to time. Zhanying quietly used the chance when he was pouring Jingyan a refill and the others were chatting and eating to murmur to him.

“Is there something that troubles you, your Highness?”

Jingyan flickered his gaze to him, and then a short glance to his merry men. He reached over to drag Zhanying’s cup to his table, and motioned for Zhanying to fill it too.

“…There’s no turning back now,” Jingyan said quietly, seriously. “All eyes will be on the Jing Manor from this day forward. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

Zhanying knew what Jingyan meant, and also looked at their crew. They weren’t the most polished bunch of men, and Jingyan worried for the consequences if any one of them accidentally overstepped their boundaries. Or if anything condemned the prince, the entire household would suffer just as harshly.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying said finally, his filled cup between his fingers.  “We knew we couldn’t dream forever. And we are with you to whatever end.”

On the day of Jingyan’s coronation ceremony, Zhanying brought over the new robes, crown and pearls that were specially made for the prince. They were a glittery gold and red, fabric smooth and undoubtedly expensive. He waited outside Jingyan’s room while the other got dressed, but given that Jingyan usually dressed really quickly, this time it took long enough that Zhanying was starting to get worried.

“Your Highness?” he rapped on the door. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-ye—….” The voice inside stopped, and then a sigh. “Zhanying, come in.”

Zhanying blinked, but obeyed.

“Close it after you,” Jingyan was saying when Zhanying entered, the other’s back turned towards him.

Zhanying almost stopped in his tracks when Jingyan turned around. The red and gold robes were beautiful on Jingyan—the other looked regal in those vibrant colours, a striking difference from the usual muted white or the dark maroon and black that the prince wore. Jingyan was gesturing awkwardly to the headpiece on top of his top knot that didn’t seem to fit properly.

“Can you—can you help me with this?”

“Um,” Zhanying said, because Jingyan was moving to sit down in front of his looking glass, obviously expectant for Zhanying to come and adjust it for him.

To touch his hair.

When all Jingyan did was to sit there, Zhanying took a deep breath and stepped behind Jingyan, carefully taking his hand guards off first.

“I can’t seem to get it all in,” Jingyan was saying. “Just help me hold it.”

Zhanying could scarcely breathe as he held the pearl-adorned crown—he was afraid he was going to break the delicate thing, but it was casted strong. Jingyan’s fingers brushed against his a couple of times as the other arranged his hair; with his help, Jingyan set it properly on his top knot, and then told him to stay there until he tied the ribbon under his neck.

When he was done, he peered at Zhanying through the mirror.

“Zhanying?” Jingyan flickered his gaze at him. “…Does it look weird?”

“N-no—” Zhanying snatched his hands back, in a daze. “You—it looks…—good,” and then when he got his tongue under control, “It suits you.”

Jingyan smiled at him, a true smile, with the edges of eyes crinkled up before cocking his head to the door. “Time to go then.”

Zhanying ducked his head down to hide his red blush, and followed after his prince.

Chapter Text

Despite more than a decade since Zhanying had been by Jingyan’s side, it never failed to take his breath away at the rate Jingyan stepped up to fulfil the duties given onto him. Perhaps he shouldn’t be that easily impressed, but Zhanying witnessed first-hand for years how the rest of Jingyan’s brothers spent their lives in riches and luxury while Jingyan was out with them on the front lines of the battlefield keeping the country safe. The warrior prince turned out to be equally sharp in court (boosted by Lin Shu’s advice), and within a month the praises usually sung for Prince Yu started paling in comparison to the ones told for Jingyan.

Everyone in the Jing manor got busy too—before, they only had to concern themselves with carrying out military orders, but now Jingyan often included them in discussions about court affairs, like their opinions on various potential new transport policies. Zhanying himself had a heavy workload thanks to managing the manor and carrying out other tasks Jingyan didn’t trust the rest to—but he couldn’t complain when Jingyan stayed up far later into the night pouring over texts and writing things.

It’s on one of these late nights after a meeting that he spied Jingyan stretching his arms, swallowing his yawn. Zhanying let the rest of the men leave first, lingering back so that he could tell Jingyan to take a rest. Jingyan only smiled slightly, and said that Zhanying and the men should be the one to go and rest, since they had a long day themselves.

Zhanying looked away.

“Zhanying,” Jingyan looked at him curiously. “…You were the first one to know that I was aiming for the throne. You must have thought I was crazy back then, but you just didn’t say it out loud, right?”

Zhanying thought back to that abrupt day Jingyan casually mentioned it when the secret tunnel was being built, and bit his bottom lip. Perhaps if Lin Shu hadn’t told him of Jingyan’s ambition earlier, he might have been surprised.

Surprised, but not something he would ever laugh at.

In Zhanying’s heart, he knew that whatever Jingyan set out to accomplish, there was no question that he would follow the other to the very end. He said as much.

“I know,” Jingyan replied, lips curling into a smile. “That’s why I only told you.”

Zhanying felt his cheeks heat at the words—it was perhaps, the first verbal admission that Jingyan held him in the highest regard amongst the rest, and Zhanying found himself giddy with the words ringing through his head. He ducked his head down, unsure what his facial expression should show; he couldn’t smile, that would be too presumptuous. Jingyan just looked a little amused at how he nodded quickly and kept quiet after that, dismissing him to go rest.

He didn’t sleep much that night, turning Jingyan’s voice over and over again in his mind. He curled up on his side under the covers, hand pressed against his chest. His heart was pounding even though it’d been a couple of hours. His breath was short.

It felt like he’d been breathless for a long, long time.

He wanted to be special. Maybe he was. But he wanted more, of whatever it was. Relied upon more, trusted with more.

…Loved more.

But Jingyan wouldn’t—…and couldn’t.

Zhanying knew his place as a servant. The revelation made the inside of his chest ache sharply, even though he’d never expected anything else. It was perhaps the most quintessential way to realise he’d been in love for so many years.

When Jingyan was finally given authority to handle the disaster relief, Zhanying was mildly shocked when he learnt he wasn’t going to come along. He’d always accompanied Jingyan everywhere—but Jingyan told him he had men from the Ministry allocated for the relief to help out, and besides he needed someone to manage the Manor while he was away. Zhanying saw his point since the entire Jing army was still stationed in the capital.

Still, he worried about Jingyan’s safety.

Jingyan only rolled his eyes briefly and reminded Zhanying that he wasn’t his bodyguard, but second in command. Besides, Jingyan was going to ride with several hundred men, it wasn’t like he was going to go alone. Zhanying should’ve been the one to reassure Jingyan that everything would be fine, but Jingyan seemed to have more confidence that nothing would happen—after all, Prince Yu had to keep a low profile after his scandal.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jingyan even said in jest before he mounted his horse, sounding more carefree than Zhanying had heard in months. “Besides, Mr Su is here.”

Zhanying watched him depart through the gates. He sorely wished to go along—they’d spent more than a decade hoping that their constant “military excursions” would end, but now Zhanying felt that staying in the capital was worse. The first few days were fine—the men were more relaxed since Jingyan wasn’t around, but no one stirred up any trouble. He even watched the men let themselves be playfully chased by their three children, shrieking loud enough that he was sure everyone in the Su Manor could hear it a wall over.

And then came Jingyan’s famous last words to bite them in the ass.

It came as a rumour from the palace: Her Lady Consort Jing was confined to her residence by the Empress. Apparently poisonous herbs had been found in her stores, and she was to be held in suspicion that she was planning to kill the Emperor.

Zhanying went over to the Su Manor immediately after the palace maid went with Qi Meng to find Commander Meng at Weiling—this was definitely a plot by Prince Yu, which meant it could develop into something worse. However, he was halted when he asked to see Lin Shu. Zheng Ping met him by the walkway outside and told him that Lin Shu had taken ill and wasn’t able to receive guests. Zhanying pursed his lips, worrying it. He knew it was important for Lin Shu to rest, but he couldn’t shake off the urgency that this matter held—it was Jingyan’s mother in trouble, and of all things, that was the last type of bad news he’d ever want Jingyan to come back to.

“Her Lady will only suffer some difficulties in the palace,” Zheng Ping said after he’d mentioned they’d already sent news about it to the Emperor. “You should return and await for news from Weiling.”

Zhanying couldn’t help the immediate frown with those words and went back to fret. It was harsh, but he knew Zheng Ping was right—Prince Yu nor the Empress did not have the power to physically lay any hands on Consort Jing. It was just—…Jingyan trusted everything would go well to him when the other left the capital.

If anything happened…Zhanying would never be able to face Jingyan. His life wouldn’t be enough to make it right.

Several days later, he heard of Wei Zheng.

It was a commotion near the capital gates, a bunch of masked men had tried to grab a prisoner brought in by the Xuanjing Bureau. He went to the Bureau to inquire about it, and Xia Chun told him plainly the prisoner they were keeping was the Chiyan lieutenant.

Zhanying hadn’t…hadn’t heard that name in years. Not since…well. Lin Shu had never spoken it to him, but then again, Lin Shu hadn’t exactly given him the run down on which Chiyan soldiers made it out alive. Zhanying wouldn’t even know who they were anyway, but Wei Zheng…he would remember.

The lieutenant who took care of him for three days on his first battlefield—even when his world went red with splattered blood, Wei Zheng was always there watching his back, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Zhanying was a mess of stress when Qi Meng finally came back through the Jing Manor gates—he just needed something to go right for once. It’d been several days since he had heard from the other and even the Emperor had returned already.

“You made me quite worried, and I even sent over a dozen men after you. Where did you run off to?” he demanded Qi Meng, who looked absolutely not travel worn.

“Did you think I didn’t want to return?” Qi Meng scoffed. “It’s all Mr Su’s subordinates’ fault. One of them stopped me halfway and didn’t let me go to Weiling. He said they had a better plan, and even knocked me out!”

“…Are you okay?” Zhanying asked cautiously when Qi Meng winced and cradled the back of his head.

Qi Meng knocked him out once with his head (while sparring) and Zhanying was very aware of the kind of strength needed to render Qi Meng unconscious.

“I’m fine,” Qi Meng groaned, sounding not at all fine.

“Just, just go back and rest,” Zhanying sighed. “Her Lady’s issue is resolved since the Emperor is back. I have more important matters to attend to now.”

“Like what?”

“They’ve captured Wei Zheng,” Zhanying replied absentmindedly, hurrying out of the gates.

He went over to the Su Manor but was again told that Lin Shu was still ill and hadn’t woke after taking medication. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Su Manor workers—but retainer who received him wasn’t Li Gang or Zhen Ping and he was feeling rather suspicious about the news Qi Meng had relayed to him. He decided that he needed to see the man for himself as soon as possible and the quickest way was over the wall.

It was awkward to leave his horse, but Zhanying tied him to a post and slipped into the Su Manor after enough minutes of thinking about it, berating himself for doing something absolutely ridiculous. If he got caught, he wouldn’t know how to explain why he felt it was necessary despite being refused at the bloody front door.

It was really quiet near Lin Shu’s room—no sound of Li Gang shuffling about like the other usually would busying about. Only Fei Liu was there sitting outside by the closed door looking seriously bored. Zhanying came up to him but the younger immediately stood and stretched himself to block the entrance.

“I need to see him,” Zhanying pressed. “Please! Please.”

“Angry!” Fei Liu retorted.

Zhanying blinked. “Who’s…angry?”

“Su ge-ge!”

“Fei Liu, let him in,” floated Lin Shu’s voice from the inside.

Zhanying immediately felt equal parts relief and betrayal—wasn’t he told that Lin Shu was sick sleeping? He swallowed the latter when he saw Lin Shu’s complexion; it was paler than the other had ever been, body frame leaner than its already thin form from the toll the illness was taking on his body. Li Gang and Zhen Ping were pressing their foreheads on the floor in front of the other, not lifting them up to greet Zhanying when he shuffled in.

“What is it, Xiao Ying?”

The tone was sharp, and the displeased purse of Lin Shu’s lips made Zhanying feel like he’d just interrupted something serious.

“I—I…I heard that Lieutenant Wei was—”

“Yes,” Lin Shu cut him off shortly. “I just learnt of that myself,” he said, and Zhanying saw both Li Gang and Zheng Ping flinch. “And?”

“And…” Zhanying swallowed, slowly going to his knees before bowing. “Please save him.”

There was a very tired exhale. “…Xiao Ying. Go back and wait for Jingyan. Tell him that Xuanjing Bureau has Wei Zheng before he reaches the palace.”

Zhanying looked up with a frown. “But I can—I can help. I can enter the Bureau and—"

Lin Shu lifted a hand to stop him.

“Trust me,” Lin Shu said, expression not giving anything away. “Go on now.”

There was nothing else Zhanying could do as Lin Shu said—he didn’t feel comforted at all, even if he did trust Lin Shu. It was just…

It felt like it wasn’t a yes.

Zhanying had one job, and yet he failed at the one job Lin Shu entrusted him to do.

Zhanying had never disliked Prince Yu as much as he did when the other sauntered over to Jingyan the exact moment Zhanying was going to tell him about Wei Zheng—and there was no way he could talk over a noble prince. There was no choice but to let Jingyan go into the palace completely unprepared for the trap that Prince Yu had set.

Zhanying waited impatiently outside the palace gates and ran to Jingyan the moment the other appeared. Jingyan had his eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown, which did not ease when Zhanying came up to him.

“Your Highness, you’ve heard?”

Jingyan’s answer was curt. “I’ve heard.”

Zhanying bit the bottom of his lip, hoping that his worry wouldn’t be too obvious. He knew Jingyan would be interested in Wei Zheng because the other was a member of the Chiyan army, but Jingyan did not know who Wei Zheng meant to him personally.

“Wei Zheng has been locked in Xuanjing Bureau’s dungeon. He could be executed anytime,” Zhanying related, and because Lin Shu hadn’t said anything to him about a rescue—“Your Highness, what should we do?”

“Have you consulted with Mr Su about Wei Zheng’s situation?”

“I went.”

“What did he say?”

He couldn’t tell Jingyan anything Lin Shu said to him when he sneaked in after—not that any of it was of use. No help with Consort Jing, no help with Wei Zheng; did Lin Shu even have a plan of action? Or was it to wait it out?

“I was told Mr Su was ill,” he said eventually. “…Everyone at the Su residence seems to be acting strangely. It’s like they’re not listening to anything I tell them.”

Zhanying uttered the sentence in a moment of frustration, and he knew it was not the right thing to say the moment it left his mouth. Jingyan’s expression darkened considerably.

“Why would it seem strange?” Jingyan snorted, with almost a sneer coming to his lips. “Perhaps they don’t care about any of the things that you’ve said before. Just because my mother won’t die, she doesn’t need to be saved. Might as well take the chance and use it as a ruse.”

Zhanying paused, hearing the scoff in Jingyan’s voice get harder.

“As for Wei Zheng, of course he’ll care even less. It’s only an old case that is completely unrelated to the current faction fight, so ignoring the issue is the best strategy. He must be thinking like this.”

There was no way Lin Shu would think like that. Even if Lin Shu was cryptic and never told him anything, Zhanying could still be dead sure that Lin Shu would never think like that. Chiyan was all Lin Shu lived for.

He had to care about Wei Zheng. He just had to.

“We should still try to talk to Mr Su and have him devise a plan,” Zhanying said finally. “Despite it all, he is a man with many ideas.”

Jingyan didn’t seem convinced. They returned back to the Jing Manor and Zhanying told Jingyan in greater detail what had happened with Wei Zheng. They were discussing about having the capitol patrol be more vigilant about the people who had tried to save the Chiyan soldier before—perhaps they could aid them in some way—when the bell from the secret tunnel rang.

Normally Jingyan would be up on his feet on the first ring, but this time the prince stayed seated with a distasteful look on his face.

“Your Highness…we should still meet with him,” Zhanying suggested cautiously.

It was obvious that Jingyan did not want to, but Zhanying prodded carefully for a second time when there was no answer for a long while. Meanwhile, the bell kept on ringing in greater frequency.

When they finally entered the tunnel, Lin Shu was bowing slightly to them, posture unsteady. Zhanying stood back as Jingyan descended the stairs first, observing the tiredness seeping into Lin Shu’s demeanour. His health was more fragile than Zhanying thought—the other shouldn’t be standing up at this point.

But they needed him, there was just no one else that could save Wei Zheng.

Jingyan was still obviously ticked, and didn’t answer when Lin Shu asked him if he had anything to discuss after leaving the palace. Zhanying watched Jingyan stalk past Lin Shu unflinchingly, and Zhanying hurried to speak.

“Yes. Yes, we do,” Zhanying swallowed, noticing that Lin Shu didn’t even look at him, more occupied with staring at the cold way Jingyan just ignored him. “As you know, the former lieutenant of the Chiyan army, Wei Zheng, has been captured by Xia Jiang. We should hurry and rescue him.”

Lin Shu’s attention was still on Jingyan.

“His Highness has always said that none rivals your strategic mind,” Zhanying blurted. “So if we could please trouble you to devise a plan and advise us, Sir.”

It was only then did Lin Shu turn to him, lowering his head slightly. “General, be calm, please. I understand your feelings,” Lin Shu said, and his voice was firm despite it being slightly sore. “But General, I ask that you think about this clearly. No matter what plan I come up with in order to save Wei Zheng, there is no way to not involve His Highness.”

There was an edge to it, the way Lin Shu levelled his gaze to Zhanying while Jingyan’s back was turned. It was like Lin Shu was warning him it could be a choice between saving Wei Zheng and putting Jingyan in mortal peril—if the Emperor so much as linked Jingyan to the traitors Chiyan, his head might roll like all the other did before him, even if he was a prince.

Zhanying kept his mouth shut because he knew could not make that choice.

Wei Zheng was…was the one who made sure he lived but Jingyan…Jingyan was the reason he stayed living for. Lin Shu went forward to plead with Jingyan to listen, but Jingyan wasn’t in the frame of mind to.

“Your Highness,” Lin Shu finished with a lowered head. “The one who has designs in this world must know when to sacrifice.”

“…I understand your advice,” Jingyan said finally, voice hard. “Thank you.”

When Jingyan turned away, Lin Shu staggered after him like he’d been hit by a blow. “Your Highness—”

Zhanying did not prepare for the way Jingyan suddenly grabbed his sword out of its sheath to cut the bell rope. He flinched when the metal bell clanked on the ground, and even more so when he heard Lin Shu drop to his knees behind him with a cry.

“Your Highness!”

Zhanying had never seen Jingyan get quite that angry ever—there was confusion reeking all over Lin Shu as Jingyan berated him, and Zhanying had to leave when Jingyan commanded him to. He heard Lin Shu trip over his knees when the other called for Jingyan and glanced back in a moment of worry. Lin Shu was reaching out, a horrible cough forcing its way of out his throat while gasping for Jingyan to wait, but the prince was already out of the stairs and into his study. Zhanying helplessly tossed his gaze to where Jingyan was stalking off, and then the figure lying on the cold hard floor in the tunnel.

At that moment, Zhanying found himself at a tearing point.

He’d always taken for granted that whatever path Lin Shu walked on it’d be the same as Jingyan, but now it seemed like they were going opposite directions, and Zhanying had to chose one to follow.

When it really came down to it, despite Lin Shu’s elusions that he wasn’t going save Wei Zheng, Zhanying didn’t believe that. If he believed that, then at the very core of it, he would have to believe that Lin Shu wouldn’t save him either. Lin Shu was not like that.

Marshal Lin was never like that. Marshal Lin was snarky and irritatingly vague and took Zhanying for granted as much as he trusted him. But the marshal loved Chiyan more than anyone else—and that included an orphan who was inducted for just three days.

But it really came down to it, Zhanying would follow Jingyan to death and beyond. Were his feelings deep enough to betray Lin Shu?

Zhanying did not know. He was scared to know.

Perhaps Lin Shu saw his indecision, because the other met his gaze and whispered in a command, “Go.”

Zhanying squeezed his eyes shut and hurried out before Zheng Ping came down the tunnel corridor to help Lin Shu, closing the tunnel door because Jingyan was steaming in his seat at the study. He didn’t say anything as Jingyan did not sit still—over the next few minutes he got up, walked around, sat down again, and then went outside to gaze into the unending snow.

There was no reasoning with Jingyan when he was incensed, Zhanying knew, but he had to try.

Somehow…this all felt like his fault. If he hadn’t pushed so much about saving Wei Zheng, if he hadn’t been so impatient about Consort Jing—if he had just trusted Lin Shu, trusted the man who’d saved him, led him, taught him, cared about him when no one else did…maybe he wouldn’t have said things to Jingyan that made this all worse.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying started carefully. “Are…you sure about this? Despite everything, I still think Mr Su is sincere in supporting you, Your Highness. So, for a lot of things, please don’t take it personally and be overly adamant.” He closed his mouth for a short moment after, wondering if that was much too audacious to say. “Without his help, how can we save Wei Zheng?”

Jingyan only sneered. “Didn’t you hear him? Did he have any intention of saving Wei Zheng?”

“What he said does make people angry,” Zhanying agreed. “…But it is not without any reason.”

“How dare—"

“I’ve overstepped, but Your Highness,” Zhanying hastened to bow when Jingyan turned his glare on him. “Mr Su does not walk the same path as we do. He does not understand the loyalty you have with Wei Zheng,” he added softly. “Your Highness, we should try to properly discuss it further with him.”

Jingyan glanced away, stalking back into his study after Zhanying last words. Obviously it didn’t change the prince’s mind—it was try nonetheless. Zhanying stayed outside the study because Jingyan was in a really bad mood, and he hovered between attempting to convince Jingyan again or waiting for a more opportune moment.

When a soldier came to report that Lin Shu had arrived via the front gates and was waiting out on the porch, Zhanying clenched and unclenched his hands in stress when Jingyan dismissed the news and stayed sulking in the study. It was snowing really heavily—Lin Shu shouldn’t be outside in this weather at all. Zhanying got increasingly agitated when an hour in and Jingyan was perfectly content to give the other the cold shoulder.

“Your Highness,” he ventured. “I shall go and tell Mr Su to leave if you wouldn’t like to see him.”

Jingyan gave a curt nod, and Zhanying hurried as fast as he could once he was out of Jingyan’s sight. He came up to Zhen Ping and Lin Shu, honestly surprised that Lin Shu was standing on his feet—but the cloak around his frame was hugged tight by his pale bony hands, like that was the only thing that was keeping him together.

“Mr Su, his Highness is dealing with other matters. He currently does not have time. It would be best if you returned home, Sir.”

Lin Shu leveled him with a firm look. “Please tell his Highness that if he does not meet me today, I will not leave here.”

Zhanying flicked his glance to Zhen Ping, who just grimaced and shrugged in response. He worried his bottom lip. There were other Jing army men around, so he couldn’t be direct.

“Mr Su. Do…do you really not want his Highness to save Wei Zheng?” What can I do?

“Have Prince Jing come out to see me, and I will explain it clearly.” Convince him.

Easier said than done—Zhanying had been trying for the entire whole past hour. He went back to Jingyan’s study, where Jingyan only glanced at him as acknowledgement of his return.

“Mr Su said he won’t leave until you see him. He said he would explain clearly about Wei Zheng,” Zhanying reported the honest bit. “…Your Highness…I think you should see him.”

“Why?” Jingyan looked irritated. “So that he can tell me more reasons why I should let Wei Zheng die for my own gain?”

Zhanying hoped he looked appropriately bothered. “No, your Highness. Mr Su is..he…doesn’t look good. He was coughing really badly when I spoke to him, and…”

“And?”

“He coughed out blood,” Zhanying said, knowing that it was the most blatant lie he’d ever told to Jingyan. “Your Highness, I think his illness has gotten worse in this weather.”

Even if Jingyan was unreasonable in his anger, Jingyan wouldn’t let someone die on his account; that was what Zhanying believed in. There was a ten second deliberation before Jingyan sourly stalked towards the gates.

Chapter Text

It was about four hours later that marshal Lin finally left the Jing Manor—through the secret tunnel. Jingyan looked rather relieved and cross with himself at the same time as he watched the other slowly amble towards the other end of the corridor with Zhen Ping subtly holding his side. Zhanying led Commander Meng towards the front gate afterwards, silent in his thoughts about the events that had transpired.

“Xiao Ying,” Commander Meng probed gently, whilst in midway. “Zhanying,” he amended, when he saw the flicker of Zhanying’s gaze towards him that looked a little sharp. “You could’ve came to me.”

There was no rebuke in his tone, but Zhanying shook his head. “And what could you have done? His Highness wouldn’t have seen marshal Lin just because you were there.”

“I mean, before that,” Commander Meng continued. “When I came back with his Majesty from Weiling.”

Zhanying exhaled softly. He hadn’t—hadn’t even thought about asking Commander Meng for help. It wasn’t like Commander Meng was easily available anyway, given that the other was almost always in the palace, but Zhanying knew that was an excuse. He could sneak anywhere he wanted if he truly wanted to. The truth was, he didn’t…see Commander Meng as one of their own.

One of Chiyan.

Marshal Lin obviously trusted the commander enough to reveal his real identity, and it was always useful to have someone on their side on the inside. But when it came down to it—would Commander Meng set aside everything to help them? To help Jingyan?

He hadn’t thought so.

“…Did you know?” he asked instead.

“Know what?”

“That Li Gang and Zhen Ping tried to save Lieutenant Wei on their own.”

“I only heard about the attempt when I came back,” Commander Meng replied. “I suspected, because of reports of an abnormally skilled young kid amongst them.”

“They could’ve told me,” Zhanying said before he could stop himself, and looked away when he felt Commander Meng turn to stare at him.

“Xiao Ying—”

“This is it, Commander Meng,” Zhanying gestured to the gate that they reached, bowing a little. “Please take care on your way back.”

“Zhanying,” the other audibly sighed before he fell silent, looking like he was finding the appropriate words to say. “They’re just trying to protect you,” he said, and then gave a huff of laughter, patting Zhanying on the shoulder. “You’re still their baby after all.”

“What—” Zhanying furrowed his eyebrows, but Commander Meng was already striding away down the main path.

“You were too rash.”

Zhanying jolted and nearly stabbed the wall in shock if not realising that it was just marshal Lin lying in his bed, eyes wide awake. He’d stolen into marshal Lin’s room in the middle of the night—again—somehow avoiding Fei Liu—this time—and he didn’t expect Lin Shu to be awake. He wanted to…just be sure…that the other was okay after standing out in the cold for so long.

He shuffled closer, sitting down near to where Lin Shu scooted to pat a space on his mattress like he’d called this rendezvous.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“My medicine,” Lin Shu gave a lazy wave towards the general direction where the physician Yan slept. “It’s supposed to keep my blood circulating because of the cold I endured. Increases energy. Something like that,” he shrugged, sounding a little drowsy. “Too much energy. Also, I’d thought I’d see you.”

“…You always know everything,” Zhanying said, and it sounded a little bitter. He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, marshal Lin. I just—just, I’m glad you’re okay.”

Lin Shu gave a soft snort. “Xiao Ying…are you upset?”

“No,” Zhanying said immediately, because that was ridiculous.

“I am,” Lin Shu said, and Zhanying clamped his mouth shut in reflex.

The other turned over to his other side, back facing Zhanying. It wasn’t like they were looking at each other in the first place—it was dark, and neither of them choose to light the candles. Yet, Zhanying could feel the distance between them stretch as the blanket pulled with Lin Shu’s motion.

“…I don’t blame you,” Lin Shu began after a while, voice in a quiet lull. “I saw it coming, and I let it happen. I don’t blame you,” Lin Shu repeated. “I never will.”

Zhanying paused. “What are you talking about, marshal Lin?”

“If I asked you to leave Jingyan to come back to my side, would you do it, Xiao Ying?”

Zhanying frowned at the sudden question. “But who is going to look after his Highness—"

“Would you?”

“I,” Zhanying breathed unsteadily. “…But why? H-how can we explain my disappearance to his Highness?”

Lin Shu exhaled like he knew the answer.

“It’s okay, Xiao Ying,” he said, and Zhanying felt a clench in his jaw.

“…Why,” Zhanying asked, clipped. “Why do you always…test me? About his Highness?” he demanded. “As if I have to choose—”

“Because you will,” Lin Shu said over him, turning over, tone fierce. “…You have,” he inserted a pause after. “Xiao Ying, you know this. At the tunnel, after Jingyan ignored me—”

“I didn’t choose—you, you told me to—”

“Xiao Ying…”

Zhanying shook his head, and nearly retracted his hand when he felt unusually cold fingers gently wrap around his palm. He let Lin Shu take his hand.

“I’m, I’m Chiyan,” he said.

“You are.”

“I care—about you.”

“You do,” Lin Shu agreed, circling his thumb over the bumps and callouses of his skin. “But you also love Jingyan,” Lin Shu murmured, and Zhanying felt his breath hitch as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them damp despite—despite that there was no reason why he should feel so, so…

“I can’t,” he whispered. “Don’t,” he swallowed. “…I didn’t come here to talk about this, marshal Lin.”

“I thought you just came to see if I was sleeping well,” Lin Shu sounded amused. “But alright. What did you want to talk about then? Saving Wei Zheng?” he shifted again, and Zhanying felt Lin Shu pat his hand to leave it by the pillow side. “I hope I was clear that you are to stay out of it. Leave the planning and execution to me.”

“But I can do it,” Zhanying interjected quickly before Lin Shu’s voice went impatient. “I have confidence that I can.”

“Can what?” Lin Shu asked, and then sucked in a breath when he realised exactly what Zhanying was offering. “No. No—no, that’s—that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard today, including what Jingyan said to me this afternoon.”

“…I haven’t even said what I meant yet.”

“You will not break into Xuanjing bureau by yourself,” Zhanying could almost feel Lin Shu glare at him. “That’s an order, do you understand me?”

“But I can—”

“Not,” Lin Shu finished sharply. “How many times do I have to say this? Do you understand me, Xiao Ying?”

“I won’t bring any of the guards with me, you know can I do it alone,” Zhanying tried to bargain. “You know I can do it—”

“You have no idea how fortified this prison is—”

“You know I can do it,” Zhanying pressed defiantly, voice hard in urgency. “I can save Lieutenant Wei. Please.”

“…Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu ventured, voice tight. “I know Wei Zheng is important to you,” he said in a hushed gentle whisper. “He’s important to me too. But you have to trust me. This is not the way.”

“Then why have I always been ‘the way’ all the other times?”

When fingers came to unclench Zhanying’s fist, he slipped his hand away, choosing to wrap them close to his stomach.

“Besides,” Lin Shu continued, ignoring his last question. "I suspect Wei Zheng isn't being held in the bureau's prison cell."

"What do you mean?" Zhanying frowned.

"It's a trap. Xia Jiang is just dying for us to break in, only to realise Wei Zheng isn't there...well, that's what I'd do in his place."

"Then do you know where Lieutenant Wei might be?"

"...Too many possibilities," Lin Shu grounded out after a while.

"So what then?"

"I'm still thinking," the other groused.

Zhanying pursed his lips. "I can search for him."

“I've said this before," Lin Shu clucked his tongue. "Xia Jiang will use you as evidence and accuse Jingyan of being involved with kidnapping a criminal—”

“That’s only if I get caught—"

“And can you really take the risk, even if it’s if a small risk?” Lin Shu sighed impatiently. “Xiao Ying, if not for me…think about Jingyan,” he exhaled, shuddering. “God, Jingyan would personally strangle me if he found out I let you do it. Amongst all the other things. Considered,” he sniffed. “…I want you to say that you will not break into the bureau under any circumstance. Say it.”

Zhanying quieted, because he knew Lin Shu had a point. “…I won’t,” he said reluctantly after a while, and finished the sentence when he felt a nudge. “I won’t break into the bureau under any circumstance,” he swallowed. “I just…I want—need…to say thank you,” he admitted softly. “To Lieutenant Wei. Before…before…”

“I promise you will,” Lin Shu murmured. “I’ve never broken my promises, have I?”

“Not yet.”

“Tch, yet…” Lin Shu repeated, breath easing off.

It was suddenly too silent, except for Lin Shu’s even breathing, and Zhanying glanced down to spy that Lin Shu had fallen asleep. He tucked the blanket more tightly around the other and hesitated before resting a palm on the other’s forehead. He meant it to be a gentle caress, but he jolted his hand back at the shocking heat of it.

Marshal Lin was running a fever, and he didn’t even realise. He hadn’t—hadn’t meant to…disturb his rest. As he always did. With a grimace he hurried to wake Physician Yan, hoping that he wouldn’t be attacked mistakenly as an intruder and cause an alarm in the entire manor. He left the Su Manor after he got scolded thoroughly for sneaking into Lin Shu’s room at this time of the night, with a now-awake Fei Liu blowing a dark raspberry at him when he hopped over the walls.

He made sure Jingyan was still curled asleep in bed before returning to his quarters, careful to slip back in unnoticed.

Before the new year, the crown prince was demoted to Prince of Xian and banished from the Eastern Palace, while Jingyan was awarded two more royal pearls to his crown. Jingyan went over the Su Manor a couple of times to discuss their plans in saving Wei Zheng, and each time Lin Shu stared at Zhanying like he was just daring him to reiterate his stupid idea again. Zhanying kept his mouth shut, and even kept his disgruntlement hidden when they decided to send someone else to steal the Phoenix pearl from the Ministry of Rites and other treasures from court officials.

Jingyan never wanted him to steal again, and Lin Shu was definitely never going to suggest it in front of the prince.

Instead, Jingyan instructed him to take charge of the capitol patrol to make sure their formation would be right when the time came. General Ouyang looked a little unsettled when he greeted the other, looking nervously over Zhanying’s shoulder like the other had a suspicion Jingyan was keeping secret tabs on them, but nonetheless agreed to follow his instructions.

It was…easier…to be doing something rather than sitting around whilst the plan rolled into the motion like how Lin Shu and Jingyan were to be waiting in the Su Manor, but Zhanying could also not shake off the unease that something was going to go wrong and he wouldn’t be close enough to the Su Manor to help.

On prison break out day itself, he cautiously asked for permission to enter Jingyan’s room given the early hour. Jingyan was an early riser, so Zhanying didn’t think much of it, until he went in and realised the prince hadn’t changed out of his sleep wear, hair untied and reading something at his study table.

Zhanying averted his eyes even though he’d seen worse—well, he’d seen Jingyan more states of undress given that they were in an army—but still it felt a little too…intimate.

“I apologise, your Highness, I didn’t mean to…intrude.”

Jingyan only waved the apology away. “What is it?”

“I, um, I’m leaving for the capitol patrol now,” Zhanying said, and then felt immensely foolish that he just came to report this—he just, just wanted to see Jingyan before everything began. “Please be careful, your Highness.”

Jingyan sighed, sounding amused. “I’ll be at the Su Manor, not in line of Xia Jiang’s sight.” Something must have shown on Zhanying’s face, because Jingyan paused, furrowing his eyebrows a little. “Zhanying, it’s going to be alright.”

Zhanying nodded quickly, berating himself for letting his worry show. Jingyan shouldn’t need to assure him—but there was something that felt…off.

“Your Highness,” he bowed with the intention to take his leave, but Jingyan stopped him by getting up from his seat.

“Zhanying, I…I appreciate that you’ve been worried about Wei Zheng, even though you’ve never met him,” he said, coming closer. “You have a good heart.”

Zhanying felt his mouth run dry, and he scrambled to string a reply. “I…I…I know he’s important to you, your Highness. I mean,” he swallowed. “You used to tell me stories about…the young Marshal Lin…and Chiyan…”

“I’ve never mentioned Wei Zheng though.”

“You always care about everyone, even me,” was what Zhanying ended up saying, and felt his ears flush darkly when Jingyan looked at him in surprise. “Excuse me, your Highness. I, I should go.”

Jingyan let him quickly shuffle his way out before his face turned red.

The rescue was smoother than anything Zhanying had hoped. Though a couple of Yaowang Valley fighters were injured, it was frankly a miracle that everything went according to the first plan, without a need for their backups. He hadn’t had the chance to see Wei Zheng himself, being busy with coordinating the capitol troops, but Li Gang met him with a breathless wide grin when the other received him at the gate of the Su Manor, and there weren’t any words needed.

He thought the worst was over, but of course it was never that simple.

“I should get ready for my battle,” Jingyan murmured after he exchanged looks with Lin Shu.

Neither the strategist nor prince was smiling.

“What battle?” Zhanying blurted as Jingyan sat down before him, looking out towards the gardens in contemplation.

As it turned out, it was time for Jingyan to face his father, the Emperor—perhaps Zhanying should’ve seen it coming, as it was the only logical flow of events. Anything to do with Wei Zheng would ultimately throw Jingyan into suspicion, especially since Xia Jiang was adamant to pin the blame, deserving or not, on Jingyan.

As he followed Jingyan to the palace gates, he couldn’t help but flicker gazes to the grim expression on Jingyan’s face. Perhaps this was the reason why he felt so uneasy this morning. Not that he had doubt about Jingyan’s ability to withstand the verbal gruelling in court, but he couldn’t help but think of Xiao Jingyu, and the hundreds that dyed the palace floors red thanks to the suspicion of a frightened Emperor. Of the smoke, blood and ash he witnessed and breathed at Meiling, and the heartbroken tears Jingyan cried time and time again over the years.

“Your Highness…” he began when they reached. He wanted to say good luck, but Zhanying has never believed in luck. “I’ll be waiting here.”

Jingyan smiled, eyes glittering with determination.

“I’ll be back.”

Though Jingyan appeared unscathed a couple of hours later, there was a taunt line of tension in his posture as he hurried down the steps and towards where Zhanying was waiting nervously. He bowed, attention shifting a little to the guards that were trying to keep up close behind. Jingyan wasn’t being dragged out so that was a good sign, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t like what he would be told.

“I’m to remain in the manor while Xia Jiang investigates Wei Zheng’s break out,” Jingyan stated, clipped, barely even pausing in his stride—Zhanying had to pick up his pace to match his. “His Majesty’s orders.”

Zhanying gave a glance to the guards behind them. “Why are we hurrying?” he whispered.

“He’s gone for Mr Su instead.”

Zhanying sucked in a short breath, aware of that that meant. Once they reached the Jing manor, Jingyan nodded towards him, and he quickly made haste towards Jingyan’s personal room while the prince headed to a more open study room where the imperial guards could watch him from the main courtyard. He’d never used the secret tunnel on his own before—it felt a little weird, but this was dire.

He emerged into Lin Shu’s study, finding it empty. There was some commotion near the main entrance, so he slipped as quietly as he could to the nearest hiding spot. Almost immediately he spotted Fei Liu struggling noisily against Li Gang and Zhen Ping who were trying to hold him back while whispering something furiously. Everyone else was just standing around with their faces downcast and hands clasped as two rows of men from the Xuanjing Bureau made a path out of the manor—and a figure cloaked in blue made his way calmly out.

It was Lin Shu.

Shit, Zhanying swore in his head. There’d be too many complications if he burst forth now, so he waited until the gate was closed before running towards the rest. Fei Liu snarled unhappily, snapping at Li Gang and Zhen Ping’s hands before ripping himself away from their grasp and jumping towards the nearest roof. Zhen Ping shook his head exasperatedly.

“I’m following him, just in case,” he nodded towards Zhanying quickly before following suit.

“Where they are taking marshal Lin?” Zhanying demanded, even though he knew the answer.

Li Gang couldn’t meet his eyes. “To the bureau.”

“And—you just…let them?” he pressed, eyes widening a second later. “You knew. He knew.”

“Xiao Ying—”

“This was part of the plan.”

Li Gang sighed, looking apologetic. “Yes. Believe me, we tried to talk Chief Mei out of it but…you know how he’s like.”

“But, but marshal Lin can’t—his body can’t—he hasn’t even recovered from the last—”

Li Gang gestured to physician Yan in the distance, who looked absolutely angered and disappointed and upset sitting by himself on a stone stool in the garden. “We really tried. I’m sorry.”

“Marshal Lin can’t be that stupid,” Zhanying shook his head in denial. “His Highness isn’t even the crown prince yet. We need him, I—we…still need him.”

“He has a plan,” Li Gang said.

“What if it fails?”

“Then he probably has another plan,” Li Gang sighed. “We can’t do anything else but to trust in him. He won’t die, Xiao Ying.”

“You don’t know that.” It was the honest truth, and both of them knew it. “…Give me the schematics of the bureau.”

Li Gang immediately jerked to stare at him. “What do you need them for?”

“I want to make sure marshal Lin is okay.”

Li Gang paused. “…Xiao Ying, don’t tell me—”

“Then I won’t tell you,” Zhanying said shortly. He was never that clipped towards the other, and it showed from the surprise in Li Gang’s face. “…Please,” he added softer. “I won’t do anything reckless, I promise. I just…I’ll just see what I can from the perimeter.”

It was obvious that Li Gang didn’t approve, but he did give Zhanying the scrolls—maybe because he had a suspicion that Zhanying would come back to steal it on his own if he wasn’t given them anyway.

“Be careful,” Li Gang said before he handed them over. “And don’t you dare sneak inside.”

“Okay,” Zhanying nodded immediately, even though he had an inkling it would be a lie.

Zhanying wasn’t doing this because he was hot-headed and reckless and blinded by emotion. He actually thought it through while observing Jingyan pace back and forth in his study for the entire day. He ran over the risks and the pros and cons and studied the diagrams that Li Gang had given him. He memorised the guard positions noted in the scrolls, and then watched the guard shifts personally when he told Jingyan he was going to see if he could spy something from the bureau.

Jingyan did not sleep on the first night, candle in his room burning—and Zhanying did not either, spending it atop a roof at an angle from the bureau that let him watch the guards inside walk their patrol. He had to keep switching his position because every so often the blindspot he had chosen would have an officer that came into its view, like the bureau was well aware of their weaknesses. It was frankly extremely annoying and he went back to the manor before sunrise feeling cranky as hell—this was going to be so much harder than any of the enemy camps he’d slipped in before.

On the third day he got too antsy about just watching.

He’d argued with Jingyan all morning about getting some sleep—even though he kept just as bad hours these couple of days, until the prince finally relented for nap. It gave Zhanying enough relief that he also slept for a bit, checked in with Jingyan in the afternoon to relate the news about Xia Dong being escorted to the palace, and then went over to bureau again, but without his conspicuous armour. This time, he spied the older officers Xia Chun and Xia Jiang bustling about across the compound as though in panic.

Curious, he abandoned his watching post and scooted to a better position when he saw them enter Xia Jiang’s room. There were two guards positioned underneath Xia Jiang’s window so he couldn’t get any closer to hear what they were saying, but he saw the older man sniff to himself after taking a small gourd bottle from his robes to set it on the table. Thereafter, another bottle was taken out—this time, held and inspected briefly before it was tossed into the lit brazier.

Zhanying bit his lip in thought the same moment that Xia Jiang and Xia Chun stormed out of the room as though they were called by someone—and before he could rethink his actions, he flung his dagger towards one of the guards below the window, and used the shock of the other to silence him with a quick slash of the throat. He retrieved his dagger and crawled through the window as fast as he could, rolling on the floor to ease the impact.

He cursed to himself when he realised he hadn’t even covered his face—my god, if anyone spied that he’d just sent Jingyan to the grave. There wasn’t time to think about it now; he swiped the bottle from the brazier—it had already caught fire, but he managed to put it out with his hands before the whole thing crumbled into ashes.

Whatever it was, it had to be important.

He looked at the other bottle on the table, squinting at the inscription on it. Wujing, was the elegant scrawl on it. He didn’t know that it meant, so he uncorked it to sniff it. It smelt sour, bitter, like medicine Lin Chen used to feed Lin Shu. Tipping the bottle out revealed round tiny pills.

If it was something like medicine, then the only thing it could be, was that it was poison.

Zhanying clutched the half-burnt bottle in his hand and hastily turned its contents out. Similar round pills fell into his palm, but they were of a different colour—there were only two left unscathed by the fire, given that everything else was ash in his palm. This had to be the antidote, and if Xia Jiang felt the need to get rid of the antidote, then the only logical and cruel conclusion was that the other had fed it to someone.

To Lin Shu.

Suddenly he was grounded to the real fact that Lin Shu might not have planned this. How could he? It’s not like he could predict what sort of poison Xia Jiang would use to threaten him, nor could he hide antidotes in his clothes when he was brought to the bureau. With Lin Shu’s weak disposition—Zhanying shuddered to even think about the audacity of the crime Xia Jiang had committed against a frail sickly man that he didn’t even know was a revengeful ghost of his past.

He tossed the burnt bottle back to the brazier and hurried his way out through the window after a quick scan around. Strangely—but thankfully—no one had noticed the two dead guards, and Zhanying realised this was because there was a lot of panicked movement coming from the main compound. Something was happening to startle the bureau into disarray, and Zhanying was not going to let this opportunity slip by.

The usual officer formation guarding the prison where Lin Shu was situated had dwindled to three with all of them distracted and whispering to each other, and Zhanying mentally ran through the possible routes he could take to break in. The windows on top were too tiny for him to squeeze through, so the only entrance was unfortunately through the main door—but that was open, because Xia Jiang stormed angrily out of it, with a couple of officers and Xia Chun hurrying after him.

Zhanying gritted his teeth, spied the frenzied waving of an officer directing the flow of guards around the place a distance away. Before he could attempt his own slip shot plan, he heard Commander Meng’s voice ring through the bureau, ordering the arrest of Xia Jiang. It was enough of a distraction for Zhanying to edge over the roof and slip his way into the door from the top using ledges and chains on the wall—the metal rattled, but Commander Meng was loud enough to drown the sounds out.

“Marshal Lin,” he whispered when he dropped to the ground.

Lin Shu was hunched over in his cold cell, gripping his cloak tightly around his frame. He didn’t look good.

“Marshal Lin,” he called louder, glancing towards the open door every moment or so. “Marshal Lin.”

Zhanying eyed the gate of the cell in frustration—it wasn’t something he could pick easily. Thankfully Lin Shu did look up at his voice then, and his entire face was bloodless.

“Xiao Ying,” he mouthed, managing a hoarse rasping sound at the end. “…Tell me you’re not actually here.”

“Marshal Lin, I don’t have much time,” he hissed, squeezing his arm through the bars. “Here. Take this,” he demanded. “Antidote. He poisoned you with something called Wujing, didn’t he?”

Lin Shu’s gaze sharpened with clarity with each passing second, until it rose dead flat to glare at Zhanying.

“I’m going to kill you when I get out.”

“Marshal Lin, please,” Zhanying huffed. “I don’t have enough time to get you out right now, so please, at least—"

“You are the most…r-reckless,” Lin Shu ignored him, and coughed sorely with every punctuated word. “—disobedient and stupidest charge I’ve ever taken in! What did you promise me?!”

“But I—I can’t leave you—to die!” Zhanying almost yelled, but he didn’t, because he wasn’t stupid. “Not when I can—I can save you.”

Lin Shu shook his head. “Xiao Ying, you still don’t trust me.”

“You don’t trust me either,” Zhanying sourly pointed out. “You could’ve…told me. About this…this.”

“I won’t die here,” Lin Shu said, turning his head away. He sounded tired. “I’m getting out soon. Meng da-ge is here, isn’t he?”

“But the poison—”

“—won’t do a thing. No poison will. I’ve already got the worst one in me, what else could compare?” He raised his head with a grin that honestly didn’t work quite as well on his parlour. “Any poison I ingest will be destroyed by the poison of the bitter flame. Didn’t Lin Chen tell you this?”

Zhanying retracted his arm back when it was clear Lin Shu wasn’t going to take the antidote. “…He doesn’t tell me anything either,” he murmured.

“Remember when he kept feeding me disgusting liquids and I almost convinced you to pour away one of them for me?” Lin Shu sighed tiredly. “Xiao Ying. Please. Get out of here. Now. Before Meng da-ge and his guards come in,” he paused when Zhanying stiffly stood up. “…Don’t worry. I’ll be out soon. And then I’m going to ground you forever.”

“I told you I could break in,” Zhanying muttered under his breath as he hopped up to the ledge to get out the same way he came in.

“Not the time to brag about this, Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu retorted. “This is not a risk I ever wanted you to take.”

Zhanying gave him one last glance before he hauled himself out. “I took it for you.”

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Zhanying did not go over to the Su Manor. He knew Lin Shu was resting after being brought out of the bureau, and he knew the other had to rest and recover from the ordeal. He wasn’t making any sort of excuses that he was avoiding Lin Shu, of course not. Besides, Commander Meng tried to visit via hopping over their wall and then came back a couple of minutes later grousing that even he was being refused.

Zhanying refrained from saying ‘I told you so’ only because Commander Meng didn’t press him for more information when he privately admitted he was the one who had killed the two guards under Xia Jiang’s window.

Zhanying was wrapping up things with the capitol patrol when Qi Meng came to deliver some urgent news. Apparently, word was that Mr Su was poisoned while he was captive, and that Jingyan had gone to the imperial prison to demand the antidote from Xia Jiang as no trace of it could be found in the bureau. It was a dangerous move—they’d been trying so hard to keep Jingyan away from Xia Jiang, but Zhanying could understand his concern.

After all, he himself—…well.

“Didn’t the Su Manor people stop them?” Zhanying asked, puzzled.

They should know that the poison wasn’t effective on Lin Shu, right? Why didn’t they tell Commander Meng and Jingyan it was sorted?

Qi Meng frowned. “If Mr Su dies—”

“He won’t. Please retrieve his Highness,” Zhanying said quickly, making to leave in another direction.

“Wait, wait—where are you going? What am I supposed to say to get him to leave?”

Zhanying shook his head exasperatedly. “Tell him—…tell him we’ve found the antidote.”

“But we haven’t—”

“I’m handling it. Please, don’t let his Highness do anything rash.”

“Commander Meng has tried to find the antidote, what’s why they’re in such a panic,” Qi Meng interjected, looking more confused. “He’s the one who told his Highness it was dire. Where are you going to find it?”

“I know where it is,” Zhanying replied impatiently. “I, I—”

“…You didn’t,” Qi Meng said, hushed. “Oh fuck, Zhanying—"

“Look, I didn’t break into Xuanjing bureau, Xia Jiang had it watched way too tightly—”

“You what?!” Qi Meng’s voice had escalated, and Zhanying hurriedly slapped him on the arm a couple of times to get him to lower it. “I just thought you went to snoop around after they sealed the place up! But you broke in? Broke in? When?! All those times when you snuck out last week?!”

“I didn’t!” Zhanying denied, resisting the urge to rub his temples. “Like you said, I went afterwards—”

“Come on,” Qi Meng jabbed his finger to his chest plate. “Fess up. You really think none of us would notice you missing in the middle of the night?”

“…I get hungry,” Zhanying said defensively, clicking his jaw in place.

“Yeah, me too,” Qi Meng snorted, a half grin on his lips. “You weren’t in the kitchen.”

“Maybe I went out to get food.”

“And you didn’t call me along?” Qi Meng crossed his arms. “I’m offended.”

Zhanying sighed. “This is stupid, we’re wasting time. Can you please go and find his Highness?”

“I’m not letting this one go,” Qi Meng gave him a pointed look before scurrying away, but there was an amused grin wide on his mouth.

Zhanying hurried off towards his quarters in Jing manor where he’d kept the pills he’d stolen the other day. He went over the wall to the Su Manor after, walking on Li Gang, Zhen Ping, Fei Liu and physician Yan crowding around Lin Shu either sleeping or unconscious in his bed. Li Gang gave a glance towards their main gate, since Zhanying’s presence would’ve been announced if he came in the proper way, and then back at Zhanying again.

“What’s the matter?”

“The antidote,” he said, putting the round pills on the nearby low table. “His Highness is coming back from the prison.”

They blinked, wordless for a few moments.

“…Is that really the antidote?” Physician Yan frowned. “Where did you find it?”

“Xia Jiang tried to burn it,” Zhanying explained. “I took it before it was all gone.”

“You broke into the bureau?!”

Zhanying winced at Zhen Ping’s exclamation, because it made Lin Shu stir blearily, gaze at them all with a distant look in his eyes, and yet the other still managed to murmur, “Grounded. Grounded forever,” before passing out again.

“I forgot marshal Lin didn’t need it!” He defended. “Why didn’t you guys stop his Highness from going to see Xia Jiang?”

“Well, we just learned Chief Mei doesn’t need it either,” Zhen Ping said sourly, side eyeing physician Yan.

“I just had a suspicion,” the doctor muttered under his breath. “I needed it confirmed first. His illness is most mysterious.”

“Why did you bring the antidote over then,” Li Gang asked. “If you know he doesn’t need it?”

“His Highness will want to see it,” Zhanying replied. “He might ask for a sample to bring it to her Lady Consort Jing—”

“Tell him there was one pill, and Chief Mei ate it,” Physician Yan put in firmly. “No visits.”

“Okay, seriously,” Zhen Ping interrupted, looking at Zhanying. “…You broke into the bureau?”

“…Well,” Zhanying said.

As he expected, Commander Meng and Jingyan were soon asking to see Lin Shu again, and Zhanying took that as his cue to hurry back to the Jing manor before he was seen.

Zhanying hadn’t seen Wei Zheng even after the rescue, but Jingyan was in the same boat. He knew the lieutenant wasn’t kept in Su Manor since he’d went over that day and found no trace of the Chiyan member, and he didn’t want to dig for information considering Lin Shu was still mad at him.

As mad as a barely conscious recovering patient could be, anyway.

In the meantime, Zhanying accompanied Jingyan to the palace several times—the prince visited his mother more and more often, and occasionally even the Emperor asked for a personal audience. It seemed like all was going well, although Jingyan had this distant look in his gaze, like there were troubled things he couldn’t verbalise.

Zhanying watched him carefully, quietly, because Jingyan didn’t seem like he was in the mood to talk. It was only when they met the young prince Mu after leaving the palace did Jingyan’s facial expression ease up, obviously surprised to see him. It quickly turned disgruntled again, however, when Mu Qing happily told the other that he had come from the Su Manor. There were more (obvious) jibes that the younger was poking at Jingyan in their conversation, but they did learn one useful thing: the possibility that Wei Zheng was being hidden at the Mu manor.

Zhanying hadn’t thought about it, but perhaps it made sense. If Princess Mu knew who Lin Shu really was, it would make perfect sense.

He could sneak into the Mu Manor, but it could be messy if Lieutenant Wei didn’t recognize him on first sight—and he really didn’t want to have to explain why he went, not under the orders of Jingyan, into the Mu household. Instead, he went about his other duties after inviting Minister Cai and Minister Shen to the Su Manor, and then checked up on Jingyan in the evening.

The prince was hunched in his study, going through what looked like court notes—the writing was too tiny to glance off and honestly, Zhanying didn’t fully understand all of them—when Zhanying decided to bring in a pot of hot water and some hazelnut pastries. Usually the household staff would do these kinds of things; ultimately, Zhanying’s scope of responsibility did not cover serving Jingyan his refreshments or meals, but he did it sometimes, especially when he noticed Jingyan was brooding and he didn’t know what else to do.

The prince let him set the tray down, looking curious for a bit before folding up the parchment he was reading. It was then Zhanying realized he had brought two cups along. The kitchen staff had placed those, not him; he hadn’t intended to invite himself into Jingyan’s time.

“What’s the occasion?” Jingyan asked, and Zhanying only recognized it as a joke because the other was smiling.

“You should take a break, your Highness,” Zhanying replied. “There aren’t any major cases, are there?”

“No, I’m just reviewing old policies,” Jingyan replied. “To discuss with Mr Su and the ministers tomorrow. Zhanying, sit,” he cocked his head after Zhanying had filled one cup.

“Your Highness, I should—”

“Sit,” Jingyan repeated. “What are you so busy with that it can’t wait?”

There were general things to take care of, but both of them knew that there wasn’t anything urgent, so Zhanying sat and tried not to feel awkward as Jingyan looked at him and drank from the cup. He refilled it once Jingyan placed the cup down, and then hesitantly filled the other cup when Jingyan moved it under the pot spout.

The prince also pushed the plate of hazelnut pastries towards him. “Have one.”

Zhanying’s gaze immediately shot towards them, but he quickly averted it to hide his excitement. Over the years Jingyan had shared various pastries with him, but hazelnut was still the one that cloyed the sweetest in his mouth, and Jingyan always looked super pleased when the other watched him eat it. Jingyan rolled his eyes a bit when Zhanying didn’t reach out to take one—he took one himself and gave it a bite before pushing the plate even closer towards Zhanying pointedly.

“Where did this come from?” Jingyan asked, looking at the half-bitten pastry in surprise after he swallowed. “It’s not from my mother.”

“I’m sorry if it’s not up to standard,” Zhanying said, lowering his head. “Her Lady Consort Jing hasn’t made hazelnut pastries in a while, and I thought you would like some, so I asked the staff to get it from a bakery.”

“It’s not bad,” Jingyan took another bite and chew, and the pastry was gone. “Huh. I didn’t even notice. Strange, she always packs some in the box because she knows I love them.”

Zhanying’s eyebrows furrowed at the remark. It was true that it was strange, because ever since he first saw those lacquer boxes, they always contained a set of hazelnut delicacies.

“The only times she didn’t was when I went over to play with Xiao Shu in the past,” Jingyan said offhandedly, voice growing soft. “He had a hazelnut allergy, so she was afraid he would eat them by accident…”

“…Your Highness?” Zhanying interrupted gently when Jingyan just fell silent, and he saw the prince swallow.

“I guess that left more for me,” Jingyan shook his head. “Which bakery is this one from?”

Zhanying shared about the place—he did not admit that it was him that scouted it out personally, on one of his off days many years ago when he kept thinking about the pastry Jingyan had first given him—and conversation followed a lot more naturally after. Jingyan also related to him the scheme that Xiao Xin, the palace maid, had been involved in with his tone of voice going thicker in regret.

“You couldn’t have known,” Zhanying said, but at the same time, he thought about how he should have trusted Lin Shu so much more—about how he underestimated the evils that their enemy were embroiled in.

“I would’ve left Mr Su waiting, in the snow,” Jingyan sighed, exhaling shakily. “I could’ve—killed him. Because of my pride. And now he’s…”

“He’s recovered,” Zhanying finished. “You’ll see for yourself tomorrow.”

Jingyan gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Zhanying, have I ever been this callous with the men?”

“No,” Zhanying said immediately. “Never. I mean, even with Mr Su, it was a misunderstanding—”

“One that I can never make up to him,” Jingyan said. “…If you hadn’t pushed me, I really would’ve left him there,” he murmured, knocking back his water. “And yet, he went into the bureau for me.”

“It was his choice.”

“Exactly. He’s done so much for me…” Jingyan trailed off. “I thought he was the sort of person who believed the ends would justify the means. That he wouldn’t care about anything past his own goals. Now, I’m not so sure. What kind of person do you think he is, Zhanying?”

“…Determined,” Zhanying replied after a while when Jingyan waited for him to speak. “Smart,” he added as it was clear Jingyan wanted more. “Too much confidence in his intelligence. Too little care about his condition.”

At that, the prince barked a breath of laughter. “Even you think so?”

“I mean,” he hastened to explain. “I believe Mr Su is able to handle whatever comes his way. But sometimes, it feels like he believes his will is enough to keep himself going,” he said, and then replayed it in his head because it sounded too personal. “That is,” he quickly added. “If I was sick, I wouldn’t even be able to think straight, much less plan a prison break out.”

Jingyan stared at him in thoughtful consideration. “…When you were sick, I had to have Qi Meng watch you in case you got out of bed to report to me.”

“That’s, that’s—” he stuttered. “That’s not the same—”

A couple of weeks later, for the first time since Lin Shu entered the capital, Zhanying received a message from the other first. Fei Liu had appeared suddenly while he was in between buildings in the Jing manor. The young boy thrusted a letter at his chest with a huff and then disappeared just as quickly in the direction where Tingsheng and the others were in the training field.

After tomorrow’s events, come back inside, was Lin Shu’s elegant script. You can’t avoid me forever.

There wasn’t any detail to it—Zhanying didn’t know what ‘tomorrow’s events’ referred to until a messenger from the Su Manor came to invite Jingyan over for a meet in the dead of the night. Due to all the secrecy, Jingyan deduced that it was time to meet Wei Zheng.

Normally Zhanying didn’t sit in the meetings that Jingyan and Lin Shu had, but he came along this time—Jingyan didn’t say he couldn’t when he followed Jingyan and Commander Meng up out of the secret tunnel. Perhaps Jingyan was massively distracted by the prospect of finally meeting a Chiyan survivor. Zhanying could not blame him; his own heart was in his throat, and he deliberately paced himself behind Commander Meng so that Jingyan would not see any slip ups on his face.

The moment stayed his feet longer than he thought it would.

Lieutenant Wei looked different from back then, but Zhanying knew it was him at first glance.

It was just—just, unbelievable. Difficult. The last memory that Zhanying had of the lieutenant was when he deliberately tricked the other into thinking he had a terrible wound. Wei Zheng was genuinely worried and went to call for a physician for him—while he took the opportunity to run away. He’d been sick of the blood that stained his skin. He just wanted to wash his hands until he couldn’t see the red anymore.

It wasn’t Wei Zheng’s fault that he didn’t know how to verbalise his feelings back then. Perhaps Wei Zheng would’ve given him a bucket to wash. Sat him down. Fed him again. Told him it was going to be okay, like all the times he’d been pulled out of harms way on the battlefield.

Perhaps if he hadn’t ran—

Zhanying turned his face away, struggling to maintain his composure, lucky that Jingyan was too absorbed in his own reunion. Wei Zheng only glanced at him when they all sat—the look didn’t spell recognition—and his attention was back towards Jingyan. Somehow, it made it easier to sit through the retelling of what happened at Meiling.

Lin Shu had retreated to the back of the room in order to give them a sense of privacy while he could still hear the conversation. Once or twice, Zhanying peeked back to see Lin Shu’s gaze distant and sad, while Jingyan’s voice started to tremble with every passing detail he learnt about the massacre.

It didn’t take long for Jingyan to cry.

Zhanying had to look away, but in looking away he caught sight of Commander Meng looking at him like the other had a suspicion about something, and he couldn’t face that either. He only jolted up when Jingyan abruptly kicked the table in a fit of frustrated tears, gripping his sword tight. Lin Shu had stood up too, and his voice was very deliberately kept calm as the other tried to reason that the Chiyan case wouldn’t be easy to open—or rather, not the appropriate course of action.

“To re-open the case, it would mean that his Majesty would have to admit that he is wrong,” Commander Meng added. “But this mistake is too big…how can his Majesty admit to it?”

But wasn’t clearing their name the whole point of what Lin Shu was working towards from the beginning? If the Emperor was never going to allow a re-visit to the case, then what was the point?

“Plus, Wei Zheng is currently a criminal and his words cannot be used as evidence and brought to the court,” Commander Meng continued. “Your Highness,” he bowed. “Please think about this carefully.”

“But,” Zhanying breathed, pressing on even though Commander Meng jerked to stare at him in surprise for speaking. “Being so wrongly accused, are we just going to bear with it?” he demanded. “Our comrades on the bloody battlefield…is this their only conclusion?”

“It’s not only the Chiyan army,” Lin Shu cut in, meeting his eyes in warning before the gaze flitted back to Jingyan. “There is also the blood of Prince Qi. Just like Commander Meng said,” he stared at the prince meaningfully, “To open up the case again, the Emperor must admit his mistake. This will be recorded in the history books and it will say that he wrongly killed good subjects and a prince. How will this be easy?” he mused, walking forwards. “Your Highness, if you want to accomplish your goal, at this time,” he emphasized, “You cannot bring up the Chiyan army case.”

Jingyan reluctantly saw his point and then excused himself to leave with his face wet with tears after bidding Wei Zheng farewell. Commander Meng followed, and so did Zhanying, bowing towards Lin Shu without looking up. Whilst back in the secret tunnel, it was silence between them, with the occasional sniff and eye dab from Jingyan. Commander Meng politely saw himself out of the Jing manor to return home, while Zhanying kept close the prince, only leaving when Jingyan tiredly said that he should go to sleep too. He waited until the light in Jingyan’s room went out before he felt at ease enough to leave.

For the first time, he kind of dreaded going to see Lin Shu. He went over the wall nonetheless.

Wei Zheng was waiting for him, looking at him like he was seeing a ghost.

“…Is that…really you?” Wei Zheng whispered, and Zhanying couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes at the question. “Xiao Ying?”

Zhanying was never one to cry. He could count the number of times he’d cried in his life on one hand. When he’d first killed the man who tried to beat him with the metal rod. When he vomited, three days after running from Meiling, unable to sleep because he kept dreaming of the blood and smoke. A whole number of two.

And yet this time—

“Oh thank the Heavens you’re alive,” Wei Zheng breathed, pulling him into a tight hug when he nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. “I didn’t believe it when the young marshal told me just now—I couldn’t…” he shook his head. “You’re so tall now, I didn’t recognize you,” the other murmured next to his ear. “I’m so—” he choked. “Thank god. Oh, thank god.”

Zhanying sniffed, hating that his voice came out thick and wobbly.

“…I’m so sorry,” he ended up mumbling. “I’m so sorry, I never should’ve lied to you, marshal Lin said I got you in trouble, and then Xie Yu and his army came, and then—”

His ramble was cut off when Wei Zheng started chuckling in between his chokes of tears.

“This is the most I’ve ever heard you say, other than just now,” Wei Zheng said. “You were so quiet, you didn’t say single a word to me. I thought you were mute,” He pulled back, cupping Zhanying by the cheeks. “Look at you. All grown up. So tall.”

Zhanying squeezed his eyes shut, even as Wei Zheng wiped his dripping tears away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered again.

“I thought you wanted to thank him,” Lin Shu said from behind them. “Go on, before you don’t have the chance to.”

“T-thank you,” he managed, because he had to say it. “You were very kind to me. I’ve never forgotten it, and I never will.”

“In hindsight, it was madness to bring you into battle,” Wei Zheng shook his head. “We should have treated you better.”

“He was a thief, remember?” Lin Shu quipped. “Well, still is.”

“He was a child,” Wei Zheng retorted, sending Lin Shu a look. “Not everyone is born to fight in wars, young marshal.”

Lin Shu sniffed. “He turned out alright. Except for the part where he disobeyed my direct order and went on a suicide mission.”

“It wasn’t,” Zhanying huffed indignantly, roughly rubbing his eyes dry. “I wasn’t caught. I’m fine. I’m not dead.”

“Is this about Xiao Ying breaking into the bureau prison cell?” Wei Zheng interjected curiously.

Lin Shu narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Zhen Ping told me,” Wei Zheng shrugged. “It’s very impressive.”

“He managed it only because there was a distraction by Meng da-ge—" Lin Shu started with a growl.

“It’s very impressive,” Wei Zheng repeated, but he also frowned. “But bad. Do not do it again, Xiao Ying.”

“It’s not like I break into prisons for fun,” Zhanying grumbled. “I’d only break in again if we need to.”

“Which is never,” Lin Shu stated, pursing his lips unhappily. “That being said, you’re grounded until eternity. I’m not going to give you your red packet for this year.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t get you oranges either.”

Wei Zheng abruptly laughed, and both Lin Shu and Zhanying paused.

“What?” Wei Zheng raised an eyebrow when he saw them looking. “I never expected that you two would be so…chummy.”

“Chummy,” Lin Shu repeated blankly, while Zhanying wrinkled his nose. “I’m disciplining him, how is that…’chummy’?”

“Well, you’re terrible at it, young marshal,” Wei Zheng said frankly. “Especially when it’s someone you dote on.”

“Bullshit,” Lin Shu groused. “I just can’t think of anything worse yet, because he’s stuck with Jingyan. But I will.”

“Mm hm,” Wei Zheng didn’t sound like he believed the other. “Xiao Ying, tell me how it’s been like with his Highness Prince Jing. Is he treating you well?”

When Zhanying thought to look around for Lin Shu, he realised the other had retired to his own bed sound asleep, while he and Wei Zheng had spent a while talking by the overlooking porch. Wei Zheng caught him looking, and smiled.

“The young marshal was never any good with children,” Wei Zheng said. “But I’m glad he took to you.”

“He takes care of Fei Liu just fine,” Zhanying replied, blinking. “I think. Fei Liu likes him, at least.”

“You mean the household takes care of Fei Liu, and the young marshal enables Fei Liu’s mischievous behavior. It’s just been a few hours here and I can tell,” Wei Zheng grinned. “You were the first child he ever showed interest in back then, at least. To compare, he once tied his cousin to a tree so that he didn’t have to babysit the other.”

Zhanying raised both eyebrows. “…That’s terrible.”

“I know,” Wei Zheng shook his head, smiling. “We never let the young marshal live that down, but…now, it doesn’t seem right to talk about the things back then, even the little things. Hurts too much, I guess,” he murmured. “Are you happy here, Xiao Ying?”

“…I suppose…” Zhanying said, not exactly knowing what the other meant. “I’m fed. His Highness is very kind to me.”

“It’s more than just being fed,” Wei Zheng said, like he knew exactly why that the was the first thing Zhanying said. “I mean, is this what you want to do? Serving his Highness Prince Jing?”

“Yes.”

Wei Zheng blinked in surprise at the lack of hesitation. “With your…skills…as the young marshal tells me, they don’t seem to gel with the responsibilities His Highness Prince Jing gives you.”

“…I’m not a thief because I want to be.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Wei Zheng said apologetically. “I meant, you did break into the Xuanjing bureau.”

Zhanying had to look away. “But marshal Lin is right, it was the distraction that—”

“Even with that, it’s a huge feat,” Wei Zheng said over him. “You know, in my time, we used to place bets to see who could break in, because it’s reputation is so great,” he snorted. “None of us went through with it, because deep down we all knew it was impossible. The young marshal himself said it was impossible, and you haven’t seen the young marshal defiantly dive into an ice-covered river because someone said he wouldn’t survive it.”

“That’s stupider than breaking into the bureau.”

Wei Zheng coughed a laugh. “Is it really? To me, they’re both certain deaths,” he shook his head. “Anyway, my point is that you might excel in other areas, like working in the Jiangzuo information network, rather than managing his Highness Prince Jing. Just, just something to think about,” he said hesitantly when he noticed Zhanying had gone quiet. “After everything, you know.”

“After?”

“After the young marshal clears our name,” Wei Zheng elaborated. “Our second chance. We won’t have to hide anymore.”

“…After…I…I think…I-I want to stay with his Highness,” Zhanying admitted, looking down. “If marshal Lin would let me. But I can’t tell his Highness that I’m still great at sneaking around. I can’t ever tell him I was sent by marshal Lin,” he bit his lip. “He won’t forgive me for lying to him all these years.”

“His Highness Prince Jing will see that it was necessary,” Wei Zheng assured him. “…You were so young, Xiao Ying. I know the young marshal gave you a choice to serve him, but was it really one? You don’t owe us anything.”

“I’m Chiyan,” Zhanying said, like that was enough of an answer.

Wei Zheng smiled in response, but his eyes were filled with sadness.

Chapter Text

Before Zhanying returned to the Jing Manor in the wee hour of the morning, Wei Zheng hugged him tightly in farewell. The other would leave the capital tomorrow, under the guise of a Mu solider sending supplies to Princess Mu at the Wei Mausoleum, and return to Yaowang Valley.

“You can always come with me,” Wei Zheng said lowly, glancing towards the still sleeping figure of Lin Shu. “If you want.”

“I…I can’t,” Zhanying mumbled, looking away. “I can’t leave his Highness.”

“Just an option,” Wei Zheng said, resting his warm palm on Zhanying’s shoulder. “Whenever you decide this is not the life for you.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind,” Zhanying replied, even though he couldn’t envisage being away from Jingyan. “Thank you.”

Wei Zheng looked at him in a way that spelled both pride and pity, in a way that the other knew the future would be different. Zhanying bowed deeply before he hopped over the diving wall. He didn’t manage to sleep in the few hours he had left.

Things settled in the following weeks.

Although Wei Zheng was safe and Prince Yu was reprimanded to stay in his quarters, Jingyan gloomed in his own room whenever he wasn’t dealing with other matters. Whenever Zhanying asked if there was something wrong, the prince shook it off and asked how Lin Shu was doing, as though Zhanying kept the Su Manor under watch.

He didn’t know if Jingyan wanted the Su Manor under watch, but he didn’t think it’d fly well if their men were caught spying. Instead he just dropped by to check, but it became so often that Li Gang questioned if there was an underlying matter.

There wasn’t, but Jingyan kept asking, and it became apparent that the prince was hovering. Or making Zhanying hover, because Jingyan was supposed to continue downplaying his relationship with Lin Shu.

Soon, it was time for the Spring Hunt.

To honour (and as an apology to) Mei Changsu, the Divine Talent wrongly mistreated at Xuan Jing bureau, Lin Shu was invited to come with them to Jiu An mountain for the festivity. It was a long journey, but the Jing men were in high spirits because it’d been a while since they all left the manor, and it was going to be fun. Supposed to be, at least.

Zhanying never really had the opportunity to join in the hunt because he’d always been taking care of their logistics—if he didn’t, then someone else would have to, and then they’d miss the activities. Besides, he was terrible with a bow. This time, Jingyan personally asked Zhanying to stay by Lin Shu’s side because he had to perform his royal duties and ride with his father and brothers.

As they watched the rest ride off to hunt, Lin Shu only stared at him with a silver of amusement in his eyes at his explanation of why he wasn’t going with them.

“What danger is there?” Lin Shu mused, cocking his head subtly to Fei Liu next to him. “There are so many people around. You go ahead.”

“…Okay,” Zhanying replied a bit hesitantly.

He did want to try the hunt once, he supposed. Maybe he looked too obvious about it, because Lin Shu nodded encouragingly, and he led his horse on. It took a while to find Qi Meng and the rest of the Jing men since there were so many Imperial guards that he did not know. Qi Meng only smirked and handed him his spare short bow.

“Skiving off bodyguard duty? What if his Highness finds out?” the other teased.

“Just a quick one,” Zhanying replied. “We do need lunch after all.”

“What do you feel like having?”

“…Meat,” Zhanying said eventually, and Qi Meng’s laughter was probably loud enough to scare off all of their potential hunts.

Neither of them caught anything in the end because they were too busy talking the entire time, but Jingyan did so they had wild boar to roast. Zhanying panicked when he came back and spotted Fei Liu with Tingsheng without Lin Shu—and only relaxed when he found Lin Shu reading alone in his tent.

“…Did something happen?” Lin Shu blinked at the look on his face, mouth open and ready to pop in a mandarin slice.

“No, I just…” Zhanying exhaled. “I thought you were gone.”

“Gone where,” Lin Shu snorted. “There’re guards and maids literally everywhere. You don’t need to hover. Did you have fun?”

“…I’m not really a hunter.”

“You can sneak up on people but you can’t sneak up on animals?” Lin Shu raised an eyebrow. “No wonder you stole food from us rather than to hunt your own,” he murmured.

“Animals are smarter,” Zhanying insisted. “I don’t usually need to think about the wind direction. And,” he pursed his lips. “I was ten. I think.”

“So?” Lin Shu shrugged. “I could hunt when I was ten.”

Zhanying didn’t want to spell out how their circumstances at ten years old were wildly different, so he just excused himself to see how lunch was coming along. Just before he could eat, however, one of the men told him that a palace maid from Consort Jing was requesting to see him.

It was a request for Jingyan to bring Lin Shu to her tent—one that the prince frowned at when he went to rely the message. He wondered briefly at the expression. After all, Jingyan’s mother wanting to meet the Divine Talent Mei Changsu was not unexpected; she had to be curious who was the strategist that was supporting her son and the one she had been baking pastries for all this while.

Lin Shu was unusually stiff when Jingyan came to escort him. Clearly both Jingyan and Lin Shu were in their own thoughts as they headed to Consort Jing’s tent, and Zhanying could only watch them disappear inside. He stood close to the tent flap for a couple of seconds, and then berated himself for thinking about eavesdropping—this was obviously something personal between the two and not his business.

He went back to eat his lunch, ignoring that the meat and rice was bland on his tongue.

The next time Zhanying saw Jingyan, there was a rebellion by Prince Yu on the way.

He’d just been sorting some of the miscellaneous supplies they brought along when Jingyan came urgently seeking for him with the prince’s face tight in worry and anger and stress.

“Tell the men that they will take orders from Commander Meng,” Jingyan ordered shortly. “Prepare our horses. We’re riding to Ji city. Quickly.” It must’ve been the confused look on his face because Jingyan softened to explain. “Prince Yu is heading here with the Qing Li army. He plans to kill my father.” And us all, was left unsaid. “We need to leave now to gather reinforcements. I’ll explain more along the way.”

“Yes, your Highness,” Zhanying scrambled to action even though he had a million questions on how this situation suddenly came to be, and the one question he blurted was, “What, w-what about Ma—Mr Su?”

“Commander Meng will ensure his safety here,” Jingyan said firmly, though there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. “I’ll meet you at the cliff up north as soon as you’re ready.”

Zhanying nodded, hurrying first towards the closest Jing general he could find. He learnt that Qi Meng had gone hunting for the beast—which wasn’t the point now—and relayed orders to get everyone to assemble and report to Commander Meng. Ji city was a week’s worth of journey there and back, so they’d need supplies, but they also needed to travel light for speed. He rounded up a couple more of their fastest riders and waited for Jingyan at the edge of the mountain, eyeing the terrain below.

He didn’t see a way down from this side, but Jingyan surely had a plan.

Jingyan strode up them with something grasped in his palm some time after and cast a glance over all of them.

“Head back to camp and report to Commander Meng,” he stated to them, except Zhanying. “Zhanying, you’re coming with me alone.”

Zhanying blinked.

“We can’t spare any men,” Jingyan explained as the rest hurried back. “Could you take off my chest plate?” It felt like a sudden request, until Zhanying realised that the prince wanted to keep the metal token he was holding inside his robes for safety. “Once we get to Ji city,” Jingyan started while Zhanying fumbled with the armour, “I’ll lead the cavalry back here first. You will lead the infantry around Qizhu stream or by Xielan cliff, depending on the weather. We need to get there in less than one and half days.”

“One and half—” Zhanying’s breath hitched involuntarily.

“I know this will be tough on you,” Jingyan answered, lips pressed together. “But I need you to do this.”

It sounded like Jingyan was on the verge of saying please—even though there would never be any need for it.

“I, I will not drag you down, your Highness. I swear.”

Jingyan nodded curtly once he’d kept the token safe and Zhanying fastened his armour back. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the reins of his horse.

There was nothing else Zhanying could—or would—do but to follow.

It was a treacherous road down the cliff, but Jingyan seemed to know where which paths to take. Once they’d gotten to the base, it was a full speed ahead to Ji city. Jingyan had always pushed them when they rode for excursions, but it was nothing like this. It was urgent, dire, this time, that the lives of more than three thousand rested in their hands.

Zhanying was not the best rider, but he pushed himself to keep pace with Jingyan, who did not relent in speed. They didn’t stop unless the horses needed it; even then, sometimes the short breaks were not enough for them to swallow water and sustenance before they were back on the road again. Jingyan was very quiet on the journey, frown almost permanently etched and sometimes his knuckles were ghost white from how hard he gripped the reins.

Even though one and half days wasn’t particularly a long stretch of time, but it was when every second counted. Jingyan demanded control of the Ji city army once they reached with the military seal and spared no rest, except to send a letter to Princess Mu at the Wei Mausoleum, before leading the cavalry out first.

“I’ll leave the route you take back to Jiu An on your judgement,” Jingyan said to Zhanying, one hand already gripping the seat of the saddle. “Come fast as you can.”

“Your Highness—” Zhanying started when Jingyan made to get up on his horse. “…Be careful,” he blurted, already feeling great unease. “Please.”

Jingyan smiled faintly, and that was the last impression Zhanying saw as Jingyan rode out.

Zhanying had never really commanded an army—he was a general, sure, but he was more like Jingyan’s spokesperson than an actual military general—and now he faced thousands of infantry waiting on his lead. The commander of the Ji city army had gone with Jingyan on horse-back, but some of the generals were left behind with him. They looked reluctant to take orders from someone nearly half their age.

But this was a job Jingyan entrusted him to do, so he would not fail it.

Besides, he was tired and more importantly, hungry—perfect for his worst resting bitch face.

Zhanying managed to lead them to Jiu An pretty close on Jingyan’s heels. He could tell the Ji soldiers thought the pace he set was brutal, but everyone knew that they were the Emperor’s last defence and so they kept their grumblings down. Zhanying himself was too stressed to bother with resting which was why he kept them moving as fast as possible.

He kept thinking about that faint smile Jingyan had last given him.

It felt like Jingyan didn’t reply him because the other could not promise anything. Zhanying understood that anything could happen in war, but he couldn’t accept that that might be the last he’d ever see Jingyan. Would not accept it. They’d been in the capital for so long that Zhanying got unused to Jingyan being in constant physical danger; he’d started to take the prince’s safety for granted.

And then there was Lin Shu, stuck at Jiu An. Zhanying trusted Commander Meng’s prowess in combat, but fifty thousand soldiers were an odd he did not dare to bet against.

He pressed on.

Jingyan was bloodied by the time Zhanying and the rest of the Ji army managed to catch up. Thankfully, it wasn’t the prince’s blood—Jingyan stated it before Zhanying could ask. In their favour, the Qi Ling army had been caught unawares and Princess Mu had apparently arrived earlier and gone ahead to save the Emperor.

Meanwhile, Prince Yu sat in an iron cell a few feet away, face blank.

They could see the destruction of the mountain, blood, bodies and debris as they made their way up, securing the rest of the area. Zhanying chose to stick close to Jingyan this time, and the prince did not seem to care—or pay attention, mind seemingly focused on getting straight up towards the palace. He did not fault the other for that; he too, was worried about everyone else. The royals must’ve retreated all the way into the inner halls, and Zhanying prayed hard they’d arrived in time.

Smoke was billowing from the gates of the inner halls. There was no fight left when they reached—it was quiet, just the flickering of embers and charred debris strewn about. Zhanying heard Jingyan release a tight breath of relief when they demounted their horses to enter; the other had spied a figure in pale robes standing at the gates.

Lin Shu.

Zhanying almost couldn’t recognise Zheng Ping from how much dirt and blood there was on his face. It’d obviously been a close shave—and Zhanying could tell Jingyan was thinking of the same thing as they approached Lin Shu. Jingyan didn’t say anything as he locked eyes with the other, only forcing down a hard swallow. Lin Shu met the gaze equally, nodding as though in reply of something unsaid between them.

The moment was…intimate…even though they weren’t alone.

It was the relief—the sorrow—the regret—in Jingyan’s demeanour that made Zhanying unable to look away. Zhanying almost expected Jingyan to reach for Lin Shu, but Jingyan shifted his glance after a pause to thank Commander Meng. Lin Shu never once took off his gaze on Jingyan in return, lips pursed as though he was suppressing his calm.

Something had changed between them earlier, before they’d left the mountain.

Lin Shu never once met Zhanying’s eyes, even though Zhanying discreetly turned around to look at him again when he quickly hurried after Jingyan heading up towards the inner hall quarters.

Jingyan wanted to settle things before seeing a physician—which Zhanying completely anticipated and thus went to find one before Jingyan exited from the inner halls. The prince looked a little exasperated when he saw Zhanying waiting for him outside with a doctor.

“I told you all this blood isn’t mine,” he said, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not hurt,” Zhanying countered. “Please, your Highness, it’ll be quick if your injuries are light, and you won’t be working in discomfort.”

“Later,” Jingyan refused, glancing at the physician. “See to Zhanying instead,” he said, over Zhanying’s splutter. “Zhanying, I’ll leave you to round up our men after.”

The prince quickly headed off to search for Princess Mu, leaving him and the physician behind. Zhanying sighed, perhaps a little too loudly.

“General Lie?” the physician prompted with a gesture.

“I’m, I’m fine,” Zhanying insisted. “There are others who require your help more urgently. Thank you.”

There was no convincing Jingyan went he was stubborn like this, so Zhanying went off to take tally of the Jing men who were left. It was achingly terrible that many were killed in combat—Zhanying could only be thankful that Qi Meng was okay, just merely exhausted. He helped collect the dead for the rest of the day, and perhaps staring at too many once familiar dead bodies made the unease in his heart grow so large that he stood watch outside Jingyan’s quarters at night.

Jingyan found him standing outside and staring off into the sky—his mind was so restless even though he was physically exhausted.

“Zhanying,” Jingyan greeted, and Zhanying jolted to attention. “It’s so late, why aren’t you resting?”

“The rebel army has only just been defeated. It’s better to be cautious…” Zhanying trailed off.

Jingyan nodded absentmindedly. “Has everyone moved in?”

“Yes.”

“What about Mr Su?”

“He’s in the east wing,” Zhanying gestured—he himself hadn’t gone to check on Lin Shu personally, but he would when Jingyan went to sleep.

Jingyan shook his head when Zhanying asked if there was anything he’d like to discuss with Lin Shu, instead, relayed an order to increase the security around Prince Yu’s cell and to speed up the search for Hui Yao. Zhanying was a couple of steps in to obey the order when Jingyan told him to wait.

“Once you’ve done that, go to your quarters and rest,” Jingyan added. “That’s an order.”

“But—”

“You haven’t slept in three days.”

“I did,” Zhanying inserted. “On the road back, I did rest a little in between—”

“Zhanying, there’s no way you could’ve come as fast as you did if you had any proper sleep,” Jingyan arched an eyebrow. “It was…—well,” he paused, a faint fond smile on his lips. “You’re not my second in command for nothing.”

Zhanying tried not to blush at the praise, thankful for the dim light. “I did only what had to be done.”

Jingyan stepped closer, almost close enough to brush against his arm. “Rest, alright?” he said softly, and Zhanying couldn’t help but nod in obedience at the tone.

He did go back to his quarters after relaying Jingyan’s commands, but it was after he snuck into Lin Shu’s room to see that the other was sound asleep with Fei Liu curled up at his side.

Hui Yao was caught sometime in the late morning. Zhanying went to report the news to Jingyan, who was in a study room with Lin Shu and Princess Mu. He wasn’t sure what they were discussing before he entered. Princess Mu and Lin Shu stood demurely close, and Zhanying remembered he’d seen them spend the whole afternoon yesterday together as well.

There was a commotion outside right after Jingyan pressed Lin Shu about admitting he was a Prince Qi household member to Xia Jiang. Zhanying could tell Lin Shu was on edge and Princess Mu kept her mouth tightly shut, looking like she knew exactly why—and perhaps this was the moment that Zhanying instinctively knew that Princess Mu knew.

There was little to pause on it, for Qi Meng barged in, grin wide on his face.

“Your Highness! We’ve captured it!” he yelled, only pausing to bow in decorum when he spotted Princess Mu. “We’ve captured it!” he repeated happily to Jingyan’s slightly exasperated face.

“I already know you’ve caught Hui Yao,” Jingyan replied blandly. “Zhanying just mentioned it.”

“No, not Hui Yao!” Qi Meng groaned, with the audacity to give Zhanying a look of disgruntlement like Jingyan’s lacklustre reaction was his fault. “It’s the beast. We’ve caught the beast!”

“…Well, congratulations then,” Jingyan said, tone still exasperated. “After a whole year, you’ve finally captured it.”

When Jingyan turned his back, Qi Meng pressed on, hoping for a more enthusiastic reaction. “Wait, wait—your Highness, this beast, it looks like a person. It’s just outside in a cage—do you want to take a look?”

It did catch Jingyan’s interest, but it caught Lin Shu’s attention more. “I wish to take a look,” Lin Shu quipped. “Your Highness, if I may take my leave…?”

“I’m going to see it too,” Princess Mu added once Jingyan nodded his head.

Jingyan looked at Zhanying as Qi Meng left happily with the other two, lips pursed into a flat line. There were other things to worry about then a beast they’d been trying to capture for a whole year—Jingyan paced further into the study, stubbornly refusing to go outside. Zhanying did want to see the beast, but he could always do that afterwards; it felt too much like a betrayal to leave Jingyan alone brooding.

However, “Mr Su—be careful—don’t get too close!” was all that was needed to make Jingyan change his mind.

Zhanying followed Jingyan outside, where Lin Shu was crouched near an iron cage. A creature snarled within it, and Lin Shu’s eyes was flickering rapidly between—between too many emotions, even if his expression was stone still. Zhanying’s grip on his hilt tightened as Lin Shu went closer, close enough to grasp the creature’s wrist, and it was to his—and likely everyone else’s—shock that Lin Shu yelled when they dragged him away for safety.

“If he drinks my blood, then he will be in less pain!” Lin Shu’s voice shook hard, breath sharp. “…But he’s always been holding himself from that. He doesn’t want to harm me. Open the cage.”

They silently, or helplessly, watched Lin Shu help the creature—no, man—gently out of the cage and away to his quarters. Jingyan said nothing, eyebrows drawn into a deep furrow, and glanced at Zhanying who immediately knew what the other wanted. Wordlessly, Zhanying hurried in the direction that Lin Shu had left.

The other’s pace was slow thanks to his deposition, so Zhanying caught up quickly.

“Do you know him?” Zhanying murmured low, hesitant on whether he should touch the man or not to help.

Lin Shu glanced at him, and then a more subtle look over their shoulder, where Zheng Ping was speaking with the rest to discourage them from following after them.

“Help me support his other arm,” Lin Shu instructed. “Don’t worry, he won’t bite…would you?” he murmured, almost gently.

The man shook his head rapidly.

Zhanying warily grasped the other’s elbow, needing to stoop a little thanks to his height. He didn’t necessarily trust the man nor Lin Shu about not being bitten, but Lin Shu looked like he was struggling and he didn’t want to say that out loud. A cold metal brand on the other’s arm caught his attention, however, when he shifted his hold.

At first Zhanying thought it was a handcuff, for slaves, and then he realised it was familiar. The scratched logo on it was familiar.

Chiyan.

“You’re…” Zhanying couldn’t help but blurt, breath trailing into nothing.

He couldn’t comprehend how a Chiyan soldier came to be like…this. The man jolted, almost howled again, but Lin Shu was quick to interrupt.

“—one of us,” Lin Shu finished, looking pointedly at the other. “He’s one of us,” he repeated, and Zhanying wasn’t sure if Lin Shu did that for his or the man’s benefit. “Come on. He needs a bath. Real bad,” he added after a pause, wrinkling his nose.

“Who is he?” Zhanying couldn’t help but press.

Lin Shu did not reply, just shook his head to indicate that he either didn’t want to speak about it, or that it wasn’t the time. He winced when Lin Shu let out some blood into the bowl and gave it to the man to drink. He was unsure he should let that happen, but Lin Shu seemed to know what he was doing—besides, he’d probably get thrown out if he interfered. When they called for a cask and hot water, Qi Meng barged in with curiosity bursting at his seams. Zhanying couldn’t speak with Lin Shu in a more…personal…capacity since Qi Meng was there, so he returned to Jingyan to report what he’d seen, leaving out certain details, of course.

To Zhanying’s surprise, Lin Shu came looking for Jingyan later in the night.

“Is everything alright?” he asked Jingyan after Lin Shu left, since he stood outside and did not eavesdrop like a good subordinate.

“He requested for my mother to tend to the furry man,” Jingyan shared.

“Her Lady Consort Jing?” Zhanying blinked, and then dipped his head when Jingyan made a questioning noise. “…Not a physician?”

“Oh, maybe you aren’t aware but my mother was a physician in Jianghu before she came into the palace,” Jingyan said. “She also seems familiar with Mr Su.”

The last line seemed to be a slip-up, for Jingyan’s tone had edged into a tone of suspicion. Zhanying didn’t know what to say in response, so he excused himself and went back to guarding. Once Jingyan had extinguished his candle, Zhanying gave it a few more moments before he went to Lin Shu’s quarters quietly, from the back.

“Dear god,” Lin Shu hissed in shock when he spotted Zhanying emerge from behind the paper window. “Why didn’t you just come in through the front door?”

Fei Liu appeared a split second later, having heard Lin Shu’s splutter of surprise. The younger dropped his fighting stance in a huff, though he did give Zhanying an annoyed glare before leaving when Lin Shu shook his head.

“I didn’t know who was with you. There’re so many people here,” Zhanying said as he let himself in. “Just wanted to check first.”

“At this time of the night?” Lin Shu snorted. “Only you would come.”

Zhanying then noted that Lin Shu already had his sleeping robes on and the empty medicine bowl he drank before he slept was already empty.

“Sorry,” he said, a little more meekly. “Where’s…”

“He’s in the next room,” Lin Shu gestured vaguely. “It’s been a tough year for him.” When Zhanying stayed silent, Lin Shu raised his eyebrow. “No more questions?”

“…I heard that you asked for Lady Consort Jing to tend to him,” Zhanying said after a pause. “Why her?”

“She’s one of the best, you know,” Lin Shu uttered, “She’ll know what to do to ease the symptoms of the poison of the bitter flame, even if she can’t cure it. Heck, Lin Chen can’t cure it either, so,” he shrugged.

“Poison of the…you mean, he’s poisoned with the same thing you have?” Zhanying blinked.

In the resulting beat of silence, Zhanying suddenly remembered the first time he saw Lin Shu after Meiling—the bandages wrapped all around, so much that Lin Shu’s face couldn’t be seen, couldn’t speak, like his entire skin had been scrapped raw and needed time to heal. He vaguely recalled Lin Chen teasing Lin Shu as a monkey sometimes, he couldn’t believe more than a decade later was when he finally realised why.

“You…the fur—I mean, hair…”

“Yes,” Lin Shu responded, chin jutting out firmly, daring Zhanying to say more.

“But—” Zhanying bit his lip. “You don’t…I mean, you look—”

“Different,” Lin Shu finished, with a kind of hollow smile. “Of course I do. Have you been this slow all this while?” He didn’t let Zhanying answer that. “Anyway, Consort Jing will be able to help him. He’ll be fine,” he said, though it sounded more like he was saying it for himself.

“But,” Zhanying shook his head. “Isn’t it a bit…audacious…to ask her Lady? Also, isn’t it…risky? If she finds out he’s from Chiyan, then...”

“Oh,” Lin Shu said then, easing into a more genuine smile. “You’re wondering why ‘her’,” he repeated. “She’s most sympathetic to our cause, you know. She lost people she loved too. And,” he added, looking reluctant to admit this. “She knows who I am.”

“The pastries,” Zhanying uttered, somehow not feeling much surprise at the admission.

“Pastries?”

“She hasn’t made hazelnut pastries for his Highness to take back for two years.”

“How do you know about—” Lin Shu paused. “Well. Yes. Don’t ever mention it to Jingyan. He’ll try to give one to me and if I die it’s your fault.”

“I won’t,” Zhanying stated, and then paused. “…Actually, his Highness noticed it first—”

“What,” Lin Shu balked, eyes going wide.

“—but he dismissed it. I don’t think he suspects…” Zhanying trailed off.

“Oh, he suspects all right,” Lin Shu grumbled. “I can tell from the way he keeps doing that eye muscle twitch whenever I mention Auntie Jing. Xiao Ying, you have to dissuade Jingyan from his thoughts whenever he does that, okay?”

“With that?”

“I don’t know, you’re capable,” Lin Shu waved it off, grinning. “Like how you led the Ji army all by yourself. Very impressive, General Lie.”

Zhanying couldn’t help the flush of the blush. “I wanted to come back as quickly as possible. I was worried.”

“About Jingyan?”

“About you,” he insisted, although the tips of his ears went pink; he couldn’t hide that from Lin Shu. “…And of course, about his Highness,” he mumbled. “I owe him so much.”

“It’s not about owing—" Lin Shu started, but he decided to stop, sighing to himself. “Xiao Ying, go back and rest. I’ll introduce the…‘furry man’ to you once he’s better.”

Chapter Text

At first light, Jingyan went to ask his mother if she was willing to attend to the mysterious white-hair covered man. Zhanying did not follow them into Lin Shu’s quarters after she acquiesced—there were other things he had to attend to, and it wasn’t his place to be present. He didn’t see Jingyan again until later in the evening, when he found the prince brooding in his room.

“Your Highness?” he ventured, gingerly asking for permission to step in. “I’ve completed the tally of our men and resources left. I’ve noted them into the logs, if you’d like to see them. We’ve also started preparations for the journey back to the capital, in case we are able to return soon.”

Jingyan nodded, casually gesturing for Zhanying to place the books he held onto his desk. “I’ll look at them later,” he said. “…How is Mr Su and his patient?”

“They said the man is resting well since being seen by her Lady Consort Jing,” Zhanying related—he had popped over to ask, because he knew Jingyan would want to know.

“And Mr Su?”

Zhanying’s lips parted slightly before closing it. “I…assume he’s resting at this time as well.”

It didn’t feel like it was the answer Jingyan wanted to hear—maybe Zhanying should’ve personally seen what Lin Shu was doing than assuming?—because the prince’s eyebrows furrowed a bit. Nonetheless, Jingyan nodded eventually in acknowledgement, and waved him off in dismissal.

“Get an early rest,” he said. “It’s a long day again tomorrow.”

Zhanying lowered his head slightly with his hands clasped together. He should simply bid the prince good night and return to his quarters, but something in him made him ask, “…Is everything alright, your Highness?”

It was just the way Jingyan’s fingers were fidgety on his own robe, the way there was a crease in the other’s forehead, like he was dwelling on something that did not give him peace. Jingyan released a soft audible sigh when he stood up and headed to gently close the sliding door behind them. Zhanying was slightly startled at the gesture—he hadn’t anticipated the sudden need for extra secrecy.

“Zhanying…” Jingyan started, with his back towards him, still facing the wooden frame of the door. “Do you believe in coincidences?”

“Um,” Zhanying swallowed, hand resting onto the hilt of his sword. “I…I suppose they do happen.”

“Do you think it would be too much of a coincidence if my mother is…related…to Mr Su?”

Zhanying wasn’t quite sure what expression he had on upon hearing that question. “R-related?”

Jingyan turned to face him then, looking completely serious. “Apparently, Mr Su is the son of a savior of my mother’s,” Jingyan explained slowly. “Someone she knew before she came into the palace. Would you believe it?”

Trust Jingyan to ask him an insanely difficult question. Jingyan probably didn’t have any underlying implication to the query, but if Zhanying merely so much as hinted that yes, that story did seem a little suspect, he was basically accusing the favoured consort of the Emperor of lying.

Zhanying took too long to give an answer, so Jingyan continued. “I trust my mother. And…I trust Mr Su. Perhaps it’s just fate, working in its odd way,” he shook his head. “But…it doesn’t…feel like it is as simple as that.”

“What do you mean?”

“They both know something I don’t,” Jingyan said, pursing his lips.

Zhanying stilled, having an inkling on where this was leading to. Lin Shu had tasked him with distracting Jingyan from any line of those thoughts, but that was harder than anything else the other had asked him to do.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying began. “Perhaps Her Lady is…simply nostalgic upon meeting someone from her life before. There must be a lot of things for them to catch up on.”

“It’s not that,” Jingyan said, pausing for a moment. “Sometimes…” he murmured, voice going quiet. “Mr Su reminds me of…the past.” He sighed. “I don’t why. He’s nothing like—…like…” Jingyan didn’t finish that sentence. “…I just think of the times Xiao Shu and my brother were with me, and…it feels…a bit lonely now…I suppose.”

“…I’m sure they are still watching over you,” Zhanying said eventually, because there was nothing else he could say in response. “And I—we…—the men, we are with you. Always.”

Jingyan smiled gently, and Zhanying averted his gaze when the prince didn’t say anything else.

“…It’s late,” Jingyan spoke finally. “Go and rest.”

The prince slid the door open again, and Zhanying took it as his cue to leave even though there were other things he wished he should’ve said to the other. He tossed for more than an hour before getting out of bed, sneaking out of the shared quarters. Maybe he should warn Lin Shu that Jingyan’s suspicions were starting to take root. Or maybe he just wanted to see if that ‘furry man’ was truly alright. He recalled the times he spent in Langya with Lin Chen and Lin Chen’s father spending night after night in treating Lin Shu whenever an “episode” occurred. Surely one visit from Jingyan’s mother wouldn’t be enough.

In any case, he had enough excuses to slip towards Lin Shu’s quarters, and he didn’t expect to nearly run into Jingyan quickly escorting his mother with a dim light towards Lin Shu’s room. Zhanying hid himself because he didn’t want to explain why he was sneaking around in his sleep wear—also, he noted that Jingyan hadn’t changed; the prince was working into the night even after Zhanying had gone to bed. Zhanying should’ve known.

Curiosity got better of him; he went up the roof, thankful that there were no guards on night duty within the compound for a semblance of privacy to the royals since it was guarded well from the outside. He’d assumed that Consort Jing was called because of a medical emergency—Zhanying was right, but he did not think it was for Lin Shu.

It was difficult to spy what was going on inside, but through a tiny hole in the rice paper window he saw Consort Jing and Jingyan sitting hunched over Lin Shu on the cot. Did Lin Shu overwork himself in taking care of the ‘furry man’, or did his illness act up again? Didn’t he have heart protection pills? Zhanying had deliberately left the pill he had with Lin Shu because he was afraid Lin Shu would need it.

What did the other do with it?

Stupid Marshal Lin.

Zhanying crouched and waited for so long that his limbs nearly went numb before Consort Jing sat back, murmuring something inaudible. Eventually, with a lingering gaze over the still figure on the bed, Jingyan left Lin Shu’s quarters with his mother, leaving Zheng Ping and Fei Liu to fuss over the blanket.

Zhanying let himself in then, scaring them half to death.

“Give me a warning next time,” Zhen Ping groaned, hand frozen tight over the hilt of his sword while Fei Liu attempted to throw something at his face. “I might accidentally stab you, okay.”

“Sorry,” Zhanying nodded, coming closer to sit by Lin Shu’s side. “I saw his Highness and her Lady Consort Jing hurry in. What happened?”

“The usual,” Zhen Ping sighed tiresomely.

“What about his medicine?”

“He gave the last pill to Lieutenant Nie.”

“Who?”

“Lieu—Nie Feng,” Zhen Ping vaguely gestured in the direction of another room. “The ‘furry man’. He, he was—is—one of Chief’s lieutenants. In…our time.”

Zhanying pursed his lips. “…That’s reckless.”

“Tell me about it,” Zhen Ping said, patting the cover of the blanket over Lin Shu’s sleeping chest. “I should’ve kept closer watch on how much medicine he had left. Li Gang will nag me to death when I get back,” he muttered. “…Xiao Ying, Consort Jing has seen to Chief, he’ll be alright. You should return to bed.”

“I want to stay…for a bit, if that’s okay,” Zhanying said, and Zhen Ping blinked in surprise.

“Alright,” the other said. “Just don’t get caught. That’s not on me.”

“I don’t get caught,” Zhanying said in reply, and Zhen Ping gave him an amused smile.

“Fei Liu?”

“Staying,” the younger said flatly, hugging a cushion tight in his arms at one corner.

“Suit yourself,” Zheng Ping nodded.

The candles were still lit in the background when the other left. Zhanying extinguished them quietly before sitting by Lin Shu’s unmoving side again. Fei Liu was watching Lin Shu too, silent in his own corner. The other was so pale—his lips were cracked, collarbone sharp and jutting out from his frail frame.

It would cause anyone to worry.

The next morning, Zhanying went to visit Princess Mu.

In a couple of days, they were back on the road towards the capital. Something had transpired between Jingyan, his mother and Lin Shu—again; the prince was very focused, but he looked like he was hiding some unresolved matters in his heart. Zhanying did not ask about it this time.

The next few weeks went past in the blur; the Empress was demoted, Prince Yu and his pregnant wife committed suicide in the prisons, Xia Jiang had escaped, Jingyan was soon to be promoted to be the crown prince…and there was a rumor that Jingyan was going to take a new wife.

It wasn’t so much as a rumor as the entire capital being awashed with excitement. Noble families with their daughters were seen entering the palace daily—there was no other reason other than they were being interviewed for the role. Jingyan being married was not a new thing; he had taken in a wife years prior—she was sickly, and no one else from the royal family wanted to take her in then. She was a little distant, seeing that Jingyan was mostly away for a good portion of the time. Zhanying—to his knowledge at least—had never seen Jingyan spend a night over in her rooms. But she was on good terms with the prince nor had Zhanying seen Jingyan pursuing another woman, so he didn’t think that Jingyan was going to marry someone else anytime soon.

Apparently it was a royal protocol thing, which Zhanying would never truly understand.

The Jing men were equally excited, many were already placing bets on who eventually was going to be picked as Jingyan’s wife. Zhanying wondered why everyone was so invested in the match—wasn’t Jingyan becoming the crown prince the biggest thing they should celebrate?

Jingyan didn’t look particularly enthused about either news. Even on his coronation day, he looked somber in his new robes when Zhanying brought them over in the morning. Red and gold was spectacular on the prince, and there was a certain gait to Jingyan’s stride that spelled him so much more confident than the last time the other entered the palace to be promoted.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying started before they reached the palace gates, “I, I wanted to say congratulations,” he finished meekly, because he was aware that there were other men around them.

Jingyan’s lips curved slightly. “…Did you ever think we’d get this far?”

“When you decided to,” Zhanying said in response. “I believed.”

There was a shine in Jingyan’s smile. “You had more faith in me than I had in myself,” he murmured, looking straight ahead. “Don’t wait up, Zhanying. The ceremony will take long, and I have to visit my mother afterwards as well.”

“I’ll be preparing for your move into the Eastern palace,” Zhanying said. “See you in the evening, your Highness.”

When Jingyan strode into the palace, Zhanying was sure Jingyan had changed then, forever.

When Zhanying got back to the Jing Manor, Lin Shu had sent a request for Zhanying come over when he was free. He hadn’t spoken to Lin Shu since they left Jiu An mountain—he was busy with lots of changes in the Jing household, and everything else seemed to be going smoothly, with no traitorous trouble. He decided to go in from the main entrance of the Su Manor, keeping decorum and everything while following Li Gang to Lin Shu’s study.

He did not expect to get hit in the back of the head with a paper fan.

There weren’t many people who could sneak up on Zhanying, but he would never forget that two people had successfully caught him before. One was Lin Shu. The other was…

The son of Langya Hall master.

Lin Chen’s features had unmistakably matured over the decade. He was grinning, flicking out his beloved paper fan to gently cast a breeze towards himself, despite that the air was already chilly.

“I thought Changsu was a damned liar,” Lin Chen said. “But you really are fucking tall.”

They were basically the same height now; Zhanying didn’t get why he was considered tall.

“You were tiny, like a midget, but your face is the same,” Lin Chen went on, as though Zhanying had voiced his thoughts. (He didn’t.) “Hey, what’s with the lack of reaction, you brat? Don’t you remember who I am?”

“As if I can forget,” Zhanying replied, pursing his lips. He raised a hand to touch the spot Lin Chen had hit him. “Also: that hurt.”

“You’ll live,” Lin Chen shrugged.

“Why are you here?” Zhanying asked, ignoring the wide eyes Li Gang was sporting between them.

“I was invited,” Lin Chen said. “My skills are very coveted, you know.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to leave Langya to run by its own. Your father said—”

“Were you ever this talkative?” Lin Chen demanded loudly over him, drowning out his words. “I preferred you when you were mute. Anyway, I have business to attend to. Have fun with Changsu and the furry man!”

Zhanying watched the other depart as abruptly as he’d hit Zhanying with his fan, calling out for Fei Liu.

“I’ve only ever seen Mr Lin run away from Chief,” Li Gang quipped. “Seems like you can handle him too.”

“I can’t,” Zhanying admitted. “His father on the other hand…”

It turned out that all Lin Shu wanted was for him to seal the secret tunnel. Sure, Zhanying understood why, because Jingyan was moving out, and it’d be disastrous if anyone found out about that communication tunnel. Still, Lin Shu could’ve just sent a note.

“Why, are you in a rush to get back? You don’t have time for me anymore?” Lin Shu pouted—almost, his facial features were kept serene.

“I have to arrange his Highness’ move into the Eastern palace. There a lot of things to handle.”

“Don’t you delegate these things to the others?”

“Yes, but there are some things I should handle personally.”

“Like?”

“Like…” Zhanying wasn’t sure why Lin Shu was so interested in chit chatting today—the other looked healthy though, maybe that was why he was in a good mood. “Like some of his Highness’ belongings.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Zhanying furrowed his eyebrows. “There’s a bow in his study—”

Lin Shu abruptly sighed. “Yes, that bow,” he paused. “…Do you think you can steal it back for me?”

“Marshal Lin,” Zhanying said, aghast. “His highness will definitely notice it missing!”

“But it’s mine, though,” Lin Shu grumbled.

“If there is nothing else,” Zhanying sighed. “I really need to get back to my duties.”

“Alright, alright, there is something,” Lin Shu cocked his head as he got up. “Come and meet Nie da-ge. It’s time.”

After Jingyan had officially moved into the Eastern palace, Zhanying was frankly at a loss of how to feel. It was an honour, and also Jingyan’s right to be in the palace, but it was very, very odd to be in the manor while Jingyan slept in another place. He was sure there were maids assigned to Jingyan, and the prince would be well taken care of, but there was an unease of having Jingyan physically removed to another place when Zhanying had been by his side for so many years.

He knew he had withdrawn to himself in the past week. It wasn’t that he was troubled or dissatisfied, or anything really; the Jing Manor grew in prestige as Jingyan worked in court tirelessly, but…Zhanying hadn’t…seen…Jingyan’s face for a while now. Whenever there was a request to handle something from Jingyan, it was usually relayed from a palace guard. Zhanying had no reason to barge into the Eastern palace, so he didn’t enter it as often he’d like. He didn’t want to visit Lin Shu because Lin Chen was around—and he’d already heard the happy news of Lieutenant Nie being reunited with Officer Xia. There was nothing new to speak about.

Qi Meng found him on the rooftop one night, when he couldn’t sleep.

“Fuck, how did you climb up here?” Qi Meng wheezed as he scrabbled to find himself grounding on the tiles.

“Don’t, don’t fall off,” Zhanying winced, stretching a hand out for Qi Meng to grab, so that the other could hop closer to the middle rather than hang on the edge.

Qi Meng groaned in relief when he made it, flopping onto his back. “Here,” he dropped a cloth bag he was gripping in hand. “I thought you went to the kitchen.”

It was a meat bun, cold, but still edible. He wasn’t hungry, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to eat it. “Thanks.”

“Why are you up here? Wanted to see the stars?”

“Mm,” Zhanying grunted non-committedly. “Can’t sleep, I guess.”

“His Highness is fine, you know. There’re loads of guards in the palace.”

“I know.”

“So what are you worrying about?”

Zhanying shrugged.

Qi Meng glanced over briefly, obviously not bought by the dismissal. “…Something’s obviously eating at you. You ignored Tingsheng like five times today when he asked you—”

“I didn’t ignore him, I really didn’t hear him! I was…thinking about something.”

“About what?” Qi Meng pressed.

Zhanying sat up, hunched over his crossed legs. “…I don’t know,” he said finally. “I just…feel…weird. Inside. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Qi Meng yanked him back down, but it wasn’t rough enough that the tile dug painfully into his back. “What kind of weird? A sick kind of weird, or a ‘I want to see his Highness’ kind of weird?”

Zhanying stilled at the latter—he didn’t say anything, but Qi Meng sighed anyway.

“Oh Zhanying,” he said, tapping his fingers idly on the roof tile. “I’d thought you’d figure it out already. Look, what you’re feeling is—”

“Is it that obvious?” Zhanying cut him off.

Qi Meng blinked, surprised, and then swallowed a couple of times, trying to find the words to say. “Oh. So you do know.”

Zhanying’s fingers clenched.

“…I guess,” he said. “Maybe. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel just because I…” he trailed off. “It feels…bitter,” he admitted. “I just…” he shook his head. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

“Like it hurts?”

“Not exactly hurt, but—”

“The other day, when we were talking about his Highness’ new wife, uhh that Minister’s granddaughter—…you’re doing it again.”

Zhanying blinked. “Doing what?”

“Your face,” Qi Meng sighed, waving an impatient hand at it. “Yes. Yes, it is that obvious that you like his Highness. In that way,” he stared when Zhanying just frowned at him. “…The first time you got off, who was it you thought about?”

At that, Zhanying nearly fell off the roof, face flushing scarlet. “Why are you bringing that up?!” he hissed angrily.

“It’s not like I wanted to know!” Qi Meng snapped back. “But it’s really fucking obvious that you like his Highness, that you miss him and you’re really really jealous that he’s going to marry some noble girl—”

“I, I—I’m not!” Zhanying yelled—and he clamped his mouth shut right after the outburst.

Qi Meng looked vindicated, if anything. “How long are you going to lie to yourself?”

“…I’m not jealous,” Zhanying said quietly, pulling his knees up.

“What about the rest of it?”

Zhanying kept silent, resting his forehead on his knees. It wasn’t a revelation.

Zhanying knew.

He knew he had feelings for Jingyan that ran deeper than he comprehended—that really tested the boundary of his loyalty to Lin Shu. He still didn’t know if he could choose between either if it came down to it. Sometimes, he thought he might choose to walk with Jingyan to the very end, even if he had to let go of Lin Shu, and it made him feel sick.

There was just so much he coveted for Jingyan that he was willing to anything, if he able to. And then there was the wanting that grew bigger.

He couldn’t ask for more. Shouldn’t ask for more. But he was undeniably deeply unhappy that Jingyan had to move into the Eastern palace. It was terribly selfish, but he wanted to see Jingyan. He wanted to hear Jingyan’s voice. He missed—missed how Jingyan smelled like, when the other stood close to him.

He wanted Jingyan to kiss him. Hold him, in any way.

Just once. Just once would do, and he would treasure it forever. Jingyan’s new wife would never understand what a privilege it was to be chosen. She would know that Jingyan would treat her well, because Jingyan’s integral character was well known. But she would never know how much Zhanying would give to stay by Jingyan’s side. It was given to her. Expected of her. He thought about their inevitable wedding night to be, and felt even worse.

“Zhanying, Zhanying,” Qi Meng grabbed him close by the shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“…No,” Zhanying murmured, and pressed his face closer to his knees. His frame was trembling, he couldn’t make it stop. “I don’t think I am.”

When the weather got warm, Lin Shu was called to see the Emperor.

Zhanying was on his way towards the Eastern palace to give a report to Jingyan when he saw one of the palace maids coming towards him in a rush. She quickly related to him a warning to not let Mr Su come into the palace, sent by Noble Consort Jing. The message was abrupt, but Consort Jing wouldn’t have sent it for no reason. Zhanying made it his priority to relay the message the second he saw Jingyan, and the next thing he knew he was running back out of the palace to stop Lin Shu.

Unfortunately by the time he made it to the Su Manor, Lin Shu already left.

Lin Chen cursed rather extravagantly.

“You must catch up to him, do not let him enter the palace,” he emphasized. “Go to Mu Manor and inform Princess Nihuang,” Zhanying heard Lin Chen tell Li Gang while he hurried back to his horse.

Zhanying wasn’t sure exactly what everyone was thinking—a request to see the Emperor was not necessarily a bad thing—but the warning from Consort Jing was an omen. Back at the main palace gates, he bit back his frustration when he realized he missed Lin Shu’s entrance by mere minutes; now, he had to report back to Jingyan that he had failed.

When he entered Jingyan’s study, Li Gang, Zheng Ping, Princess Mu and Commander Meng were there. He took a second to catch his breath before telling them that Lin Shu had been taken in by the imperial guards to Yangju Hall. Everyone paced, unsure of what was happening; perhaps the Emperor had found out Lin Shu’s involvement with Wei Zheng, or maybe in Prince Yu’s rebellion, but those cases were settled.

Zhanying felt his throat tighten—there was still Lin Shu’s main secret, that Lin Shu was…Lin Shu.

When Jingyan was called to the main palace hall as well, Zhanying felt the lump in this throat thicken.

And then Princess Mu proposed a rebellion.

It was all escalating a bit too quickly. Zhanying had no chance to say anything to Jingyan before the other left.

“Zhanying,” it was Princess Mu who addressed him after, looking serious. “You have the authority over the capital patrol, Eastern palace guards and the Jing men. Get them ready.”

Zhanying swallowed. “How long do we wait?”

Commander Meng and Princess Mu glanced at each other for a moment. “Noon,” she decided finally. “At noon, if neither Mr Su or Prince Jing returns…we’ll commit treason.”

The word should ring more fear into Zhanying, but he simply nodded and made his way to find Qi Meng.

It was agony waiting for Jingyan and Lin Shu, or the noon deadline, whichever came first.

Zhanying waited at the Eastern palace, heartbeat surprisingly calm despite that he might just be branded a traitorous criminal in a matter of minutes. There was no question that if this would save Jingyan’s and Lin Shu’s lives, he would do it.

Commander Meng eventually came by, at the stroke of noon, looking extremely relieved. Zhanying himself let his shoulders sag at the expression—it had to be good news.

“I’ve sent Xiao Shu back to his manor. He’s fine,” Commander Meng said. “We can rest easy now.”

“Where’s his Highness?”

“Prince Jing—he’s—” Commander Meng paused for a moment. “He came out of the hall with Xiao Shu, but he left elsewhere.”

“Left where?” Zhanying pressed.

“I don’t know, I was helping Xiao Shu to a carriage,” the other admitted, and then at Zhanying’s frown that was getting deeper. “I think he went to see his mother. I think.”

“You think.”

“Xiao Ying, they’re both fine,” Commander Meng said, almost exasperatedly. “If something bad was going to happen they wouldn’t have left the hall.”

Commander Meng had a point, but still, he’d have liked to see Jingyan’s wellbeing for himself. “…Don’t call me that,” he said after a while. “Are you going to the Su Manor?”

“Later,” the other said. “Princess Mu is there now, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he paused. “You shouldn’t either.”

“I have no plans to,” Zhanying said blandly.

Of course, he’d give Lin Shu’s condition a peek tonight, but for now he still felt uneasy about Jingyan. He just…needed to confirm Jingyan’s return with his own eyes. He continued to wait in the Eastern palace, long after Commander Meng had left and when the sky was beginning to darken. He contemplated sending men to inquire about Jingyan’s whereabout in the inner palace, but it felt like an invasion of Jingyan’s privacy and he didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic. Commander Meng said Jingyan was fine; he had no reason to disbelieve the other.

Jingyan came back when the sky was fully dark, expression blank and distant when he strolled in. He looked surprised to see Zhanying waiting for him.

“Is something the matter? Is it Xi—Mr Su?” he asked, and Zhanying shook his head vehemently.

“No, I—I just wanted—I…” Zhanying fumbled. “I was worried about your Highness. When you didn’t…return.”

Jingyan looked away, breathing in deeply. “…I had a chat with my mother,” he said finally. “There were a lot of things to think about.”

It was then that Zhanying noticed Jingyan’s eyes were reddened and slightly swollen, with tear marks at the edges.

“You should go back,” Jingyan said before Zhanying asked if everything was alright. “…Thank you,” he added abruptly. “For your support earlier. I’m glad it didn’t come to pass. Goodnight, Zhanying.”

He watched Jingyan wander into his private quarters, leaving Zhanying alone in the study. It was a clear dismissal—so he obediently left Jingyan to retire alone.

It was stupid, but he’d looked forward to today, because he’d waited all week to see Jingyan, finally having put together a useful update report for the prince. And then Lin Shu had to be kidnapped, an almost rebellion had to happen, and Jingyan had to spend the entire day afterwards with his mother, upset enough that tears were involved.

None of it was anybody’s fault—probably just the Emperor’s. No one could’ve expected the eventful day.

And yet Zhanying felt…like he was let down.

Like no matter how much Zhanying tried to reach the prince…he was forever far off.

Chapter Text

Before Lin Shu fully recovered from the ordeal, there was yet another slight trouble. Minister Cai had found out that someone had switched out Officer Xia from prison; Zhanying only found out about this when Lin Chen came to see him. It was truly odd to have the Langya Hall heir strutting around the Jing manor when Zhanying came back, noticing the flustered looks his men gave him.

“Master Lin said he has important news for you,” one of them told him before Zhanying approached the elder.

“You’re not allowed to come in here,” Zhanying said in way of greeting before Lin Chen slid open the door to Jingyan’s old quarters, looking not at all contrite.

“Why? Are you hiding some secret in this place?” Lin Chen gestured—vaguely, in the direction of where the entrance of the secret tunnel lay.

“No,” Zhanying said with a blank face. “It’s rude to enter someone else’s property without permission.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Lin Chen smirked, but he did step back from the sliding door. “At least I have no intention to steal anything.”

Zhanying pursed his lips. “…I said I was sorry.”

“Uh, no you didn’t.”

“I apologized to your father—”

“And not me,” Lin Chen finished, flourishing out his fan. “It’s also my stuff, you know.”

Zhanying sighed. “Why are you here? My men said that you had something important to tell me.”

“Changsu said you were becoming disobedient and going rogue,” Lin Chen tsked. “He’s right. All these years with a prince and you’ve forgotten your manners.” At Zhanying’s stoic face, he sighed. “You’re even less fun than Fei Liu,” he said, tapping Zhanying on the shoulder with his fan. “Serve me wine, and then we’ll talk.”

Zhanying was not going to serve him wine—instead, he asked for a pot of tea. It was a struggle to find decent tea in the Jing manor—Jingyan didn’t drink tea, so why would they stock it?—but kitchens finally found some in the cabinets which had been given as gifts. Lin Chen sniffed the tea like he’d expected it to be poison, but thankfully did not make any comment about it when he sipped it; it must’ve been good enough for no compliant to arise.

“So?” Zhanying prompted when all Lin Chen did was to glance around their surroundings as though critically judging the décor.

“Minister Cai found out that Xia Dong was switched out from prison,” Lin Chen said, finally getting to the point. “We’re going with the excuse that the crown prince knew Xia Dong escaped, and had men to recapture her. The bearded commander is putting her back into her cell as we speak.”

“…Okay.”

“That minister is very particular and meticulous, he’ll definitely come around to check. Make sure the story matches.”

“Okay,” Zhanying said again. “But why did you have to come personally?”

“Changsu is still sleeping,” Lin Chen scoffed. “My god, you did know they all panicked like idiots when they heard the news? No wonder Changsu is all stressed out.”

“Not everyone is as smart as you or marshal Lin,” Zhanying replied blandly, because he knew that’s exactly what Lin Chen wanted to hear. “I meant, you could’ve sent someone or pigeon me a message. Why did you come to the Jing manor yourself?”

“Why are you so suspicious of me?” Lin Chen pursed his lips. “First you ask why I’m in Jinling, and now I can’t visit the manor where you spent the past decade in?” he scoffed wryly. “The décor is really fucking depressing by the way,” he gestured. “Have you thought about sprucing up?”

“I don’t really believe that you’re here just to criticize the furniture.”

Lin Chen sighed, tapping his empty cup impatiently so that Zhanying would refill it. “Fine. I’m bored as fuck in the Su manor. Fei Liu keeps running away from me, and everyone else is so uptight. And of course, there’s that dead to the world, worst patient of my life—so, entertain me.”

Zhanying frowned slightly. “…With that?”

“I don’t know,” Lin Chen shrugged. “Got any juicy stories to tell? What about the crown prince? Changsu won’t ever shut up about him but he’s annoyingly shrewd about letting anything worthy of blackmail to slip.”

“What makes you think that I would tell you?” Zhanying asked, eyebrows raised higher. “Also, no, his Highness is honourable and kind. There isn’t anything you will find to use against him.”

“I think the fact that he wants to reopen the Chiyan case is very easy blackmail material but eh,” Lin Chen sipped his tea. “Damn, he’s really that boring, huh,” he quipped, idly tapping the table. “I heard from a little birdie though…that someone….had unclean thoughts about the crown prince when he was in puberty. Does he still?”

Zhanying, to his credit, did not react. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Lin Chen chuckled, flicking his annoying paper fan. “Your ears go red, you know,” he said. “When you sent that message back then, I cried in laughter for like, a week.”

“I, I—…it wasn’t meant for you!”

“Please, I have access to everything in Langya,” Lin Chen smirked. “Don’t be ashamed, you were like, what, twelve? When you had your first crush? Of course you couldn’t keep it in.”

“Seventeen,” Zhanying corrected sharply, with a dark flush to his cheeks.

Lin Chen whistled. “So, got any action since then?” When Zhanying stubbornly kept quiet, he snorted. “Really? All that time together camping in dirty tents and you didn’t suck his cock?”

Zhanying stood up, nearly knocking over the low table. “Please leave,” he said, voice trembling slightly.

“Brat,” Lin Chen blinked, looking surprised at his reaction. “I was just joking—”

“Leave,” He repeated firmly. “I won’t see you out, Master Lin.”

“Brat—” Lin Chen called after him, his sigh loud. “You sensitive child,” he muttered, getting up to grab Zhanying by the back of his robe before the other left. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Zhanying elbowed him, not caring if it hurt. “Let go of me.”

“You’re no fun at all either,” Lin Chen said, and then paused. “You have to handle your feelings, if you insist on staying by the crown prince’s side.”

Zhanying looked away. “What do you know?”

“I manage Langya, I know everything,” Lin Chen replied smugly. “Brat, seriously. Changsu—he’s…—he doesn’t say it, but I know he’s worried about you. Now I know why.”

“I won’t fail my duty just because I love—…” Zhanying stopped, letting his voice die out.

Lin Chen seemed to take pity on him, just this once. “…It’s not a betrayal if you choose one or the other,” he said carefully. “Of course,” he began, grinning. “You can ditch them both and come with me to Langya Hall.”

“What for?”

“I need someone to copy texts,” Lin Chen said winningly. “I heard that’s what you’re good at, hm?”

Zhanying rolled his eyes. “You’re still sour that your father said I was better at penmanship than you.”

“Oi, you’re not better—”

The weeks on were relatively eventful. After that prison swap scare event, Lin Shu sent over a list of people to be investigated and arrested, many of which overlapped with the investigation digging into Xia Jiang’s accomplices. There was a whole network of the Hua that Zhanying was frankly disturbed at—even within the Jing manor, there were a couple of low-ranking officers and also wives of several men that he had to round up, despite the pity in his heart. It didn’t feel right to exile all of them, seeing that some had fought faithfully in battles, but Lin Shu was very strict in his orders to ensure the purge was clean; there was no risk he was going to take in clearing the path for Jingyan onward.

He went to the Eastern palace to report when it was all done. Jingyan nodded when he relayed a summary, eyes still on a parchment in his hands. The prince’s desk was piled with scrolls and texts—he eyed them long enough that Jingyan noticed him looking.

“What is it?”

“I um…can I help?” Zhanying asked.

“It’s all court documents,” Jingyan explained offhandedly. “They’re things I need to look at personally. Thanks for the offer.”

Zhanying looked down. “Do take a break when you need it, your Highness. It’s not good to overwork yourself.”

Jingyan sighed. “I know, I know,” he said, but he was already looking back at the scroll on the table.

Zhanying took his leave seeing that the prince was too distracted to bid him a proper dismissal. Of course Jingyan would be even busier considering that the Emperor had basically put the other in charge of ruling matters. It would never be like the past, when he had time to sit in Jingyan’s study and Jingyan would share pastries with him.

Zhanying thought about it for a moment, and then checked his schedule and the list of things he needed to complete. In the evening, Zhanying came back to the Eastern palace with a lacquer box in hand. Jingyan was still at his desk, but the number of books had dwindled.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing.

“Oh, Zhanying,” Jingyan’s brush hovered in mid air when he looked up. “What’s up?”

“I brought some hazelnut pastries,” Zhanying set the box at the corner of the desk, lifting the cover slightly.

“From my mother?”

“No, these are…I…I-I brought these from the bakery in town,” Zhanying admitted, blushing faintly. “I thought you might like to have some, since it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Jingyan agreed. “No one bakes here,” he said, setting down his brush properly to shift the parchment he was writing on away. “Just as well—I should have a break. Have a seat.”

Zhanying honestly did not intend to have a snack party with the prince; of course he’d hoped, but Jingyan’s time was precious. Jingyan called for a pot of hot water and helped himself to two pastries before noticing that Zhanying was just watching him eat, and then made sure Zhanying ate one too.

“I should’ve noticed,” Jingyan murmured to him.

“Your Highness?”

Jingyan eyes were slightly glassy. “My mother didn’t bake hazelnut pastries all this while because she was afraid Xiao—Mr Su would eat them by mistake. Looking back, it’s such an obvious clue.”

Zhanying very nearly choked on his pastry, eyes wide. It sounded like Jingyan…knew?

“W-what do you mean, your Highness?”

Jingyan took a long sip of water, his hands steady as he looked at Zhanying’s expression for a good long minute. Zhanying was starting to panic, when the other finally spoke.

“Mr Su didn’t tell you?”

Zhanying looked uncertain. “Should he have told me something?”

Jingyan swallowed his water. “…Did you hear about what transpired in Yangju Hall, when Mr Su and I were called to speak to the Emperor?”

“I…heard Xia Jiang tried to harm Mr Su, but he was restrained in time. And then the Emperor…gave Mr Su some…wine…”

Jingyan nodded. “Xia Jiang was relentless in pushing the blame on Mr Su, and he declared one thing that left my father suspicious, even at the end of it,” he said, pausing. “That Mr Su is the traitor Marshal Lin Shu of the Chiyan army. My best friend.”

Zhanying’s mouth went dry. “Do…do you believe it?” he asked slowly.

“My mother admitted as such. She knew,” Jingyan said, shrugging. “I’ve had many days to come to terms with it.”

“But—”

“But it sounds impossible?” Jingyan finished, and Zhanying nodded mutely, even if it wasn’t what he was going to say. “The poison of the bitter flame is the most mysterious illness. The treatment apparently involves a total change of one’s skin. That’s why Mr Su—Xiao Shu looks nothing like he was in the past,” he almost laughed, a little hollow. “Can you believe it? He’s been here all along. All this while. Sometimes I think it’s still all a dream.”

Zhanying bit the bottom of the lip. “Then…” he ventured carefully. “Should we go visit Mr—um, Marshal Lin?” he asked. “Because you’ve always wanted to see him. Now you can.”

“Of course I do want to see him,” Jingyan sighed. “But I’m stuck here,” he gestured around. “There’re important things I need to take care of. I don’t have time for a visit.”

“But, for just an hour—”

“Besides,” Jingyan said, his smile was sad, even his lips curved upwards. “Xiao Shu probably knows I know. The reason why he hasn’t come and seen me is because he wants to pretend I still don’t know. It’s easier for—him. Everyone, I guess.”

“But your Highness,” Zhanying started. “…I’m sure he misses you too.”

Jingyan closed his eyes then. “I hope so,” he murmured, lips twitching. “I could never tell with Mei Changsu.”

Zhanyin headed straight to the Su manor when he left the Eastern palace. Li Gang was surprised to see him, and also asked why he looked so frazzled. Zhanying just shook his head and said he needed to see Lin Shu right now. Everyone was eating dinner when he came in—they all sat up straight, because they thought some urgent trouble had transpired.

Instead, all he got was an “Oh.” from Lin Shu.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Lin Shu said, gesturing for Zhanying to take one of the seats while Li Gang went to ask for a bowl of rice for him. “Sit. Eat.”

“His Highness said you knew,” Zhanying muttered to himself.

“Suspected,” Lin Shu corrected, chewing on some rice. “Jingyan’s not that dumb, and he looked at me like I was a ghost. Well, it was inevitable.”

“And—and…that’s it?”

Lin Shu looked at him, puzzled. “…What do you mean?”

“His Highness knows who you are,” Zhanying emphasized. “Don’t you want to see him…as your real self?”

“Mei Changsu is my real self,” Lin Shu answered.

“I meant as Lin Shu—”

“Brat, you know as well as I do that Changsu is hiding from his best friend forever,” Lin Chen spoke up with a snort. “You’re not going to convince him to make a visit.”

“Lin Chen!” Lin Shu snapped, putting down his chopsticks.

“Don’t get angry, it’s bad for your health,” Lin Chen replied smoothly. “Besides, am I wrong?”

Lin Shu steeled the physician a narrow glare before gesturing for Zhanying to follow him out of the room. They went into the gardens, to the little pavilion where it was dimly lit with a couple of candles.

“Why don’t you want to see him?” Zhanying asked directly, and Lin Shu just sighed heavily.

“Xiao Ying…why do you want me to see him?”

“He misses you,” Zhanying said, like it was a no brainer. “Over the years—you know much he misses you. You as Lin Shu.”

Lin Shu smiled gently, the one that didn’t hold anything in it. “Did Jingyan invite me to the Eastern palace?”

“N-no, but—"

“Then, why should I go?”

Zhanying nearly growled in frustration. “He wants you to come.”

“Without an invitation? How bold of the lowly scholar Su Zhe to demand to see the crown prince,” Lin Shu smirked. “Xiao Ying, it’s okay,” he said after noticing that Zhanying had clenched his fists. “We’ll have to see each other at some point. It doesn’t have to be now. The Chiyan case hasn’t been reopened yet. It’s not the end. Why are you so worked up?”

“Because,” Zhanying gritted out, “You—you get to make his Highness happy, so—why…why won’t you?"

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“It is if you just see him—”

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu started, clipped. “If Jingyan found out that you’ve been working for me all this time—would you still face him? Can you?”

“I—…” Zhanying pressed his lips together.

“…Lin Chen is right,” Lin Shu said quietly. “I’m hiding from Jingyan, because I’m scared. He’s so mad at me, I know it.”

“He isn’t.”

Lin Shu only gave that a wry smile. “I played him, right from the beginning. All the manipulation, the lies—it’s not what Lin Shu would’ve done. This version of me…won’t make Jingyan happy.”

“You don’t know that, because you won’t see him.”

“Why are you so stubborn about this?” Lin Shu demanded. “Are you sure you want me to reconcile with Jingyan? If I do, he’ll never look at you again.”

Zhanying stumbled back like Lin Shu had slapped him personally, eyes wide.

Lin Shu’s eyes were filled with regret. “…Xiao Ying—”

“I-I never presumed that his Highness would look at me, even if you weren’t here,” Zhanying’s voice shook. “I’m sorry for disturbing your dinner, marshal Lin.”

“Xiao Ying!” Lin Shu called hastily after him as he left, struggling to maintain his composure. “—Xiao Ying!”

A couple of weeks later, Zhanying avoided Lin Shu’s gaze on him as Jingyan met the other outside the celestial prison. Lin Shu had sent a note to the prince requesting that they should meet and talk about events moving forward, likely about Chiyan. Jingyan was vibrating minutely with excitement and nervousness when Zhanying escorted him down—Zhanying couldn’t blame him, since it was the first time he was going to see Lin Shu knowing he was Lin Shu, his “dead” best friend.

But Zhanying kept hearing the harsh words Lin Shu had spoken to him the other night. It was a truth, and that made it hard to swallow, even if Zhanying knew from the very outset that he stood no chance. He wanted Jingyan to be happy. Even if he felt…jealous…about anyone to came close to the prince, if he truly wished that Jingyan was happy, there were things he could not complain about.

And Lin Shu—Lin Shu had sent him to Jingyan, from the very beginning, because the other worried about the prince. Lin Shu had a bond with Jingyan that Zhanying knew he could never beat. Could never presume to even touch.

He waited outside while Lin Shu, Jingyan and Commander Meng went inside the prison. They did not come out for a good while, but when they did Jingyan’s gaze was lingering on Lin Shu, like he had so many things he wanted to say.

“We will meet after news of Xie Yu’s death has broken,” Lin Shu said, dipping his head formally. “See you then, Prince Jing.”

Jingyan looked like he wanted to ask Lin Shu to stay, but nodded. “See you then.”

Lin Shu glanced back once, and his direction of gaze was towards Zhanying, who deliberately looked away. Jingyan didn’t notice it, having been distracted by his own thoughts.

Zhanying found an intruder in the Jing manor only because he was on the rooftop again instead of sleeping in his bed. Qi Meng, on occasion, accompanied him but he’d been growing more restless as the month passed. He knew it wasn’t something that would be fixed—unless Jingyan came back, and that was a foolish wish.

He watched the intruder sneak towards general quarters, where his room was; which was strange, because he had no idea why anyone wanted to sneak around in the Jing manor, considering that they had no valuables and Jingyan was in the Eastern palace. He slipped unseen to a good advantage spot soon enough, and pressed his dagger against the other’s back.

“One wrong move, and I’ll bleed you,” Zhanying whispered. “Who are you?”

The other raised his hands in surrender. “Xiao Ying,” the man said, craning his neck backwards. “It’s me.”

It was Wei Zheng; Zhanying stepped back fully, surprised. “Oh. Hi. Uh—why are you here, in the middle of the night?”

“I was looking for you,” Wei Zheng explained, glancing around. “I’m still considered a criminal, I just can’t walk in your front entrance.”

“When did you get back to Jinling? Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here?”

“This afternoon,” Wei Zheng said, following Zhanying’s lead to get back on the rooftop he was on before. “We found Bingxu grass in Dong Hai, I had to bring it to Master Lin immediately.”

“What’s that?”

“A rare herb, one that could cure marshal Lin.”

At that, Zhanying sat up. “Really? I thought his illness is incurable.”

“Theoretically,” Wei Zheng nodded, and then sighed. “But…the process requires the sacrifice of ten men. Marshal Lin won’t let us do it.”

Zhanying processed this slowly. “Is there no other way?”

Wei Zheng shook his head sadly. “Master Lin took the herb, so maybe he’ll figure out something with it,” he said. “…Xiao Ying, did something happen with the young marshal?”

Zhanying turned away. “…Did he send you to talk to me?”

“Not really,” Wei Zheng answered, shifting closer. “I asked after you, but he didn’t say much, which was strange. He had a lot to say about you the other time. And then Zhen Ping mentioned you hadn’t visited in a while.”

“There’s no reason for me to visit if there’s no news to report.”

“Xiao Ying…” Wei Zheng pressed gently. “You two had a fight?”

“Wasn’t a fight.”

“Then?”

“It’s nothing,” Zhanying insisted. “I’m not angry.”

“…Marshal Lin can be careless, even though he’s so meticulous about everything.”

“No,” Zhanying shook his head. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s not the first time.”

“The first time of what? Xiao Ying?”

Zhanying sighed softly. “It’s not the first time marshal Lin thinks his Highness is more important to me than him.”

“Is he?”

Zhanying pursed his lips and did not answer.

“I won’t give any excuses to the young marshal’s behavior, if he hurt you,” Wei Zheng said finally. “But you’re very important to him. I just ask that you don’t close off when he tries to make it up to you.”

“I’m not angry,” Zhanying repeated. “Marshal Lin didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” At Wei Zheng’s patient but obviously confused expression, he bit his lip. “…I, I’m in love with his Highness.” The words were like a whispered breath in the warm air. “And I know that his Highness…doesn’t love me.”

“…Xiao Ying—”

“He’s always longed for marshal Lin. And everything that marshal Lin has done…is for his Highness. I…how can I dare to compare?”

Wei Zheng grasped his shoulder, pulling him into a comforting hug. “They do care for you,” he said finally, stroking the back of Zhanying’s head. “They…marshal Lin, at least—I know he loves you.”

Zhanying sniffed, refusing to cry. “I want them to be happy, but, b-but—I—….”

He couldn’t say any more, and Wei Zheng held him for the night.

A couple of days after Xie Bi left the capital to retrieve his father’s body, Lin Shu arrived at the Eastern palace early in the morning. Zhanying wasn’t the one to receive the other in, but one of their men related the sighting to him. He didn’t go over instantly, because he wasn’t so free as to drop by just because Lin Shu decided to show his face, but he did come later in the afternoon, catching the silhouettes of Grand Princess Liyang and her son Jingrui leave by carriage.

When he strolled further in, he saw that Tingsheng had set up a target near the gardens, and was practicing his archery.

“Tingsheng, how did you end up practicing here?” he asked.

“I heard that Mr Su was here. I wanted to ask him to look over my homework, but I didn’t want to intrude on him speaking to his Highness,” the younger explained. “So I’m waiting here for him.”

Zhanying smiled. “Shoot an arrow for me.”

Tingsheng pulled the bow, and the arrow landed off mark. Zhanying chuckled—he remembered the hours he spent training his shots, because he’d admired the way Jingyan shot so much.

“Let me teach you,” he said, coming forwards to lend a hand.

He remembered everything Jingyan had taught him—how to grasp the bow, how to read the wind, how to hold it steady, until it was the right time. Tingsheng was a quick learner, much more natural with the bow than Zhanying was at his age. They shot a good number towards the target, until Zhanying remembered that Tingsheng had came here for Lin Shu.

He glanced over at Jingyan’s study, and found that the door was open; Jingyan and Lin Shu weren’t in it anymore. He hadn’t noticed they’d left.

“Hm, I’ll go look for them, you stay here,” he told Tingsheng.

The Eastern palace was large, and the men at the gate told him that Lin Shu hadn’t left the premises. Zhanying thought for a moment before heading to Jingyan’s personal quarters. He glimpsed Lin Shu stepping out of it for second before the other was abruptly pulled back inside.

Zhanying blinked, freezing in his steps when he saw Jingyan grasping Lin Shu’s wrist, who was holding a small lacquer box.

“That’s really all you’re going to say?” Jingyan asked, and Zhanying, for some reason, pressed himself flat against the corridor, so that they wouldn’t see him.

“I said ‘thanks’ already,” Lin Shu replied.

“Xiao Shu,” Jingyan said very softly. “…I miss you.”

Lin Shu exhaled very audibly. “Jingyan, you can’t say things like that anymore.”

“Why not?”

Lin Shu didn’t answer, and he didn’t fight the arms that came to envelope his frame. Somehow, Zhanying expected his heart to break.

“You’re so annoyingly evasive, you know,” Jingyan murmured, squeezing him tight. “If you think that I’d ever let you go again—”

“I—I need to breathe—” Lin Shu gasped, but it was playful, and Jingyan knew it.

“Stupid.”

“Who’s the stupid one?” Lin Shu snorted, but his voice was fond. “Jingyan, let go of me before someone sees us. The door is wide open.”

“Fine,” Jingyan agreed, and it was the same moment Tingsheng hopped into the corridor, peering at Zhanying.

“General Lie? What are you doing against the wall?”

Zhanying stood up properly, wincing at the heads that popped out of Jingyan’s room at the voice. He stared at the ground, not daring to look at Jingyan, or Lin Shu—it was obvious that he’d known what they were doing in the room, otherwise why else would he be hiding outside?

“Tingsheng was looking for Mr—marshal—Mr Su, your Highness,” he explained hastily, head bowed.

“Ah yes, we have a class,” Lin Shu announced, like it’d been the schedule all along. “Your Highness, can you spare us a room? I’m afraid the manor is quite noisy today.”

“Of course,” Jingyan nodded, though he sounded a little disbelieving. “Zhanying, you can show them to any.”

Zhanying brought them to one of the empty rooms that was relatively clean and furnished.

“Tingsheng, can you get me a pot of tea? You know the one I like,” Lin Shu smiled, and Tingsheng scuttled off happily with the quest.

“I could’ve—”

“Obviously, I wanted to talk to you,” Lin Shu interrupted Zhanying’s protest, setting him a look. “You’re done avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Zhanying muttered. “It’s not like you called for me either.”

“Alright, alright,” Lin Shu sighed. “We’re both at fault here.” At Zhanying pursed lips, Lin Shu dropped the pretense. “Xiao Ying—”

“I’m, I’m happy for you,” Zhanying said over him. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Lin Shu’s mouth twitched. “Xiao Ying,” he started. “What I said back then—”

“I’m not angry.”

“Stop interrupting me!” Lin Shu huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m trying to apologise, okay.”

“What for?”

“For what I said back then, weren’t you listening?” Lin Shu grumbled, and then softened. “I never wanted—I never want—to hurt you,” he gently brushed his thumb over Zhanying’s cheek. “It was unfair of me. I’m sorry.”

“…And I was right?”

Lin Shu quirked his lips. “Yes, yes, you were right,” he said, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I hoped you weren’t.”

Lin Shu dropped his hand and turned away before Zhanying could say anything. Tingsheng had arrived back with a tray in his arms, and Lin Shu had already gone to sit himself at the desk, launching into questions about Tingsheng’s last lesson.

Chapter Text

On the eve of the Emperor’s birthday, Zhanying couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t going to be present during the celebration since he didn’t have rank nor was invited—but he would be in the Eastern palace on stand-by, just in case it went very, very wrong. The previous time, the Emperor tried to poison Lin Shu. This time, he might kill his own son.

And it wouldn’t be the first.

It felt weird that tomorrow was the accumulation of the years of Lin Shu’s planning. Of the years since Zhanying had chosen the wrong camp to steal food from. He didn’t speak to general commander Lin Xie again after he was dismissed in the tent, but sometimes he still thought about the older man who gave him a name.

Maybe in another life, he would’ve decided it wasn’t worth stalking the army up the cold terrain of the cliff of Meiling for food.

Maybe in another life, he would’ve escaped the Chiyan camp the moment he saw an opening, and made sure Lin Shu could never track him again.

Maybe in another life, Xie Yu came with real reinforcements.

Maybe he would’ve joined Chiyan, became a proper soldier and fought with them on countless other battlefields. Maybe he would’ve met Jingyan as Lin Shu’s best friend, the commander of the Jing army, the boy untouched by tragedy and loss.

Maybe he would’ve owed Lin Shu his life anyway, and fallen in love with Jingyan again anyway.

Maybe.

When the men came to relate that an imperial decree for the reinvestigation of the Chiyan case had been passed, Zhanying took a moment to gaze at the bright blue sky.

Somewhere out there, he knew the souls of the 70,000 dead he’d watched burning were finally at peace.

Zhanying only caught a glimpse of Jingyan later on in the day. For some reason, Jingyan didn’t look happy. The prince had a subdued demeanor and didn’t smile. The prince was already busy at the desk and meeting ministers to deal with the reinvestigation, and Zhanying knew it wasn’t in his place to ask what happened in the palace hall. He pieced a version of the events from gossip; he’d heard that the Emperor had pressed a sword to Jingyan’s chest, so Zhanying tried his best to scrutinize for any blood staining the other’s robe when Jingyan recited some things for him to take care of. There was nothing, which was a relief.

At night, Zhanying went over to the Su manor.

It was noisy; everyone had gathered in one of the rooms, and there were many lines of merry inebriated yelling. But strangely, there was a candle light glowing in Lin Shu’s room, so Zhanying invited himself there instead. Lin Shu was lounging in his cot, and flicked a gaze over to him as a way of acknowledgement, but otherwise made no move to put the book he was reading down. Zhanying hesitantly came close to him. Lin Shu shifted upright then, leaning his weight against the wall.

“Mm,” Lin Shu patted the space next to him.

Zhanying paused for a moment before deciding to accept the invitation. Once he sat himself on the cot, Lin Shu leaned on his side comfortably, showing him what he was reading.

“Lin Chen borrowed this from your friend Qi Meng, he said it was one of the military ‘staples’,” Lin Shu said with a completely straight face, despite that Zhanying’s eye immediately caught a very explicit descriptions of fornification on the page.

“Why,” Zhanying said blandly, looking away—despite that he did read the said text years prior.

“I’m not the only one curious about what you got up to in the past decade,” Lin Shu hummed, turning a page. “Lin Chen was particularly amused at your sources of sex education.”

“No thanks.”

“I haven’t proposed anything,” Lin Shu responded. “Langya has a much better variety though. Especially ones about men. You should check them out when you have the chance.”

“No thanks,” Zhanying said again. “Why are you reading that alone?”

“Are you saying I should read that in polite company?” Lin Shu teased, amused at the way Zhanying pursed his lips. He sighed. “…I wanted to be alone, and therefore I am.”

Zhanying shuffled his knees closer, careful not to track dirt from his shoes onto the cot. “…Sorry for disturbing you.”

“You’re not.”

It was quiet for a long silence, with just the night crickets chirping outside.

“...Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu started, head gently resting on his shoulder. “Do you still see it?” he asked softly, voice going distant. “The fire. The blood.”

It felt like eons ago, and yet Zhanying could still remember how terrified he was when he ran and ran and ran.

“I see it every time I close my eyes,” Lin Shu continued, turning his face upwards to look at Zhanying. “I thought I wouldn’t anymore, when it was all over. But I still do.”

“But maybe you’ll sleep slightly better tonight,” Zhanying answered, looking down.

Lin Shu chuckled, arm curling into the crook of his. “What about you?”

“I’ll—I worry about you less,” Zhanying answered honestly. “I guess.”

Lin Shu nodded slowly. “After…we clear our name, I can include you in the Chiyan register, if you want. You are part of us. You deserve the recognition.”

“I—” Zhanying swallowed. “I…but his Highness doesn’t know that I…”

“If you want,” Lin Shu repeated. “It’s easy for me to say, since Jingyan already found out about my identity, but if you want to tell Jingyan…it’s your choice. I can’t guarantee how he’ll react, but I’ll vouch for you. Promise.”

Zhanying pressed his lips together, and gave it some thought. “…I don’t think I can,” he said finally. “Even if his Highness forgives me, it’ll still make him upset, and I don’t want…”

“Okay, Jingyan will never know,” Lin Shu nodded, gentle. “You’ll stay with him to the end, won’t you?”

It sounded like a harmless question, but, “Are you—are you not staying?” Zhanying asked.

“I’m going on a road trip, apparently,” Lin Shu chuckled. “Lin Chen planned some crazy ass itinerary, I’m going to eat so much that I’ll get fat and explode,” he smiled. “Just as well, I haven’t been out of the capital in the past two years—”

“Will you come back?”

Lin Shu closed his mouth. “The idea is to return to Langya, actually,” he admitted. “If we ever reach back with all the detours.”

“Oh,” Zhanying breathed out. “But…his Highness…and, and you—”

“We’ve already reunited, it’s fine if I take a holiday, right?” Lin Shu shook his head. “I deserve it, after all the shit that has happened.” Zhanying glanced at him, but Lin Shu just huddled closer to his side without looking back at him. “I’m so tired, Xiao Ying.”

“Marshal Lin,” Zhanying started with a lump in his throat. “…How long do you have left?”

Lin Shu stilled for a long moment before his frame sagged. “As long as Lin Chen can give me, I suppose. He’s a miracle worker, don’t you know?”

It wasn’t much of a consolation; Zhanying had known this from the very start. He’d seen and heard Lin Chen and his father trying treatment plan after treatment plan and pushing the boundary of how many years they could add to Lin Shu.

Zhanying’s fingers curled. “…Would you stay if I asked you to?”

“Don’t be clingy, you child,” Lin Shu said against his shoulder, but it sounded a little wobbly.

“I just,” Zhanying said tightly. “I just want to be there if you—”

“Don’t say it.”

Zhanying bit his lip. “I want to be with you to the end too.”

“You can’t be greedy.”

“And his Highness—”

“Xiao Ying—” Lin Shu broke off, swallowing visibly. “Let me enjoy what I have left, hm? And Langya will give me a better chance, you know that. I’ll leave Jingyan in your hands while I’m away, I know you’ll take good care of him.”

Zhanying was silent for a moment. “Will you try your best to come back then?” he asked.

Lin Shu barked a laugh, and it was wet. “Of course.”

When the reinvestigation was over, Jingyan asked Zhanying to accompany him to the memorial tablet hall they’d set up for those who had been wrongly executed in the Chiyan massacre. No one had yet paid any respects—Zhanying knew Jingyan wanted to be the first, but he was surprised to be…wanted…for company for this particular situation. Jingyan didn’t know he had a past with general commander Lin Xie, and neither did Zhanying ever meet Prince Qi and his household. Jingyan caught his slightly puzzled glances when they made way to the hall in the early morning, just after sun rise.

“Is something wrong?” Jingyan asked him when their eyes met and Zhanying hastily shifted his line of sight down.

“No, it’s just…” he trailed off, and then continued because Jingyan was waiting for an answer. “I thought you might want to be alone this morning.”

There was a smile that tugged at Jingyan’s lips, though his eyes didn’t brighten. “…Zhanying,” Jingyan chose to say after a while. “I’ve asked a lot of you over the years. You never once told me I was unreasonable for pursuing a likely death wish. Clearing Chiyan and my brother Prince Qi’s names didn’t happen just because I was stubborn,” he continued. “For what you’ve done for me, you’ve done for them too. That’s why…you should be here with me.”

Zhanying tried to swallow his dry throat a couple of times as his face flushed. He didn’t know what to say in response, and ended up just lowered his head even further. Jingyan did not take it as a bad reaction, instead, started walking again, and Zhanying shuffled after him to catch up.

“He would’ve liked you,” Jingyan said out of nowhere, tone casual and distracted. “He does like you,” he corrected himself.

“…Your Highness?” Zhanying ventured, because he had no idea who Jingyan was referring to.

“Xiao Shu,” Jingyan clarified. “If he was still in Jingling when you came to me, he would’ve snatched you into Chiyan, like he did with all my good trainees,” he shook his head.

“Marshal—Mr Su—Marshal—” Zhanying gave up on addressing Lin Shu, because it was just such a pain. “I don’t think he would’ve. I can’t fight.”

Jingyan turned to him with deep furrowed eyebrows. “Zhanying. You’re a trained soldier.”

“I meant,” Zhanying winced. “Back then. Or now. I’m not particularly outstanding at fighting.”

“It’s not just about fighting ability,” Jingyan replied, cocking his head slightly, like he’d never considered it so. “When Prince Yu rebelled, Xiao Shu recommended that you lead the Ji city foot soldiers back to Jiu An mountain. He didn’t even take time to think about it. He recognized—recognizes how capable you are.”

“…It was really stressful,” Zhanying admitted, and Jingyan chuckled.

“I can just imagine how much he would’ve nagged at me to get you,” Jingyan commented lightly, but his tone was soft and somber at the end of the sentence, because they’d reached the hall.

Out of respect, Zhanying only took a couple of steps inside, and then chose to stand still to let Jingyan enter in alone, because he still felt like it wasn’t his place to witness something so intimate. Jingyan stood in front of Lin Shu’s tablet for a long moment before taking out a red cloth to cover it. Zhanying watched him reverently pay his respects, and then cautiously came closer when Jingyan glanced back towards him.

He knelt, took some of the dry incense shavings and scattered them gently over the heated hearth. Lin Xie’s tablet was right in front of him—he bowed low, and closed his eyes. The air smelt like fire, but it was so different from the one back at Meiling.

It truly felt like the nightmare was over.

Lin Shu, Princess Mu and commander Meng came when he and Jingyan were just stepping out. Lin Shu spent nearly an hour on his knees, and then spoke to Jingyan quietly outside the hall while Princess Mu and commander Meng went in after him. Zhanying didn’t stand close enough to fully overhear what they were saying, but he did watch the way their bodies turned to each other so naturally—the way Jingyan’s lips were tugging in fond exasperation, the way Lin Shu’s curled with a hint of mischievousness, even though both of their eyes were tear stained.

“—a holiday?” Jingyan’s face crumpled into somewhat of an incredulous and confused look. “Where?”

Lin Shu shrugged. “Beats me. I’m not the one who planned the itinerary.”

“When?”

“When I get packed? I don’t know either.”

“Xiao Shu, are you sure it’s—”

“Safe? Good for my health?” Lin Shu completed before Jingyan did. “My physician is the one planning this whole thing.” Jingyan didn’t look fully convinced, but Princess Mu and commander Meng had emerged by this point. “Don’t you have princely duties to do today, Prince Jing?”

Jingyan obviously did, so he frowned. “You’re not allowed to leave the capital until we talk. Properly. Understand?”

“That’s a really shitty way of asking me out to dinner,” Lin Shu replied, blinking innocently. “Can you leave General Lie behind? There’s something I would like to speak to him about.”

Zhanying startled, because it was so random to request for him like that.

Jingyan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “…You will not recruit him into the Jiangzuo Alliance.”

Lin Shu’s grin got wider. “I will not recruit him into Jiangzuo Alliance,” he promised, almost mockingly. “Now, don’t keep your esteemed ministers waiting.”

Commander Meng left with Jingyan, but Princess Mu stayed and cocked her head in puzzlement when Lin Shu stared at her. “Hm?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“I don’t have anything in my schedule today,” she replied, and then looked at Zhanying with more curiosity. “Am I not allowed to be here?”

“Well, yes…” Lin Shu trailed off, and it became clear to Zhanying that Lin Shu was terribly bad at saying ‘no’ to some people in his life. “She would’ve found out anyway,” Lin Shu said in lieu of dropping all pretense. “I wanted to speak to my father with Xiao Ying.”

Princess Mu’s eyebrows shot up high at the nickname, and then they lowered slowly.

“…I wondered why you came to tell me about his condition that morning,” she said, turning to Zhanying.

Lin Shu paused. “W-what morning?”

“He didn’t want you to know, but I thought you should,” Zhanying replied, bowing.

“What morning?” Lin Shu pressed.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Princess Mu nodded. “I’m really curious about how you’re related to him.”

“What! Morning!” Lin Shu interjected loudly before coughing, tearing them both out of the conversation they were deliberating ignoring Lin Shu from.

“You’re so petty,” Zhanying murmured while they patted Lin Shu’s back gently to subside the coughs.

“You’re so petty,” Lin Shu grumbled. “Seriously, what morning?”

“That morning after you gave Lieutenant Nie your medicine and then fell ill instead and had her Lady Consort Jing to treat you through the night.”

“Oh. That morning.”

“You’ve no ounce of regret for hiding that from me, don’t you,” Princess Mu said dryly.

Lin Shu pursed his lips. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I worry about you all the time, nonetheless,” Princess Mu pointed out. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone…for now. You owe me his story.”

“…Was that wise?” Zhanying asked after the princess left, fingers entwined together behind her back.

“To tell her about us?” Lin Shu finished his question. “She really would’ve found out at some point. You can be rest assured she’ll keep the secret as long you want it hidden. I promise.”

Zhanying nodded slowly, before another thought came to mind. “There’s another reason why you told her.”

“Oh?”

“Does Princess Mu know you’re leaving?”

Lin Shu look caught at that. “…What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If you wanted me to check in on her while you’re away, you can just say it.”

Lin Shu crossed his arms. “Actually, it’s because I want her to check in on you,” he corrected with a huff. “And,” he added softly. “There are some things I still can’t bear to talk about. Things of the past. Things I know that she would like to know. Do me that favour, will you, Xiao Ying?”

“You just had to ask,” Zhanying replied, and nonetheless nodded his head.

“Thanks,” Lin Shu murmured, and then reached out to take Zhanying’s hand.

Zhanying didn’t pull away. He let himself be guided into the memorial hall again. This time, they didn’t kneel, just stood in front of the tablets for a couple of moments in silence. Zhanying heard Lin Shu swallow thickly, and the other’s eyes were glistening wet.

“Dad,” Lin Shu spoke, and though his voice was steady, his hand trembled hard over Zhanying’s. “Remember the little boy who stole our food and whom you thought was a coyote? He’s all grown up now. Tall as hell,” he coughed a bit, smiling. “But not as tall as me. We owe everything to him,” Lin Shu continued, and that’s when the tears started to fall. “Everything.”

Zhanying glanced over, swallowing. “I, I didn’t do that much,” he interjected feebly.

The way Lin Shu stared at him after wiping his eyes—it was enough to halt his breath. “All those things you stole from the enemy camps over the number of years…what do you think I did with them?”

Zhanying closed his mouth when all that really came to his mind was “sell them” but that was stupid. “…Use them,” he said instead.

“This moment here,” Lin Shu breathed unsteadily, “Was a path I could draw because of the knowledge I had, the items I had, to manipulate people and events…only made possible because of you, Mr I broke into the Xuanjing bureau,” he stated. “So yes, you’ve done a lot. And I’m honestly not sure if I—we would’ve succeeded without you.”

Zhanying kept quiet then, and Lin Shu turned back to the memorial tablet.

“…’Zhanying’,” Lin Shu curled his tongue over his tongue. “It suits you so much. You won this war for us too,” he said, squeezing Zhanying’s hand so tight that both of their palms were nearly bloodless. “…Thank you.”

It was…difficult to hear the two words. Not because Zhanying didn’t think Lin Shu would ever say it, but he didn’t think…it needed to be said.

“…Thank you for taking a chance on me,” Zhanying whispered back, because his lungs had tightened too.

“It was not a chance,” Lin Shu replied, equally soft. “I knew.”

There were a couple weeks of pure peace before hell broke loose. Zhanying thought it had to be a dirty joke when he heard a soldier yelling about a five-sided invasion in panic. He was there when Jingyan ordered an emergency military meeting to discuss about how they were going to deal with it. Of the entire decade that Zhanying had spent in an army, he’d never been in a situation where they were being attacked by five enemy states at once; it was really looking to be dire.

As the ministers argued about the lack of manpower and their incompatibility to take on a role of a general commander, Zhanying could see Princess Mu visibly reigning her impatience in. And then, before Jingyan could say it, Minister Shen was begging the prince to not do something as foolish as lead the army at the front lines himself. Zhanying would’ve bit his tongue if not for the fact that he absolutely knew Jingyan all too well.

Oh yeah, the crown prince was definitely going to do it.

After the meeting, while Zhanying trailed behind Jingyan and Princess Mu, he debated hard about offering himself for the role. He didn’t have experience leading an army by himself to war. Although he did command the Ji city army, but it was very different situation to now. Jingyan needed someone who was gifted in military tactics, in fighting, in rousing morale and leading men.

Zhanying was…more gifted as a thief.

Also, there was the matter of leaving Jingyan’s side. It was unreasonable, but Zhanying felt unease about it even though he’d arguably be the one in much more danger. But if Jingyan needed someone…he had to step up.

Lin Shu was already in the Eastern palace when they arrived, staring at a map of their boarders pinned to a board. Jingyan didn’t look surprised, instead, just launched into a summary of what happened in the meeting prior. As expected, neither Lin Shu agreed to letting Jingyan leave the palace.

“It’s not that I don’t trust the Emperor,” Lin Shu said steely, “It’s that you cannot trust him at all. Once you leave the city, chaos will definitely arise in the capital. Do you not understand this?”

“Of course I understand, but—”

“Jingyan,” Lin Shu snapped tightly. “Let me finish.”

Jingyan looked away for a moment. “Alright,” he paused. “What do you want to say?”

Lin Shu fidgeted, resting his hands over his abdomen. “I made a rough layout,” he began. “Wei Zheng is good at water battles, so sending him to Dong Hai is the most suitable. Yeqin is just a superficial problem; the armies stationed locally should be enough. As for the battle at the Southern border…” he looked at Princess Mu, “only you can stop Southern Chu, so that we’re not fighting on both fronts.”

“I understand. That was also what I intended to do,” Princess Mu nodded. “Actually, the most difficult battle right now is at the Northern border.”

It was eventually deemed that Lieutenant Nie and Officer Xia would be enough to handle them, leaving Da Yu.

“Since you can’t go,” Lin Shu started. “I was thinking—”

“No, you can’t,” Jingyan said immediately.

Lin Shu tensed, pursing his lips. “I haven’t finished speaking.”

Jingyan raised his palm. “It doesn’t matter what you say, I will not let you lead an army to the battlefield.”

“I know you’re concerned about my health,” Lin Shu sighed. “But didn’t Consort Jing tell you I have a good physician with me? He’s been treating me and I’m already much better. Also,” he pointed out. “With the current situation, how can I recklessly overexert myself?”

Jingyan thought for a bit. “…If that’s really the case,” he said, sounding disbelieving, “Bring this physician to me. If he tells me that you can go, then I will allow you to go.”

Princess Mu stared at them, her fists tightening next to her thighs. She obviously wanted to say something, but she held her tongue until Jingyan excused himself to use the toilet. She then shot Zhanying, who had been standing close to the door, a look. He didn’t know quite what it meant, but he came over anyway.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked him.

“You cannot go,” Zhanying said immediately, looking at Lin Shu. “Lin Chen will never agree to this.”

“He will,” Lin Shu muttered.

“Marshal Lin, you’re in no condition ever be on a battlefield.”

“I’m fine,” Lin Shu said exasperatedly, dusting imaginary flint off his robes. “I haven’t had a fever since the last time I was bedridden. I’m recovering.”

“That’s not a good example. Also,” Zhanying narrowed his eyes. “Your illness is incurable. You don’t have much time left. There’s no way—”

At that, Princess Mu stilled so visibly that Zhanying knew he probably shouldn’t have said that. But it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know Princess Mu didn’t know.

“Lin Shu ge-ge—” Princess Mu sucked in a heavy breath, eyes wide.

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu murmured dangerously. “Lin Chen found Bingxu grass, and he’s making a cure out of it.”

Zhanying knew it was a warning to stop, but if Lin Shu was going to insist on being an idiot then he wasn’t going to obey a stupid order.

“There is no cure,” Zhanying stated firmly, hand gripping his sword hilt tightly. “Not unless you sacrifice the blood of ten men, and I know you would never do it. Marshal Lin…” he searched Lin Shu’s eyes, “I…I, I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Lin Shu blurted before he pursed his lips. “No. Absolutely not. You need to stay here with Jingyan.”

“You think I can’t do it.”

“I think that you belong here, with Jingyan,” Lin Shu gritted out.

Zhanying’s eyebrows furrowed, and he clenched his hand so hard that the imprints of his sword grip were pressed into his palm. “Why is it okay that you can sacrifice your life for him but I can’t?”

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu started impatiently. “That was not what I—”

“Meant?”

The voice was not Lin Shu’s—neither was it Zhanying’s nor Princess Mu’s. Jingyan had returned, and was standing barely five feet away. None of them had realized. Zhanying felt his entire frame stiffen like he was freezing. His back was towards Jingyan—and Lin Shu shifted his gaze to him.

Don’t. Say. Any. More. Lin Shu subtly mouthed to him before he turned around, lowering his head with his hands clasped together.

“Y-your Highness,” Zhanying greeted.

“Repeat what you said about Xiao—Marshal Lin’s illness.”

Jingyan didn’t sound angry, but his tone was emotionally flat. Zhanying had no idea how much Jingyan had heard—and if this was the only way to stop Lin Shu from galloping into his death bed, so be it. He dropped to his knees, placed his hands carefully on the ground and pressed his forehead to his fingertips. Lin Shu muttered an audible sound of disagreement, like the other was chastising him for a very, very bad decision.

“Your Highness,” Zhanying started, voice inflected with a tremor. He didn’t dare to look up. “Marshal Lin is not fit be on a battlefield. Not now, not ever. It will kill him.”

“And you know better than his physician?”

“I—”

“General Lie,” Lin Shu interrupted. “You don’t have to do this.”

Zhanying couldn’t see what was transpiring since he had his face to the ground, but Lin Shu said no more. Nonetheless, it was enough to know what Lin Shu meant.

Jingyan would know—about everything.

“There is no cure,” Zhanying began. “For the poison of the bitter flame. The illness can be managed, like with Lieutenant Nie. But Marshal Lin is more poisoned and he…took the alternative care. This means his lifespan is much shorter. After all that has passed, I don’t know how long he has, but…if you send him to Da Yu, he will certainly die,” he murmured. “So please…”

It was quiet again, until Jingyan spoke. “Lin Shu. You were planning to have your physician lie to me? About your life?”

“Jingyan, look—”

“Also,” Jingyan wasn’t in the mood to hear excuses. “For how long have you called him ‘Xiao Ying’?”

“Jingyan…—” Lin Shu tried again. “Jingyan? Jingyan!” Zhanying only heard the very faint echo of Jingyan’s footsteps clicking away. “Nihuang?”

Another set of footsteps brushed past Zhanying, and within seconds the Eastern palace study was empty, save for them two.

“Fuck,” Lin Shu seethed. “Fuck—fuck, fucking shit. Xiao Ying, why the fuck—" he let out a controlled breath. “Why?”

Zhanying didn’t answer, keeping his head pressed to the ground. Jingyan wasn’t stupid—the prince didn’t need Zhanying to affirm anything of his extraordinarily close relationship with Lin Shu.

The name was enough.

“Xiao Ying, answer me.”

Zhanying’s throat had closed off. He wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to.

Chapter Text

Zhanying wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He couldn’t feel his knees anymore. He was starting to go dizzy with his forehead pressed to the floor, and could barely register Lin Shu trying to get his attention until someone physically hauled him by the back of his collar to face up. It was Qi Meng—Zhanying struggled, but the other was gripping his clothes so tight that he nearly choked himself. Lin Shu had knelt before him to keep them on eye level, looking equal parts irritated and worried.

“It’s enough. Get up.”

“No,” Zhanying said, and it took effort to squeeze the word out.

“Get up,” Lin Shu repeated, clipped. “Jingyan isn’t in the mood to listen to me today. There’s no point kneeling here. Let’s go.”

“No,” Zhanying said again, shaking his head. “You go back.”

“And you plan to kneel here until he listens?” Lin Shu scoffed. “You know how stubborn he is. Get up. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“It’s…I have to,” Zhanying whispered. “I…deserve this, I…—”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on now?” Qi Meng abruptly burst out, inadvertently shaking Zhanying like a sack of potatoes. “Zhanying, why are you kneeling? His Highness isn’t even here. He stormed towards the inner palace like two hours ago and hasn’t returned.”

Lin Shu sent the other a sharp impatient look. “Get him up,” Lin Shu decided finally. “Drag him if you need to. We’re done here.”

Qi Meng still looked confused, but he obeyed the request. Zhanying struggled again, this time lashing out at the other with force to let him go. Qi Meng caught his blow with a wince, and then yelped when Zhanying pressed his hidden dagger against his own throat.

“Zhanying—!”

“Let. Go,” Zhanying gritted out.

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu just sounded tired. “This is no time to be dramatic—” he started, but Zhanying pressed the blade deeper until a line of blood leaked. “Xiao Ying!”

Zhanying just tensed. “Leave.”

“…Hey, Zhanying—"

“L-leave,” he repeated, voice trembling. “I need to do this. I need to.”

Lin Shu bitten lip was almost drawing blood too. With a wordless nod, Qi Meng carefully let go, raising his hands in surrender. Zhanying kept the blade, sullen, and returned to put his forehead on the ground.

“So will someone tell me what’s going on now?” he heard Qi Meng exclaim above him. “What’s up with Zhanying? Why did you call him…Xiao Ying? Are you—did you…—I don’t even know what to ask!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Lin Shu just said in reply, voice deceptively calm. “Make sure he drinks, at the very least.”

“Oi—Mr Su…—OI!” Qi Meng yelled after Lin Shu’s retreating footsteps. “What the fuck?” he said out loud to himself, and gave Zhanying’s prostrating body a nudge with his foot. “Seriously, what the fuck is going on? Zhanying!?”

Zhanying did not answer. It was difficult to think.

Suffocating.

He still wasn’t sure what to say when—if—Jingyan returned. There…there was no way around it. He’d lied for years to Jingyan’s face, despite knowing that Jingyan hated lies. It wasn’t just about Lin Shu’s identity, or his, when he’d first lied his way into Jingyan’s army. He’d stolen when Jingyan said never to do it again. He’d sneaked into the enemy territory time and time again when Jingyan said never to do it again. Even though he’d tried to reason that it was for a good cause, there were countless things that he knew Jingyan would hate to know of what he did behind the other’s back.

Suddenly his transgressions just seemed too obvious.

Qi Meng sat down behind him, legs pulled into a cross. “…Were you the one who made his Highness angry?” he asked finally, to the thin air. “You shouldn’t take it too much to heart, you know. It’s not like he can do much to you,” he continued casually. “We’ll fall apart without you.”

“…He’ll never forgive me,” Zhanying murmured.

“Like I’ve been asking,” Qi Meng sounded put out. “Forgive you for what?”

For a long while Zhanying just heard his own labored breathing. “…I’m Chiyan,” he said finally. “I joined the Jing army to protect his Highness, under Mr Su—Marshal Lin’s orders. I…I’m a thief, a spy, a liar; I betrayed his Highness for over a decade and I…I…” he trailed off, breathing going faint. “…I don’t know how to say I’m sorry.”

“…What?” was Qi Meng eloquent reply before a long tense silence settled. “That’s what you were doing,” he said suddenly. “Whenever you were missing from your bed. Doing—things? For Mr Su?”

“Yes.”

“But,” Qi Meng sounded like he was struggling to comprehend. “You. You—…his Highness is all you ever think about. Is—was that a lie?”

“No.”

Qi Meng didn’t ask more.

Jingyan didn’t come back into the study.

Zhanying knelt until he almost passed out from the blood rush to his head, but he kept himself steady because he was afraid Qi Meng would physically carry him off if he showed any sign of slipping. The other had left for a while and then returned with a tray of food and a pillow, and then slept right there beside him on the ground throughout the night. Zhanying had been comforted—because Qi Meng didn’t need to do that, but he was also aware that he’d potentially made a crack in their friendship, driven by the admission that he’d joined the Jing army with a hidden agenda.

He would ask Qi Meng for forgiveness eventually, but at the moment he was preoccupied with groveling until Jingyan would—would—…he didn’t know what.

Qi Meng woke, ate, tried to feed him and got rebuffed, then talked to the empty room until the door creaked open. Zhanying stilled, in both fear and trepidation—he kind of felt like throwing up, but that could also be because he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the day before.

“Your Highness,” Qi Meng scrambled up to greet, wincing at the mess he’d made on the ground. “I—uh…—”

“Leave us,” Jingyan’s flat voice replied.

“Right,” Qi Meng nodded. “Your Highness, I know you’re angry, but Zhanying always had your—"

“Leave,” Jingyan repeated darkly, broking no argument.

Qi Meng scrambled for his things and left quickly. There were two other clicks of footsteps behind Jingyan before the door closed.

“Really?” One voice sounded thoroughly unimpressed. “You threatened to kill yourself, and you’re still groveling like a bitch? Brat, it’s really not that dire.”

“Lin Chen,” Lin Shu snapped. “Get him up,” and then after a pause. “Please. I’m not strong enough to fight him, you know it.”

There was a loud annoyed sigh before Zhanying was yanked up again—this time, the movement had been so sharp that Zhanying could not struggle against it even if he wanted to. He flinched when a paper fan smacked his forehead, right where he’d been putting his weight all night.

“That really hurt,” he muttered.

“Good,” Lin Chen said with narrowed eyes and wrenched his chin aside to peek at his neck. “Shallow cut. You do that again, I’ll feed you poison.”

“You can smack him later, I don’t care,” Lin Shu interrupted with crossed arms. “Can we begin?”

Zhanying wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but it looked like Jingyan had been cajoled into a meeting. The prince didn’t once look over at him, instead focused his silent glare mostly on Lin Shu, who met the expression with an equally stony demeanor. Lin Chen shot Zhanying a look in warning to stay still before he flicked his fan open and gave himself a few cool breezes.

“The most pressing issue we have now is a commander to lead the battle against Da Yu, am I right?” Lin Chen started. “Prince Jing cannot do it for obvious as fuck reasons—” he pressed on before Jingyan could protest. “—and Changsu cannot do it for equally as obvious as fuck reasons—” he snapped his fan close when Lin Shu made to open his mouth. “So. I will go.”

It only took a second before Lin Shu’s face cringed in incredulity. “What? You can’t! You’re not qualified!”

“Excuse you,” Lin Chen retorted, highly offended. “Who was the one who just said ‘I’m not strong enough’?” he imitated Lin Shu, putting no effort into it.

“I said ‘qualified’,” Lin Shu snapped, rolling his eyes. “You have zero experience on the battlefield, you have no idea what it means to lead an army, you’ve never even been in an army—even Xiao Ying is more qualified than you!”

“I have read ‘The Art of War’, you know,” Lin Chen said in reply, grinning at Lin Shu’s twisted composure. “I am also smarter than you. Military strategy, tactics, all of it—you dare say I won’t win this fucking shit battle?”

“I’m saying you could probably do it in theory, but in practice—”

“Uh yeah, who’s the one who can actually physically fight?”

Lin Shu glowered. “If you just give me the Bingxu pill, I’ll pummel shit out of—”

“Enough!” Jingyan snapped. He pursed his lips in thought. “You—you’re a physician,” he addressed Lin Chen. “Yet you want to lead an army?”

“I don’t want to,” Lin Chen corrected. “But with you and Changsu out of the question, have you got anyone left?”

Jingyan fell silent, and Zhanying clenched his fists. “I…—” he tried to start in barely a whisper, but Lin Shu shot him a look.

“Shut up, Xiao Ying.”

“But I—”

“You are not in this conversation,” Lin Shu bit out harshly, obviously still upset.

“But I can—”

“The answer’s no, brat,” Lin Chen inserted, hitting him with his fan. “Shut up. Look,” he continued, prevent Zhanying from interrupting again. “Your last hope is me, Prince Jing,” he flourished to Jingyan. “Like it or not. I will not let Changsu go. You should be grateful. Langya never interferes with political affairs.”

Jingyan’s frown did not ease. “…And you’re capable?”

“Changsu,” Lin Chen nudged the other. “Changsu.”

Lin Shu sighed terribly loud. “Theoretically,” he began. “Lin Chen can do it. If we prepare beforehand, countering Da Yu’s tactics will be easy, and he can handle any surprises. It’s just leading an army isn’t just about the strategy, it’s also about keeping morale amongst the men, igniting loyalty; with a small army, that alone is enough to—”

“Blah blah blah,” Lin Chen said over him. “Yes, I’m not dumb. It’s true that the men do not know me. That’s why commander Meng will come with me.”

“Commander Meng?” Jingyan blinked.

“Is that a problem?” Lin Chen raised an eyebrow. “You have the brat taking care of things in the capital,” he cocked his head towards Zhanying. “What do you need the bearded commander for?”

“…I don’t like this plan,” Lin Shu said eventually.

“Because it doesn’t involve you?” Lin Chen snorted. “You know it’s our best bet. For everyone.”

“What am I going to do without my physician?” Lin Shu soured. “What if I get an episode?”

“You’re really not selling your case about being the one to go,” Lin Chen smirked in amusement. “Also, don’t worry, my dad’s coming.”

“—Wait, what?”

“So how about it, Prince Jing?” Lin Chen flicked his fan. “Name me as your commander?”

Jingyan got up, paced for a while, until he visibly let out a breath. “…Fine. Tell me what you need in preparation.”

“I need a promise,” Lin Chen replied easily, grin stretching on his lips. “I’ll save Da Liang on one condition.”

“What condition?” Lin Shu frowned.

“I almost feel guilty that you thought I was that self-sacrificing and generous,” Lin Chen put a hand on his chest, sighing.

Jingyan just looked offended. “Speak.”

Zhanying blinked when Lin Chen’s fan snapped towards his direction. “I want the brat.”

It was the first time since Jingyan last left him kneeling on the floor that the prince shifted his gaze toward him. Zhanying twisted his hands together, not daring to meet the gaze.

“Lin Chen,” Lin Shu started with a warning edge to his tone. “What are you playing at?”

“I want the brat,” Lin Chen repeated, staring at Jingyan directly. “When I come back, he will return to Langya with me and be my apprentice. You don’t want him anymore, do you, since he betrayed your trust? I have use for his skills—skills that you never appreciated.”

“Lin Chen.”

“It’s a no brainer, isn’t it? You give me the brat, you save Changsu’s life and your entire empire,” Lin Chen grinned.

“Lin Chen, you have no right to touch Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu seethed.

“What’s he going to do here in the palace anyway?” Lin Chen countered. “He’s not going to be happy here, not while his Highness holds a grudge,” he gave Jingyan a beatific smile. “The brat is mine when I return. Is that agreed?”

Zhanying didn’t think he could bear hearing Jingyan agreeing to give him away—even if it was to save Lin Shu’s life. Of course Jingyan would do it—like Lin Chen said, it was a no brainer. At this point, Zhanying didn’t rank anywhere on the list of people Jingyan would be concerned with. That was why he spoke up before Jingyan did.

“I will do it,” he said.

“It’s not really your choice but his,” Lin Chen replied, eyes glinting. “Prince Jing?”

“I’ll go back to Langya with you. So please…” he lowered his head, and Lin Chen tutted, snapping his fan shut.

“Fine,” Lin Chen stated. “Changsu. Bring the brat out. There are things relating to the battle that I need to discuss with Prince Jing.”

Lin Shu looked like he wanted to argue, but there was a quiet look between them before Lin Shu grasped Zhanying’s arm and pulled him out of the study. There were a couple of men and Qi Meng who were curiously hovering right outside, and they shuffled around nervously when Lin Shu gave them all a warning glance to stay away. His hold on Zhanying did not release all the way of their journey towards the Su manor, even when Lin Shu brought him to his room and sat him down on the futon.

“I did not know Lin Chen was going to do that,” Lin Shu said to him after calling for a medicinal balm. “Look up.”

“I’m sorry,” Zhanying said because he didn’t know what else to say while Lin Shu dabbed some of the cream on his small wound.

Lin Shu scowled, but his eyes softened a bit. “Are you feeling better?”

“…No,” he replied honestly, looking down. “I-I…I don’t know what I should...”

“Do?” Lin Shu finished. “Drink. Eat. You will not starve yourself because of Jingyan, you hear me?”

“But I owe his Highness a—”

“No,” Lin Shu looked pinched. “I’ll deal with Jingyan. This is not your fault, except for the part where you ruined my great plan.”

“Your great plan to die?”

“You still have cheek to talk back to me,” Lin Shu snorted. “Xiao Ying,” he said quietly. “Do you know how long I have left?” When Zhanying didn’t answer, Lin Shu continued. “When it was all over, I thought I wouldn’t last one week past…” he looked up, suddenly looking so tired. “The poison inside me…sometimes I can feel it eating me, and nowadays…I don’t know if there’s anything left that I can hold on to anymore.”

Zhanying swallowed tightly. “Then, all the more, you can’t—”

“You are right that Bingxu grass does not cure for my illness,” Lin Shu said over him. “But in a pill, it can grant me my normal strength for three months. I would be well enough to go. Strong enough to wield a sword again. To battle Da Yu again.”

“And after?”

Lin Shu silence to reply that question was all Zhanying needed. “I could be Lin Shu again,” he said instead, gripping Zhanying’s hands tightly. “Do you understand? I could be—…Lin Shu. For one more time.”

“You are Lin Shu.”

“Like this?” Lin Shu gestured to himself, smile humorless.

“Yes,” Zhanying said with no hesitation. “You are, to me, Marshal Lin—then, now—you…—you are not different from before the fire.”

Lin Shu’s eyes were damp, but no tears rolled. “T-then why did it take Jingyan two years to find out it was me?”

“No one else calls me ‘Xiao Ying’,” Zhanying said finally, and neither of them said anything more.

Within a couple of weeks of preparation, the armies left to their respective destinations for war. Wei Zheng came back to the capital when he was summoned to assemble, but Zhanying did not mention anything of his ongoing turmoil, because he didn’t want to unload an unnecessary issue onto the other. Zhen Ping went along with him, Li Gang was instructed to follow the troop that Xiao Jingrui had been assigned in, while Gong Yu was sent to a Jiangzuo Alliance outpost to facilitate better communication lines. Before they all left, Lin Chen had tried to bribe Fei Liu into accompanying him for the “trip” which ended up in a massive failure. Lin Shu worked himself late into the night until they set off, and then promptly slept for two days because Lin Chen had slipped him a sleeping pill in his tea in that morning.

Zhanying was never called to the Eastern palace again.

He’d gone a couple of times, knocked on the door, but Jingyan never called him in. The guards still let him in through the gate though, and it became extremely apparent that Jingyan was just ignoring his presence yet did not give any order to prevent him from entering or to change his status. It was puzzling because Jingyan was obviously still angry and unwilling to hear his apology—but he wasn’t angry enough to punish him…though the lack of acknowledgement was a pretty harsh punishment on Zhanying’s emotions.

Some of the Jing men who had remained in the capital tried to prod the prince into addressing the white elephant, but no one had any success. Jingyan never gave Zhanying direct orders again, instead, all the tasks that he usually delegated him to do were randomly given to whichever guard was on duty that day. What that meant was that they then found Zhanying to help them. Either no one else knew how to do these things, they didn’t have the appropriate rank, or that they were supremely scared of messing up and having Jingyan scold them while in an already bad mood.

Zhanying also realized that they were really fucked if he left for Langya—and immediately started compiling a list of instructions on how to handle certain tasks to give to the Jing men when they returned.

The days passed quickly, even though the capital was unsettlingly quiet given that most had gone off for war. Zhanying handled the basic manor affairs, the occasional communications coming from the battlefield, brought Tingsheng to the Su manor to play with Fei Liu or to have lessons with Lin Shu, and chauffeured Lin Shu to the palace when the other decided that he needed to talk to Jingyan about something. Some days, Lin Shu and Jingyan spent hours quietly deliberating over news coming in from the borders. Other days Zhanying could hear them arguing even though he stood outside and one of them would leave eventually in an irritated huff.

Zhanying always looked to the ground when Jingyan strode past him like he wasn’t there.

And then, old master Lin came to visit.

Zhanying had not been prepared. He’d totally forgotten the throw away line Lin Chen had mentioned in the meeting in which he bargained for Zhanying—or maybe, he just didn’t think it would be a truth. Old master Lin—also known as Lin Chen’s father—was elusive; Lin Chen often said that he had no idea where the other was if he wasn’t in Langya. The older man was old by now—white hair, stooped posture, but he still held the same intensity in his gaze when he looked up at Zhanying.

“…The Chiyan child,” the other murmured, a smile coming to his lips. “Pretty handwriting.”

“Yes, his name is Zhanying,” Lin Shu helpfully supplied. “Who will be taking your bags. If you have them.”

Old master Lin merely shrugged, hefting just one physician bag over his shoulder.

“Really. That’s all you have?”

“I travel a lot, Xiao Shu,” the other said. “Come on. I want to take your pulse.”

Lin Shu was led into his own manor by an old man half his height who’d never been in the manor, which Zhanying thought was funny. When Zhanying left, Physician Yan and old master Lin were in deep discussion over Lin Shu’s health. He wasn’t sure why old master Lin came, but he felt more assured having the other around. Ever since Lin Shu divulged that he thought his end was near, Zhanying had been afraid—but the other hadn’t had an episode yet, which made Zhanying have hope that it was going to be alright.

Of course, Zhanying spoke too soon.

Barely three days since old master Lin came, Lin Shu was bedridden. A fever had spiked during the night, and did not go away even after three rounds of bitter medicine. Zhanying stayed by Lin Shu’s side in increasing worry as the hours passed and the two physicians were boiling mixture after mixture. Eventually Zhanying got put in charge of making simple hydrating tonics while the other two grounded something that smelled very grassy.

“…Is that Bingxu?” he asked, when it came to him.

“Hm,” Old master Lin nodded, concentrated on decanting something.

“But…Marshal Lin won’t take the cure—"

“Of course we’re not doing that,” Physician Yan looked at him like he was an idiot. “Nor the pill.”

“Something…a little different…” Old master Lin agreed.

“Oh,” Zhanying said, even though it didn’t really explain anything. “Will it help?”

“That’s the idea,” Old master Lin nodded. “Take his pulse and tell me if he’s better now. Perhaps…we can try it if he’s stable.”

Zhanying paused. “I. I—I um. I don’t know how.”

“You don’t?” the other looked confused, like he was honestly shocked.

“I mean, I know where to feel it,” Zhanying explained. “But I don’t know how to tell if someone’s better.”

Old master Lin set down the glass bottle he’d been holding. “Take his pulse,” he gestured over Lin Shu’s sleeping body. “Generally, in an adult, a normal pulse is between sixty to ninety beats per minute. As for Xiao Shu, because of his illness, his pulse is higher than normal. With a fever, it’s even faster.”

As the other elaborated, Zhanying could feel the weak beat thumping under his fingertips.

“Hm,” the older man hummed, holding Lin Shu’s other wrist. “Still not too good.”

Zhanying took Lin Shu’s pulse over the course of the day, once every hour, until they deemed that they could introduce a new medicine into Lin Shu’s body.

“Is it risky?” he ventured to ask, when they hovered a small pipette of black fluid over Lin Shu’s mouth.

Fei Liu, who was leaning onto Zhanying’s back in tiredness having been sullen and quiet for the same number of hours that they’d been brewing, shuffled up to peer at it. Suddenly, Zhanying felt that he should’ve sent word to Jingyan about Lin Shu’s condition. If Lin Shu deteriorated again…

“There is no gain without risk,” Physician Yan replied tersely, though his voice betrayed his nervousness.

They watched the black liquid colour Lin Shu’s tongue, and then they waited.

Nothing changed for half an hour.

And then, Lin Shu’s fever broke.

“Urghhh….what’s in my…mouth…” Lin Shu slurred, eyes barely open. “It’s disgusting. Water. Please.”

Fei Liu was beside him in an instant, bowl of water in his hands. “Su ge-ge!”

Zhanying helped him up long enough for Lin Shu to sip at it, and then lowered him back down again.

“No, no—let me sit up,” Lin Shu groused, weakly turning in Zhanying’s hold. “My back aches like fuck.”

“Language,” Physician Yan scolded in a huff, even though he was grinning. “Lie down. You’re not to move yet.”

“But I’m in pain,” Lin Shu complained.

Zhanying’s posture relaxed—if Lin Shu could make noise, he was certainly much better. He turned to old master Lin, who was critically examining the small bottle containing the rest of the black fluid they’d given Lin Shu.

“Is it a cure?”

“No,” old master Lin replied, corking it carefully. “It won’t give him his strength back like the pill, but it will give him a bit of time, whenever he needs it. It is not a cure, Zhanying,” he emphasized, looking at him keenly. “It will not help forever.”

“…I understand.”

Chapter Text

Old master Lin left the capital for god knows where once Lin Shu fully recovered. Everything was back to normal in a matter of days. Physician Yan had to hassle Lin Shu everyday to drink his medicine, Fei Liu hopped over to the Jing manor as and when he liked, and no one told Jingyan about the Lin Shu’s sudden incident of grave illness. It’d only worry the prince about something that had passed, and it would cause more arguments between the two. Zhanying knew one thing they were fighting about was having Lin Shu take up a residence in the palace to have royal physicians look after him twenty-four seven, and Zhanying didn’t need to be there to know how Lin Shu reacted to that.

Before they knew it, Lin Chen sent a letter informing that the worst of the battle was over—and it was highly likely that Da Yu was retreating for good. Perhaps in a month, he would be back.

Two over months had flown by since the other had left—and in that time, Zhanying had not spoken to Jingyan once. Somehow, Zhanying wasn’t sure how he’d survived it, but he was barely pushing on. He did his duties diligently in the background, since Jingyan never asked for him. He stood out of the way whenever Lin Shu went to see Jingyan. He half-listened when Lin Shu complained over and over again how stubborn and stupid and blind Jingyan was, he’d get through to him very soon, Xiao Ying, believe me—

The thing was, maybe…

It was alright like this.

Jingyan was—safe. Alive. Healthy. Arguably doing alright. Lin Shu was alive. Relatively healthy, compared to before, thanks to the new medicine old master Lin had concocted that gave him a chance. Arguably doing alright, except for complaining how bored he was all time.

Maybe Zhanying couldn’t ask for more. Shouldn’t. He would be heading off to Langya anyway. He’d done his part to do everything he could for the two people he loved most in the world.

If they didn’t require him anymore, then…

Then it was alright.

“…—Xiao Ying?” Lin Shu tugged his sleeve, and he flinched, stepping back. “What’s wrong?”

Zhanying blinked, abruptly remembering where he was. He’d brought Tingsheng over to the Su manor for his lesson. He shifted his gaze towards Tingsheng who was sitting still by a low table, hand poised in his calligraphy, but staring straight at him curiously. He swallowed, ignoring the tightness in his chest, and backed away.

“I—I’m, I-I just need to—” he muttered hastily, turning away before he couldn’t say anymore.

He walked blindly towards the first turn of the corridor, away from any noise, finding himself at the back of a storeroom where Lin Shu kept crates of books. He stood still for a moment, clenching his fists tightly.

It was so hard to breathe.

The thing was…

It wasn’t alright.

It hurt. His heart hurt whenever he thought of the fact that Jingyan didn’t want him anymore. He didn’t know what he could do to make it stop. The Chiyan case was over, the war was going to be over, and Zhanying had no place by Jingyan’s side. He didn’t want to go to Langya. He didn’t want Jingyan to hand him off like it didn’t matter—selfishly, maybe he wanted Jingyan to disagree, to keep him, even if it was a matter of Lin Shu’s life.

He felt horrible whenever those thoughts whispered in his brain.

He pressed his hands to his eyes and struggled to hold the tears threatening to spill out, trembling hard. He sniffed, just wishing that it’d all stop. That he was a better person and that Jingyan would want to keep him. That he would just stop feeling like he was breaking apart, because he couldn’t find anything to hold onto anymore.

Tears leaked through his fingers. He tried to cry as quietly as possible, but he was gasping little heaves as his body shook. He shuddered when he felt a gentle touch curve behind his below.

“Oh Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu whispered.

Zhanying shook his head, sniffing as hard as he could to keep composure. “I’m, I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

Lin Shu sighed audibly and came close to pull him into a hug, tilting Zhanying’s face onto his shoulder. “…Xiao Ying, it’s going to be alright,” he murmured, softly stroking the back of Zhanying’s nape. “I swear, it’s going to be alright…”

Zhanying felt his eyes bleed out water all over again, and clutched Lin Shu’s robes tightly. “H-hurts,” he blubbered. “Really h-...hurts.”

“I know,” Lin Shu squeezed him tightly. “Oh fuck, I know. I swear it’s going to be alright.”

Zhanying just shook his head, unable to say more as he choked. Lin Shu rubbed his back in soothing circles until his frame stopped shaking.

“I really am trying to get Jingyan to listen,” Lin Shu murmured tightly. “I just—he’s just—…he’s coming around. Give me a little bit more time. It’ll be alright,” he swallowed. “…I’m so sorry, Xiao Ying,” he whispered against Zhanying’s ear. “I should’ve pulled you out when you went in too deep. I only thought of Jingyan. And myself. I’m so sorry.”

Zhanying hiccuped, and the tears started leaking again. Lin Shu held him quietly, occasionally murmuring comforting words, until Tingsheng poked his head into the room looking cautious.

“Mr Su? What’s wrong with General Lie?”

Zhanying tensed, but Lin Shu just gripped him firmly.

“He’s not feeling well at the moment,” Lin Shu answered.

“Oh,” the younger replied, and then came to hug Zhanying at the waist. “…Can I help?”

Zhanying sniffed a little, cheered by the innocent offer, but Lin Shu was quiet for a stretch.

“Actually…”

When Lin Chen came back to the capital, he ignored protocol and sat himself in the Su manor for three days before finally going to the palace to give his official report. He’d made sure to enjoy proper food, nagged at Lin Shu’s health, chased Fei Liu around and inspected the Bingxu mixture before deciding to grace the crown prince with his presence. Zhanying was immediately busy with military inventory since the army had come back—and there would be more from the other borders filling in soon.

Lin Chen found him while he was noting down the supplies they needed to repair, looking both amused and annoyed. There was a harder line in Lin Chen’s posture since the other came back, the skin around his fingers more calloused, but still the same.

“If they can’t do this simple shit without you, they deserve to be fucked over,” he said, flicking his fan.

“Have you reported to his Highness?”

“Yes, yes and yes,” Lin Chen rolled his eyes. “No ‘I’m happy to see that you’re alive?’? Not even after three hard months at war?”

“You were extremely confident you were going to win,” Zhanying pointed out. “I saw no reason to doubt you.”

Lin Chen sniffed. “You don’t have to be petty with me just because your prince chose to give you to me.” When Zhanying stiffened and turned back to his inventory sheet, Lin Chen sighed. “Anyway, I came here to inform you that since I held up my end of the deal, it’s time to collect on what I was promised. We’ll be leaving for Langya in a week. Make your preparations.”

“Just a week?” Zhanying looked up.

“A week,” Lin Chen nodded. “Technically I gave you more than three months, but you two did absolutely nothing, so, any more than a week won’t make a difference,” he stated. “It’s time to pack up, brat. And move on.”

Honor bound.

Zhanying could be difficult and refuse Lin Chen, but he wasn’t that sort of person. Even if Lin Chen absolutely took advantage knowing that he’d agree to it (even if Jingyan didn’t) because it would save Lin Shu’s life, because it would help Jingyan’s empire, a promise was a promise. He didn’t have much personal belongings—just clothes, amour, his sword given by Jingyan and the dagger given by Lin Shu—so it was easy to pack. There was also a book in his trunk, the story book Jingyan had lent him all those years ago, which he never returned to Jingyan’s bookshelf. He clutched at it for ages before selfishly deciding to bring it along.

He wrote a letter for Qi Meng and for Wei Zheng, because they would not be back from their excursions before he left. He wrote a letter for Jingyan too, but he burned that one because…he didn’t think Jingyan would read it. Or that he should even presume to give it Jingyan.

On the day before he was to leave, he went over to the Su manor with a bag of expensive mandarins, the ones he knew Lin Shu loved to eat.

“It’s not even my birthday,” Lin Shu said when he gave them over in a formal bow.

“I owe what I have to you, Marshal Lin,” he said. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You really do have a flair for the dramatic—I thought it was just Lin Chen,” Lin Shu quipped, sounding suspiciously casual. “You don’t have to act as though it’s the last time we’ll see each other.”

“But isn’t it?” Zhanying frowned.

“Langya’s not that far,” Lin Shu said. “I’ll visit.”

“…I don’t think you should.”

Lin Shu blinked. “That’s just cruel—”

“Your health,” Zhanying stated flatly. “Old master Lin specifically advised that you should stay put and recover. No jarring events.”

Lin Shu looked scandalized. “It’s just travelling!” he retorted. “I’m not going to keel over and die just because my carriage runs over a rock.”

“Or would you?” Lin Chen popped his head in, grinning. “Hey, have either of you seen Fei Liu?”

“Avoiding you,” both of them replied at the same time.

Lin Chen scoffed. “Unhelpful,” he muttered before he disappeared.

“Is he trying to get Fei Liu to come to Langya?” Zhanying asked, eyeing the figure searching the gardens outside.

“Keyword: trying.”

“But I mean…” Zhanying paused. “Who’s going to take care of Fei Liu when we leave?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll be a couple of weeks before Zheng Ping or Li Gang or Miss Gong comes back. Who’s going to look after Fei Liu then?”

Lin Shu looked confused by the question. “Me.”

“You—you don’t…” Zhanying blinked, mentally noting in his head to ask a Jing personnel to drop by in his absence until the rest of the Jiangzuo members came back. “Nevermind. In any case,” he said firmly. “I wish you the best of health. And…” he swallowed. “Please…take care of his Highness.”

“Speaking of Jingyan,” Lin Shu said chirpily, as though he’d been waiting for this moment. “He wants to speak with you tonight.” When Zhanying did not answer, Lin Shu’s smile dropped. “Xiao Ying? I thought—I thought you’d want to.”

“I,” Zhanying swallowed. “I…I don’t know. Is he angry? I…”

“You can yell at him if he is—there’s nothing he can do to you now, anyway,” Lin Shu smirked slightly. “Just…” he softened. “I think you should speak with him before you leave. There are things you’d like to say to him, aren’t there? It’ll be alright, Xiao Ying,” he said. “I swear.”

It’d been too long since he lingered in the Eastern palace. There were barely any guards in sight, but that could be because Jingyan had requested them to stay away. Zhanying climbed the steps to reach the study room—the same place Jingyan had found out about his betrayal. He was nervous, almost frightened at the prospect of seeing the prince, even though he wished for it every single night.

He didn’t knock on the door when he reached. Instead, he paced for a good minute while his nerves wrecked havoc, and eventually Jingyan came to open the door and caught him in mid-step.

“I could see your shadow,” Jingyan explained while Zhanying’s ears burned in foolishness.

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” was the first words out of his mouth, and his gaze automatically shot to the ground.

“Come in.”

Jingyan gestured him to take a seat perpendicular to the low table, where a pot of hot water and two cups lay. Zhanying kept his eyes down, shuffled to the seat and awkwardly tried not to feel so—so—….much. He slowly eyed the comfortable sleeping robe that Jingyan wore, and then at the cup that Jingyan filled and pushed in his direction.

“Drink.”

Zhanying feebly put it to his lips. If it was tea, he couldn’t taste it anyway. For several moments, Jingyan said nothing. Eventually Zhanying dared to look up and saw that Jingyan was watching him intently. There was no frown on the prince’s face—just…curiosity.

“Xiao Shu told me of how you came to him,” Jingyan started eventually. “And how you came to me. And how you stole from every single enemy we fought over the years, right under my nose.”

Zhanying swallowed tightly.

“Do you still steal?”

“No,” Zhanying answered. “I’ve never stolen anything from you, or from the manor, or the palace.”

Jingyan considered his response slowly. “…Do you regret it?” he asked. “Given the choice, would you do it again?”

It was a difficult question, and yet the answer was easy. “…I would do it again,” Zhanying admitted honestly. “For Marshal Lin…for Chiyan…I could do something…instead of running away.”

Jingyan’s expression did not waver. “And would you have told me?”

“…No,” Zhanying whispered. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’m really—really—” he sucked in a breath. There was no space for him to prostrate, so he placed his fingertips on the table and bowed. “—I deserve nothing from you. Yet you have always been kind to me. If, if it would appease you, my life is yours to do what you will.”

“But it isn’t,” Jingyan said, above him. “You’re a Langya apprentice now. Not mine.” Zhanying tensed warily when Jingyan gently pushed his head up. “I think…that’s what bothered me the most,” the prince stated. “That you were never mine.”

Jingyan retracted his hand to pour himself another cup of water.

“On some level,” he began after drinking. “I understood why you did all those things. It was harder to believe that you did—and then I wondered, if I really knew you at all,” he looked at Zhanying intently. “Xiao Shu seems to know you very well.”

There was nothing Zhanying could say to that.

“There was something he said though, that I want you to tell me if it’s true,” Jingyan continued, idly tapping the edge of his empty cup. “He said that you’re in love with me.”

There was no hiding the dark flush that burned Zhanying’s ears as Jingyan waited for an answer. He pulled his fingers close to him, somehow hoping that if he held himself it would feel less like his stomach was going into freefall. But for all intents and purposes, his composure was stiff as he uttered the truth.

“…Yes.”

Jingyan exhaled softly. “Zhanying,” he said, and it was like a caress of the wind, even though all Zhanying wanted to do was cry. “For all of your life, Xiao Shu had decided where you should go, what you should do. I think this opportunity for you in Langya…is a good thing. Three years without Xiao Shu’s or my influence, and then you decide what you really want to do.”

Zhanying froze when Jingyan’s hand came to touch his cheek, voiceless at the soft stroke. Nothing could prepare him for how Jingyan’s fingers hooked behind his jaw gently, drawing him to lean close, to close the gap between their mouths.

He couldn’t think.

Jingyan’s lips were pressed soft against his for barely a second, and then it was gone.

“Of course,” Jingyan continued to say, “I do wish that you would come back to me. But you should find something that you love, and go after it.”

Zhanying raised his hand dumbly to touch his mouth, and unconsciously licked the part where it’d been kissed. Jingyan only kept a small smile, and guided Zhanying to stand.

“I won’t be able to see you off tomorrow,” Jingyan said. “Have a safe journey…and I wish you all the best.”

It took a while before Zhanying realized he was standing still alone outside the closed doors of the study. It took longer to find his way home.

“Fei Liu, last chance to come with Lin Chen ge-ge,” Lin Chen wagged his finger, and the young teenage boy stuck out in tongue in retaliation.

Lin Shu stifled a laughter as he watched Lin Chen mock chase Fei Liu for the last time—in a while.

“So did you yell at Jingyan?” he asked, idly patting the horse that Zhanying had prepared for himself.

“No,” he said.

“Hm,” Lin Shu kept his serene smile, like he knew everything. Zhanying was pretty sure he didn’t. “Oh yeah, I have that sword for you in Langya. The one I made with your dagger. It’s probably in storage—I’m sure one of the guys in white will know. Also, it’s your duty to send forward all the mandarins from Southern Chu. Got it?”

Zhanying rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay.”

“You better reply my letters, you insufferable child,” Lin Shu said as he crossed his arms, like he was holding himself back.

“You’re the one who never replied me.”

Lin Chen appeared beside them, having apparently been done teasing Fei Liu. “Changsu, do you have enough heart protection pills?”

“Yes, god, you asked me this like five times yesterday!”

“Just checking,” Lin Chen said sourly. “You better don’t die while I’m away. I’ll bring you back to life to choke you to death again.”

“…All of you are terrible at saying goodbyes,” Lin Shu scoffed.

“You’re including yourself in that, right?” Lin Chen snorted. “Brat,” he nodded to Zhanying. “It’s time to go.”

Zhanying paused briefly at the stirrup of his horse, and then abruptly turned to Lin Shu. He heard Lin Shu yelp in surprise when he hugged the other tightly.

“Don’t die,” he murmured, and Lin Shu gasped in laughter.

“Those are the last two words you decided you had say to me?” Lin Shu chuckled. “You better come back before I do then.”

Lin Shu was still grinning when Zhanying mounted his horse, and the figure of Lin Shu and Fei Liu grew smaller and smaller into the distance as they stepped out onto the dirt road leading away from the capital. Zhanying’s eyebrows knitted together—there was something that bothered him a little, though he couldn’t really place his finger on it.

“Hey brat, why do you keep touching your mouth?”

Zhanying immediately shot his hand down, even though it was nowhere near his mouth. Lin Chen grinned like he’d gotten something juicy.

“You think you’ll still love him after three years?”

“Why three years, specifically?” Zhanying blinked.

Lin Chen looked at him like he was a dumb fool. “Three years as my apprentice. That’s the deal.”

Zhanying stopped his horse in the middle of the road. “Wait. What?”

“Oh, you thought it was forever?” Lin Chen drawled, as though it was incredulous that no one had told Zhanying otherwise—though, Zhanying very very vaguely remembered Jingyan saying something about ‘three years’, but he was a bit preoccupied then.

“I thought—I thought,” Zhanying stopped. “After three years, I don’t have to stay in Langya anymore?” he frowned. “Why do you want to train me then?”

“Hm, you’ll figure that out yourself,” Lin Chen replied, annoyingly evasive. “Race you to Langya.”

Before Zhanying could protest how ridiculous that statement was, because they were days away from Langya, Lin Chen had already urged his horse on, aiming for a full gallop down the dirt path. Zhanying sighed, and spurred his own to catch up.

Chapter Text

Xiao Ying,

It’s been two months and you haven’t sent me anything – just checking in to see if Lin Chen hasn’t poisoned you yet. Also: send those Southern Chu mandarins onward please.

Don’t ignore me, okay.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Nothing newsworthy has happened as of yet, which is why I haven’t written to you. Lin Chen only makes me copy texts or to stand under the waterfall when I ask what’s the point of copying all these texts. I’m not exactly sure what “training” he intends to impart; I believe he’s just making things up on the fly. The Langya staff did not know where you kept the black steel sword, but I found it in the storage vault behind the fake wall in the third library. I’ve spotted eleven fake walls so far - are all these a new addition in Langya? Lin Chen wouldn’t answer me when I asked.

Also: it’s not mandarin season yet.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Lin Chen’s just mad you found out about the hidden vaults before he could show them to you. As proof, I’ve attached his correspondence on the matter below:

When I showed him the entrance to the secret room underneath the warehouse, the damn brat had the cheek to say “oh it was meant to be hidden?” like it’s totally normal to have a secret door under five crates. I’m actually a little impressed. Just a little. God dammit. Make him tell you which ones he found and tell me so I don’t make the same mistake again.

By the way, your Chiyan bracelet is with me. I’ve sent it to the smith to get your name inscripted on it since we gave you a blank one then – will send it on when it’s done.  

Also: mandarin season is in two months!! I’m reminding you so you don’t forget.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I didn’t even bring up anything about you telling me about Lin Chen’s reaction to my secret vaults finds but I have the feeling he found out about it. He added sword training at dawn to our schedule and doubled the reading list I’m supposed to complete by this month…is he reading our letters?

Are you, Lin Chen?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Don’t be naive, of course he’s reading our messages. Well, mine at least. Part of the reason is because he’s nosy. The other part of the reason is that I’m not supposed to “influence” you.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Influence me to what?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Not actually sure if you’re being dumb on purpose. Didn’t Jingyan say something about this to you? FOR THE RECORD LIN CHEN I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT JINGYAN HAS BEEN THINKING ABOUT HIM WHILE HE’S GONE SO THIS IS ALLOWED.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

That was on purpose wasn’t it.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

What was on purpose?

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Mentioning that His Highness thinks about me.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Did Lin Chen make you stand under the waterfall for getting distracted about Jingyan?

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Come on, reply me. It was a joke. :’(

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Lin Chen, he needs to read this so just fucking give him this letter. This will be the one and only time that I will say this.

Xiao Ying, look. For what it’s worth I did not want you to go to Langya, because I still believe that you belong here with Jingyan. But Lin Chen is right that you need to decide whether it’s worth letting your feelings about Jingyan decide the kind of life you want to have when you think your feelings aren’t even worthy at all. I won’t lie and say that Jingyan and I haven’t been close since you left. How you interpret that is up to you. But it doesn’t mean that we don’t care about you too. I tease you about Jingyan because I want you to realise that it is okay to love him. But if having these feelings still hurts you, then I don’t want you to come back.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Happy new year. I will think about what you said.

I’ve sent along a crate of Southern Chu mandarins. Please don’t eat it all in one day and give some to Tingsheng too. Also, do wrap up. I heard that it’s snowing heavier in the capital recently.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Thanks for the mandarins. In the red packet with this letter I’ve enclosed your Chiyan bracelet. Also, you’re officially added to the Chiyan register as a general, so congratulations on the promotion! You’re not entitled to any pay though, since it’s a dead post. You are, however, entitled to compensation for the Meiling disaster and thirteen odd years of tragedy and trauma, except that it’s quite a lot of money and I didn’t want to send that via pigeon. Jingyan added it to your bank account instead.

Another thing: You’ve probably have heard this from Lin Chen with regards to the changes in Jiangzuo Alliance. I’m officially retiring as the leader and I’ve named Xiao Jingrui to take on the alias Mei Changsu. He’s headed out to visit some Jiangzuo holdings with Li Gang and will drop by Langya at some point.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Thank you for the bracelet. Are you sure that I should be conferred as a general? I don’t think I should be above rank from Lieutenant Wei and Li Gang and Zhen Ping and the others.

What are you doing to occupy your time then, if you’re not meddling? And who’s taking care of Fei Liu if Li Gang is leaving?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

As the default leader of Chiyan I made the executive decision that you were my general. Besides, the rest have said that they identify more with their current positions in Jiangzuo Alliance and you are not exactly part of the Alliance.

And I don’t meddle!!! I take down the anarchy!!

I’m the one taking care of Fei Liu, why does everyone keep asking me this?

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Young master Xiao – or Mei Changsu – sends his regards and three crates of mandarins from Southern Chu. Apparently they were royal gifts. One crate is for the Grand Princess, the other for Yan Yujin and the last crate is for his Highness. He specifically mentioned that you could have one mandarin if you so wish.

Just one.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

What did I ever do to Jingrui!!! :’(

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I recall a birthday party.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

I’m going to be a godfather! Liu Shan is pregnant! We just found out this morning, you should’ve seen the look on Jingyan’s face, like he couldn’t believe he put a baby in a woman. I couldn’t believe it either, he’s come so far from thinking about my dead self to having an actual relationship with his legal wife.

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Did I say something wrong?? Did I make you jealous? I made super sure to redact all the explicit details though. I had like, five drafts. Reply please.

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Reply me so I know Lin Chen didn’t bury you in the garden as fertilizer.

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Seriously, what’s wrong?

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I’m sorry I haven’t had time to write a letter. Lin Chen has gone missing the past month and I’ve been taking charge of Langya in his absence. It’s been very stressful because everyone keeps looking at me to make decisions or expect me to give a diagnosis to some illness I’ve never seen before. I haven’t even read half of the medical logs I was supposed to finish three weeks ago, how am I supposed to know how to treat anything?

Also, do send my congratulations to his Highness and Consort Liu. And…you too? I guess?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Oh yeah, Lin Chen is actually here in Jinling. Not entirely sure when he intends to leave though. He says not to forget your daily training in addition to the reading. He’ll come back with Fei Liu, I’m going to be so bored when they leave…

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I was skeptical that Fei Liu would want to leave with Lin Chen, but he does seem quite happy here, other than being annoyed at Lin Chen ninety percent of time. He’s also enjoying throwing me off the cliff every morning. He said to tell you that he misses you and Tingsheng.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Yeah well, staying in capital isn’t all that great for him. I would’ve came along but Physician Yan thinks I’ll keel over and die if I’m out of his sight for more than a day as though I’m the ancient one with the white hair. I haven’t even had an episode since the last time I was almost dying!

Also, Jingyan panics like a chicken with its head cut off whenever Liu Shan shows any sign of pregnancy discomfort. It’s the funniest shit ever, like I would miss this for the world.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I’m sure the royal physicians know how to take care of Consort Liu, but I’ve sent along some recipes of soothing tonics I found in the Langya library. They’re apparently very effective in helping with morning nausea and bloatedness.

Lieutenant Wei came to visit last week, he sends on his regards and mentioned that he might drop by Jinling to check up on you.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Wei Zheng came by and he told me some things you two talked about. You don’t have to worry that I’m living “alone” now that Fei Liu is in Langya. There’s the grumpy Yan. And like the dozen household staff. And now that Liu Shan is soon going into the third trimester Jingyan has been sneaking over almost every midnight to freak out, even though Meng da-ge tried so hard to bar him from leaving the palace. He has no empathy for a chronically sick patient who needs his sleep!

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

I’m sure you’ve heard the news. The Emperor has passed away and Jingyan will have his coronation after the funeral rites.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I’m sorry to hear that.

Is his Highness alright? (Am I allowed to ask this?)

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Are you really sorry? I’m not. He was a dick, and that’s mildly put. If Lin Chen doesn’t redact my answer I suppose it’s allowed. Jingyan is crying non-stop I assume. I haven’t been to the palace since the news broke and Jingyan has to be there for the rites.

I just wished he stayed as the uncle I grew up with, you know? Not as the man who murdered my family.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I can’t say that I know.

But I am also not really sorry.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Today was eventful as fuck. Jingyan was officially crowned as of this morning and the second it was announced Liu Shan went into labor. We have a baby boy! To be honest, I think all babies are ugly as hell but Jingyan’s baby has his big ass eyes so I guess that’s kind of cute.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Do send my congratulations to his Majesty and Empress Liu. I’ve enclosed more recipes that might help Empress Liu recover.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

I have news that you should congratulate me on: Jingyan made me a Royal Tutor!

Actually the previous Emperor made me swear that I wouldn’t meddle in Jingyan’s court, which is the reason why I declined a ministerial position. Jingyan found out about that last week and this was his counter move. He said that since Tingsheng is his adopted son, it’s inappropriate for anyone but the Royal Tutor to teach him, as though I haven’t been tutoring Tingsheng for these few years. I’ve got to hand it to the dumb buffalo, it’s a good one.

The Esteemed Royal Tutor Su Zhe

Marshal Lin,

Congratulations. But just because you’re not a court minister doesn’t mean that you don’t meddle. What about the Da Yu envoy incident, the reorganization of the military troops, the “purge” of Ye Qin, the ministerial money laundering scandal; do I need to go on?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

I see that someone has been doing his political homework. Proud of you.

The ESTEEMED Royal Tutor Su Zhe

Marshal Lin,

Happy new year. I heard that you fell sick briefly. Please take care.

I’ve sent two crates of mandarins along. Enjoy with restraint.

Zhanying

XIAO YING,

WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU ARE ON THE LANGYA BACHELOR LIST FOR THIS YEAR’S EDITION???

AND MEI CHANGSU AND XIAO JINGRUI ARE THE TOP TWO SPOTS? THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON!!! WHILE SU ZHE IS NINTH ON THE LIST?? IS THIS A JOKE??

P.S. Can you send another crate of mandarins? I don’t know what happened but the oranges sure didn’t last long while I was sick.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I asked Lin Chen the same thing. Not about your position, but about mine. He just laughed. And then he also laughed about you. Said you are chronically ill so that deducts points for ‘reproductive ability’? Whatever that means. You should just write to him directly.

P.S. No more mandarins. Fei Liu and I finished the rest that Jingrui gave to us. They were really good.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Fuck Lin Chen. I’ll have you know that my libido returned after that Bingxu dose.

P.S. Curse you and Fei Liu. Wait, I take the curse on Fei Liu back. It’s just a curse on you then.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I did not need to know that.

P.S. I guess there will be shortage of mandarins next year. I apologise in advance.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Juicy news! Nihuang is engaged!

I can’t believe she told Jingyan before she told me! If you were out of the loop regarding Nihuang’s love life, Nie Duo – who’s Nie Feng’s brother I hid in Ye Qin – came back to the capital after you left for Langya. They were being all giggly and flirty for like four whole months before I called them out on it and then they started dating. I’m their origin story, she should’ve told me first!!

P.S. I was joking and you know it :(

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Please send my congratulations to Princess Mu.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Is everything alright? Lin Chen said you were stressed lately.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

When did Lin Chen tell you that? He’s disappeared again. He’s the reason I’m stressed out. Is he in Jinling again?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Not that I know of.

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Lin Chen arrived just as I sent off the last letter. He told me that you tried picking up archery again because you wanted a break from getting beat up by Fei Liu but you couldn’t even shoot one arrow and then spent the afternoon moping in the kitchen. Were you thinking about Jingyan?

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Don’t believe everything that comes from Lin Chen’s mouth. I was in the kitchen that day because we got sent new herbs from Yaowang valley that might be a variety of Bingxu grass. I’m fine. I just miss his Highness, that’s all. I’m fine.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

You don’t have to hide anything from me.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I’ve been thinking about what you said to me last year. I tried to forget about his Highness but I can’t. I don’t think I ever will.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

That’s okay. You don’t have to. Lin Chen brought you to Langya so that you could figure it out. There is no right answer. Only the answer that’s for you.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

That sounds exactly like what Lin Chen says to visitors when he has no idea what to say to them. By the way, when is he coming back to Langya? Fei Liu won’t ever admit it, but I think he’s bored without Lin Chen around.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Lin Chen just left after giving Jingyan’s baby a look over. Surprisingly, he loves babies. No idea why. After accounting for the distractions he’ll meet along the way, I think he’ll be back in Langya over a month tops, maybe just before New Year’s. Jingyan’s little thing is starting to walk – well, stumble – now. It’s kind of funny watching ten eunuchs fall over themselves over the small bean with legs.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Jingrui stopped by. He had some urgent queries regarding Jiangzuo related things, which I’m sending on with this letter. When I asked why he doesn’t write to you directly, he just smiled and said to ask you about it. What did you do to him?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Remember there was a birthday party?

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Right.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

The Changlin army is official. I tried really hard not to laugh when Jingyan announced the name. Goodness can he be any less subtle…

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I hear a complaint, but I know that you’re smug about it. Congratulations.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Don’t be cheeky. Jingyan had the gall to ask if I wanted to be its commander, like he completely forgot that I’m a Royal Tutor now. Nie da-ge (the Feng one) is currently in charge, though we all know Xia Dong is really the one disseminating orders. Like, literally, because Nie da-ge can’t speak. Tingsheng’s a captain of a squad, Jingyan is so proud.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Happy new year. Mandarin delivery as usual.

Jingrui says you can have two from his crate this year. I think he’s starting to forgive you.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

:’)

Also, you beat me on the Langya List this year? I’m the last on the list?? WHAT THE FUCK LIN CHEN.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

The official explanation from Lin Chen is because of the medicinal skills I’ve gained over the past year, which ranks me more knowledgeable than you. The unofficial explanation is that, I quote: ‘yeah well, fuck you too’.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

I’ve enclosed a sachet of white powder that is definitely not poison. Please make sure that Lin Chen drinks it with his tea.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I tested the compound you sent and it’s just salt. I don’t think that’ll be effective in killing him.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

What are you talking about? I already said it’s definitely not poison. :)

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

There has been an alarming rise in a new illness recently. We’ve narrowed it down to a water transmission, I think many of the water sources have been contaminated by the heavy snowfall in the past week. Once Lin Chen and I have figured out the cure we will send on the recipe. Please make sure to boil all water, even if it’s for bathing, and to take care.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Thanks. Everyone in the palace is fine so far, but the medicinal hall in town is overrun. Jingyan’s trying everything he can to help but we really need a cure. We’re counting on you.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

The cure is enclosed. I’m going to sleep for two weeks now.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Thank you, you have no idea how many lives you’ve saved. I don’t care if it’s against the rules (LET HIM HAVE THIS LIN CHEN), but Jingyan wanted you to know that he really appreciated it.

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Nihuang is a married woman! She looked so beautiful in red, it was amazing. She’ll be returning to the South with Nie Duo soon and mentioned that she’ll stop by Langya.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Princess Mu told me about how you abolished the Xuanjing bureau and its properties for good. You’re ruthless.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

That’s such old news. No one can prove it was me, the order came from Jingyan’s mouth himself. Besides, Xia Dong agreed that the department is redundant.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I knew when it happened, but I didn’t know the details. Does this mean I’ll forever be the only one to have snuck into the bureau jail successfully?

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Yeah, yeah, keep bragging. Speaking of which, Lin Chen told me you’ve managed to scare him every morning for the past month. Good on you. Do it more.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

I plan to.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Is this new superstition about hazelnuts going around from you? Jingyan has been buying them by the crates, says it’s Heaven’s will. I’m literally crying. I’m going to die and it’s going to be your fault.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

It’s not my fault. Lin Chen thought it would be funny. By the way, I’ve sent on some premium hazelnuts I’ve sourced. I heard they’re the best for Feng Shui.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Fuck you too.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Did you piss off the Northern Yan envoy? I’ve been hearing some nasty rumors about you from the region. You don’t have to worry though; Jingrui’s taking care of it.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Well. I was justified. The envoy was a fucking dick. Is a fucking dick. He accused Jingyan’s court of being corrupt because it was founded by Mei Changsu. And then he accused me of being Mei Changsu. Where’s the goddamn proof?

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

You are Mei Changsu.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

Was. The current Mei Changsu is in Northern Yan. Can’t be in two places at once, can I?

Tell Jingrui I owe him one.

Lin Shu

Marshal Lin,

Jingrui says you owe him more than one.

Zhanying

Xiao Ying,

:(

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Three years is nearly up. Have you decided what you want to do after Lin Chen graduates you? He keeps warning me not to broach this topic but it’s inevitable that you have to start thinking about what’s next for you. (You know I’m fucking right, Lin Chen, let him read this.)

I was selfish when I said that you belong in Jinling with Jingyan. I wanted Jingyan to take care of you, just as I know you would take care of him. But I want you to consider that just because you love Jingyan doesn’t mean that you have to indebt your life in service to him. You can always come back for visits. I know that you do enjoy being in Langya and it’s perfectly fine if you want to stay on. Or you can join Wei Zheng in Yaowang valley, or Jingrui in the Jiangzuo Alliance. You’ve been apprenticed by Langya. The options for you are literally limitless. I promise we will be happy wherever you are happy.

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Did you receive my letter? Lin Chen, did you fucking keep it from him???

Lin Shu

Xiao Ying,

Where have you and Lin Chen gone?

Lin Shu

WILL SOMEONE IN LANGYA WHO READS THIS REPLY ME??

Lin Shu

Chapter Text

When the gates of the capital loomed into view, Zhanying glanced over at Lin Chen. They’d spent nearly two months on horseback doing a trip that consisted more of eating and sight-seeing than the “educational” lens of what Lin Chen first proposed. It was likely just a cover for a holiday, but Zhanying wasn’t complaining. To admit, it was nice, except for the parts where Lin Chen ditched him and Fei Liu to go to brothels. The teenager was sleeping on Zhanying’s back, cheek smushed between his shoulder blades but somehow managing to keep his balance on the horse without even grasping Zhanying’s waist.

It was…anticipation that bubbled in Zhanying’s gut as they neared with every step.

It was also trepidation.

“Are you disappointed?”

Lin Chen looked surprised at the sudden question. “In what?”

“Me,” Zhanying said simply, looking onward. “You spent three years teaching me, but I decided to go back to Jinling in the end.”

Lin Chen scoffed. “I always knew you would,” he shrugged. “I hoped, but I didn’t think you would choose anything else.”

Zhanying considered his words for a moment. “…Then what was the point of choosing me?”

Lin Chen only sent him an annoyed look. “How can you memorise the entire Confucius anthology but still be so dumb? Did I even teach you how to think beyond a common idiot?” When Zhanying kept silent, he sighed. “What’s the one rule of Langya?”

“That we will never meddle in political affairs,” Zhanying recited dutifully.

“And what did I do because of Changsu?”

“Meddled in political affairs.”

Lin Chen snorted. “Exactly. I don’t intend to do it again. Whatever happens from now on, you can deal with it.”

“…That’s really it?” Zhanying blinked, and then blinked again. “It’s just so that you don’t have to help his Majesty if Marshal Lin asks? But that whole premise depended on me returning back to the capital.”

“And where exactly are we now?” Lin Chen raised an eyebrow, smug.

Zhanying pursed his lips. “I could’ve chosen not to.”

“But you didn’t,” Lin Chen pointed out. “In any case, whatever choice you make, I’d still have a successor to Langya. Knowing you,” he grinned, “If for some inexplicable reason me and my old man aren’t able to carry on Langya, you’d come back, wouldn’t you? You’re responsible, unlike everyone else we know. It’s win-win situation.”

“…You think you know everything,” Zhanying muttered under his breath, but Lin Chen caught it anyway.

“I do know everything,” the other replied. “Have you prepared your speech?”

“Speech for?”

“His Majesty,” Lin Chen mimed a mocking bow. “There’s no need to freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Yeah well, you’re doing that thing with your thumb like what Changsu always does when he’s freaking out.”

Zhanying glanced to his hands on the reigns, and furrowed his eyebrows when he saw that Lin Chen was not just teasing him.

“...What if this is a mistake?” he mumbled eventually.

“Then Changsu will feed you until you’re old and fat, presuming he doesn’t die along the way,” Lin Chen answered. “Oh look, we have a royal welcome.”

Zhanying jerked his head up to see an imperial guard trotting towards them, meeting them just a few meters from the gate. He didn’t recognise the other, but the soldier bowed with his hands clasped together.

“General Lie, Master Lin from Langya,” the other greeted. “Royal Tutor Su has been expecting your arrival and wishes to see you. He’s in the inner palace with his Majesty. Follow me please.”

Zhanying frowned at Lin Chen. “…Did you tell Marshal Lin that I was coming?”

“Nope,” Lin Chen said. “You saw that I didn’t reply the last few letters he sent me, remember? He probably got suspicious. Whatever,” he shrugged. “I’m not going to the palace, I’m tired as fuck. Give me Fei Liu.”

“Master Lin,” the guard started nervously, “Royal Tutor Su specifically said that you—”

“—will be crashing his manor and having a week long’s sleep before I decide whether it’s worth it to enter the palace,” Lin Chen interrupted seamlessly.

Zhanying took pity on the soldier. “I’ll come with you. Master Lin is old, he needs his rest.”

“Fuck you, brat.”

Zhanying only hid his grin as he gently shook Fei Liu awake, enough for the teen to sleepily hop over to Lin Chen’s horse. Lin Chen trotted off first with no preamble, disappearing into the busy streets. Though familiar, the roads were different as the imperial guard led him in.

Jinling was…prosperous.

The capital always was, but there was a certain vibe to it. It was noisy, full of people, but it was also truly peaceful, unlike the subtle looming threat Zhanying constantly felt all those years ago. There were new buildings and new paths that lead to places Zhanying had never explored before. But when they came to the palace gates, nothing had changed. The white walls still sprawled high, with guards on rotation. Zhanying remembered waiting outside to fetch Jingyan over years and years and years.

He self-consciously touched his hair as they went deeper into the palace grounds. He hadn’t tied his hair up, given that he hadn’t done so over the past couple of years. It was normal in Jianghu, and he hadn’t expected to enter the palace on the very first day of his return. Though soft, Zhanying was aware that the passing staff in the palace were whispering about his presence. He noted a few shocked faces from those he vaguely recognised as familiar, but the guard was hurrying their way forward quickly like it was urgent. They went into the inner palace, and Zhanying became more and more nervous and the maids and eunuchs starting bowing lower and lower as they walked past.

Zhanying heard Jingyan’s deep and genuine laughter before he registered that it was truly Jingyan just a short distance in front of him.

In the private gardens, Jingyan was sitting in the stone pavilion, with mid-game chess set on the table. He wasn’t looking at the chess pieces, instead, watching a young toddler amble in circles with a tall teen mock chasing him around. The Empress was leaning on the railing overlooking the pond, smile fond with maids shielding her from the sunlight.  

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu said first, catching his attention.

The other’s smile was languid while seated across Jingyan, eyes crinkling in delight. Lin Shu did not get up, instead, his gaze shifted to Jingyan as though anticipating the other’s reaction. Jingyan had frozen still, expression twisting into something indescribable. Zhanying felt his heart jump into his mouth—though he’d waited three years to see Jingyan again, he hadn’t fully prepared himself for the moment.

Perhaps, he could never.

Jingyan was…—the years had been good to him. Still so handsome. The Emperor robe fitted him well. He looked like he’d been happy. Zhanying hid his swallow as Jingyan stood up slowly and made his way towards him.

Zhanying stumbled when he was knocked back into a tight embrace by the teen, blinking hard when he realised he’d been so distracted that he didn’t realise it was Tingsheng. The other had grown up well, almost the same height as he was now, but the inquisitive sparkle in the other’s eyes had stayed the same.

“General Lie, you came back,” Tingsheng mumbled, almost in awe. “When? Are you staying for good? Wait, where are you staying? You, you should stay with us, we kept a room for you ever since you—"

“Tingsheng,” Jingyan cut in, and Tingsheng visibly remembered where he was.

“Uh, sorry, I…” the other blinked, stepping back just as suddenly and clasping his hands into a formal greet before bending one knee. “General Lie, welcome back.”

“Tingsheng, you shouldn’t—” Zhanying hastily started and grasped the other’s shoulders before he fully knelt. “You, you don’t do that to me. I…haven’t been a general for a while now.”

Tingsheng just stared back. “Commander Meng has taken over your duties while you were away but the post is still—”

“Tingsheng,” Jingyan interrupted again, and the teen turned to look at him innocently, eyes wide and blinking.

A moment of understanding must have passed between them because Tingsheng dipped his head once more before standing. “General Lie, we will throw a party tonight in the manor in your honour,” he smiled excitedly. “I must go to handle it—see you later! Excuse me, Royal Father!”

The younger skipped off eagerly, earning an amused snort from Jingyan. “Am I invited to this party?”

Jingyan was clearly joking, but Zhanying’s face turned ashen when he felt the full force of his anxiety come back from Jingyan’s presence. He found it difficult to keep eye contact with the other—mostly, he nibbled his lips and nodded towards the floor.

“Liu Shan,” he heard Jingyan call, and the Empress came over with the toddler in her arms. Lin Shu was right—Jingyan’s son did have his eyes. “You know Liu Shan,” Jingyan was saying, as though they were just old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while. “This is my son.”

When it became clear that the Empress was moving to let Zhanying hold the child, Zhanying nearly had a heart attack.

“Your High—your Majesty, I—I…—” he tried to protest, but the child reached out towards his face and clung to his neck even before Zhanying had a grip on the boy—second heart attack.

Jingyan and Empress Liu only giggled, like Zhanying wouldn’t have his head cut off if he so much as dropped the child. For a couple of moments Jingyan’s son pressed his hands all over his face, like babies do when they’re inquisitive, and eventually after the initial awkward moment, Zhanying took a proper look at him. The future of Da Liang in a small baby.

Jingyan’s future of Da Liang.

It was inevitable that he let himself smile.

Jingyan laid a gentle hand on his arm, matching the expression, even though Zhanying didn’t know it. The baby gurgled some nonsensical noise, and the Empress reached back for him, cradling him against her shoulder.

“Jingyan, he’s hungry—I’ll take my leave first,” she said, tilting a smile towards Zhanying. “General Lie, we should have tea when you’ve settled in. Welcome back.”

Zhanying was mostly taken off guard by the suggestion, and she was gone before he thought to protest politely or to say anything as she left. Jingyan’s hand on his arm hadn’t left; the warm, reassuring pressure was starting to make his cheeks heat, just because of their close proximity. It only occurred to him in a beat of silence that he hadn’t even greeted Jingyan since he came in—or anyone for that matter.

“Your Majesty—” he began, eyes wide and dropping to his knees, but like how he’d stopped Tingsheng from touching the ground, so did Jingyan.

“There’s no need for that, Zhanying,” Jingyan said, eyes crescent mooned in a smile. “Not today,” he continued, fingers gently reaching out to touch Zhanying’s cheek, like he couldn’t believe that Zhanying was actually there. “Is this a visit? Or…”

“I…” Zhanying started, meeting Jingyan’s gaze, and he temporarily lost track of his words. “I…I…I’m back. If, if your Majesty will allow it.”

Jingyan softly exhaled. “…Are you sure this is what you want?”

“You said to find something that I love, and to go for it,” Zhanying said, swallowing faintly. “What I love…” his chest trembled, “Is right here. So.”

Jingyan looked at him like the last time Jingyan had let him go. Had kissed him. Zhanying flicked his gaze to the ground, suddenly aware that he’d been so bold as to—to—…say it out loud. In that moment, he wanted Jingyan to kiss him again. Three years, Zhanying thought, three years and his heart hadn’t changed.

“Alright,” Jingyan said, voice gentle. “Thank you for coming back.”

Maybe Jingyan would’ve said more, but another voice chipped in.

“I like the hair,” Lin Shu said over Jingyan’s shoulder, grinning. “Oh, Jingyan,” he chastised, “What did you say to him? He looks like he’s going to cry.”

“I didn’t—”

“I’m not—”

They both began at once, and then they stopped, pursing their lips at Lin Shu’s innocent expression.

“I will fire you,” Jingyan said flatly.

Lin Shu snorted, rolling his eyes at the dead threat. “Then who else is going to teach Tingsheng and your little bean?”

“Stop calling my son that,” Jingyan replied automatically, and it was clear that that exchange a common occurrence. “Also,” Jingyan tilted his head, a wry smirk on his lips. “Zhanying can do it. He’s ranked higher on the Langya List than you are,” he stopped. “Actually, that’s a great idea. I should see to those arrangements,” he nodded decisively. “Zhanying, your things will be brought to your room in the Changlin manor. We’ll talk when you’ve rested. See you tomorrow.”

“Jingyan—” Lin Shu called when Jingyan turned heel and strode off. “Jingyan, you think you’re funny but you’re really not!”

Zhanying stared after the abrupt exit. “…I don’t want to be a Royal Tutor,” he murmured.

“You hear that?” Lin Shu raised his voice, even though Jingyan was clearly gone. “He doesn’t want my post!”

Zhanying looked around the empty garden and blinked. “Where’s the Changlin manor?”

“It’s formerly known as the Jing manor, you might be familiar with it,” Lin Shu supplied helpfully. “I thought you could stay with me though.”

“No thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Lin Chen is there,” Zhanying pointed out. “I need a break from him. After three years.”

“He disappeared for like, half the time though,” Lin Shu raised an eyebrow. “Whatever. We can reopen the secret tunnel or something.”

“I can just climb over the wall,” Zhanying put in. “Like I did. For two years.”

“Yeah, yeah, some people aren’t able bodied, you know?”

“You don’t need to come over, I can come over,” Zhanying replied, and then realised that they were already bickering about a non-issue. “Give me your hand.”

Lin Shu looked at him suspiciously but raised his wrist nonetheless. When Zhanying took it to read his pulse, he heard the loud exasperated sigh.

“Seriously?” Lin Shu demanded. “Are all you physicians the same?”

“If I asked how you’d been, you’d just lie and say you’re fine,” Zhanying pointed out.

He lowered Lin Shu’s wrist after a minute—the pulse was weaker than the average, but it wasn’t…bad. Maybe it was the lack of a thirteen year-old cold brew revenge, but Lin Shu did look much better than when they last saw each other.

“I really am fine,” Lin Shu insisted. “Only the occasional fever when it gets really cold. I’ve only needed to use that Bingxu mixture twice in the past three years. There’s still loads left. You can check with old man Yan.”

“Hm.”

He wouldn’t believe that Lin Shu was recovering, but it certainly seemed like the poison inside of him had slowed considerably. Lin Shu opened his arms, and when Zhanying looked at him in confusion, the other rolled his eyes.

“Three years in Langya and you’re still so dumb,” Lin Shu sighed, making a ‘come here’ gesture with his hands. “This is simple body language!”

“I’m ranked higher than you,” Zhanying said, wrapping his arms around Lin Shu’s waist.

He could hear Lin Shu chuckling against his cheek and they squeezed each other tightly.

“Welcome home, Xiao Ying.”

The room in the Changlin manor that Zhanying was assorted to was Jingyan’s previous room. He had no idea who thought that was appropriate, but when he asked the guards they’d repeatedly said that the room had been specifically untouched over the years for his use. It felt too weird to sit on the bed, but he did examine the bookshelf and smiled when he noted that the book he’d brought (stolen) to Langya still had its gap on the shelf. The tunnel was sealed, but the entrance brought back memories.

Qi Meng came in while he was unpacking—that meant that Zhanying did not unpack any further for the rest of the day. Though they didn’t keep much in touch over the three years (Qi Meng was not great with letters as Zhanying found out) but they picked off right as though Zhanying had never left. Over the course of the afternoon the news that he’d returned had spread, and honestly Zhanying didn’t realise that he knew that many people who started dropping by. By the evening, the Changlin manor was bursting with people. Food and wine were being passed around like it was on tap.

Zhanying mostly watched in horrific awe at the way the entire manor partied—dear god, this never happened under Jingyan’s supervision.

“Xiao Ying, come, let me give you a toast!” Commander Meng raised a barrel—barrel (!)—of wine, and Zhanying winced at the obvious tinge of intoxication. “TO XIAO YING!”

“Cheers?” he said feebly, raising his tiny porcelain cup, and everyone shouted in agreement.

“I’m surprised you’re still awake,” Lin Shu said to him while they sat in the corner in the later burn of the night, when most of the guests had either passed out or had calmed down and were leisurely drinking or playing games. “Thought you’d be worn out by now.”

“I didn’t really drink,” Zhanying explained, showing Lin Shu the small bucket he’d placed at his side that he’d been emptying excess wine into.

“Why are you wasting all that good wine?”

Zhanying wrinkled his nose at the smell of the alcohol, ready to debate, but Lin Chen who was sitting across them helping himself to a jug, snickered.

“He’s a depressing drunk. The last time he drank, he cried the entire night,” Lin Chen shook his head. “Sobbed about missing you and his Majesty and—"

“Shut up,” Zhanying kicked him under the table, earning a wince.

Lin Shu only grinned. “Well, Jingyan’s not coming tonight, you can relax about showing your shit-faced ass to him,” he leaned back comfortably.

“No thanks.”

“If you don’t want it, give it here,” Lin Shu snatched his cup, but Zhanying snatched right back immediately.

“You’re not allowed to drink.”

“Just a sip!”

“No.”

“Lin Chen!”

Lin Chen stared at him. “…Did you think I’d say yes?” he snorted after taking a swig of his own. “Obviously the fuck not.”

Lin Shu grumbled, grabbing a dumpling to eat instead. “I hate you both,” he muttered under his breath.

Jingyan called him to the palace the next afternoon. He met Commander Meng on the way out of Jingyan’s study, looking completely awake and refreshed like he hadn’t just drank over ten people under the table yesterday. The other brightened at him on sight, smiling widely.

“What a great party, huh?” Commander Meng beamed. “Tingsheng sure knows how to throw them.”

“Right,” Zhanying said.

“You should come over for dinner sometime,” Commander Meng patted his back—which meant that Zhanying lurched at the sudden force.

“Sure, alright,” he said awkwardly before Commander Meng looked satisfied and walked away.

When he entered Jingyan’s study, the other looked amused as he filed away a scroll he’d just written. “I heard your party was delightful,” Jingyan said in greeting.

“Not the word I’d…choose,” Zhanying said carefully before bowing. “Your Majesty.”

“Sit,” Jingyan gestured to the low chair beside him at the table.

After clearing the table, Jingyan upturned two cups and raised the pot of…hot water, likely—to pour it. Steam wafted into the air in between the quietness. Zhanying lowered his head and accepted the cup when Jingyan placed one in front of him.

“How are you?”

“…Good?” Zhanying said shortly after panicking on what to say.

Jingyan only smiled gently. “Zhanying, you don’t have to be so tense around me. Time has passed between us, but I believe we can still converse like before. How are you?”

“Nervous,” Zhanying admitted. “Overwhelmed.”

Jingyan nodded slowly, letting a few beats pass before he spoke. “I had a lot to think about while you were away,” he began. “I was spoiled by you, you know?” he smiled wryly. “I forgot how difficult it was to get simple tasks done. And then I thought—you were wasted on me.”

“Your Majesty, that’s not true,” Zhanying swallowed, voice faint.

“You exceled so much in Langya,” Jingyan said in return. “Smarter than Xiao Shu.”

“Actually, that’s more of Lin Chen trying to annoy Marshal Lin.”

“You’re one of the best physicians in Da Liang now. That’s really something.”

“I-I’m sure if Lin Chen bothered to train anyone else—”

“Zhanying,” Jingyan interrupted. “All that education and you still haven’t learnt to take a compliment.” Zhanying closed his mouth shut. “You are wasted on me,” Jingyan repeated. “But, I’m selfish enough that I want you to stay…as long as you want to. You can have any post that you like. I was half joking when I said you could be a Royal Tutor.”

“I—I’m really not qualified for that,” Zhanying shook his head. “And Marshal Lin would never let it go.”

“Royal Physician, then,” Jingyan suggested. “No one will question your credentials after last year’s plague.” When Zhanying looked hesitant, he tried another proposal. “Court Minister? I heard that you had a hand in settling various…incidents...in the past three years.”

“Your Majesty, I’m honoured that you think so highly of me but I…” Zhanying curled his hands around his cup. “I was planning to…join the imperial troops. I mean, of course I will start again as a new recruit and—”

“Why?”

Zhanying blinked at the question. “Why?”

“Why do you need to start again as a new recruit?”

“Because I—well, it’s—it’s not fair that I’ve quit and then come back—”

“You didn’t quit,” Jingyan stated. “I let you go.”

“I was away,” Zhanying rephrased. “I was not around for all the changes that the troops have undergone in the past three years. I haven’t commanded their respect. It’s not right to expect them to listen to me like before.”

Jingyan only had a wry smile on his lips. “Zhanying, three years can be a long time, but it’s not enough for anyone to forget that you were beside me for a decade. At your party yesterday—did anyone forget?”

Zhanying stayed silent.

“Why do you want to join the imperial troops?” Jingyan asked when Zhanying didn’t find anything to say in response. “Commander Nie is hoping to retire since his health isn’t at its best, you can helm the Changlin army then.”

“Your Majesty…” he started softly. “I…I came back because I wanted to be by your side again. Not to teach Tingsheng, not to heal the sick, not to settle court matters, nor to lead an army across borders. I… want to be where you are. If, if that’s…acceptable to you, your Majesty.”

When Jingyan took his hand, Zhanying thought he might faint from how woozy his head went.

“Of course,” Jingyan murmured. “But no nonsense about being a new recruit. You’ll take over Commander Meng from next week.”

“Then what about—"

“He will lead the Changlin army,” Jingyan nodded. “Like we discussed before you came in.”

“…Marshal Lin?” Zhanying said finally, after it sunk in.

“He really does know you,” Jingyan smiled, gently stroking the top of his palm before letting go. “For what it’s worth…I hoped the same.”

Zhanying looked up then, and felt his cheeks start to redden under the intent gaze. “…Thank you, your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Lin Chen left to return to Langya after free loading for three weeks. Routine was easy to get used to, especially when they were duties Zhanying had performed for a decade. Though there were many new faces, they were mostly in the lower ranked platoons, thus nobody dared to question his sudden assignment as commander general. It was a little strange because the job was, perhaps he shouldn’t say this, kind of easy. Zhanying had kept much worse hours in Langya and he certainly stressed a lot more carrying the responsibility as Langya’s mouth-piece when Lin Chen went frolicking.

Or maybe he’d really grown since then.

Even if he did return primarily because he wanted to be by Jingyan’s side, it was also more than that. He didn’t have family, but the closest thing to it was here too. It was having Tingsheng come up to him to chatter about the newest thing he learned, it was having Qi Meng waddling into his room past midnight with stolen snacks from the kitchen. It was having the scattered Jing men, now in a variety of posts, gather together to set a bonfire and eat their hearts full.

It was having Fei Liu seek him out to spar because the younger kept losing to Commander Meng and wanted to win someone. It was having dinner at the Su manor almost every evening, it was bickering with Lin Shu over the stupid tiny things neither of them really had strong opinions on, and joking about the past.

If Zhanying had to choose the one place that made him happy—it would not be in Langya, or in Yaowang valley, or anywhere else in Jianghu.

It would be here.

And he was home.

Some time after things had settled, enough that Zhanying’s return wasn’t the latest gossip around the palace, Empress Liu invited him for tea. He’d thought it was a passing polite offer back then, but then again, Empresses did not invite commander generals for tea. There were various pastries on the table and the sweet smell of flowery tea permeated the air when he obeyed the invite (Could he refuse? Probably not.).

Zhanying sat awkwardly in the seat he was gestured to, reminded himself that he’d already went through the worst thing he’d expected (facing Jingyan), but nothing could prepared him for having the Empress Dowager sitting with them.

Jingyan’s mother.

She was as lovely as he remembered—still sharp, intimidating despite the gentle demeanour, and even more so with the intricate headpiece that she wore. Zhanying sipped his tea politely just so that he wouldn’t have to start the conversation after he’d greeted them properly.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Empress Liu started first. “For the tonic recipes that you sent over for me. They were miraculous.”

“Oh, that’s, that’s nothing to thank me for,” Zhanying lowered his head. “I didn’t create any of them, just, complied them together.”

“But the balance of knowing what can be taken together is very delicate,” Jingyan’s mother inserted. “Hugely underrated skill. I know you gave a lot of thought to the ones you selected.” When Zhanying kept sipping his tea out of nervousness, Jingyan’s mother picked a pastry from the serving plate for him. “Jingyan told me that you’re fond of hazelnut pastries as well,” she began. “Do have some, I just made them this morning.”

Zhanying swallowed thickly, because it was one thing to know that Jingyan had told his mother about his food preferences, and another that she personally made him some. He hadn’t eaten hazelnut related foods for a while, because they reminded him too much of Jingyan when he was in Langya. He fought with himself about declining, but that was also rude, so he obediently put the whole pastry into his mouth.

It was the same mistake he made all those years ago when Jingyan gave him the very first pastry.

It melted on his tongue like butter, sweet and soft and so fragrant. It was like thinking of Jingyan giving him his first kiss. There were two soft giggles, and Zhanying hastily snapped out of his daydream and swallowed, already mourning as it went down his throat.

“It’s, it’s amazing,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

Jingyan’s mother looked delighted. “Have some more,” she said, putting more on his plate.

He ate more, drank more, and as the two ladies chattered about mundane polite things, he started to relax in their company. They were curious about how Langya was like now—Empress Liu had never travelled out of Jinling, while Jingyan’s mother said that she’d been there once, long ago, as someone who sought an answer to a question. He told them about strange quirks about it that he still didn’t understand, like why everyone there only wore white, and the various unexpected things he did to upkeep the premises, because Langya was kept beautiful, not that it was on its own.

And then, Empress Liu asked him how old he was to have accomplished so many things so young. He thought was that a strange question when she was probably younger than he.

“I…I don’t actually know when my birthday is,” he admitted instead. “But I guess…nearing thirty?”

“Have you thought about settling down then?” Jingyan’s mother asked.

Zhanying blinked. “I have decided to stay in Jinling, your Majesty.”

“I meant,” she explained gently. “Starting a family. Since you’ve returned, I’ve had…requests about you,” At Zhanying’s additional blinks, she continued. “For marriage.”

“…Oh,” Zhanying said after a long while.

Empress Liu chuckled. “You shouldn’t look that shocked, Commander Lie. You’re a good man. Trusted by Jingyan. You command Jingyan’s army. You’re an accomplished physician. You’re on the Langya List. Your name is very, very powerful. Every minister with a grand-daughter is bending over backwards to have you.”

Zhanying swallowed. “It’s, it’s…I guess I don’t understand why they asked your Majesty…and not me.”

“They’re hoping that I can decide for you, I suppose,” Jingyan’s mother answered while smiling. “With hazelnut pastries. Is it working?”

Zhanying blushed faintly. “I apologise, your Majesty,” he inclined his head. “But I don’t have any intention to marry.”

“Not ever?”

Zhanying looked up at the query. It seemed as though not one of them had expected Zhanying to agree to a marriage—at this point—but Jingyan’s mother looked surprised when he stated his reply. Zhanying automatically flickered his gaze to Empress Liu, who met his gaze for that split second.

“No,” he said, hastily looking down. “Not ever.”

“…That’s a pity,” Jingyan’s mother murmured. “There’s someone whom I thought might suit you. Would you reconsider, if you met them?”

“I, I don’t think I would,” Zhanying answered.

“Not even a chance?”

Zhanying paused, and then shook his head. “I don’t think it’s fair to the other party,” he admitted. “Because I won’t love them.”

“Love is a tricky thing,” Empress Liu nodded. “I am lucky Jingyan is so easy to love.”

“But that also shows that love can be grown,” Jingyan’s mother added, and Zhanying stared at the way the two ladies glanced at each other like they were having a silent discussion. “At the very least, I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time with them, Commander Lie.”

Zhanying knew the end of the conversation when he heard it. He wasn’t sure why Jingyan’s mother wanted to set him up so badly with this someone—but he wasn’t promising anything, and he was pretty sure he could extract himself out of the situation if it got out of hand. He didn’t say anything more, and was rewarded with a whole box of hazelnut pastries to take home.

Some battles were worth losing to win the war.

For the blind date, Zhanying expected a stranger.

He didn’t know many minister grand-daughters—or many women, to be honest—and so he braced himself for an excruciating awkward hour of dinner. Instead, when Lin Shu took the seat across him in the private booth of the restaurant in town, he realised it was a prank.

“Xiao Ying will send me back later, thanks,” Lin Shu said to the manor staff who had accompanied him along. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smiled politely after, like they hadn’t just exchanged muted insults in the afternoon when they passed each other by in the palace. “You look nice.”

He noted that Lin Shu was also dressed differently from his usual blue or muted beige—a lovely dark green with silver linings.

“Thanks,” Zhanying said blandly, flicking his loose hair behind his ear. “Why did you go through all the trouble of having the Empress Dowager make me have dinner with you?”

“It was no trouble, she loves a good romance as much as the next person,” Lin Shu hummed. “What do you want to eat? It’s my treat.”

“…What do you mean ‘romance’?” Zhanying asked, but Lin Shu had called the waiter over and was already ordering from the menu. “What’s the point of asking me what I want to eat when you ordered without my answer?” he added after the waiter was sent away.

“I became concerned that you might order something with hazelnuts.”

“I’m not that petty.”

“Besides, I know what you like to eat. I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Then why did you ask?” Zhanying countered, narrowing his eyes. “And don’t avoid my question. What do you mean ‘romance’?”

“Why are you so aggressive today, Xiao Ying?” Lin Shu hummed, pouring them tea. “Careful, it’s hot. Are you disappointed that I’m your date?”

“This is not a date,” Zhanying answered. “It’s a prank.”

“Don’t hurt my feelings like that,” Lin Shu crooned, sounding not at all hurt. “I went through all the proper channels for this date, okay? I asked Auntie Jing for permission, and she made me copy texts to show my sincerity. Copy texts! Goodness! I things I do for you.”

“Why her? What for?”

“She’s top of the hierarchy, Jingyan listens to her,” Lin Shu shrugged. “Come on, Xiao Ying, surely you’re starting to piece the puzzle together by now.”

“…This is not a date,” Zhanying repeated.

“Eh,” Lin Shu shrugged. “Isn’t it?”

“But,” Zhanying frowned. “But—”

As he tried to grasp the true meaning of the not-date, their food arrived, and they really were dishes that he liked. Crispy croquettes, roasted duck, meat dumplings—Lin Shu started filling them on his bowl of rice.

“…You can’t be serious,” Zhanying said finally, staring at Lin Shu who had his chopsticks in his mouth and was chewing very calmly.

“Aren’t I?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Answering my question with another question,” he said flatly. “Marshal Lin…I don’t…understand.”

Lin Shu ate a few more mouthfuls before he swallowed and nudged Zhanying’s bowl to remind him to start eating. “What’s so hard to understand? I, Royal Tutor Su Zhe, am asking for your hand in marriage.”

Zhanying would’ve spat out his food if he’d put them into his mouth. “That. That whole thing.”

“I don’t see what’s the problem,” Lin Shu blinked, and continued eating. “In fact, I think this arrangement makes the most sense. They’re never going to stop hounding you to get married—just like they haven’t stopped hounding me to choose some minister’s grand-daughter all these years. The solution is thus, simple. We marry each other.”

“That makes no sense,” Zhanying said in return. “Marriage isn’t just a—a—contract! It’s a commitment. For life.”

“I’m pretty sure with this “contract” or not,” Lin Shu made air quotes, grinning. “I’d still be spending my life with you, no?”

Zhanying wasn’t sure whether Lin Shu was deliberately using easily misinterpreted words or not. “…What about…his Majesty?” he asked then. “You said you two were…close.”

Lin Shu sighed. “I don’t really want to be a consort. Did you see the embroidery piece Liu Shan finished last week? I don’t want to compete with that. Besides,” he shrugged. “I don’t think there are procedures that allow Jingyan to take a male consort.”

Zhanying raised an eyebrow. “And marriage between men is fine?”

“Well, as long as it’s not with Jingyan himself,” Lin Shu explained. “Think about it. There are currently no official guidelines for same-sex arrangements. If Jingyan changes the rules for himself, everyone’s going to have a lot of words about it. But if he grants it to another couple as a blessing, then it sets the precedent that maybe by Tingsheng and the baby bean’s rule, it would be normal to have male consorts too. Maybe even a male Empress.”

“…I don’t think that would happen,” Zhanying said after a moment. “The position of the Empress is still important for the lineage of the future Emperor. A male Empress can’t fulfill that.”

“Well, you’re not disagreeing with the rest of it,” Lin Shu pointed out.

Zhanying finally took the chance to eat since he’d calmed down and considered Lin Shu’s proposal. It kind of made sense, but it also didn’t—frankly, Zhanying just wondered what was so difficult about staying unmarried forever. As Lin Shu had put it, they would still be spending the rest of their lives together.

“So,” Zhanying summarised after dinner, while they leisurely walked back to the Su manor. “You want to marry me because you can’t marry his Majesty and you want to avoid being asked out. That’s it?”

Lin Shu looked at him. “What’s your issue about it then?”

“I only want to marry for love,” Zhanying said, and Lin Shu burst into a chuckle.

“Oh, Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu smiled that serene smile. “What makes you think that I don’t too?”

Zhanying didn’t see Lin Shu for the next couple of days as he was busy with some preparations for a festival that was going to held in the palace grounds. But once it was over, when he returned to his quarters, there was a bouquet of fresh flowers on the low table. He didn’t think much of it, didn’t even mention it to Lin Shu when he went over the next day for dinner, and then there was another bouquet.

And another.

And another.

He’d put them into vases because it was a waste to see them wilt, and it was getting ridiculous that his room smelled like flowers now. It was nice, but it was also odd, and on the tenth delivery it came with a note that said, ‘Wear something comfortable tonight. I’ll come by at seven.”

Distantly, Zhanying wondered if he should tell Lin Shu to cease this strange, barely-there courtship, and Jingyan noticed that he was distracted towards the evening.

“Where are you going tonight?” Jingyan asked casually, and blinked when Zhanying looked taken aback. “Xiao Shu requested—well, ordered—that I don’t keep you late today. Said you two were going somewhere. Wouldn’t tell me where.”

“I don’t know,” Zhanying answered honestly. “He didn’t tell me either.”

“Well, enjoy the surprise I suppose,” Jingyan smiled.

Lin Shu came by exactly at seven, with a picnic basket in hand. Instead of gesturing for them to leave the manor, he came in instead, striding towards Zhanying’s rooms.

“So,” Lin Shu started when he stopped right outside. “You’re strong enough to carry me, right?”

“…I think so,” Zhanying squinted, suspicious at where this was going. “Why?”

“Carry me to the roof.”

“W-what?”

It took twenty minutes of bickering, two guards, Zhanying’s embarrassment and a ladder for Lin Shu to finally step out on the tiles of the roof.

“If you fall and die, I’m going to strangle you,” Zhanying muttered, all while keeping a very tight grip on his arm.

“Don’t distract me, it’s very slippery,” Lin Shu hissed while they’ve garnered a crowd watching their antics in the meantime.

By the time that Lin Shu settled himself comfortably in a stable position, Zhanying had shoo-ed the on-lookers away, convincing them that it was just Royal Tutor Su’s insanity and that he would take care of it. Zhanying sighed heavily when he sat next to the other, pulling the basket Lin Shu had brought into his lap.

“Blanket,” he announced as he took things out. “A…wooden tumbler?” he puzzled.

“That’s hot tea. And there’s food,” Lin Shu gestured and Zhanying pulled out a bag of meat buns, still warm. “And a small little lamp.”

“Is this your idea of a romantic date?” Zhanying asked as he wrapped the blanket around the other. “The potential of having your bones splattered on the ground?”

“I dunno, Nihuang and I did this back then all the time,” Lin Shu replied, leaning back and looking up into the darkened sky. “I thought it was pretty romantic.”

“Maybe when you could walk.”

“I can walk.”

“Barely.”

Lin Shu passed over a meat bun, and Zhanying took it to chew. “What’s your idea of a romantic date then?”

Zhanying shrugged. “Didn’t think I would date.”

“Not even Jingyan?”

“I guess...it didn’t matter with his Majesty,” Zhanying replied, swallowing the bun and reaching for another. “Anything would’ve been nice.”

“’Anything’, huh,” Lin Shu snorted. “You have such low standards, Xiao Ying.”

“Lower than my roof?”

“Shut up,” Lin Shu nudged him, but Zhanying could tell he was grinning. “…To be honest, I thought you’d be more freaked out.”

“By what?”

“This.”

“What’s ‘this’?”

“Okay, now you’re just taking the piss out of me for that question for question thing,” Lin Shu grumbled. “For this marriage thing. You didn’t send back any of the flowers.”

“They were nice,” Zhanying replied truthfully. “Never had flowers given to me before.”

“See? Your standards are so low,” Lin Shu snickered. “I’ll buy you flowers everyday if you’ll marry me.”

Zhanying reached for the tea, and Lin Shu passed it over. He poured himself a little and relaxed against the cold tiles of the roof. It was nice, being on the roof, under the stars.

“…Marshal Lin,” he started, glancing over. “Do you even like me?”

Lin Shu looked almost like a swaddled baby, snuggled in his blanket. “What kind of question is that?”

“Do you even like me?” He repeated, stare unwavering. “Romantically.”

“Is that the deal breaker for you?”

“Now, who’s answering a question for a question?”

“You are too,” Lin Shu pointed out. He exhaled, and the mischievous glint in his eyes melted away to something much more serious. “…I love you, Xiao Ying. Is that enough?”

The declaration was—it was kind of a first. Zhanying knew that they had something unbreakable, indescribable, forever, and he knew it was love. It’d just never been said. Zhanying closed his mouth, and then opened it again.

“What I feel for you…and what I feel for his Majesty—” he started in a whisper, but Lin Shu threaded his fingers through the strands of the back of his head and pulled him close to his shoulder.

“I know,” Lin Shu murmured close to his ear. “Even so, I love you too. Just as I love Jingyan.”

Zhanying nibbled his lip, face hidden in the crook of Lin Shu’s neck. “…You really want to marry me.”

“Would I bring you on a romantic date if I didn’t?”

Zhanying laughed, and it was a surprise to him that it sounded wet.

“Also,” Lin Shu started above him. “I remember that someone said that they wanted to be with me to the end of my days—”

When Lin Shu gleefully announced that he was engaged, he looked so smug that Jingyan rolled his eyes every time they were in the same room. However, Jingyan didn’t look surprised when the news first broke, just faintly bemused. Afterwards he asked Zhanying privately if Lin Shu had gang pressed him into it and then laughed when Zhanying said that he’d doubted Lin Shu had the strength to press anything.

“You know Xiao Shu, he can go overboard with things,” Jingyan said. “I was a little worried when he told me of his intentions. It felt a little like…even after all these years, he still wouldn’t let you go. But I guess that shows how much he can't bear to leave you.”

“…You, you don’t…mind, your Majesty?” Zhanying inquired carefully, after a moment of pause. “Marshal Lin is your…” he trailed off, but Jingyan got what he meant to say anyway.

“As long as he’s happy,” Jingyan said simply. “And as long as you are happy with him.”

It wouldn’t be the same as having Jingyan, of course not. He didn’t dream of Lin Shu like he did with Jingyan. But Jingyan had granted him his greatest wish, to stay by the other’s side to the end, and he would ask no more. Being the first to greet Jingyan every morning, having the occasional snack and tea time, the little chats while Zhanying escorted him to places, the affectionate touches on his cheek that Jingyan sometimes gave him—it made his heart full.

However, when he watched Jingyan and Lin Shu bicker like an old married couple, or when Jingyan strolled in the gardens holding hands with Liu Shan, or when Jingyan played with Tingsheng and his son—those moments made his heart full too. He didn’t need to be solely loved by Jingyan.

Not anymore.

“I think I will be,” Zhanying replied with small genuine smile.

Chapter Text

They got married after the New Year’s.

Not that Zhanying had attended many weddings but the sheer…effort of making it happen was overwhelming. It was an arduous task, so much more than just tea serving, which was what he expected. Perhaps he should’ve known it would be, considering that it was going to be a public affair and there were no traditional rules for two men getting married.

There was first getting the court to recognise their tying of the knot. Thankfully Lin Shu already had steps in place, having Jingyan and his mother on his side. The grumblings were more that no minister’s family could now marry into more prestige themselves, but weeks later the protests died down as everyone agreed it was fair that no one benefited from this arrangement.

Once the motion passed and a date was set, it was the preparations involved. Lin Shu had connections to nearly everyone in the world, Zhanying himself picked up a number of acquaintances during his time in Langya, and they were both holding high positions in the royal service. Everyone wanted to be in the capital for the event whether they were invited or not.

And then there was Jingyan, the Emperor, who obviously wanted to be present for the whole ceremony and that was another huge security headache, because Lin Shu adamantly refused to do the ceremony on palace grounds. He said something about “bad memories” and “it’s too stiff in the palace” and “it’s my wedding” though Zhanying was sure all his excuses were simply, excuses. 

There were other personal things to consider too, like who would be sitting in as their elders for the tea ceremony. Zhanying was an orphan. Arguably the closest “father figure” he had had been Lin Shu, which would not do given that the other was the spouse to be. Eventually he asked Lin Chen, and received a ‘what the fuck?’ reply in return and there was a correspondence that stretched over a month between Lin Chen and Lin Shu before Lin Chen sent a piece of paper with just the word ‘fine’.

Lin Shu, on the other hand, had dead parents and no siblings either and whined that he was going to ask Lin Chen but Zhanying had beat him to it. He eventually asked Jingyan’s mother to take the position instead, completely ignoring the confused whispers that arose about their relationship.

They also argued extensively about whose family name was going to be on the placard for their household. Zhanying thought it’d be obvious that they were going to go with “Su” given that it was already on the Su manor and Lin Shu wanted Zhanying to move in after. Lin Shu said that was a stupid assumption and that “Su” was a made-up name; why should they go with it? Zhanying then pointed out that “Lie” was also a made-up name. They were locked in a standstill until Lin Shu got Jingyan (the only one Zhanying did not disobey) involved in the decision. 

(Jingyan said that they should go with “Lie” because whenever he heard “Su” it gave him a headache. Lin Shu was smug at Zhanying's acceptance but also annoyed that Zhanying did not even attempt to disagree.)

Wedding day was enormously cold with heavy snowfall. Zhanying felt tremendously weird while he was on the carriage towards the Su (now Lie) manor, and Lin Chen, who’d been sitting with him inside, voiced the same.

“Last chance to ditch the groom,” Lin Chen muttered while he eyed the crowd following them through the curtain. “I can get you a new identity and everything. Changsu will never find you.”

“That’s too much effort.”

Lin Chen glanced at him when that was all he said. “…You’re awfully calm.”

“Should I not be?”

Lin Chen leaned back, sighing. “No pre-wedding jitters? Like, you know, an existential crisis wondering if you've just signed your life away to the devil. In your case, the devil is literal.”

“It’s not like anything changes,” Zhanying said simply.

Lin Chen only looked at him like he was naive (which was common). “Uh huh,” he said. “You do know what the wedding night usually entails right? I never did give you the talk about the birds and the bees.”

“No need to, ever,” Zhanying said, decidedly looking away. 

“You’re really down with fucking Changsu?”

If Zhanying wasn’t used to Lin Chen by now, he would’ve choked at the direct question. “Is that your biggest concern? Whether I sexually desire Marshal Lin?”

“Concern? Not really,” Lin Chen flicked some lint off his shoulder. “I still think this whole thing is out of nowhere. Changsu is...well, he’s insane, so whatever, this isn’t too shocking coming from him, but it is kind of fucking creepy. He practically raised you. In the most irresponsible way. And you - you spent more than a decade jacking it to his Majesty. I thought you’d just die alone with your imagination and hand or something.”

Zhanying just looked at him and raised an eyebrow, steadfastly ignoring the crass words. “I guess you don’t know everything then.”

“...You cheeky brat."

Lin Shu met him at the entrance of the manor, wrapped up in so many layers he looked swaddled despite that the ceremony was taking place inside. Li Gang and Zhen Ping were hovering around Lin Shu like the old days, despite Lin Shu’s insistence that he was warm enough and definitely did not need another layer. At the corner of Zhanying’s eye, he spotted Wei Zheng, Jingrui, Yan Yujin and Miss Gong standing together by the plum tree, and Qi Meng and Commander Meng lighting up the firecrackers with Tingsheng and Fei Liu. Princess Mu was watching Lin Shu with an exasperated fond smile on her lips, one that Jingyan matched beside his mother, wife and son. It was too crowded to grasp who else was around, but they were all familiar faces, all smiling.

After paying to their “elders” and their respects to each other, Lin Shu simply leaned close to him and whispered, 

“Well, that was anticlimactic.”

But Lin Shu was beaming so wide, everyone could see that it was anything but.

It wasn’t like Zhanying had never given thought to the usual happenings of a “wedding night”.

But it should be fair to assume that his and Lin Shu’s marriage was anything but usual. Maybe it was because he felt that he knew Lin Shu well enough, or that he trusted that Lin Shu knew him well enough, or maybe it was just the implicit belief that whatever happened it wouldn’t change what they already were.

Lin Shu was obviously tired by the time they retired to the bedroom after the festivities, because he immediately sat on the bed and splayed himself out.

“Is that an actual bed?” Zhanying blinked, because Lin Shu had been sleeping on a futon for the many years he’d been in the capital.

“Mm,” Lin Shu said, drowsy. “Can’t fit both of us in the other one.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“What was your question?”

Zhanying just busied himself with taking off his outer robe, and then started taking Lin Shu’s shoes off when it was clear the other wasn’t going to move. “Aren't you going to change?”

“Tired,” Lin Shu muttered, and then blearily blinked when Zhanying came to undress him. “I have no energy for sex right now.”

“We’re not having sex,” Zhanying replied. “You’ll complain about a stiff back if you sleep in this. Change up.”

“Pity,” Lin Shu said, but he did slowly pull his sleep wear on and slithered under the covers.

Zhanying made sure to fold the discarded clothes before he blew the candles out and joined the other. It was really cold—the brazier had been pulled to Lin Shu’s side, and he jolted when Lin Shu’s cold hands came to grasp his arm.

“Why did we get married right smack in winter?” he wondered.

“I dunno,” Lin Shu said, face pressed into his shoulder. “Thought you’d look nice in the snow.”

There was silence for many moments before Zhanying opened his mouth again. “…Do we have to have sex?”

“Ask me again tomorrow,” was all Lin Shu said before he dozed off, eyelids slipping shut.

Zhanying groped for Lin Shu’s wrist and took his pulse before settling in. The closest experience he had of sleeping with (next to) someone was with Jingyan and the Jing men when they had low army rations. It was something quite new to have a warm(ish) body clinging to him. 

Actually, it felt quite…nice.

Jingyan had given them the week off for a “honeymoon”, but three hours since they woke they found themselves supremely bored. Neither of them wanted to go out because it was so cold, and Lin Shu couldn’t travel far because of his health anyway. Instead, Zhanying brewed some warming tonics while Lin Shu stayed in bed to read while occasionally sending him and the heated liquids sour looks.

“I’m not sick,” Lin Shu whined when Zhanying brought a bowl over when the tonic was done.

“You are chronically ill.”

“I’m chronically poisoned, not sick.”

“The poison has wrecked your immune system, so even in technically, you are suffering from a disease. Drink.”

Lin Shu grumbled but took it to drink. “I didn’t marry you to have a live-in physician. I already have one.”

“It’s my responsibility as your husband to take care of you,” Zhanying returned. “Finish the bowl.”

“Ugh,” Lin Shu groaned, but swallowed the residue. “Don’t you have better things to do instead of making medicine?”

“It’s not a medication,” Zhanying replied. “It’s a supplement, which is—”

“No need to prove whatever you learnt at Langya to me,” Lin Shu muttered. “Sit down, you’re making me feel anxious when you pace around the room.”

“I’m not pacing,” Zhanying sighed, taking the empty bowl to clean up. “It’s called ‘using my legs’ to get from one place to another.”

He did, however, join Lin Shu on the bed after he’d sent the bowls to wash. Lin Shu was reading some scroll, and Zhanying stilled when he took a peek at it.

“…Are those court documents? How did you get them?”

Lin Shu only flashed him an innocent smile. “Why do you care? It’s not your jurisdiction.”

“The security of the palace is my jurisdiction.”

“Only relating to Jingyan’s well-being,” Lin Shu waved it off. “Look, isn’t it strange that the Department of Military Affairs asked for a bigger budget this year?”

“Every department always asks for more.”

“Yes, but it’s not only for the year moving forward. It’s also to cover excess expenditure in the past year. Minister Shen’s projected costs are never that far off. Besides, the Changlin army eats most of the budget since it’s newly formed and I trust that Meng da-ge keeps their finances properly accounted for.”

It only took a second for Zhanying get what Lin Shu was implying. “You think someone in the department stealing off the books.”

Lin Shu set the scroll down then, and smiled. “You think you can get me the account book?”

“You want me to break into the department based on a single suspicion from an inference?”

“It’s not so much as “break into” as “using your authority”. You can just walk in and request for it, no one is going to question you. You do the weirdest errands for Jingyan. But they’ll certainly question me,” Lin Shu pointed out. “Unless you want to practice sneaking around, I’m not opposed to that either.”

“…I’ll think about it,” Zhanying said finally, but with the way Lin Shu closed the scroll, the other knew he’d gotten his way.

“So about yesterday,” Lin Shu began after setting aside the scroll. “You wanted to have sex.”

“Not ‘want’,” Zhanying corrected. “I thought it was a standard procedure on the night of marriage.”

“I suppose,” Lin Shu gave it some thought. “I was really tired though. We can do it now if you want.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Lin Shu nodded.

After several moments of silence, Zhanying glanced over. “I don’t think I want to.”

“Okay, then we won’t,” Lin Shu smiled as though he’d suspected as such. While Zhanying looked like he was gathering some thoughts, Lin Shu leaned closer so that he could rest his head on Zhanying’s shoulder. “Did you think sex was a necessity in a marriage?”

“In normal marriages, I suppose,” Zhanying answered. “As an expression of love. Or to have kids. But neither of us can do that, so I’m not sure.”

“Mm. Well, it’s our marriage, so…we do what we want,” Lin Shu said in reply. “Reasonable?” When Zhanying nodded, he continued. “As your husband, I…should come clean about my sexual history. Fair warning: don’t get angry, okay?”

“If you’re talking about his Majesty,” Zhanying said in monotone, “You’ve already told me that.”

“I was deliberately vague!” Lin Shu huffed.

“You mean, you were deliberately vague in order to let me think the worst to tease me but actually it’s the whole truth.”

Lin Shu pouted. “If you know so much, tell me what I did then.”

“Sex.”

When that was all Zhanying said, Lin Shu burst into laughter. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“…Was it nice?”

When Lin Shu turned his body so that he could face Zhanying better with a grin, Zhanying realised he played right into Lin Shu’s trap. “Thought about how Jingyan would be like in bed, haven’t you?”

At Zhanying annoyed purse of the lips, he chuckled.

“The first time…there was crying. Wasn’t me, you know me,” Lin Shu grinned. “But usually, he’s kind of…aggressive. Wants to take. I guess, when you’re brought up as royalty, they’re all the same one way or another.”

“So why did you stop?”

“Hm?”

“You and his Majesty,” Zhanying elaborated. “Since I came back, you’ve never once spent a night with him.”

“I thought you might be jealous,” Lin Shu teased, but at Zhanying’s raised eyebrow he sighed. “I stopped when I decided I was going to court you. I’m not that scandalous.”

“…You don’t miss it?”

Lin Shu reached out to fiddle with the loose strands of hair around Zhanying’s forehead. “I think about it sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s not something I’d choose over you. I won’t do it without your permission,” he said. “I’m not asking for permission, by the way. You don’t need to think about these things too hard—we’ll just take it as it comes, hm?”

Zhanying nodded. “…I thought I should confess something too,” he said after some thought.

“Go on.”

“His Majesty kissed me, the night before I left for Langya.”

“Oh, I know,” Lin Shu grinned. “Jingyan can’t hide a thing from me. How was it?”

“I can’t really remember much of it,” Zhanying admitted. “It just feels like a dream when I think about it.”

“Do you want Jingyan to kiss you again?”

Perhaps given that Lin Shu is his husband, he shouldn’t admit this, but he knew Lin Shu knew the truth anyway. He nodded. Lin Shu only exhaled, the curl on his lips still upturned.

“Want anything else?”

Zhanying glanced away, face reddening as Lin Shu giggled. “It’s inappropriate.”

“We’re adults here—”

“It’s his Majesty,” Zhanying emphasized. “Why are we even talking about his Majesty while in bed?”

“I don’t know, Jingyan seems to be the only thing that makes you horny,” Lin Shu cackled, and failed to dodge the kick that was aimed at his shin.

When the weather shifted into warmer air, Lin Shu fell sick.

Over the past couple of months Zhanying always woke to Lin Shu clinging on to him for warmth and his whines about Zhanying’s early hours because the other was losing his heat source. This morning Zhanying sat up and found that Lin Shu was curled on his side and shivering slightly. Almost immediately he thought the worst, but when he touched Lin Shu’s shoulder the other had blearily opened his eyes and mumbled “why are you up so early”, which was the usual line delivered every day.

He took Lin Shu’s pulse and it seemed like it was barely a fever—a condition that Zhanying himself would’ve simply brushed off and went about his usual day. But this was Lin Shu, and after making sure that some medicine was ready, he decided to send word to Jingyan that he wouldn’t be coming to the palace.

Lin Shu drank the bowl after complaining, and then again complained about the taste, and then paused. “Why are you still here? Jingyan is probably awake by now.”

“I’m not going in today,” Zhanying said.

“Why not?”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Lin Shu rolled his eyes. “It’s just the sudden weather change. I’ll get used to it by the afternoon.”

“With your condition, anything can happen. I’m not taking any chances,” Zhanying replied. “I’ve cancelled your schedule today as well, so you can stay in and rest.”

“You what?”

“Problem?”

“Yes,” Lin Shu glared at him. “I’m not taking a day off! I’m perfectly fine!” he protested, but a cough slipped out at the end and Zhanying was by his side in a second, feeling up his forehead. “Ughhhh, I’m really fine. I just needed to clear my throat—” But before he finished the sentence, Zhanying was already out of the room to get more herbs from Physician Yan.

The rest of the day was eventful.

Lin Shu tried to sneak out twice, they argued over five times, repeating the same lines in a circular conversation, and then Lin Shu really did spike a fever towards the later afternoon. Zhanying got busy trying to keep his temperature cool while preventing shivers all through to the evening while Lin Shu slept after taking a medicine that made him drowsy.

Jingyan came to the Lie manor at night, and Zhanying hadn’t been prepared at all for the visit. He hurried to the entrance and greeted the other in a bow, hoping that Jingyan wouldn’t comment on his less than put together state and extremely casual clothe wear.

“Is Xiao Shu alright?” Jingyan asked while Zhanying led him in towards their room.

“He had a slight fever – it’s cooling off,” Zhanying replied. “It’s not anything serious. I apologise for worrying you, your Majesty. I…I just wanted to be here in case…”

“Of course, I understand,“ Jingyan nodded, taking a seat beside the sleeping Lin Shu for a moment before he turned to Zhanying. “…Zhanying, have you eaten?”

Zhanying blinked a couple of times. He—hadn’t…actually eaten anything since that one mouthful of porridge in the late morning. Jingyan looked at him like he knew and then called their staff to bring Zhanying dinner. Zhanying gingerly sat next to the other in silence, and obediently took the rice bowl when it came.

“Eat,” Jingyan said, voice close to an order, so Zhanying ate. “I know you’re worried about Xiao Shu, but you have to take care of yourself too. You should know better, as a physician yourself,” he paused. “You can take a rest day tomorrow.”

“No, it’s—” Zhanying started, alarmed. “I will report in as usual,” he said. “Marshal Lin will be alright soon.”

“There’s no need to push yourself,” Jingyan said, looking at him. “…It’s curious,” he remarked suddenly. “That you still call him ‘Marshal Lin’.”

“…Habit,” Zhanying responded after a while. “I suppose.”

Jingyan smiled. “Ever thought of changing it?”

“Not really,” Zhanying said. “I’m not sure what else to call him as either.”

“His name, a nickname,” Jingyan shrugged. “He would like it.”

Zhanying glanced at him, blinking. “Is that something he told you?”

Jingyan brought a finger to press it to his curved lips. “Maybe,” he said before getting up. “I’ll take my leave now. Let me know if Xiao Shu’s condition changes.”

“Of course,” Zhanying bowed, but he startled when Jingyan tilted his head up with his knuckles.

“Remember to rest yourself, alright?”

Zhanying nodded quickly, hoping that his cheeks didn’t flush at the sudden contact. “Take care, your Majesty.”

There was one dead hour more before Lin Shu woke naturally, yawning wide. His fever had completely subsided by then, and he raised an eyebrow at how Zhanying hovered as the other watched him drink a bowl of soup he’d brought. After more pulse-taking post-food, Zhanying finally looked satisfied.

“I told you it was nothing,” Lin Shu said.

Zhanying just got into bed and turned on his side under the covers.

“…Xiao Ying?” Lin Shu ventured after a while. “Hey, are you really angry at me? It was just a joke,” he added when Zhanying did not answer, having closed his eyes. “Though, it really was just a slight fever, wasn’t it?”

“I was worried, nonetheless,” Zhanying bit out, sounding more upset than he intended to. “You know that anything can happen to you. I don’t want to take any chance that—…that—”

“I’ll leave you as a young widow?” Zhanying stilled at that, refusing to turn over even when Lin Shu tried to nudge him. “Xiao Ying…I’m sorry, alright? I’ll listen to you, for every little thing, I promise.”

Zhanying turned over so abruptly that he nearly hit his head against Lin Shu’s. “You know, when I was in Langya, I was so scared that very letter I received wouldn’t be you but Physician Yan telling me that you—…you—” he stopped, because he couldn’t say it.

“Xiao Ying,” Lin Shu said very gently. “I’m aware that I probably won’t be able to grow old with you. But…I’m not going to give up that easy. Not when I’m finally happy.”

“It’s not about willpower!” Zhanying retorted, hating that his voice broke. “It’s…it’s—”

Lin Shu kissed him on the mouth then. Zhanying wondered why it felt so wet, and then realised it was because he had teared, and then sniffed very hard when Lin Shu leaned back.

“…Was that just to distract me?” he asked after a moment.

“I panicked,” Lin Shu admitted, wiping the edges of Zhanying’s eyes. “Did it work?”

“No,” Zhanying said, and then he coughed because a watery laugh tried to force its way out of his chest. “That was insensitive. And you’re not very good.”

Lin Shu’s incredulous face was priceless. “You’re the one who doesn’t know how to kiss—"

Lin Shu was right, but Zhanying wouldn’t have him have the last verbal word. Their teeth clacked together painfully, and he certainly did feel Lin Shu grabbing the front of his robe to steady them, but Lin Shu tilted his head to let their mouths mould more comfortably.

It was so different from his first kiss at the brothel. Or his second, with Jingyan.

Lin Shu nipped at his lips until he gave way to the tongue that sought entrance. His whole body shivered at the foreign contact. It was—weird, warm, but also made little tingles to his toes. He forgot he had to breathe until Lin Shu pulled back briefly just for a short intake of air before kissing him again, one hand slowly tracing the curve of his ear. His tongue was clumsy against Lin Shu’s but it didn’t matter. Lin Shu only made soft encouraging noises that sounded really good, and after a while he found Zhanying’s awkward hands to pull them around his waist. From how close they were, Zhanying could feel Lin Shu’s arousal brushing against his hip—but it was mutual.

Lin Shu nudged Zhanying to lie on his back and crawled over, leaning a little bit of his weight on the other.

“You’re heavy,” Zhanying wheezed out when Lin Shu accidentally lost balance on one knee.

“You’re so unsexy,” Lin Shu uttered before leaning his forehead on Zhanying’s. “I joke about death because I’m scared too,” he whispered. “But I trust you and Lin Chen. So you have to trust me that I won’t leave you so soon. Okay?”

Zhanying nodded slowly. “…Okay.”

“Good,” Lin Shu murmured, and kissed him again.

Lin Shu’s hands roamed to undo the sash at his waist, peeling off the robe at his shoulder. It was pushed far enough that the burned mark on his chest was exposed—Zhanying actually forgot that Lin Shu had never seen it before until the other curiously touched it when he spotted it in between their kisses.

“Where did you get that?”

“I was sold,” he said honestly. “I ran away before I reached the brothel.”

“Do you still think about it?”

“No.”

Lin Shu nodded. “Alright,” he said, though he looked thoughtful.

Nonetheless, he said nothing more leaned down to kiss Zhanying again. Lin Shu did know how to kiss. Everything was new and pleasurable, especially when Lin Shu softly kissed his dimple and his jaw and his throat. It tickled, but it was nice; he breathed out slowly, lazily gripping the back of Lin Shu’s robe.

“You can moan Jingyan’s name if you want,” Lin Shu murmured, his grin pressed just below Zhanying’s ear. “I promise I won’t be angry.”

Zhanying had his retort on his tongue, but Lin Shu’s hand had slipped over the curve of his bare abdomen and cupped his swelled cock. His ears burned at the contact, cheeks flooding with heat—it was just, he’d never had anyone touch him there before. Shakily he groaned as Lin Shu moved his hand, thumb brushing over the head of his cock. He could feel himself leaking into Lin Shu’s hand, the wet fingers slicking up his length before stroking it fully.

“Oh,” he exhaled roughly, eyes fluttering shut. “Lin Shu—”

Lin Shu’s hand stilled for a split second, which meant that the other definitely caught that soft moan. “Say my name again,” he whispered, continuing his strokes.

Zhanying trembled as the pleasure built in his groin, fingers digging harder into Lin Shu’s back. “Lin Shu,” he obeyed, breath starting to get heavy.

“That’s it,” Lin Shu murmured.

For the next few minutes there was just the slick sound of Lin Shu’s hand working his erection, some messy kissing and their alternate uneven pants, until finally Zhanying took in a sharp hitch of breath and spilled his come over his stomach. Lin Shu released his lips with a suckle, smiling wide enough that his eyes crinkled.

“Did that feel good?”

Zhanying nodded drowsily. Lin Shu took one more look at him before clambering off his hips, taking the wet towel by the bedside that Zhanying had used earlier to cool his fever to wipe Zhanying’s come off his skin.

“That’s unhygienic,” Zhanying muttered.

“Just go to sleep, you,” Lin Shu shushed, pulling up the covers again. “It’s late.”

Zhanying was groggy from the orgasm, but he was still awake. “What about you?”

“I’ll take care of myself,” Lin Shu said. “You don’t have any experience.”

It was obviously a joke, but Zhanying got up and straddled the other instead, surprising him. “I’m a fast learner,” He stated, decisively steeled. “I survived three years with Lin Chen.”

“Xiao Ying—” Lin Shu yelped. “Xiao Ying—!”

As summer deepened, Lin Shu liked to take slow walks outside in the young night air. Zhanying wasn’t sure whether Lin Shu actually liked the walking or whether it was just that he could do it without Zhanying or Physician Yan nagging excessively at him during all other seasons of the year. Sometimes he asked Fei Liu to bring him to places the other had explored recently, sometimes he dragged Zhanying along because there was something he wanted to gossip about.

Zhanying thought it was the latter on one particular occasion, right after their dinner, when Lin Shu coaxed him to leave the manor. Both of them had been casually dressed as Lin Shu insisted it was fine, no one was going to see. But he did pull over a thicker robe before they left (Zhanying’s condition).

However, when they got to the main entrance, there was a carriage waiting for them.

Zhanying recognized it as a sedan from the palace. Lin Shu got in, motioning for Zhanying to hurry up. It was then Zhanying realized this was probably another one of those “surprises” Lin Shu loved to spring; it was very common for Lin Shu to say nothing and expect Zhanying to figure whatever he was doing along the way—basically, Lin Shu would never change.

Lin Shu fidgeted in his seat like he was anticipating Zhanying to ask him what was going on, but Zhanying didn’t want to give him that satisfaction so he sat back and simply watched the road go by. As he assumed, the carriage went past the palace gates, and then further into the inner palace.

Zhanying had a suspicion—which fully sank in when he saw the roof of Jingyan’s quarters.

“Did something urgent arise with his Majesty?” he asked, cautiously alarmed. “…We’re not—dressed,” he added after a beat, sounding horrified.

“Good thing you made me wear this outer robe, huh,” Lin Shu grinned. “Oh, your hair’s untied too.” Zhanying immediately touched his hair, hoping that there was a hair tie so that he could at least put it fully up—but there was none. “Come on,” Lin Shu tugged at his sleeve, pushing him to get out of the sedan the moment it was lowered at the foot of Jingyan’s steps.

“This is so inappropriate,” Zhanying hissed, warily casting his gaze around. “Why are we here?”

Luckily it was quite deserted—other than the guards who had carried their sedan, there were only two soldiers standing further in the distance by the main entrance. Zhanying frowned, knowing that he’d definitely assigned more guards on night watch than that. Lin Shu must’ve known exactly what he was going to ask the guards, because the other quickly shoo-ed them to leave.

“Where is everyone?” Zhanying muttered.

Lin Shu just rolled his eyes. “Jingyan sent them away for tonight.”

“Why?”

Lin Shu’s lips curved, but before he spoke the door to Jingyan’s quarters slid open. Zhanying turned, distracted by the sound, and saw Jingyan beckoning them in. With haste Zhanying’s hand flew to his hair again—but Lin Shu just snickered and pulled him along by his sleeve. Lin Shu merely nodded at Jingyan before heading in, leaving Zhanying hesitantly fidgeting at the door.

“Good evening, your Majesty,” he greeted, and hated how his hair went into his face when he lowered his head. “…I’m not really sure why I’m here,” he admitted.

Jingyan looked amused—but he did sigh after giving a quick glance over his shoulder, presumably at Lin Shu’s shadow. “Let’s talk inside.”

Despite being so inappropriately dressed in the palace, Zhanying felt a little better that Jingyan had also changed out of his formal robes. Jingyan led him in after he shut the sliding door behind him. Lin Shu was nowhere to be seen, and the further they went in, Zhanying started to realise that they were going to the bedroom.

He stopped in his tracks.

“…Your Majesty…?” he ventured, puzzled. “Did something happen?”

Jingyan stopped his pace as well, and backtracked his last couple of steps to come closer. “No,” he said. “Not exactly,” he continued, and then there was silence.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to notice this, but Zhanying thought that the glow from the candles lit Jingyan’s skin really nicely. Jingyan looked like he was thinking about something intently, caught between wanting to say something and saying nothing at all. Eventually he glanced towards the bedroom, exhaled, and then gently led Zhanying back a few more steps from whence they walked in by a soft touch on Zhanying’s arm.

“…Did Xiao Shu tell you anything?” Jingyan said first, in a soft voice—it didn’t feel like he did it because he was afraid that Lin Shu (wherever he was in the room) would overhear, but more to give themselves a sense of privacy.

“No.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I know he wanted me to ask,” Zhanying replied. “So I thought I’d just find out…eventually.”

Jingyan snorted. “That’s one way to handle him,” he agreed. “Zhanying,” he began then. “I’ve thought—rather, Xiao Shu and I, we’ve thought about this a lot. Thought about it carefully. And today, we…we’ve decided that it’s time I talk about it with you.” When Zhanying did not answer, Jingyan continued. “I think we should talk about how you feel about me.”

It’s certainly not the first time that they’ve had a conversation involving that, but still, it was embarrassing to have it said out loud. Zhanying felt his cheeks warm and swallowed, nodding jerkily. “W-what do you want to know, your Majesty?”

“I’m not asking for details,” Jingyan clarified, sounding a little hesitant as well. “I…When you returned from Langya, I saw how you looked at me. And then you told me that you came back…for me. I haven’t said anything in response to that, and…and then you married Xiao Shu, and it’s not that I—"

”Your Majesty, I understand,” Zhanying inserted quickly, because he had an inkling where that speech was leading towards. “I, I’ve never expected you to return my feelings, I—I know my place. Letting me stay by your side is enough. I am happy with Lin Shu.”

Jingyan looked at him for a moment before opening his mouth. “But you still love me.”

“…Yes,” Zhanying uttered, flickering his gaze down, because he couldn’t keep facing the intent look directed his way.

Jingyan’s hand came to tilt his chin up, and he came very, very close. “Zhanying,” he murmured. “As long as you want it, your place is wherever you want with me.”

Zhanying didn’t realise he had closed his eyes until he hitched a breath, minutely trembling when Jingyan leaned forward enough that their foreheads had touched. Jingyan was—so close, too close, the closest he’d ever been, Zhanying could even feel his breath gently caressing over his lips. It was overwhelmingly difficult to breathe with the way his chest seized up.

“…I,” he breathed, shaky. “I-I don’t understand—”

Zhanying heard Jingyan wet his lips. “I get jealous of Xiao Shu,” Jingyan whispered against his mouth. “Of how much better he knows you. Of the bond you have with him. I’m asking…if I can have more of you too.”

“Y-your Majesty,” he quivered. “When it’s you, I—I always—”

Jingyan closed the gap between them then.

The touch was light, and Zhanying’s mouth had gone so dry that their lips stuck together a little. But Jingyan kissed him deeper, gentle to wet their lips and slide them together, breathing in the short little hitch of breath Zhanying made. Zhanying felt so dizzy with heat then, that he staggered a little but was held still with Jingyan’s grip that slid behind his waist.

Lin Shu was a liar.

Jingyan was not aggressive at all—instead, he was so gentle, so careful, so soft—that Zhanying found himself gripping Jingyan’s robe so tightly from how much more he wanted to feel. Jingyan released his mouth and kissed his cheek gently, and then his temple. Zhanying fluttered his eyelids open, eyes still glazed.

“…When you were in Langya,” Jingyan murmured, holding him close. “I thought about you time and time again. I missed you a lot.”

Zhanying felt his ears burn, and his eyes pricked. “I, I,” he swallowed, voice coming out rough, “I—missed you so much. Every day was so hard. I—I wanted to see you so badly,” he said wobbly into Jingyan’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to leave. I don’t ever want to leave.”

“You won’t,” Jingyan stroked the back of his head, fingers cascading through his hair. “…Stay with me?”

Zhanying blinked through his wet eyes, realizing that Jingyan was gently asking him to follow him with a curl of his hand around Zhanying’s palm. He shuffled after the other, towards the bedroom, where Lin Shu was curled on one side on the bed, soundly asleep. Jingyan guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then knelt down in front of Zhanying.

“Your Majesty—” Zhanying started, jolting at the action, but Jingyan placed one hand on his knee.

“Sit,” Jingyan said, and then moved to take off Zhanying’s shoes.

Zhanying sat there with his heated cheeks and streaky, dried up tears while Jingyan slid off his shoes for him, fingers brushing over his ankles. It was—too much to have the Emperor do that for him—but Jingyan simply lifted his legs gently to the bed after the other was done. Jingyan toed his own shoes off and blew all but one candle before sliding onto the bed as well. Zhanying shifted to make space, and he lay gingerly next to Lin Shu, who snored softly and curled one of his hands around one of Zhanying’s arm to snuggle.

It was so quiet, and Zhanying knew because he could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

Jingyan pulled the covers over them and turned on his side so that he could face Zhanying. It felt like forever, but maybe it was just a minute that Jingyan watched him silently.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly.

“…You,” Zhanying said without thinking too hard about it.

He felt Lin Shu’s other hand brush against his own under the covers, and he loosely entwined their fingers together. Zhanying steeled himself for a couple of seconds, unconsciously licking his lips before shifting ever so slightly to press his mouth against Jingyan’s. Jingyan kissed back, warm breath exhaled against his mouth, and was smiling when Zhanying pulled back.

Zhanying’s face burned in embarrassment—and at his boldness. Jingyan reached to stroke his cheek.

“Thank you for your love,” Jingyan whispered. “It’s my turn to give it now.”

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other word would smell as sweet.

— William Shakespeare; Romeo and Juliet, Act II Scene II