Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When they get back, Bai Haotian is going to kill Shouling.

Pangzi is currently swinging from a steel beam with his gigantic laser blaster firing shots into the stacks of cargo they were supposed to be raiding. Kan Jian is somewhere above their heads; whenever Pangzi misses someone—which is purely by chance, as his method of firing in a steady stream with zero aim is particularly effective in destroying many, many things—they are quickly executed. Bai Haotian thinks that she can see Zhang Qiling, sometimes, but there are so many people running around and shouting and dying that it’s hard to tell which indistinct shadowy shape belongs to their fighter.

A stray blast hits the electric panel above Bai Haotian’s head and she yelps, ducking and covering her hair so the sparks don’t catch. She’s supposed to be hacking the door security so they can all leave, but it’s hard to concentrate when she’s trying not to get killed at the same time.

Muttering under her breath, she taps a few quick commands on the touchscreen of her datapad, which currently looks a little like a mad science experiment; there are wires sticking out of the sides, haphazardly twisted into the circuits of the ship they’re on. Manual hacking is technically the quickest and most effective way to get into security, but Bai Haotian prefers to do her work safely onboard her own ship. She knows she could have gotten into their ship’s command frequency. She had almost done it, too, but Shouling had shaken his head and made her come along anyway.

She spares another second to curse her captain again, biting her lip as she struggles with the lines of code keeping her from bypassing the security. It’s clear no one has done maintenance on the ship’s computer in a while; the data is all twisted and backed-up with years of commands and takebacks and second-guesses. Bai Haotian doesn’t understand how any self-respecting engineer can go without doing regular checks of their ship mechanics, but to each their own, she supposes.

It also could be a case of frequent crew turnover, which is rather likely, considering this is a mercenary ship. They don’t tend to live very long.

She finally manages to get her metaphorical fingers into a hole and pries apart the system at the seams. She’s just about to input the code to force open every single door on the ship when she suddenly senses someone behind her, and dodges to the side.

Fortunately, she gets out of the way of the meaty hand coming to grab her by the hair. Unfortunately, that lands her in the grip of another mercenary, whose palm closes tightly around her upper arm.

Bai Haotian shrieks. She kicks out, getting the first mercenary in a particularly unfortunate area. He curses, doubling over. She elbows upward as hard as she can, catching the one holding her arm in the chin, which makes him relax his grip enough for her to wrench herself free, diving forward to hit the final key to input her code.

It’s too late. Somehow, in the scuffle, part of the wires have been disconnected, leaving her datapad hanging. If there’s any bright side to be had, it’s that there is now a considerable amount of damage done to the ship’s circuits, which won’t be a quick fix. She decides to make it worse by ripping her datapad free from the other wires, wincing slightly, and is about to dash to freedom, but the mercenary she hit in the jaw blocks her path. She’s satisfied to note that he seems to have bitten through his lip, and there’s blood going down his face.

Bai Haotian feints to one side, but Chinny is clearly prepared for some sort of trick, and he trips her, sweeping her legs out from underneath her with a quick and practiced move. She lands on her back, the air going out of her with a loud thump. She gasps, too caught up by the fact that she can’t breathe, and those precious seconds mean that the mercenaries have her on her feet with a blaster to her head faster than she can get her lungs working again.

She still struggles, but they’re much, much larger than she is, and also they have a gun to her head. Chinny wraps a thickly muscled arm around her torso, squeezing her chest just enough that her lungs spasm again. She coughs, and he drags her out into the middle of the cargo hold, where the chaos is the worst.

“I have your girl!” he shouts. Bai Haotian hates him.

It takes a few moments, but everyone stops shooting at each other. Bai Haotian can see Pangzi atop a stack of crates. He looks disappointed to have had to stop firing, swinging his blaster around by the handle, which he’s only bold enough to do because Shouling isn’t there to yell at him.

“That’s better,” Chinny says, but he doesn’t relax his hold on Bai Haotian or the gun. “Now. Why don’t you all set your weapons down and we can talk.”

“Talk?” Pangzi says, flipping his blaster up onto his shoulder. “Why don’t you give us back our engineer and fuck off?”

Chinny lets out a very put-upon sounding sigh. Pangzi is just that irritating. “Where’s your captain?”

“Up your ass,” Pangzi retorts.

Chinny presses the blaster a little harder into Bai Haotian’s temple. She winces, which has the desired effect of making Pangzi go still. “I’m not overly patient, you know. It would be better for everyone if he decided to come out.”

“What makes you think he’s even on this ship?” Pangzi asks. He’s tapping one finger against his blaster in a seemingly random pattern, which gives Bai Haotian a little bit of comfort. That means Zhang Qiling or Shouling is nearby.

“We’re only one of the teams sent to find you,” Chinny says, and that really does make Pangzi pause. “You’re Wang Pangzi, and that menace with a sword is Zhang Qiling. I’m sure Kan Jian is somewhere around too, and this is clearly Bai Haotian.” He squeezes when he says her name, and Bai Haotian thinks some very choice thoughts about where she would like him to go. “Only one missing is Wu Xie. So where is he?”

“I’m impressed,” says a voice from the shadows. “But I have to wonder who it is that’s looking so hard for me?”

Bai Haotian feels herself grin, a little feral. “You’re in for it now,” she says, just as her Shouling steps out into the light.

Pangzi scoffs from his perch. “Tianzhen, you dramatic ass.”

Shouling merely grins.

To his credit, Chinny does not look properly cowed. “You’re Wu Xie?”

“Yes,” Shouling says.

“Captain of the Wushanju? Heir to the Wu family?”

Shouling squints. “‘Heir’ might be a strong word.”

“Alright,” Chinny says. He pauses, glancing around. “Where’s Zhang Qiling? And the sharpshooter?”

“Why?” Shouling asks, his smile hinting at the edge of dangerous. “Worried?”

“We’re just supposed to deliver a message,” Chinny says, “I’d prefer we not get killed for that.”

“A message?” Pangzi asks. He leaps down and comes to stand by Shouling. “Whoever your employer is has strange ways of getting our attention.”

“I’m sure we’ll be all the more willing to listen when our engineer doesn’t have a gun to her head.” Shouling’s voice is mild, but it’s clearly not a suggestion.

Chinny thinks about this for a second, then lowers the blaster, but keeps his arm tight around Bai Haotian. “Call off your monster.”

Pangzi looks extremely offended on Zhang Qiling’s behalf. Shouling throws a glance to a shadow right behind Chinny, who jumps when Zhang Qiling suddenly manifests from it, giving Bai Haotian a small nod as he crosses a little too close to the mercenary, just to be annoying. They have a method, the Iron Triangle, and most of it centers around being as unnerving as possible.

“What’s the message?” Pangzi asks. Chinny stiffens, looking toward Shouling, who doesn’t say anything. “We don’t have all day.”

“Coordinates,” Chinny says. It sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. “Quadrant 787, 0.9B, 10L. 74°53’17”N, 25°68’04”W. You have one week.”

“That’s Haruthul, isn’t it?” Shouling asks.

Pangzi frowns. “What’s someone on Haruthul want with us?”

It’s a fair question. Bai Haotian has never been to Haruthul before, and she doesn’t particularly want to go. The desert planet is known for harboring criminals and people who work for the highest bidder. It’s not really made for habitation, which is the exact reason that people choose to stay there; it’s out of the way and unpleasant, which means that hardly anyone who cares about galactic law will make their way onto the planet.

Bai Haotian wouldn’t say that their crew doesn’t care about galactic law, but it’s definitely not very high on their list of priorities.

Shouling’s got a dangerous look in his eyes, the one he gets when he wants to do something extremely exciting and supremely stupid. “Is that it? One week to get to Haruthul?” He laughs exaggeratedly, hooking an arm around Zhang Qiling’s shoulders and leaning most of his weight against him. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Obviously, we’ll drop everything and head straight over there. Xiao-ge, you like the heat, right?”

Zhang Qiling doesn’t say anything, merely gives Shouling a side-eyed look that to anyone else might look two degrees away from homicide, but Bai Haotian has seen this look directed at Shouling more times than she can count, and has become an expert at unearthing the fondness beneath it.

“Seriously, though,” Shouling says, straightening and giving Chinny an unimpressed look. “That’s all the message is? We don’t do things for free, you know. Nor do you.”

“We weren’t told what it is you’re wanted for,” Chinny says. “Just that we were to find you and relay it at all costs.”

“And your boss sent out multiple teams for this?”

Chinny seems to be growing tired of repeating the same information. “Yes.”

“I’m touched,” Shouling says, his lips going into a pout. “Really, I didn’t think we were this loved.” He pats Xiao-ge on the shoulder. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re interested in an anonymous contact with no promise of reward. Tell your boss that we decline.”

“I can’t do that,” Chinny says. “I did say ‘at all costs.’” In the space of a breath, he brings his blaster up so that it’s aimed at Shouling’s forehead. “You can either come on your own, or we’ll drag you there.”

“I thought you were just the messengers,” Shouling says. Despite being at gunpoint, he doesn’t look worried in the slightest.

Chinny shrugs. “There’s a doubled offer for whichever team manages to bring you in. And your engineer didn’t manage to hack our door system, so there’s no way for you to get off our ship. You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

“Hmm,” Shouling says. He raises both hands in the air. “Not.”

“What—?” Chinny doesn’t get a chance to finish his question, because at that moment, the outer cargo door is blasted completely off of its hinges, flying across the bay and slamming into three of the mercenaries at the edge of the group.

Bai Haotian takes advantage of the chaos to stomp on Chinny’s foot as hard as she can. His grasp slackens just enough for her to duck out of his hold and slam her fist into his jaw again. She feels something shift under her knuckles, and Chinny drops to the floor.

Outside, the lightly rusted hull of the Wushanju has pulled up to the blasted hinges. The door opens, revealing the containment bay of their ship, the air seal keeping them from being sucked out into space. Bai Haotian is particularly proud of that piece; she modified the artificial atmosphere filter to extend into other ships for thirty-second spurts, giving them enough time to get in and out safely during raids.

The rest of the crew knows this time limit, which is why they all waste no time sprinting for the door. Pangzi whoops delightedly, using his blaster as a battering ram as he charges through ranks of startled mercenaries. Zhang Qiling has his sword drawn, though he’s watching Shouling more than he’s paying attention to anyone around him.

Bai Haotian runs after the three men, only startling a little when someone drops down from the ceiling, rolling up and at her side with ease.

“You good?” Kan Jian asks. He’s got his modded sniper bow in hand, pausing to knock a mercenary in the face with it as they run.

Bai Haotian ducks under the arm of an enemy without stopping for breath. “He thinks this is fun, doesn’t he?”

Kan Jian looks to where Zhang Qiling has just used Pangzi as a launching pad while Shouling cheers. He shakes his head.

They make it to the door first, leaping the short gap between the cargo ship and Wushanju. Bai Haotian feels herself relax in the familiar yellow lighting of her ship. She and Kan Jian turn back to the door, holding their hands out for Shouling and Pangzi as they dive aboard. Zhang Qiling takes a quick detour to slash through the closest mercenaries.

“Just a tip!” Shouling calls, “Make sure you have all the crewmembers accounted for if you’re trying to get the jump on them!” He waves brightly. “Xiao-ge!”

Zhang Qiling wraps his legs around a man’s neck, twisting his body weight to land him on the floor. He tucks himself into a neat roll and is up once more, striding into the Wushanju as though he were out for a stroll. He’s not even breathing hard. Bai Haotian hates him just a little bit.

She pulls down the door control, and the Wushanju’s well-oiled mechanics slide together, blocking off the chaos of the other ship. She catches a glimpse of Chinny as it shuts. He looks simultaneously outraged and awed.

The Wushanju pulls away from the other ship, slightly sputtering. There’s a brief hitch before the engines kick in, and then they’re off, flying into the black without a second glance.

Pangzi scowls, tossing his blaster to the side. “What’s that moron doing to my ship?” He opens the main door without waiting for the decontamination process to even begin and stomps off in the direction of the cockpit. The Wushanju makes an unhappy noise and Bai Haotian pats its wall.

“Can you tell him to stop doing that?” she demands. “Someday, you’re going to come back aboard with deadly bacteria and Pangzi’s just going to track it all over the ship because he never waits on decontamination.”

Shouling just laughs and ruffles her hair. “We’re not carrying any deadly bacteria.”

“Not this time!” She bats his hand away. “And another thing! Shouling! What the fuck!” She slaps him on the arm. “I hated that! I told you to leave me here. I could have hacked the doors from the ship.”

“You didn’t hate it,” her Shouling says. “It was fun. Right, Xiao-ge?”

Zhang Qiling, who is very polite and will wait through decontamination, raises his eyebrow a miniscule amount, which for him is a resounding yes.

Kan Jian is sitting on one of the bay benches, busy checking his bow components. “Xiao Bai has a point.”

“Aww, Kan Jian,” Shouling pouts. “I know you liked it. You got so many people!”

Kan Jian grins brightly. Even if he agrees with Bai Haotian, she doesn’t think he’s ever been truly upset with Shouling. “Seventeen, if I counted correctly.”

“Impressive!” Shouling stretches, the high-pressurized air messing up his hair as the decontamination process finishes up. “I’m going to go set coordinates with Pangzi. Meet in the mess in ten.”

“We have coordinates?” Kan Jian asks.

“Of course,” Shouling nods. “Quadrant 787, 0.9B, 10L. 74°53’17”N, 25°68’04”W.”

Bai Haotian feels her mouth drop open. “We’re not going to Haruthul.”

Shouling merely winks at her. “Mess in ten!” he calls over his shoulder as he heads out the door.

Bai Haotian turns to Kan Jian for support, but he only shrugs sheepishly and follows after Shouling.

She doesn’t even bother looking at Zhang Qiling.

***

Bai Haotian walks into the mess hall twelve minutes later out of sheer spite, and she’s still earlier than most everyone else.

They call it the mess hall, but it’s really just a kitchen, and it isn’t even that messy. Wang Meng is meticulous about keeping their eating space clean, mostly because it’s the only area he has complete control over. Right now, though, Shouling and Pangzi are turning the counter into a war zone of peanut shells, while Wang Meng frets over them, antennae twitching nervously.

“Why did you make me fly the ship?” he’s saying, eyeing the peanut shells with distaste. “I hate flying the ship. I’m not good at it.”

“He’s right,” Pangzi says, “He’s not good at it. I had to recalibrate my entire panel after he got his hands on it, Tianzhen.”

“You did fine, Wang Meng,” Shouling reassures him. “I needed the others onboard with me, so you were our only choice.”

“I shouldn’t be your only choice!” Wang Meng wails.

Shouling spreads his hands. Peanut dust flakes off of them and onto the table. Wang Meng winces. “I can’t exactly help that. We don’t exactly have an overabundance of crew members at the moment.”

“We never have an overabundance of crew members,” Pangzi says. He tosses a peanut up in the air and catches it in his mouth.

“Well, why would I need more crew members when I have the best the universe has to offer?”

“Flatterer,” Pangzi snorts. He misses the next peanut and it goes bouncing off into a corner. Wang Meng suppresses an outraged squeak.

Shouling shakes his head, then catches sight of Bai Haotian. “Xiao Bai!” He opens an arm, making a space for her in the semi-circular booth that serves as their dining table. She slides in, settling herself against Shouling’s side. Pangzi pushes a small pile of peanuts in front of her. They’re a very clingy crew, with the exception of Zhang Qiling, but even he indulges Shouling and Pangzi’s terminal need to constantly be touching.

Wang Meng’s antennae droop as he seems to realize that getting Pangzi to contain the peanuts is a lost cause, and he sits on Bai Haotian’s other side, muttering something about a raise. Shouling ignores him.

Kan Jian comes in a moment later, sliding in next to Pangzi, and Zhang Qiling appears a moment after that. He doesn’t join them in the booth, but stands at the opening, arms crossed.

“So,” Pangzi says. “Haruthul?”

“Haruthul?” Wang Meng’s voice climbs an octave. “You didn’t say we were going to Haruthul!”

“Yes, I did,” Shouling says. “You were there when I set the coordinates.”

“Not everyone has their head filled with a map of the universe, Tianzhen.”

“Fair point,” Shouling acquiesces.

“We can handle Haruthul,” Shouling tells them. “Whoever is there is very clearly desperate to get their hands on us.”

“Yes,” Bai Haotian says, “Which means it’s almost definitely a trap.”

“But if it’s not a trap,” Shouling says, “Then we may be passing up a fantastic opportunity. The crew of the Wushanju has a reputation. If we’re being sought out, that means it’s not an easy gig.”

“Y’know,” Pangzi grumbles, “I think that sometimes I would like an easy gig.”

“Or it’s a trap,” Bai Haotian persists.

Shouling sighs. “I don’t have that many enemies. We don’t have that many enemies.”

“Doesn’t have to be an enemy,” Pangzi says. “Could be Er-shu trying to get you to come home for dinner again.”

“Er-shu’s not going to hide out on Haruthul,” Shouling says. “He hates sand.”

“I also hate sand,” Wang Meng offers. “It gets everywhere.”

“You can stay on the ship again,” Shouling tells him.

Wang Meng shudders. “No.”

“We shouldn’t needlessly walk into danger.” Zhang Qiling’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it that makes both Pangzi and Shouling turn their heads.

“We won’t,” Shouling says. “And besides, if there is danger, you’ll be there.”

“You can’t use your blind faith in Xiao-ge to justify your self-destructive tendencies, Tianzhen,” Pangzi says, giving him a soft thump on the arm.

“Of course I can,” Shouling says. “When have I ever been wrong?” He looks around the table at all of them. “Does anyone have any real objections to our course?”

There are a few moments of silence. Bai Haotian sighs inwardly. As much as this may be a bad idea, they would all follow Shouling into hell and back out the other side. None of them are going to abandon him if this is something that he wants to do, no matter how much they wish he’d play it safe. Shouling is a lot of things, and all of them have a tendency to inspire loyalty in just about anyone. It’s worked on them for years, and for good reason.

But the reverse is also true. Shouling trusts his crew. If any of them have any real objections, Bai Haotian knows that Shouling will reroute their course and they’ll find another job to take.

Pangzi finishes off the peanuts. “Ai, we’ve been through worse. Xiao-ge’s probably desperate for some sun.” Zhang Qiling doesn’t confirm or deny this, but the way his shoulders soften a fraction lends some credibility to Pangzi’s words.

“Okay,” Shouling says, “Xiao Bai, can you get the earwigs ready? I don’t want to go in there entirely unprepared.”

Bai Haotian nods. “They just need a little cleaning.”

Kan Jian slides out of the booth, stretching. “I’ll make sure our paperwork is in order. Don’t want trouble if we can avoid it.

Shouling’s eyes shine as he looks at them. “Best crew!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pangzi scoffs. He nudges Shouling out of the booth. “Move, I need to go fly the damn ship. Autopilot’s held out for this long, but there’s no telling when it’ll decide to crap out.” He gives Bai Haotian an eyebrow raise. “Weren’t you going to fix that?”

“I’ll fix it when you stop leaving the cruise control on during light travel,” Bai Haotian says, crossing her arms.

“Never going to happen!” Pangzi laughs. He accidentally brushes the pile of peanut shells, sending them scattering.

Wang Meng’s forehead hits the tabletop with a thump.

***

Haruthul is as hot and gritty as Bai Haotian expected.

She grimaces as they set up in a back alley; it’s going to be a nightmare to get the grains out of the electronic components later, but it’s unavoidable. There’s sand everywhere.

The coordinates led them to a square, clay-baked building near the edge of Zhujin, the largest trade city on Haruthul. There’s a constant stream of foot traffic there, which means that a group of strangers wandering around the city isn’t worth taking notice. All of the buildings are made of dried mud with small windows to keep the interior cool; shopkeepers have their wares out in front of their doors. It’s a custom on Haruthul to do all business out in the open, partially because having too many people in one small space will overheat it quickly, and partially so that there are plenty of witnesses if someone tries to cheat someone else.

Their destination, however, is closed and quiet. It’s not a business, or at least not a regular one. Wang Meng has been picking up clear signs of activity, though, so there are people inside.

Kan Jian is at the opening of the alley, keeping watching. Bai Haotian is attempting to make a coherent tech support station, but it’s not easy when you have no electricity and sand keeps blowing into your machines. Shouling is alternating between watching her and receiving information from Wang Meng, who has his eyes closed, antennae almost vibrating as he does reconnaissance. His species has a supremely good sense of smell, which has been exceedingly helpful in many of their adventures. They left Pangzi back on the ship, which he had complained loudly about, but eventually gave in, as he didn’t want anyone else flying the Wushanju in the inevitable frantic getaway they are all semi-expecting.

The only one who isn’t currently doing anything is Zhang Qiling. Instead, he’s standing toward the back of the alley, directly in a sunbeam. His eyes are closed, face tilted upward. If Bai Haotian looks closely, she can see the shimmer where his skin is slowly beginning to shine a deep, inky black.

As far as they know, Zhang Qiling is the last of his species. Kylin had been thought to have been extinct for almost a hundred years, until Shouling and Pangzi had found Zhang Qiling on a tiny jungle planet on the edge of a dying galaxy, where he’d been stuck for almost a decade, half-feral and sick. Bai Haotian isn’t sure about the full story, because Shouling never talks about their past adventures, and Zhang Qiling doesn’t remember them. Pangzi sometimes offers up details when especially drunk, but they almost always devolve into singing drinking songs he’s picked up at random outposts over the years.

Kylin are ectothermic, and while Zhang Qiling is able to withstand colder temperatures, there’s a distinct happiness to the loose curl of his hands as he stands in the sun and heat of Haruthul. His Kylin patterning is coming to life along his larger veins, black snaking its way up his neck to curl at his jawline.

Their crew is a hodgepodge of species. They’re all essentially humanoid, but that’s where the similarities end. Wang Meng’s race is named in a language Bai Haotian can’t pronounce; she’s tried, and Wang Meng looks as though he’s eaten something very slimy every time she does. His people are characterized mainly by their pack behavior and dislike of space travel. Wang Meng is one of the few who actually enjoys being on a ship, but he’s definitely happiest when all of them are together and on solid ground. Kan Jian’s species has unbelievably good eyesight and the strongest arm muscles Bai Haotian has ever seen, an evolutionary mechanism derived from tree dwelling. The surface of his planet is said to be entirely made up of poisonous tar, so Kan Jian had never set foot on solid ground until he left his homeworld. It’s part of the reason he never wears sleeves; he can disintegrate fabric if he flexes too hard, which Pangzi, the only one of them who can sew and therefore their chosen seamstress, hates.

Bai Haotian’s own people are a semi-aquatic species. Her planet is over ninety percent water, so she spent most of her childhood off-land, learning how to grow food without soil, which has come in handy onboard the ship. Shouling crash landed on World Eleven during a rare mission without Pangzi and Zhang Qiling, almost drowning inside his spacecraft before Bai Haotian saved him. In exchange, he helped her root out a disease that was being spread through their food source by a foreign merchant who wanted to sell the rich freshwater that made up their planet to resort companies. When Shouling had finally left, Bai Haotian had followed.

Shouling is full-blooded human, which is rare. Even Pangzi, who claims to be human, is at least a quarter Titan, a species of humanoid giants known for their widespread population across the universe. There are less than a thousand full humans left in the universe, as far as most people can figure. After so many years away from their origin planet, finding a full-blooded human is rare. They’re adaptable and resilient, but only nine blood-related families managed to stay together. Shouling is a member of one of these families, known as the Nine Bloodlines.  It’s one of the reasons they’re constantly outrunning Shouling’s uncle, who is getting rather desperate that Shouling find a human woman from one of the other Bloodlines to marry, which Shouling is absolutely not inclined to do. He has his own family, he says.

It’s a strange little family. Wang Meng speaks heavily accented Galactic, and his native tongue is so different from Bai Haotian’s that they have a hard time talking to each other. Kan Jian’s native language is surprisingly similar to Zhang Qiling’s, so they often have hushed conversations in lilting, flowing phrases that only Shouling seems able to eavesdrop on. Pangzi’s origin tongue is loud and boisterous, best spoken in song, which Bai Haotian loves. Her people don’t have a native spoken language; since their societies live underwater, they communicate primarily with gestures and body language, using Galactic, the universal tongue, to talk to any foreigners. Shouling, of course, has managed to get a proficient grasp of every language that his crew speaks.

There isn’t a lot of commonality, but they all get by, especially through the tapping language that Shouling, Pangzi, and Zhang Qiling developed when they first met. It uses the same linguistic heights as Zhang Qiling and Kan Jian, the hand and body speech that characterizes Bai Haotian’s language, the rhythmic phrasing of Pangzi’s method of speaking, and very similar sounds to Wang Meng’s native tongue. Shouling says it also has some similarities to an archaic form of human writing, which is where he originally got the idea. It’s saved their lives more than once, and is an excellent way to communicate when they don’t want anyone to eavesdrop on their conversations.

Wang Meng makes a humming noise and opens his eyes. “Human. Full-blooded too, I think?”

“What? Shit,” Shouling says, his forehead furrowing. “Who the hell could be in there?”

“They’re the only one,” Wang Meng says hurriedly, trying to be reassuring.

“Shit,” Shouling says again. He rubs a hand over his face, which Bai Haotian understands. If someone from the Nine Bloodlines is inside the building, this job may have become much more complicated.

Zhang Qiling comes over from his sunbeam to stand at Shouling’s side. He doesn’t say anything, but Shouling looks at him as though they’re having a detailed conversation. He nods.

“Alright,” he says, “Kan Jian, you’re with me. Wang Meng, go back to the ship and tell Pangzi that if we’re not back in an hour, come in with guns blazing. Xiao-ge, you and Xiao Bai stay out here. Are the earwigs ready?”

Bai Haotian holds out her palm, two little earpieces resting in the flat of her hand. “Don’t lose them.”

“Would never,” Shouling says. He fits the earpiece into the hollow of his ear. Bai Haotian gives the other one to Kan Jian, who does the same. “Alright. We’ll be back.” He gives Zhang Qiling’s shoulder a squeeze, nods to Kan Jian, and the two of them leave the alley. Wang Meng waits a few seconds, then leaves as well, heading in the opposite direction.

Bai Haotian kneels in the sand, fiddling with her equipment, clunky pair of headphones held to the side of her head. She tilts one of the speakers toward Zhang Qiling, who is balancing lightly on his toes as he crouches nearby. His eyes on her are slightly unnerving; it’s not that she is distrustful of the Kylin, but she’s rarely found herself alone with him. She tries to ignore the anxiety, twirling the dials on the transmitter to pick up the microphones in the earwigs.

She hears Shouling and Kan Jian walking for a few more seconds, and then they stop. One of them knocks on a wooden door, a few solid raps. There are a few beats, and then the door opens. No one speaks, until Shouling says, “Shouling Wu. I’m expected.”

Whoever answered the door must let them in, because more footsteps are heard through the transmitter. Bai Haotian tries to map the layout of the building in her head, but she can’t quite do it. The sounds aren’t echoing, so the building must be mostly one large room, which would make sense considering the architectural design of every other building in the area. They don’t go very far before they stop again.

“Wu Xie,” a smooth voice says, their Galactic slightly blunt, but with a deep-sounding accent. It sounds nothing like Shouling’s. “What a rare pleasure.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Shouling’s voice is pleasant, but he does not sound nice.

“No,” the voice says. “I am Mao Xincheng.”

Not one of the Nine Bloodlines then. Bai Haotian feels herself relax a fraction. If Wang Meng is right about this Mao Xincheng being human, there’s less of a chance that he’s a definite enemy.

“Mao-ye,” Shouling says. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“Indeed,” Mao Xincheng replies. “Which team ended up finding you? I did promise them extra payment.”

“I wasn’t eager to get their names,” Shouling says.

Bai Haotian rolls her eyes. Shouling likes playing games, especially verbally, but sometimes she wishes he would stop talking and get to the point.

“Hmm.” Mao Xincheng hums. “You have a very distinct reputation, Shouling Wu. It wasn’t easy to track you down. But I’m glad I did. I think you’ll be very interested in this opportunity.”

“What?” Shouling is trying his best not to sound as though he cares, but Bai Haotian can hear the notes of curiosity in his voice.

“This.” There’s a rush of air and then the soft thump of something falling to the dirt. Mao Xincheng sighs. “I would appreciate it if you would be more careful with my artifacts.”

“I’d appreciate it if you would warn me before you throw things,” Shouling replies. Oh, Bai Haotian thinks, he’s playing it this way. With the amount of activity Wang Meng had picked up inside, she shouldn’t be surprised that Shouling’s adopting arrogance to deal with this particular job, which is why he’d brought Kan Jian instead of going alone. Now he can delegate tasks to his first officer, just as Mao Xincheng is probably doing with his men. She hears Kan Jian bend down next to him and pick up whatever it was that Mao Xincheng had tossed to them, handing it to Shouling.

“Thank you, Kan Jian.” There’s a moment of silence as Shouling examines the object. “It’s a star map.”

“Yes,” Mao Xincheng says. “From the monks of Teleran. As you can see, the stitching is—.”

“It’s a fake,” Shouling says. “This star formation doesn’t exist. And the mapping design is too messy. Teleran monks would never have crossed galactic lines like this. All of their known maps are perfect.” He takes a few more seconds. “I’m sorry, Mao-ye, but whoever gave you this map lied to you.”

“Did they?” Surprisingly, Mao Xincheng doesn’t sound upset. “Look again, Shouling Wu.”

Shouling exhales, but he must obey, because in the next second, his breath hitches almost imperceptibly. His face must change as well, because Mao Xincheng sounds very smug when he speaks.

“The pattern is rather ingenious, isn’t it?” Mao Xincheng asks.

“It’s a hidden galaxy,” Shouling murmurs.

“What?” Kan Jian says.

“Look.” There’s a pause as Shouling shows Kan Jian what he means. “Teleran monks only made star maps on silk, and they were famous for their stitchwork. They never made mistakes, so to have galaxy lines crossing like this should be impossible. Every stitch represents a light-year in distance, and if you fold the map over like this... there. See?”

“Whoa,” Kan Jian breathes. “What is it?”

“Yincangui,” Mao Xincheng says. “You know the legend, Shouling Wu.”

“It was supposed to be swallowed by a black hole, years ago,” Shouling says. “No one’s ever been there.” His voice softens, just slightly.  “That’s why he never found it.”

“Your uncle.” The surety in Mao Xincheng’s voice is unsettling. Bai Haotian stiffens a little, hand clenching around the earphones. “Everyone knows about Wu Sanxing’s failed search for Yincangui.”

“They don’t know it failed.” Shouling’s voice is cold.

“Exactly,” Mao Xincheng says, “They don’t. But you do, don’t you?”

There’s a moment, only a few breaths, before Shouling answers. “I couldn’t tell you. I haven’t seen Sanshu in years. He’s probably dead, by now.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Mao Xincheng says. “If you did, you wouldn’t still be in this room. We both know why Yincangui is important. Important enough that your uncle dedicated the whole of his life to it.”

“That’s a myth,” Shouling says.

“You deal in myths,” Mao Xincheng retorts. “We both do.” His voice begins to pitch in a slightly manic way. “It’s there, Wu Xie. I have proof.”

“You have proof,” Shouling says, bluntly. “Of Yincangui?”

“Two years ago,” Mao Xincheng begins, “I found a woman on a distant moon outpost. She was quite delirious, shaking with fear and muttering to herself. No one knew who she was or where she had come from. They said she just appeared one day, as if the sky had spat her out. And she was muttering one word to herself, over and over again. Yincangui.”

“Where lost things return,” Shouling says.

“I took her with me,” Mao Xincheng says. “Unfortunately, she didn’t live very long afterward. But before she died, I was able to discover that she was part of a deep space mission that went wrong. The ship was pulled into a sun, but instead of perishing, the crew woke up on a strange planet. They thought they had died, at first, because there were people there who hadn’t been seen in years. Family members. People who had disappeared, who had been lost. They had found Yincangui.”

“Why did she leave?”

“She hadn’t lost anyone. There was no one on Yincangui that she would have stayed for. But the return trip drove her insane. I wasn’t ever able to determine how she escaped, only that she did.”

“So you want me to find out for you,” Shouling guesses. “Take my crew to Yincangui. Find out if it exists.”

“You are smart, Shouling Wu,” Mao Xincheng says. “Yes. I will give you all of my notes, and the map to Yincangui. All you have to do is return, and when you do, you will tell me how you did it. That’s all.”

“And if it is just a myth?”

“It’s not,” Mao Xincheng says, his voice leaving no room for contradiction.

“What if I refuse?” Shouling asks. “There are very few crews that would be willing to take on a journey as futile as this one.”

“I will pay you handsomely, of course,” Mao Xincheng says. “One million credits. For you and each of your crew members.”

Kan Jian sucks in a breath right when Bai Haotian does. It’s a lot of money, more than practically any of them have ever seen. Shouling’s family is rich, but since he cut himself off from them, they’ve barely been getting by. Their normal jobs pay enough to keep them afloat, but there have been some expensive repairs to the ship that Bai Haotian has been putting off.

“In fact,” Mao Xincheng says, “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll put forward one million right now.” There’s a moment, and then Shouling’s bank watch gives a series of beeps. “Consider it a bonus.”

Shouling is quiet for a long minute. “What if I say that’s not enough?”

Mao Xincheng sighs. “Our time is too valuable to waste, so I’d appreciate it if you would stop trying. I’m not the only one who wants something from Yincangui.”

Shouling goes silent again. Then: “Why us?”

“You have quite the crew, Shouling Wu,” Mao Xincheng says. “Rumor has it that there’s even a Kylin under your belt.” Next to her, Zhang Qiling goes rock-still. “They were thought to be extinct. Very impressive.”

Shouling doesn’t say anything, but Bai Haotian can almost see him tense with fury.

Mao Xincheng chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in whatever beasts you’ve acquired over the years. You can do it with or without them. I’m hiring you, Wu Xie. Whoever else you decide to bring along is your business.”

Shouling’s next exhale is slightly shaky. “I’ll have to discuss it with them first.”

“Reasonable,” Mao Xincheng says. There’s the sound of movement as he stands up. “My notes. If you decide not to accept my offer, you may return them here.”

Shouling laughs a little. “You trust me that much?”

“Not you, Wu Xie,” Mao Xincheng says. “I’m not a fool. We’re the same type of man, you and I. I don’t trust you. I trust your greed. You will take this job because there are too many things that you want from it.”

“I’m excellent at proving people wrong,” Shouling says, but even Bai Haotian can tell that this bravado is weak at best.

“Not this time,” Mao Xincheng says. “This time, I’m afraid that your nature has the best over even you.”

It’s a clear dismissal; even Bai Haotian can hear that. She sits back on her heels, mind buzzing. Shouling’s voice murmurs goodbye through the headphones, but she’s not listening, really. Yincangui. It sounds like a fairytale, but Bai Haotian has seen enough fairytales become reality that she is inclined to believe this one.

Zhang Qiling rises to his full height, turning to the alleyway opening. A moment later, Shouling strides down it, Kan Jian hot on his heels. Shouling’s eyebrows are drawn tightly together, and he’s clenching his fingers around a leather-bound journal, which can only be Mao Xincheng’s notes.

“Wu Xie?” Zhang Qiling murmurs.

Shouling’s eyes find him. He remains tense for a moment longer, then relaxes a minuscule amount. He tosses Zhang Qiling a folded piece of fabric, which the Kylin catches easily. He unfolds it, studying it in the sun.

“What do you think?” Shouling asks him, softly.

“It’s real,” Zhang Qiling admits.

Shouling sighs for real, putting his hands up to cover his face. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He tips his head back, sun reflecting in the hollow of his neck. “What do we do?”

Zhang Qiling keeps silent. Kan Jian is looking between the two, clearly nervous. Bai Haotian steels herself.

“We go,” she says.

All three of them turn to look at her. She lifts her chin, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s what we do.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Shouling says.

“It’s always dangerous,” Bai Haotian says. “That doesn’t mean we run away.”

“Xiao Bai.” There it is. The intensity that her Shouling is known for. He looks her directly in the eye, and she meets his gaze. “We don’t know what will happen. We don’t even know if this is real.”

“You say it’s real,” Bai Haotian points out. “Zhang Qiling says it’s real.” She swallows her fear. “We should go.”

“I agree,” Kan Jian says. He comes over to stand next to Bai Haotian, pressing their shoulders together. “This may be our only chance to find Yincangui. You’ve been looking for it for years, Shouling. We can’t pass this chance up.”

Shouling’s jaw stiffens. “Yincangui… it’s my search. You all don’t have to get involved. I’ll understand, if…” He presses his lips together. “I can’t promise we’ll come back.”

“Wu Xie,” Zhang Qiling says, “We aren’t going to leave you.”

Their Shouling looks at them, his eyes tightening in pleasure at the corners, as if he can’t quite believe they’re there. He steps forward, putting his arms around Bai Haotian and Kan Jian simultaneously, drawing them close.

“Best crew,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to Bai Haotian’s head.

Bai Haotian lets herself stay there for two breaths, then three. Then she squirms out of Shouling’s grasp, grinning up at him. “I know.”

He gives her a small laugh, ruffling her hair up. She ducks away and goes to pick up her equipment, scooping it into her side bag without much ceremony. It’s all going to need a cleaning when they get back on the ship, so there’s not much point in organizing it. It looks like they’re in for a long trip. She’ll have plenty of time.

“We shouldn’t keep Pangzi waiting,” Shouling says, glancing at his watch. “I know we told him an hour, but he’ll have started getting antsy already.”

They leave the alley, ducking through the throngs of people at the market. Bai Haotian keeps a tight grip on her bag, which is good, because more than one person makes an attempt to pull it off her shoulder, before they catch a glimpse of Zhang Qiling and think better of it.

A few streets from the street, the market begins to thin out. This close to the shipyard, most of the businesses are advertised as travel companies or mechanics. Bai Haotian relaxes her grip a fraction, which turns out to be a mistake.

Someone grabs the strap, so quietly that she doesn’t even notice until she’s taken another step and met resistance. She squeaks and stumbles backward, tripping over her own feet as she tries to turn to see who has ahold of her. The culprit quickly takes their hand away, stepping back.

“Sorry!” they say. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bai Haotian feels Shouling, Kan Jian, and Zhang Qiling stop. She moves back another few feet, pressing her back toward them. She hunches her shoulders and clutches her bag. She hates being snuck up on.

“Who are you?” Shouling asks. He puts a hand on Bai Haotian’s shoulder, as if to reassure her that he’s there. She can feel Zhang Qiling at her other shoulder and manages to stop her teeth from chattering.

The person who grabbed her blinks, but he doesn’t look frightened of them. He’s humanoid, though Bai Haotian can’t tell what species just by looking at him. He’s a couple inches shorter than Shouling, with an angular face made more stark by the large-framed glasses perched on his nose. He has dark hair is tied back at the base of his neck, and he’s wearing layers, waterproof jacket over a long-sleeved t-shirt, a large backpack slung around his shoulders, which indicates that he’s in their line of work. His eyes flick back and forth between Bai Haotian and Shouling.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I’m Liu Sang. You’re looking for Yincangui.”

Shouling exchanges a look with Zhang Qiling, and in the next moment, the Kylin has Liu Sang pressed up against the side of a building with an arm across his chest. Liu Sang stiffens, hands hovering and fingers splayed to show he’s unarmed. Still, he doesn’t look scared.

“What do you want?” Shouling asks, unmoving.

 Liu Sang slowly takes his eyes away from Zhang Qiling to make contact with Shouling. “I want you to take me with you.”

“Why would we do that?” Shouling asks. He steps in front of Bai Haotian and Kan Jian, his shoulders firm. “I already have a crew. I don’t know what kind of help you would be, but so far I’m disinclined to think that you have our best interests at heart.”

Liu Sang raises his eyebrows. “You’re on Haruthul. No one has your best interests at heart. But I’m useful.” He throws his head toward Bai Haotian’s bag. “Sonar tracking. I don’t know if your ship’s up-to-date, but if you’re going to find a hidden planet, then you’re going to need equipment that can show what you can’t see.”

“You’re a sonar technician?” Shouling asks.

“More or less,” Liu Sang says.

Shouling nods slowly. “Xiao-ge.”

Zhang Qiling releases Liu Sang slowly, stepping back, but remaining a little bit too close for any normal person’s comfort. Liu Sang looks him up and down, a brief flicker of his irises.

“Is that a yes?”

“No,” Shouling says. “You know what our job is. Which means you’re either sent by our employer, or you were eavesdropping. Whichever one it is, I’m not letting you on my ship.” He turns away from Liu Sang. “Find a different ride.”

“I’m not your enemy!” Liu Sang exclaims. “I need to get off this planet. I need to find it, too.”

“Yincangui is a myth.”

“It’s not,” Liu Sang insists. He’s starting to look slightly desperate.

“Sorry,” Shouling says, not looking back at him, “If we come across any hidden planets, I’m sure you’ll hear about it.”

“Please,” Liu Sang says. The cadence of his voice rises a little, and Bai Haotian feels something twinge in her ribs. “Take me with you.”

Shouling stops, mid-step. His face works in a strange way, the muscles in his jaw clenching. Slowly, he turns back to Liu Sang.

“You’re sure you’re not working for anyone?”

Liu Sang nods. “I’m alone.”

Shouling glances at the sky, at Zhang Qiling, and back to Liu Sang. He shrugs. “Fine.”

Kan Jian and Bai Haotian exchange a look. Even Zhang Qiling looks a little surprised. For some reason, Liu Sang does not.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Watch your step,” Shouling says mildly, but Bai Haotian can hear the bared teeth behind it. “Or I will personally throw you out of an airlock.”

Chapter Text

“What the fuck, Tianzhen,” Pangzi says as soon as he sees them. “You were supposed to bring back a job, not a person!” He pauses. “Unless the person is the job.”

“He’s not the job, Pangzi,” Wu Xie says. He presses his fingers into his temple for a moment. “Like an added bonus, maybe.”

“Another mouth is not a bonus,” Pangzi says. He squints at Liu Sang suspiciously. Liu Sang eyes him warily. “What is he?”

“A passenger, for now,” Wu Xie says.

“No shit. I meant, what species?”

Wu Xie shrugs. “We didn’t get that far.”

“Tianzhen!”

“Sorry!” Wu Xie exclaims. His hands go into the air in a helpless sort of gesture. “What was I supposed to do, say no?”

“YES.” Pangzi’s voice booms off of the metal walls. “You’re the damn Shouling!”

“I’m right here, you know,” Liu Sang says drily.

“You be quiet,” Pangzi says, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Wu Xie runs a hand over his face. “Please be nice, Pangzi. I’m begging you.”

Pangzi sniffs. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him,” Wu Xie tells him. “Just don’t murder him in his sleep or anything.”

“But awake is okay?”

Wu Xie groans. “I’m going to go look through this journal. Can everyone get ready to leave? Please?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just plods off in the direction of the second-level deck.

Pangzi frowns after him, then turns to glare at Liu Sang. “What did you do?”

Liu Sang gapes. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Sure. Wang Meng!” Pangzi snaps his fingers, and Wang Meng suddenly materializes at Liu Sang’s shoulder. Liu Sang jumps. “What is he?”

Wang Meng inhales deeply, which makes Liu Sang wrinkle his own nose uncomfortably. Wang Meng pops his tongue off of his teeth a few times, as if he’s tasting something.

“His blood’s swampy,” he says.

“Excuse me?” Liu Sang exclaims, affronted.

“Shut up,” Pangzi says.

“Definitely not human,” Wang Meng continues. “But not… not? I don’t know. I’ve never met someone like this before.” He cocks his head to the side, interested.

“Great,” Pangzi says, “Unknown species. Fucking wonderful.” He looks at Liu Sang expectantly. “Well?”

Liu Sang frowns. “… Well what?”

“Well, where are you from?” Pangzi demands.

“I… uh,” Liu Sang mutters. “Nowhere?”

Pangzi’s eyes go wide, an incredulous shit-eating look spreading across his face. “‘Nowhere?’” He turns to Zhang Qiling. “Did you hear that, Xiao-ge? Nowhere.”

Zhang Qiling blinks at Pangzi, which is equivalent to an agreement.

“Fucking fantastic,” Pangzi mutters. “Might as well have brought a zombie aboard, for all we know about him.”

“Pangzi,” Kan Jian says.

Pangzi makes a noise between a growl and a bass note, which Kan Jian knows is a particularly nasty swear word in his dialect, and shoulders his way past Liu Sang, back to his cockpit. Zhang Qiling wanders out after him. Xiao Bai, who has been staring at Liu Sang suspiciously since they brought him aboard, gives him a final distrustful look and then disappears in the direction of the engine room.

Only Wang Meng remains, gazing eagerly at Liu Sang as if he were a rare culinary dish. Liu Sang is beginning to look as though he is going to change his mind and make a break for it any second. Kan Jian sighs and clears his throat. Wang Meng turns toward him, and Kan Jian gestures rather violently in the direction of the door with his head.

“Oh!” Wang Meng says. He pokes Liu Sang in the arm once, giggles, and then scurries off to the kitchen.

“Um,” Liu Sang says.

“Sorry,” Kan Jian says. “They’re… we’re… you’ll get used to it.”

“Right,” Liu Sang says.

“I’ll give you a tour?” Kan Jian suggests. Liu Sang nods, and Kan Jian leads him out of the entry bay.

The Wushanju is a decent-sized ship. She has three levels: the lowest has the entry, infirmary, engine room, and decontamination bay; the main deck is a long hallway on one side, and the other holds the cockpit, mess hall, cargo hold, waste filtration system, Shouling’s library, and the greenhouse; and at the top of the ship are the ten crew cabins, of which only three are actually occupied, due to their odd sleeping habits. Only Wang Meng has his own cabin in regular use; Wu Xie, Zhang Qiling, and Pangzi all share one for some reason, despite each room really only being suitable for one person. Xiao Bai technically has a third, but she usually sleeps in the engine room anyway, and Kan Jian’s preferred bed is a wide beam in the cargo bay. He’s never quite gotten used to sleeping on the ground.

He leads Liu Sang up the first set of ladders and into the main deck’s hallway.

“Waste system is the farthest door at the back,” he says, gesturing. “The greenhouse is next to it. We try to grow a lot of our own food, if we can. Neither Xiao Bai or my homeworlds’ have fertile soil, so we’ve got experience growing crops without it. It’s cheaper than buying fresh food, too. Next to that is the mess hall, which is really just the kitchen. It’s where we do most of our meetings, so we’ll be in there a lot. It’s also Wang Meng’s area of expertise, so don’t make a mess, or you’ll be on the receiving end of a lot of passive-aggressive antennae movement.

“Middle is the cargo hold. That’s where I am, usually, so if you’re ever unsure about anything, that’s where you can find me. You can come in at any time. There’s not a whole lot in there right now, because our last raid didn’t exactly go as expected, but I’m sure we’ll stop for supplies soon. Next to that is Shouling’s library. You’ll probably never go in there.”

“Is it off-limits?” Liu Sang asks, which is the first thing he’s said in a while.

Kan Jian considers this. “No? Not exactly. It’s just really messy and full of books.”

“Oh,” Liu Sang says.

“Then, at the front of the ship is the cockpit,” Kan Jian says, pointing to the furthest door at the end of the hall. It’s currently slid open, and he can see Pangzi thumping around inside. He drops his voice slightly. “I would probably consider that one off-limits, actually.”

“Is he always… like that?” Liu Sang asks.

Kan Jian shrugs. “Pangzi’s big and scary, but he’s also a huge softie. Don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you.” When Liu Sang doesn’t look convinced, Kan Jian slaps him on the back, which nearly knocks him over. “Oh. Sorry.” He steadies Liu Sang, who is looking more and more overwhelmed with each thing he learns. “Sometimes I forget that people don’t always brace themselves around me.”

Liu Sang laughs uncomfortably, rubbing his upper arm. “Are you…?”

“I’m from Sarupdon!” Kan Jian exclaims. “Do you know it?” Liu Sang shakes his head. “It’s great. The entire ground is poison, so we all live in these giant trees.”

“The ground is poison?”

“It’s okay,” Kan Jian reassures him. “Hardly anyone ever falls down there. And if you avoid the pressurized gas pits, you can’t get accidentally hit when they spray.”

“What?” Liu Sang says.

“The trees are super tough, and we’re all good at climbing,” Kan Jian explains, holding up his arm. “S’why I’ve got these guns.”

“Oh,” Liu Sang says, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Anyway, that’s the cockpit. Our autopilot isn’t great, so we all take turns keeping watch at night to make sure it doesn’t suddenly give out when Pangzi’s asleep. He’s our pilot. Shouling can fly, though not as well, and the rest of us know enough to keep on course. You shouldn’t need to worry about it, though. Pangzi’s pretty particular about who he lets fly. He wouldn’t let me in there for months.”

“Right,” Liu Sang says slowly.

There’s a loud crash from the direction of the library and both of them jump. Shouling opens the door and stumbles out. His hair’s sticking out in multiple directions, and he has his glasses, which he claims never to need, sitting lopsidedly on his nose.

He catches sight of them in the hallway and smiles brightly. “Supernova reductions!”

Kan Jian gives him a thumbs-up. “Cool.”

Wu Xie beams at him, then trips his way to the cockpit. “Pangzi!” he exclaims, then switches into drumming on the doorframe. There’s a brief pause as Pangzi listens, and then slams the wall in a rapid three-beat.

“Don’t say that!” Wu Xie admonishes, stepping fully into the cockpit. The door slides shut behind him.

“What was that?” Liu Sang asks.

Kan Jian is about to tell him, but then the kitchen door slides open and Wang Meng bustles out, wearing a gas mask and rubber gloves, and holding a large pair of gardening shears. He doesn’t even look at them as he waddles in the direction of the greenhouse, opening and closing the shears threateningly. Liu Sang looks alarmed.

“Oh, he’s making plotum for dinner,” Kan Jian says happily. He loves plotum. It’s a rich sauce made from the non-toxic parts of a bioluminescent algae native to Xiao Bai’s home planet. They typically eat it with rice and thick cuts of meat, if they have it. Wu Xie’s clearly told Wang Meng about their extra funds, which means that they’ll be getting fresh meat during the next supply run.

“Plotum?” Liu Sang asks, but Kan Jian isn’t given time to explain, as Zhang Qiling slides down the ladder from the third deck right at that moment. He looks at Kan Jian, who points to the cockpit. Zhang Qiling gives him a nod of thanks and opens the door. Kan Jian hears Shouling exclaim and Pangzi bellow happily from inside. The door slides shut.

A lump of something dark green and foul-smelling is suddenly tossed up from the lower deck, causing Liu Sang and Kan Jian to leap away. Xiao Bai pokes her head up the ladder.

“Don’t touch that,” she says helpfully, and disappears again.

Wang Meng opens the greenhouse door at that moment, holding a cupped palm of soupy purple moss. He spots the lump and hums happily.

“Fertilizer!” He considers his moss for a moment. “Here.” He dumps the slime into Liu Sang’s hands. Liu Sang looks so revolted, it’s all Kan Jian can do to keep from laughing. Wang Meng picks up the stinky mass and goes back into the greenhouse, leaving them with a handful of algae that is beginning to drip onto the floor.

“Uh,” Liu Sang says. “Is it always like this?”

“No,” Kan Jian says, “Usually it’s worse.” He smiles widely at Liu Sang, who doesn’t return it.

Kan Jian ducks into the kitchen, grabbing the closest clean bowl he can find, and brings it back out to Liu Sang, who lets the moss fall into it, flicking his wrists to get the small particles off.

“He’s going to be a minute,” Kan Jian explains as he returns the moss to Wang Meng’s counter. “Fertilizing always takes a bit.” He goes over to the ladder that leads to the third deck and swings himself upward, taking the rungs four at a time. Liu Sang scrambles up after him.

The third deck is dark and quiet. It’s more confined than most of the rest of the ship, just barely big enough for Pangzi. Kan Jian points out each room as they go past it, leading Liu Sang to the fifth cabin in the lineup.

“You can sleep here,” he says, opening the door.

Liu Sang peers in cautiously. The cabin is simple, just a flat bunk lining one wall, with a basic mattress and blanket, and a small washing station in one corner. When he seems satisfied that there isn’t a secret crewmember waiting to ambush him, Liu Sang steps inside, slipping his backpack off of his shoulders and setting it on the bed.

“Thanks,” he says. He looks a little more settled now that they’re away from everyone else.

“We’ll be taking off pretty soon,” Kan Jian tells him. “You didn’t need to pick up anything before we left, did you?”

Liu Sang shakes his head. “I’ve got everything with me.” He sighs, running his hands over his thighs.

Kan Jian nods. “I’ll come and get you for dinner, okay? Feel free to look around, if you want.” He considers this for a moment. “Maybe stay out of Xiao Bai and Pangzi’s way, though. They’ll warm up to you. Just give them a bit.”

“Alright,” Liu Sang says.

They stand in silence for a moment. Kan Jian can think of at least three questions he wants to ask, but doesn’t know how to do so without it being awkward at best and offensive at worst.

“I’ll let you get settled,” he says instead. “Welcome aboard.”

“Yeah,” Liu Sang says. He doesn’t move until Kan Jian has stepped out and slid the door shut.

Kan Jian hovers outside the door for a moment. He never likes it when people are uncomfortable, even if he’s supposed to be intimidating them. That’s part of the reason why he works as a sharpshooter, rather than a close-combat fighter. He could be really good at hand-to-hand, but something about seeing people’s faces when they’re desperate and unhappy makes him sad. When he’s away from the action, he doesn’t have to worry about people being upset. He still feels guilty, of course, but so often it’s his family against the world, and he’s already chosen his side.

He sighs, walking away from Liu Sang’s door and climbing back down the ladder. He’s unsurprised to find Shouling waiting for him at the bottom.

“What do you think?” Wu Xie asks.

Kan Jian considers the question. “He’s strange,” he finally says, “But in a good way. I think he’s just trying to find something.”

“Not dangerous?”

“Not unless he chooses to be,” Kan Jian replies. He grins. “You should have seen his face when Wang Meng gave him some of the harvested algae.”

“No,” Wu Xie says, eyes folding up with mirth.

“Just handed it to him,” Kan Jian says.

Wu Xie laughs, looking far more relaxed than he’s been since they got to Haruthul. “Wang Meng,” he says ruefully. “Sure knows how to treat a guest.” He squeezes Kan Jian’s shoulder appreciatively. “We’re taking off in five. Come to the library?”

Kan Jian nods. “Let me check on Xiao Bai, and I’ll be right up.”

Wu Xie nods and disappears once again. Kan Jian makes his way down the hallway and drops through the opening to the lower deck, not even bothering with the ladder. He makes sure to clomp a little more aggressively than normal into the engine room so that Xiao Bai will hear him.

She’s currently underneath the boiler, only her legs sticking out as she fiddles with the heat valves. It’s a job that can only be done when the engines are off, so she should be finishing up.

“Hey,” Kan Jian calls, “Need any help?”

“Hand me a two wrench?” Xiao Bai asks, sticking her hand out and making grabbing motions.

Kan Jian selects the correct tool from the pouches on Xiao Bai’s mechanic’s belt, which she currently has unbuckled and lying on the floor. He places it into her hand, which disappears under the boiler again.

“Are we in good condition?” he asks. It’s technically his job as first officer to make sure that he knows the state of their ship, but he also just like talking to his friends about their areas of expertise.

Xiao Bai gives the heat valves one last twinge and slides out from the thick metal of the boiler, blowing her hair out of her eyes. She’s got a little grease smudging the left side of her face.

“Everything’s working,” she tells him. “I do want to get a replacement filter for the oxygen system, and the light travel piston is going to give out on us sooner than later, so those are first on the list when we stop for repairs. Luckily, we have some extra money now.”

Kan Jian begins a mental shopping list, which now includes pistons, filters, and meat. “I’ll make sure Pangzi sets a stop for us soon.”

Xiao Bai sighs. She knocks on the side of the radiator gently, then hoists herself up to sit on it, so that her eyes are level with Kan Jian’s. “Aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” Kan Jian asks.

Xiao Bai bites her lip. “Everything. I don’t want things to go wrong.”

“Yeah,” Kan Jian agrees. He didn’t want to say anything, but he and Xiao Bai are typically on the same page. As the two youngest members of the crew, they’re always a little more anxious during new adventures. Also, they still have self-preservation instincts, something that the Iron Triangle burned off years ago. “But Shouling has been preparing for this since he was young, you know?”

“And his uncle died searching for it,” Xiao Bai points out.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Kan Jian says weakly. Bai Haotian just gives him a look, and he sighs.

She’s right. Wu Sanxing has been missing for fifteen years, and has been presumed dead for about eleven of them. Wu Xie had been working with his uncle on an expedition to a galaxy made up of only twenty-four massive stars, which was said to contain the final resting place of a species of manganese-based lifeforms. They’d never quite made it there.

A week into the trip, Wu Xie woke up to find his uncle missing, leaving him alone on the Wushanju. Wu Sanxing had abandoned his research, supplies, and belongings onboard. The only things missing were a datapad and one of the emergency escape shuttles, which Wu Xie has never replaced. He claims it’s because it’s too expensive, but Kan Jian thinks that it’s because he wants to leave a place for his uncle to come back to.

Wu Xie had begun searching then, and hadn’t really stopped since. First it was his uncle’s notes, where the word Yincangui appeared over and over again. Then it was worlds and star systems and planets that his uncle may have been to, which is where he found Pangzi first, then Zhang Qiling a year later. The three of them made a name for themselves, bouncing around the universe, following any leads they came across, and taking other jobs to keep the ship running.

Kan Jian was the next to join them. Then came Wang Meng, and Xiao Bai is the newest regular member, though she’s still been with them for at least three years by now. Sometimes they’re joined for a mission by a friend of Wu Xie, and on one memorable occasion, Wu Erbai decided to stay with them for a week to try and convince his nephew to stop “galivanting around space and settle down to do something respectable.” It didn’t work, and Wu Erbai has not been back onboard since.

Yincangui has been a fantasy for a couple of years now, though Wu Xie has never really stopped looking. But he seems to understand the odds that he’s facing, though Wu Xie is excellent at taking odds and breaking them down the middle, whether for better or for worse.

“I don’t want him to be disappointed,” Xiao Bai murmurs, tapping her heels gently against the radiator. He’s too sad when he’s disappointed, it says.

Kan Jian drums his fingers back at her. I think he already kind of knows.

No, Xiao Bai disagrees, He’s a dumbass.

Kan Jian laughs aloud at that, but is stopped from replying by Pangzi’s voice coming over the ship’s intercom.

“We’re taking off. Strap your asses in. Tianzhen, that means you.”

Xiao Bai hops off of the radiator. “I’d better secure this,” she says, scooping her tool belt up from the floor.

Kan Jian nods. “I told Shouling I’d meet him in the library. Also, Wang Meng’s making plotum.”

Xiao Bai’s cheeks light up pink, pleased. She goes off, her steps a little bit lighter than they were when they first got back.

Kan Jian leaves the lower deck just as the engines fire up. He presses a hand to the wall, spreading his legs and loosening his knees to keep himself upright as the ship takes off with an aggressive burst of speed. Someone else isn’t as lucky, and Kan Jian has a sneaking suspicionas to who it is when there’s a loud crash from the library.

He sighs and opens the door to find Wu Xie sprawled on the floor, one ankle tangled up in a length of twine. He’s scowling at a pen that’s managed to leak over the front of his shirt.

The intercom crackles again. “Tianzhen, I fucking told you.”

“Defend my honor, Xiao-ge,” Wu Xie calls from the ground.

“No,” Zhang Qiling says, also over the intercom. Pangzi cackles.

Wu Xie flips off the speaker on the wall. He tries to brush his shirt off and only succeeds in smearing ink all over his hands.

Kan Jian hands him a rag that is lying over the head of a small bronze statue. Shouling must have been dusting and then gotten distracted. “What are you doing?”

“Mapping,” Wu Xie mumbles, patting the ink off of his hands. He gets back to his feet, holding up a the piece of twine, which already has one end attached to the wall. “And 3D modelling.”

“We have digital tech for a reason,” Kan Jian points out.

“I like seeing things in the physical,” Wu Xie says, already onto trying to figure out where his next point should be. He looks at the silk map lain out on his desk. Kan Jian can see his eyes flickering back and forth as he does some sort of mental calculation, then hums approvingly and goes to the far wall, sticking a magnetic tack to the metal and looping the string around it.

Kan Jian picks up Mao Xincheng’s journal, which is lying open next to the map. “Anything useful in here?”

Wu Xie snorts. “No. Whoever Mao-laoban is, he’s not a good records-keeper. It’s a bunch of monetary exchanges, mostly. I don’t know why he thought that would be helpful.” He looks at Kan Jian over the rim of his glasses. “There’s a part toward the back, though. Tell me what you think.”

Kan Jian flips through the pages of carefully charted numbers until he finds words written in sharp, messy script. It takes him a minute to decipher, partially because his Galactic reading skills aren’t as refined, and partially because Mao Xincheng has bad handwriting.

            Recorders are broken. Will attempt to repair at next junction. Since leaving outpost, have not heard any sounds.

            One recorder on mend. Other is failing. Relayed ideas of Yincangui. Transcription below:

            MX: where are you from?

            SB: the Return

            MX: planetary designation?

            SB: they Return, they are Returned…

            MX: are you from Yincangui?

            SB: <Haizi>, make sure they are trapped.

            Was unable to obtain more information from First Recorder.

            Teleran star map shows galactic tracing, but the area is devoid of planetary objects.

            Leave money in a vacuum and it will turn to song.

            Haizi 256.6, 173.12, 588.44, 476, 110.9.

Kan Jian grimaces at the page. “Do you understand any of that?”

Wu Xie shakes his head. “Not really. I think the recorder must refer to the woman he found, but then why does he talk about two of them?”

“Maybe there were two,” Kan Jian suggests.

Wu Xie leans up against one of his bookcases, tapping his pen against his lips. “Then why wouldn’t he have mentioned a second one?”

Kan Jian shrugs. “The second one could have been out of it too. Maybe they just didn’t have anything useful to tell him.”

Wu Xie frowns. “Could be.”

“Who do you think <Haizi> is?”

“It does lend some credibility to the idea of two people,” Wu Xie admits. “If she came from Yincangui with someone else, then that could be who she’s referring to.”

Kan Jian winces. “But… that would be a child, then? Haizi. What happened to them?”

Wu Xie grabs another piece of string. “There’s something about Mao Xincheng using someone for a job later, and he doesn’t have any financial records that line up with hiring anyone new during that time.”

Kan Jian pushes the journal away. “So he used a kid for a job?”

Wu Xie sighs. “I don’t know. If we’re right about any of this, then yeah, could be. Or Haizi could be a mistranslation. I have no idea what kind of language Yincangui has.” He makes a frustrated noise. “Why is this shrouded in seven different layers of unnecessary mystery? I could be through mapping by now, but I have to figure out how to translate a star map and sift through endless pages of useless finance records.”

“And what’s this note at the end?” Kan Jian turns the notebook upside-down as if that will help him to make sense of anything.

“Fuck if I know,” Wu Xie says. He’s migrated to holding part of the twine in between his teeth and wrapping another section around three of his fingers. Kan Jian is not sure of the purpose of this particular exercise. “Oh, Sanshu’s Yincangui notes are on the floor.”

“… why?”

“He was frustrating me,” Wu Xie explains.

Kan Jian decides not to say anything about that. Instead, he scoops up a scattered sheaf of papers from the floor, trying to bounce them back into a stack. He’s seen Wu Sanxing’s notes before, but hasn’t ever read them with serious intent.

He sits down at Wu Xie’s desk, spreading out the papers in front of him. Despite Wu Sanxing’s years of research, there’s little more than a dozen sheets of paper in his hands. They’re all copies, too; Shouling keeps the original notes somewhere safer than on the floor.

Thankfully, Wu Sanxing’s notes are far more organized and readable than Mao Xincheng’s. There are also diagrams, and some sketches of enormous statues carved into what appears to be the side of a cliff. They’re each have something small and rectangular, with a series of three dots on each side, in their fingers, pressing it up to their lips like they’re going to eat it. There’s a note next to the drawing in Wu Xie’s handwriting that reads intricate rituals????

They work in silence. It’s nice, Kan Jian thinks, being in the same room as his Shouling, just the two of them. He loves the rest of his crewmates, of course, but Wu Xie is who he boarded for. He’d been drawn to the human’s unwavering faith in his own abilities and those of the people around him. Kan Jian had seen Wu Xie look at Zhang Qiling and Pangzi without a trace of doubt on his face, and had thought, I want him to see me that way. He thinks that Shouling does, now, but Kan Jian still tries hard anyway.

There’s something steadying about methodically working with paper and books and notes, a sort of peace that Kan Jian never feels when they’re fighting smugglers and exploring planets and running for their lives. He thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind if this was all they did, forever.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when there’s a knock on the door and Wang Meng stick his head in.

“Dinner!” he exclaims cheerfully, disappearing again.

Kan Jian stretches his arms over his head, back stiff from sitting so long. He glances up for the first time in a while, and is surprised to see that Wu Xie has actually made quite a bit of progress with his string mapping, though it honestly looks more like a laser security grid than a quadrant system.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

Wu Xie smiles. “I’ve almost got it.” He threads a hook through the top of a sheet of paper with a circle sketched on it, hanging it off one of the strings. Kan Jian thinks it’s supposed to be a star. “I’ll finish after dinner.”

Kan Jian gazes at the maze. “Shouling… are you going to be able to leave?”

“What?” Wu Xie looks around. “Oh.” His arms drop to his sides. “Um.”

Kan Jian laughs.

“It’s not funny,” Wu Xie grumbles, but he doesn’t really look upset. He sighs, then lies flat on the floor, worming his way under the string maze on his stomach. He pops up again next to the desk. “Ta-da!”

Kan Jian shakes his head. “I’m going to go get Liu Sang.”

Wu Xie nods. They leave the library, just in time for Zhang Qiling to come down the hall and Wu Xie to latch onto him. Kan Jian goes to the ladder and is startled by Liu Sang already coming down it. He hops down neatly, raising an eyebrow at Kan Jian’s surprised expression.

 “What?” he says.

“How’d you know I was coming to get you?”

Liu Sang looks at the wall behind Kan Jian’s head. “Um. I heard, I guess. Your ship isn’t very soundproof.”

He stomps off toward the kitchen. Kan Jian frowns, because that’s not true. The ship is very soundproof. One time they lost Xiao Bai in the greenhouse for an hour because she hadn’t heard them calling for her as they searched the ship.

He shakes his head. Maybe Wang Meng had called up to the cabins or something. Either way, there’s a steaming bowl of plotum waiting for him, and Xiao Bai will eat his share if he doesn’t stake a claim.

The crew is settled around the table, each with a bowl in their hands. Wang Meng is ladling sauce and meat out over portions of rice, yelling at Wu Xie as he tries to dip his fingers directly into the pot. Xiao Bai is pouring glasses of water for everyone. Liu Sang is sitting at the very end of the semicircular booth, looking warily across the table at Pangzi, who is dipping a hunk of flatbread into Zhang Qiling’s bowl.

Kan Jian slides in across from Liu Sang, inhaling the steam wafting up from his own bowl. He thanks Wang Meng as he takes his first bite. The dish is sort of like a curry, thick and well-seasoned. It tastes buttery, and the meat is tender, almost melting in Kan Jian’s mouth.

He hums appreciatively, looking across the table at Liu Sang, who is tentatively trying his portion. He seems surprised when it doesn’t taste like moss.

“Good, right?” Kan Jian asks him. Liu Sang nods, and begins eating faster, as through he’s afraid the food will be taken away from him if he doesn’t eat quickly enough, which, to be fair, is a very real worry with Pangzi and Xiao Bai at the table.

The seven of them eat in comfortable silence, broken by Pangzi and Wu Xie bantering back and force, or teasing Xiao Bai. Wang Meng alternates between running back and forth in the kitchen to clean things or to make tea or to keep Pangzi from eating all the bread. 

When the pot in the center of the table is empty and everyone is scraping the last of the plotum from their bowls, Pangzi levels his spoon at Wu Xie. “What coordinates should I be putting in, Tianzhen?”  

Wu Xie considers. “We should probably make a stop to resupply before we head to deep space.”

“Can we get alcohol?” Xiao Bai asks. “We’re rich now.”

“What?” Pangzi asks, looking very interested in the idea of alcohol. Or maybe interested in the idea of being rich. It’s hard to tell.

Wu Xie holds out his wrist, displaying his bank watch, a thin bracelet with a tiny screen that shows how many credits are in their account. “We got an advance payment on this job.”

Pangzi grabs his wrist, eyes bulging as he looks at the number. “That’s an advance payment?”

Wu Xie nods. “One million for each of us if we succeed.”

Pangzi pretends to faint onto Xiao Bai, who shoves him away. “We’re set, Tianzhen. Time to retire. Leave the ship to your kid, let’s take Xiao-ge and live on a tropical paradise for the rest of time.”

“We have to actually finish the job first,” Wu Xie reminds him.

“Technicalities,” Pangzi says. “By the way, what is the job?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Kan Jian asks.

“He said something about heading up at 13° and that’s it.” Pangzi snorts. “It’s a good fucking thing I’m a great pilot.”

“I forgot,” Wu Xie says. To Pangzi, he says, “We’re going to find Yincangui.”

Pangzi stares at him blankly for a moment. “Forget retirement then, Tianzhen. We’re going to be paying for funerals.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I don’t?” Pangzi asks. “Xiao-ge, did you tell him that this is a fucking terrible idea?”

“Xiao-ge wants to go,” Wu Xie mumbles.

“Xiao-ge doesn’t get a vote,” Pangzi says, “He just agrees with you anyway.”

“I agreed too,” Xiao Bai says defensively, getting on her knees on the seat so she can be at eye level with the rest of them. “So did Kan Jian.”

“Ah, youth,” Pangzi says, “So foolish.”

“Six against one, Pangzi,” Wu Xie says. He sticks out his tongue.

“Zip it, Tianzhen.”

“Not six,” Liu Sang says. All heads turn to him, which makes him wince. “Uh, I don’t want to vote.”

“Then what’s the point of you?”

Wu Xie ignores Pangzi. “You already voted by virtue of being here, Liu Sang. Six to one.”

“Please don’t drag me into this,” Liu Sang mutters.

“Who was willing to pay an advance of one million credits for you to go mythbusting?” Pangzi asks.

Wu Xie shrugs. “Does it matter? We’re getting paid.”

Pangzi sighs. “Tianzhen, it’s a fruitless fucking endeavor. It has been for years.”

“If it’s out there, so is Sanshu,” Wu Xie says. “I can’t give up, Pangzi.”

Pangzi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He looks toward Zhang Qiling, who meets his eyes but doesn’t say anything. Pangzi taps the table. Have you really thought about this?

I’ve been thinking about it for fifteen years, Wu Xie taps back.

Kan Jian watches Liu Sang’s eyes flicker back and forth between their fingers, as if he’s puzzling something out.

Idiot, Pangzi taps.

Your idiot, Wu Xie replies, a small smile dancing under his eyes.

“Fine,” Pangzi says out loud, “Yincangui. Tell us the story, I know you want to.”

Wu Xie leans back in his seat, eyes falling slightly out of focus as he thinks. “I grew up hearing about Yincangui. Sanshu found this old data chip on a mining planet, and it was almost too corroded to read, but it had this grainy video clip of the entrance to a city, carved into the side of a cliff, with four stone statues guarding it. He drew pictures of the statues, almost obsessively, trying to figure out what they meant. I think they were just supposed to guard the city, or maybe something to do with an entrance ritual. But that’s what started it.

“Every planet he went to, he’d comb through libraries and archives and old bookshops, but he only ever found a few records of any place like that existing. One was obviously talking about a different planet, but then he found two separate journals, both on Qiutan. It’s not a very nice planet, super icy.”

“What does that have to do with Yincangui?” Xiao Bai asks impatiently.

“Right,” Wu Xie says. “So the journals both had drawings of the same statues, and the same name above them; Yincangui. There wasn’t much else in the first, but the second had this story in it, about a planet that returns anything that has been lost.”

“Is that how they put it?” Kan Jian asks. “It sounds kind of clunky, otherwise.”

Wu Xie nods. “Literally, it was ‘the return of hidden things.’ Sanshu liked to say lost, but I’m kind of fond of hidden. It was written by a ship’s captain, who had been separated from his crew when they crashed into an ocean planet. He managed to escape on a shuttle, but he got turned around somehow, and found himself on a different planet of deep green forests and craggy cliffs. He landed outside the city, and was welcomed in by the people who lived there. And when he got inside—”

“His crew was waiting for him,” Xiao Bai breathes. Kan Jian feels the same way. Shouling is a very good storyteller.

Wu Xie nods. “I don’t know how he left the planet, or what happened with his crew. That’s where the journal ends. But Qiutan is the closest we’ve been able to get.” His face drops a little. “We were always going to go back. I checked there, first, but Sanshu never came.”

Pangzi grimaces sympathetically. “You know your Sanshu. He probably found a way-around and decided not to tell anyone.”

“So we’re going to Qiutan?” Zhang Qiling asks.

“It’s the best place I can think of to start,” Wu Xie admits. “There might not be anything else there, but it’s better than flying blind.”

“Speaking of,” Pangzi says, “What about you?’

Liu Sang looks up from where he’s been being very quiet behind his bowl. “What?”

“You’re on our ship ‘for a reason,’ as Tianzhen put it,” Pangzi says, “And the only reason would be that you want to find Yincangui, same as us. So what do you know about it?”’

“N-nothing,” Liu Sang stutters. “Nothing useful, anyway. Just that people think it’s a story.”

Pangzi does not seem impressed by this. “Tianzhen, why did you let him come aboard?”

Wu Xie looks as though he’s wondering the same thing.

Liu Sang casts about, finally settling on, “Sonar!”

Pangzi raises an eyebrow. “Sonar?”

“I’m a sonar technician,” Liu Sang says. “Yincangui would be like the ultimate sonar find, wouldn’t it? An entire planet that no one’s ever seen? It’s hidden. We find hidden things with sonar. So of course I’d want to look for it.” He crosses his arms, glaring the table down. “You can believe me or not. I don’t care.”

Pangzi snorts. “Okay, Zombie Boy from Nowhere.”

“That’s not my name,” Liu Sang mutters.

“Sonar could come in handy,” Wu Xie placates. “We don’t know what we’ll be up against this time. Having a few extra tricks up our sleeves is a good idea.” He glances at Kan Jian. “Metaphorical sleeves, of course.”

“I’m just saying,” Pangzi says, “You could always be a little more suspicious, Tianzhen. You don’t have to constantly live up to your name.”

Wu Xie tosses his spoon at him.

“The cutlery!” Wang Meng cries.

Pangzi brandishes his own spoon. “En garde, Young Wu!”

“Xiao-ge!” Wu Xie cries, grabbing at Zhang Qiling’s arm. Zhang Qiling patiently hands over his own spoon. Wang Meng makes an outraged noise. Pangzi and Wu Xie duke it out for a few rounds before Wu Xie pretends to die, falling over into Zhang Qiling’s lap.

“Avenge me,” he says, and then goes limp. Xiao Bai cheers.

“Evil is vanquished!” Pangzi announces. “You all may now honor me as a god.”

Kan Jian and Xiao Bai immediately start bowing to Pangzi, who holds his arms out and accepts their praises. Wu Xie sits up again and joins in. Zhang Qiling quietly collects the discarded spoons from the tabletop and hands them to Wang Meng, who has snuggled up to Liu Sang’s side and is sighing contentedly. Liu Sang is giving him an uneasy side-eye, but is making no move to push him away.

Actually, Kan Jian thinks, this might work out.   

***

Two days later, and he’s starting to rethink that.

“Stay away from my cockpit!” Pangzi yells, shoving Liu Sang out of the door. Liu Sang’s arms are full of metal bits and pieces, and he has to weave around not to drop any of them.

“Wu Xie told me to set up something!” he says. “Where else am I supposed to do it?”

“Go bother Xiao Bai!” Pangzi orders. “Stop hanging around here, with your damn beeping machines. I can’t hear myself think.”

“It’s sonar equipment, it has to beep!” Liu Sang argues.

“Well, make it beep somewhere else!”

“Argh!” Liu Sang whirls around and stomps down the hallway, almost running into Kan Jian.

“Whoa,” Kan Jian says, reaching out to steady him before he can overcompensate and drop everything, “What’s going on?”

“Damn Pangzi,” Liu Sang mutters. He blows a strand of his bangs away from his eyes. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”  

“Well, you aren’t being helpful!” Pangzi yells from inside the cockpit.

“How did you even hear that?” Liu Sang hollers.

The library door swings open and Wu Xie steps out, looking frazzled. “Why are we shouting?”

Pangzi appears in the hall. “The Zombie is trying to fuck up my controls.”

“I’m not a zombie!” Liu Sang shouts. “And I wasn’t even near your controls!”

“Anywhere within a hundred meters I’m considering near!”

Liu Sang’s face goes red. “The ship is barely a hundred meters long!”

“Exactly!”

“Enough!” Wu Xie yells. “Can you two please try to get along? For five minutes?”

Pangzi and Liu Sang exchange a glance.

“He’s shifty,” Pangzi complains.

“He’s annoying,” Liu Sang retorts.  

“You’re a brat.”

"Well, you’re old!”

“Fucking—”

Wu Xie kicks the wall. Pangzi stops in the middle of his sentence, turning his attention to Wu Xie, who bangs out a sentence purposefully with his fist. Pangzi rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says out loud. “But keep him out of my cockpit.”

“Fine,” Wu Xie says. He folds his glasses in his hand. “Pangzi, stop the ship.”

Pangzi looks suddenly delighted. “We’re throwing him out?”

Liu Sang’s eyes widen. “You can’t!”

“We’re not throwing him out!” Wu Xie cries. To Liu Sang, he says, “We’re not throwing you out.” Liu Sang still looks suspicious, so Wu Xie adds, “Xiao Bai will help you mount any equipment you need to the outside of the ship. She wanted to take a look at that hull patch anyway.” He nods to Kan Jian. “Kan Jian, help them out?”

Kan Jian nods eagerly.

Wu Xie sighs. “Thank you. Just give me at least fifteen minutes of peace before you start up again, okay?”

Pangzi mutters something under his breath and Liu Sang glares at him, but they don’t start shouting again. Wu Xie disappears back into his library.

“Come on,” Kan Jian says. He takes some of the equipment from Liu Sang’s arms. “We’ll go find Xiao Bai.”

They somehow manage to get down to the engine room without falling down the ladder or breaking any of the equipment. Xiao Bai meets them in the hall, already in her orange spacesuit, with two others folded in her arms.

“Shouling called ahead,” she says. “Said you two would be coming.” She gestures toward the entry with her head, and the three of them trot in, just as Pangzi shuts down the engines. The ship goes mostly quiet, floating in space with a soft hum.

Liu Sang sticks his equipment in a tool bag, then takes the orange jumpsuit Bai Haotian hands him. Kan Jian’s is in the same color, but the sleeves are four sizes bigger than the rest of the suit, so that he won’t rip through them. They billow out around his arms and gather at his wrists. It makes him look sort of like a pirate, and they aren’t exactly the best in battle, but he’s fine just helping out with maintenance work and things.

Liu Sang looks at his suit and snickers.

“Shh,” Kan Jian says, “It’s not my fault I’m so strong.”

Xiao Bai rolls her eyes, sliding her helmet on and hooking it up to the air filter on the back. Liu Sang and Kan Jian do the same, and they each attach themselves to the thick elastic cord that sits on a spool on the wall. Liu Sang hefts his tote onto his shoulder, Xiao Bai opens the entry bay door, and they all float out into space.

It always takes Kan Jian a moment to orient himself when floating, but he quickly gets his bearings and grabs onto one of the ladder rungs that climbs up the ship’s hull. Xiao Bai is already halfway up the ladder, and Liu Sang is doing a surprisingly good job pulling himself up as well, considering that he’s got a bag of metal at his side.

They stop three-quarters of the way up the ship. Kan Jian clings to the ladder while Xiao Bai pokes around with the patch job she had done before they had left Haruthul. She seems satisfied with it.

“That’s a good hull patch,” Liu Sang says through the suits’ headsets. “Did you use trianthum gum?”

Xiao Bai looks surprised. “Yeah,” she says. “Trianthum and magnesium netting.”

Liu Sang nods. “Nice.”

Xiao Bai gives him a small smile.

They continue up the ship until they’re over the cockpit area. Xiao Bai fiddles with the windshield monitor a bit, then turns to Liu Sang.

“You can set up wherever you think would be best,” Xiao Bai says. “Just don’t put anything near the windshield.”

Liu Sang nods. He begins to dig around in the bag, pulling out a thick circular disk and long antenna, along with a tube of welding glue, a compound that secretes ultra-hot metal and allows mechanics to do quick welding jobs, especially if they don’t have a torch available. It’s not recommended for major projects, but Kan Jian’s hung around Xiao Bai enough to know that it should work for this.

He and Xiao Bai float on their cord, each with one hand hooked casually around a ladder rung, watching as Liu Sang sticks his device to the rounded side of the ship, making sure it’s secure before placing the antenna next to it. He flips a switch on the side, and Kan Jian sees a small light turn on, flashing on and off, which is apparently what it’s supposed to do because Liu Sang nods in satisfaction. He pushes himself a little further up the ship to set another device on the top, over where their cabins are.

“He’s not so bad,” Xiao Bai says, not looking at Kan Jian as she does.

“He’s not,” Kan Jian agrees.

Liu Sang floats back over to them. He’s got a small monitor in his hand and is looking at the screen. He holds it up to show them, and Kan Jian sees a green circle flipping around and around, showing them empty space in all directions.

“Done,” Liu Sang says. “I’ll get some more delicate calibrations running back on the ship, but the hardware should be fine.”

“Alright,” Xiao Bai says. She kicks back to the ladder. Liu Sang and Kan Jian follow close behind. They pull themselves back down the side of the ship again, until Liu Sang, who is in front of Kan Jian, stops suddenly. His head turns to the side, gazing off toward the rear of the ship.

“What?” Kan Jian asks when he doesn’t move.

Liu Sang startles a little, shaking off whatever stupor he’d thrown himself into. “Nothing.” He goes back to following Xiao Bai, hand-over-hand.

Kan Jian frowns at his boots.

When they’re safely back inside, entry bay sealed and air uncompromised, they strip out of their space suits, folding and storing them in the crew chests that line the walls. Liu Sang comes up with an earpiece from his equipment and fits it into his ear, mumbling to himself. Once his gear is stored, he hurries away, not even bothering to say goodbye.

“Never mind,” Xiao Bai mutters, “He’s a weirdo.”

***

Kan Jian doesn’t see Liu Sang again until he’s on watch that night.

Wu Xie complains loudly every time he has to be on watch, but they all know that’s mainly for show. Kan Jian doesn’t mind it. Space travel is too dangerous to leave a ship entirely unattended, and besides, it’s nice, to sit in the quiet dark of the Wushanju and watch her carry them safely through miles and miles of vast darkness. Kan Jian will place his chin in his palms, propping them on the dash, and gaze at the stars flowing by in an endless stream of light. He’ll think about how he used to look at them when they were just pinpricks in the sky, never knowing how they could join together and paint waves around a ship travelling at near-light speed.

He does the same tonight, curling up as best he can and feeling the light trawl across his cheeks. Something in him hums, contentedly. He’s in love with this place, with this life. He could travel for years and never have enough.

“Hey,” Liu Sang murmurs from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. “Could… could I come in?”

“Yeah,” Kan Jian says, gesturing him forward. The copilot’s chair is empty next to him, so he pats the seat. “There’s room.”

Liu Sang tiptoes in, as if he’s afraid Pangzi is going to pop out of nowhere and start yelling at him. He sits next to Kan Jian, gingerly, and looks out the windshield. He takes in the highway of stars and visibly relaxes.

Kan Jian grins. “You like space?”

To his surprise, Liu Sang violently shakes his head. “I hate space travel.”

“What?” Kan Jian asks. “Why?”

“It’s… empty,” Liu Sang says, his eyes still fixed forward. “There’s… like, there’s stuff out there, but it’s big and spread out. And there’s no sound.” He shivers, almost imperceptibly. “That’s why I came down. I wanted to be able to see it. To know that there are still other things out there.”

“If you hate space travel, why were you so eager to get on our ship?” Kan Jian asks. He tucks his knee up, resting his chin on it and wrapping his arms around.

Liu Sang sighs. He rubs a hand over his eyes, interrupting his glasses. “I needed to get off that planet. I guess I didn’t care how it happened.”

“Oh,” Kan Jian says. “Were… are you okay?”

Liu Sang’s head snaps toward him. He looks shocked, like no one has ever asked him that before. He seems to realize Kan Jian is serious, though, and nods slowly.

“I think I am now,” he says.

“Good,” Kan Jian replies firmly. He wants to say something, wants to reassure Liu Sang that he’s not just a guest on their ship, that as untamed and strange as their crew is, they’ll still have his back as long as he allows them to. It’s something that Kan Jian took a while to learn, and he’s pretty sure that he’s leagues more trusting that Liu Sang is. But it seems as though they’ve hit a lull in their conversation, and he doesn’t want to crack this carefully laid foundation, so he settles for watching space go by in silence.

After a few minutes, he realizes that Liu Sang is playing with something around his neck. He’s got a dark shape in between his fingers, running them over it absentmindedly as he looks out. It’s attached to a dark cord, but doesn’t look like it’s just a necklace.

“What’s that?” Kan Jian asks.

Liu Sang drops his gaze to his hand, almost as if he didn’t realize what he was doing. “Oh,” he murmurs. He considers it for a moment, considers Kan Jian, then gently pulls the cord over his head. He holds it out.

Kan Jian wants to cry at this sudden display of—trust? Acceptance? But he doesn’t want to freak Liu Sang out, so he simply takes the necklace from him, handling it as carefully as he can. The pendant is a rectangular piece of wood, smooth and darkly polished. There’s a thin slit in the top, and a larger hole in the bottom. Each side has three circular holes in it. There aren’t any carvings or decorations in the wood, but it’s clearly been well taken care of, something special and sacred.

“It’s my naming whistle,” Liu Sang explains. “In my home, when someone is born, they’re given a naming whistle, carved by the elders of our clan. Each one is different, and whatever note it makes naturally, that’s your name.” He smiles slightly. “Other people have to learn how to say it, but your own name is in your voice, all by itself.”

“Can I hear yours?” Kan Jian asks.

Liu Sang takes the whistle back. He puts it to his lips, closes his eyes, and blows gently. A singular note comes out, steady and unwavering, soft at first, but solidifying into a clear, bright sound. Liu Sang’s name is in a mid-tenor range. It reminds Kan Jian of the smell of rain and sunlight, natural and soothing. There’s something sharp at the back, a bite of sound. It fills up the cockpit, circling around them and settling deep into Kan Jian’s chest.

The note slowly fades and Kan Jian croaks, “Wow.”

Liu Sang opens his eyes. His lips are quirked up, soft and pleased. He gazes steadily at Kan Jian, but his face quickly drops in horror.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “What did I do?”

Kan Jian laughs, wiping his eyes. “You didn’t do anything,” he says. “It’s… well, if we’re culture sharing, this is how we say thank you on Sarupdon. How we really say thank you. It translates as ‘water gift’ in Galactic. Water is a really limited resource on our planet, because of the whole poison ground thing, so when someone does something especially meaningful or important, giving them water shows how much you appreciate it. So… crying.” He smiles sheepishly. “It does seem a little weird to other people. Shouling wouldn’t stop apologizing for five minutes the first time I did it for him.”    

“I think it’s nice,” Liu Sang says softly. “Water gift.”

Kan Jian doesn’t swallow the lump in his throat, because gratitude is never shameful, but he does attempt to get his breathing under control enough to put his lips together, attempting to whistle the same note Liu Sang had just played. Liu Sang bursts out laughing.

“Your accent is awful,” he says.

Kan Jian laughs with him. “Play it again.”

Liu Sang obeys. Kan Jian listens for a moment, then tries to match pitch. It takes him a few breaths, but he finally wrestles his sound into something that sounds right. He memorizes the way it feels in his mouth, in the back of his throat.

Liu Sang breaks off. His lips are parted slightly, eyes suspiciously shiny behind his glasses. “Oh.”

Kan Jian lets the note fade. “Was it bad?”

“No,” Liu Sang says. He ducks his head, which makes it hard for Kan Jian to catch his next whisper. “I just haven’t heard anyone say my name in years.”

Fuck, Kan Jian’s going to cry again. Roughly, he says, “So you are from somewhere.”

“What?” Liu Sang says, his head snapping up.

“When we asked, you said you weren’t from anywhere,” Kan Jian says cautiously. “But you clearly are. I mean, of course, everyone’s from somewhere, you just have ties to your culture, you know? It’s obviously important to you, so it’s not nowhere.”

“I—" Liu Sang says. He’s moved to the edge of his seat, as though he’s going to make a break for it if Kan Jian makes one wrong move.

“You don’t have to tell me!” Kan Jian says quickly. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. If that’s hard. But… you can, okay?”

He waits. Slowly, Liu Sang nods. He slips the whistle back around his neck, tucking it into his shirt, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Kan Jian whispers, and turns back to the windshield.

He’s half-afraid that Liu Sang is going to leave at any second, but for some reason, he stays. They don’t talk, but he stays. Kan Jian’s just getting up the nerve to glance over at him again, when Liu Sang suddenly stiffens. He stands, looking over his shoulder. Kan Jian looks to the doorway as well, but there’s no one there.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Liu Sang seems to be glaring at the wall, burning a hole into it. He asks, “How do you see behind you?”

“Huh?”

“Behind the ship!” Liu Sang cries impatiently. “How do you see what’s behind the ship?”

“Oh, uh…” Kan Jian flicks a switch on the side of the dashboard, and a small pop-up window appears on the windshield, showing the space they’ve passed already. “There are cameras back there.”

Liu Sang leans on the dashboard, scanning the video. He points. “There!”

Kan Jian has no idea what he’s looking for, so he zooms in. He follows Liu Sang’s finger to a small dot at the far corner of the image.

“Is that…?”

Liu Sang nods grimly. “Someone’s following us.”

“Shit,” Kan Jian says, “Are you sure? They’re not just passing?”

Liu Sang bites his lip. “I don’t think so. They’re gaining too fast. And I… I think I noticed them earlier, when we were setting up the sonar. It was just a blip, a couple of times, so I didn’t think very hard about it, but it’s definitely the same thing.”

Kan Jian swears again, grabbing the steering mechanism of the ship and switching off autopilot. He puts on a little bit of acceleration, focusing on keeping the ship in a straight line. “Okay. It’ll be fine. Can you get Pangzi on the intercom, let him know what’s going on? He’ll be able to get down here.”

Liu Sang nods and is halfway turned to the intercom when suddenly his eyes widen. “Turn!”

“What?”

“TURN!” Liu Sang reaches for the yoke, pushing it sharply to the left.

The Wushanju turns so abruptly it tips to the side. Kan Jian desperately tries to stay upright, manhandling the yoke back into the correct position. Liu Sang is thrown off balance, and catches himself on the back of the seat.

Only a second later, a laser blast explodes right where the hull of the Wushanju had been.

“Fuck!” Kan Jian exclaims. “How did you—”

“Kan Jian, go!” Liu Sang cries. “He’s gaining too quickly.”

Kan Jian pushes the ship’s thrusters up, sending the engines roaring. They speed past the stars.

Kan Jian grits his teeth. He barely knows how to fly, let alone outrun a ship that’s pursuing them, clearly with the aim of either destroying or raiding.

Another blast speeds by, this time catching the side of the Wushanju just enough to shake her roughly. It’s quickly followed by a third, which flies wide, though that seems to be the point when it hits a meteoroid nearby and demolishes it, sending chunks of rock hurtling into the windshield.

“Where’d that come from?” Kan Jian says out loud, a little hysterically.

“Kan Jian!” The intercom crackles to life, a cranky Pangzi on the other end. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re being chased,” Liu Sang says, which Kan Jian is grateful for, because he’s a little preoccupied.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?”

“Just get down here!” Liu Sang yells, slamming the off button. To Kan Jian, he says, “Look out!”

Kan Jian yelps as another meteoroid appears, too quickly for him to dodge. It slams into the windshield, cracking the digital display and scraping up and over the top of the ship. The display screen flickers, lines of static disrupting the picture.

“Oh, fuck,” Kan Jian says, horrified. He’s almost frozen at the controls. He’s not good at flying, Pangzi isn’t here, and now he can’t fucking see.

Liu Sang growls. “Get up!” Kan Jian doesn’t, not until Liu Sang pushes him sharply with an elbow. “Kan Jian, move!”

Kan Jian gets out of the pilot’s seat, though it’s honestly more of a fall. Liu Sang replaces him, grabbing the yoke and twisting it sharply. The Wushanju flips into a turn, spiraling thrice before Liu Sang rights it again.

“Do we have weaponry?” he asks.

“What?” Kan Jian’s mind suddenly catches up to the situation. “Yeah, we have some standard laser cannons.”

“Start firing,” Liu Sang orders.

“At what?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Liu Sang says. “Straight ahead. Wherever! Just go!”

Kan Jian scrambles for the laser controls. He sits, the lap belt coming across his thighs automatically, and begins firing blindly into space. Usually his aim is perfect, but his hands are shaking too badly to keep the cannons straight. He supposes it’s a good thing that Liu Sang doesn’t need him to shoot anything specific, because he doesn’t know if he’s capable of that right now.

He looks up. The rear view camera is still functioning, and he can see that there is definitely someone behind them. A small, sleek gray ship is almost on their tail, moving much faster than the Wushanju due to its size and streamlined design. It’s stopped shooting in favor of dodging the field of meteoroids that they’re currently flying through.

Wait. If all of that is behind them, that means they’ve gotten through it, which means—

He whips his head to the side and stares at Liu Sang, who has his teeth gritted as he threads the Wushanju between two rocks. He throws a switch, setting off the light speed drive briefly, which propels them ahead in one burst before Liu Sang puts the ship into a short dive, throwing Kan Jian forward, which in turn sets off three more lasers. There’s the sound of something being shattered into debris, and Kan Jian winces as rubble hits the sides of the ship, but somehow they manage to dodge any debilitating pieces, which is amazing, because Liu Sang is flying with his eyes closed.

Right at that moment, the windshield flickers and then whites out. Something slams into them from the back, sending Kan Jian and Liu Sang rocking forward. The Wushanju jerks, but Liu Sang somehow doesn’t lose his concentration, leveling them out again.

“How are you doing that?” Kan Jian asks, breathless.

Liu Sang’s eyes fly open. He looks suddenly horrified, like he just realized what he was doing.

The door to the cockpit flies open and Pangzi bursts in, hair sticking up in every direction.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” he bellows, somehow managing to be heard over the sound of debris pummeling the sides of the ship.

Liu Sang fully winces, his concentration completely shot, and that’s when they’re hit. The dashboard begins flashing red, and the words RIGHT WING FAILURE appear at the bottom of the windshield.

Pangzi’s eyes bulge. “Fuck!”

The Wushanju spirals, listing heavily to one side as she plummets through space like a sinking stone. Pangzi dashes to the controls and shoves Liu Sang unceremoniously to the side, forgetting to check his strength as he does. Liu Sang flails out of the pilot’s seat. Kan Jian catches him, sort of, but Liu Sang still ends up mostly on the floor.

Pangzi grabs the yoke, straining to bring the ship back up and steady it, but they’re traveling too fast, and Kan Jian’s beginning to feel the unmistakable pull of gravity on them.

“Planet!” Liu Sang exclaims. “We’re being pulled in!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Pangzi says through gritted teeth. The yoke is shaking in his grip. “Fucking—you’re a fucking jinx, is what you are!”

“Shut up!” Liu Sang says. He’s scrambled up, leaning over Kan Jian, and he hits the control for the laser cannons, firing once, then twice, eyes closed again. “Pull up! Tight!”

“Why would I listen to you?”

“Fuck, Pangzi!” Liu Sang screams. “Just DO IT!”

Pangzi roars. He pulls back on the controls, leaning back in his seat, sweat beading on his face. There’s a single moment of stability, and then they hit the planet’s atmosphere. The  controls are torn away from Pangzi as the Wushanju tips, heading into a nose-dive. Kan Jian can almost hear the whistle of wind as it tears past their ship. It sounds nothing like Liu Sang’s name.  

Liu Sang fires the cannon again. For a split second, he’s still, and then he’s lunging across the dashboard, hitting the engine’s kill switch in a move so startling, even Pangzi doesn’t say anything about it. The Wushanju gives a creaking groan, lights flickering and then dying. Everything is suddenly quiet, except for the rush of air. Kan Jian feels like he can’t breathe.

“Let go, Pangzi!” Liu Sang calls. Even his voice is muted.

Pangzi looks at him like he’s insane. His mouth drops for a moment, and then he does. Without his frantic steadying, the ship rolls, end over end, once, twice—

Liu Sang slams the ignition, and the engine fires, one singular blast, and Kan Jian feels himself lift off of his seat. Pangzi grabs the controls instinctively, and Liu Sang clutches at the edge of the dashboard. His eyes meet Kan Jian’s for the single space of a heartbeat.

Then the Wushanju hits the ground, and Kan Jian’s world fractures into pieces.

Chapter Text

Pangzi wakes up with a headache and the distinct desire to kill someone. Maybe multiple people. Depends on whether or not that loud blaring alarm is shut off within the next ten seconds, because it’s getting very annoying.

“Tianzhen,” he groans, fumbling around. His hand hits cold metal and he pauses, because this isn’t his bed, and what the shit.

He groggily blinks, watching as the ceiling of his cockpit swims into focus, except it’s all dark, and there’s a red flashing light bouncing off the walls, and the alarm is still going, and then he fucking remembers that fucking Liu Sang fucking crashed his ship.

He sits up, way too fast, and has to quickly brace his arms against the floor to keep himself upright. Fuck, this is almost worse than the time he and Tianzhen got completely wasted off of three shots of Somphonian Ale and spent the rest of the night vomiting while Xiao-ge was exactly zero help at all. Actually, no. It is worse, because at least then he still had a ship.

He’s on the floor, somehow. The windshield monitor is dark, and there’s a tangle of wires coming out from the ceiling, which is going to piss Xiao Bai off. They’re sparking, but don’t really look like they’re in danger of lighting anything on fire, so he ignores them for now. The copilot’s seat has been bent over on its stem, the headrest touching the floor. The controls look relatively fine, even though he’s sure he’s going to have to recalibrate the entire thing again once they get back on their feet.

Speaking of which, he manages to get himself upright with help from the pilot chair and the side of the dashboard, taking a couple seconds to feel a well of despair open up in the bottom of his gut. Then he smashes it down because he doesn’t have the fucking time and that shit doesn’t help anyone, and takes a better look around.

The rest of the cockpit is just as dark and destroyed. If he squints, he can make out a form, strapped limply into the weapons station. Kan Jian. His head is rolled back at an awkward angle, arms flopped onto his lap. His entire body is relaxed and loose, and Pangzi feels like he’s been struck, until he finds Kan Jian’s pulse point and makes out his heartbeat, a little slow, but steady enough.

He props Kan Jian’s head back up so that it doesn’t look as awkward, settling it on his neck so that his chin tips toward his chest. He’ll get the kid lying horizontal as soon as he can, but right now he has a Jinx to find, perhaps to punch in the face.   

This proves to be slightly more difficult. At first glance around the cockpit, Liu Sang is nowhere to be seen. Pangzi squints into the darkness, trying to find him through the flashing red beacon and electric sparks. Finally, he spots a huddled shape in a corner, next to one of the walls.

Liu Sang is on his knees with his back to Pangzi, hunched over his left forearm. His hair is falling around his face, and Pangzi can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but he’s not being quiet about it.

“Shit,” he’s saying, “Shit, shit. Fuck, ow, shit.” He hisses through his teeth, and something wet drips onto the metal floor.

“What the fuck?” Pangzi asks.        

Liu Sang whips around so fast Pangzi thinks his neck might actually snap, and that’s not even the concerning part. He’s got a jagged hunk of monitor glass clenched in one hand that’s looking suspiciously dark, and his other arm is laid supine between his knees, the flesh around his wrist gaping and leaking blood all over the floor.

Pangzi stares at him. “Did you pull that out of your arm?”          

Liu Sang looks at the piece of glass in his right hand. It’s trembling, slightly.

“Dumbass!” Pangzi says, crouching down next to him and taking him by the elbow, roughly yanking him forward. Liu Sang fumbles.

“Ow,” he says.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Pangzi tells him. “Don’t you know anything about field medicine? You leave the sharp pointy thing in your body.” He presses his own hand down over the wound. Liu Sang whines. “If you bleed out on my floor I am going to murder you.”

“I’ll already be dead,” Liu Sang mutters. Pangzi clamps down on his arm tighter to shut him up. “Fuck! Hey!”

“You’re lucky I woke up,” Pangzi hisses at him.

“I’m not feeling very lucky.”

“Join the club,” Pangzi says.

They both look up as the alarm suddenly shuts off, a blissful quiet settling over the cockpit. Pangzi exhales in relief, just as Liu Sang does the same, and then they glare at each other.

Xiao Bai appears in the doorway, a flashlight in her hand. She shines it inside. Pangzi shields his eyes with the hand not currently keeping the blood inside Liu Sang’s body.

“Pangzi!” Xiao Bai says, her eyes wide. “What—are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Pangzi reassures her. “Jinx is an idiot, though, and Kan Jian’s taking a nap. Do you have a rag or anything?”

“Uh,” Xiao Bai says. She digs into her back pocket, coming up with a bandana. She walks over, handing it to Pangzi, who switches it out with his hand, ignoring Xiao Bai’s squeak when there’s a sudden spurt of blood from Liu Sang’s wrist. Pangzi presses the cloth over the wound and holds it there with one hand, taking the bloody shard from Liu Sang and guiding him to hold the bandana in place.

“Pressure,” he emphasizes before standing up and wiping his hands on his pants, which are already ruined, so no real loss there. “Si Mei, make sure he doesn’t pass out when he stands up.”         

“I’m fine,” Liu Sang protests.

Pangzi ignores that. “Did you see anyone else?” he asks Xiao Bai, going back over to Kan Jian, who hasn’t stirred at all, which is worrisome. Xiao Bai looks fine; wide-eyed and shaken, but relatively unhurt.

“No,” Xiao Bai says, “I came up here first.” She looks up to the third deck. “Are Shouling and Zhang Qiling…”

“They were fine when I left,” Pangzi says. He gently unbuckles the belt from around Kan Jian’s waist and squats in front of him, dragging his arms around his neck and lifting him onto his back. Kan Jian’s face lolls onto his shoulder. “Xiao-ge will take care of him.”

“Wang Meng?” Liu Sang asks softly.

Pangzi snorts. “He’s hardier than he looks. He’s probably in the kitchen already, crying over the broken glasses.” He hooks his arms under Kan Jian’s thighs, making sure he’s secure. “Let’s go.”

“Infirmary?” Xiao Bai asks.

Pangzi nods. “We should get Kan Jian somewhere more comfortable. You two run ahead and make sure the med bay isn’t completely demolished.”

Xiao Bai and Liu Sang nod. They pick their way over the wreckage in the cockpit and disappear through the door.

Pangzi sighs, feeling Kan Jian’s weight on his back, breath puffing gently on his neck. It’s reassuring. “Looks like it’s just us, kid.”

He manages to make it out of the cockpit without tripping and landing both of them on the ground, which is honestly something of a miracle. The emergency lighting has come on, casting shadows down the hallway, but it all looks relatively intact. Pangzi thinks about Tianzhen’s library and winces. It’s going to be even more of a disaster than usual, now, and knowing Tianzhen, he’ll just make Bambi eyes and say, “What? I can still find everything” and never fucking clean it.

Speaking of disasters, Tianzhen and Xiao-ge come down the ladder; Tianzhen first, with Xiao-ge keeping a close eye on him to make sure he doesn’t fall and break a leg or something, which would honestly be expected at this point.

“Pangzi!” Tianzhen says. His eyes are wide and bright with worry as he sees who Pangzi is carrying. “Kan Jian! Is he okay?”

“He’s breathing,” Pangzi says, because that’s all he really knows. “Si Mei and Zombie went to go make sure the med bay is intact enough to get in there.”

“It is,” Xiao Bai says, running up to them, breathless. “Liu Sang’s getting stuff ready.”

“And how the fuck is he doing that?” Pangzi demands. “His hands are supposed to be occupied!”

“Oh, right,” Xiao Bai says.

Pangzi grunts. “You people are all useless.” He looks Tianzhen over once. “You’re alright?”

Wu Xie nods. “Maybe a little whiplash. The cabins aren’t big enough to really throw you around, and I had Xiao-ge up there with me.”

Pangzi already knows Xiao-ge is perfectly, annoyingly fine, so he doesn’t even bother asking.

They all step cautiously down the hallway, Xiao Bai in front, followed by Pangzi, Tianzhen hovering anxiously behind him, and Xiao-ge bringing up the rear. Xiao Bai is right: the ship isn’t too damaged overall, which is a lucky break. Some of the paneling has fallen out of the ceiling and smashed on the floor, but that seems to be the worst of the damage. Pangzi’s sure that will change once they examine separate rooms, but for now he’s just glad that no one is in danger of falling down a gaping chasm or eating shit by slipping on leaking oil.

They make it to the med bay in one piece. Liu Sang is in there, with a bunch of stuff out on the counter. Apparently he’s stupider than Pangzi originally thought, because he’s got his arm bare again, though at least it’s resting on some towels, and his right hand is soaked up to the palm in blood, like he’d been digging around in the mess.

“Fucking god,” Pangzi says.

Liu Sang gives him a look that he does not care to interpret right now, so instead he goes over to one of the infirmary beds. Tianzhen helps get Kan Jian off of his back and lain down. In the light, they can see that there’s a rivulet of blood going down the side of his face, which is bleached white, showing no signs of coming to. Pangzi stretches, rolling his shoulders out.

“Can you take care of him?” he asks Tianzhen, who nods and goes over to the cabinets to get some supplies. Pangzi looks at his blood-soaked pants and sighs. He’ll wait to change until he fixes the other gigantic fucking problem.

He goes over to Liu Sang, who, in a remarkable display of intelligence and self-preservation, has returned to putting pressure on his arm. “Let me see.”

“You already saw it,” Liu Sang snarks.

“Stop messing around and give me your arm,” Pangzi says. He pins Liu Sang’s wrist to the table with one hand, sitting down on the stool next to him. “You need stitches.”

“No, I don’t,” Liu Sang protests.

“Xiao Bai, get me the wound care kit!” Pangzi calls across the room. “Yes, you do.”

“Well, I don’t want you anywhere near me with a needle,” Liu Sang says.

Pangzi laughs at him. “Hate to break it to you, Jinx, but I’m the only one on this ship who can fucking sew worth a damn, so unless you want Tianzhen over there to give you a half-assed darning patch and an infection, you’re going to shut up and let me do it.”

Liu Sang doesn’t look happy about this, but he doesn’t say anything when Xiao Bai brings the sewing kit over, along with a bowl of water and a clean towel. Pangzi thanks her, dipping the towel in the water and sponging away the blood that’s coating Liu Sang’s arm.

“Fucking hell,” he says, “What the fuck were you doing? This is a mess.”

It is. The cut isn’t exactly long, only an inch or two, but the skin around it is flayed open, ragged. It’s deep, bearing down into the muscle, but Pangzi doesn’t see any bone, which is a good sign. It’s going vertically up his forearm, though, which isn’t.

“This is going to be a bitch,” he warns Liu Sang. “Do you want us to knock you out?” Liu Sang wrinkles his nose in distaste, shaking his head quickly. “Good, cause the only way we have is making Xiao-ge bean you in the head with his sword, and I’d rather not have two concussed people to worry about.”

He makes Liu Sang put pressure on his arm again to try and keep the blood mostly out of the way while he sanitizes and threads the needle. Then, carefully, he pricks it into Liu Sang’s skin, pulling the torn edges together and closing the gap neatly. Liu Sang breathes in hard through his nose.

“Don’t be a wimp,” Pangzi mutters, concentrating on the second stitch.

It takes thirteen stitches to close up Liu Sang’s arm. By the end, Pangzi’s fingers are cramping from holding the needle so delicately, and Liu Sang’s face is pale and drawn.

“There,” Pangzi says, tying off the last stitch. He wraps a bandage around Liu Sang’s arm, knotting it perhaps slightly tighter than necessary. “Don’t do it again.”

“Fuck off,” Liu Sang says, but his voice is too exhausted to be offensive.

“Clean your shit,” Pangzi says, standing up. He wanders back over to Kan Jian. Tianzhen has cleaned the blood off of his face and hooked him up to a heart monitor. They’ll put an IV in if necessary, but hopefully Kan Jian will wake up before it comes to that. At some point, Wang Meng arrived and is now bending over their unconscious first officer, breathing in deeply.

“Anything?” Pangzi asks.

Wang Meng straightens, shaking his head. His antennae droop slightly in disappointment. “He just smells… not there, really. Nothing wrong that I can tell. Concussion, most probably.”

“Yeah,” Pangzi sighs. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

Tianzhen frowns, putting a wet cloth on Kan Jian’s forehead, which is probably useless, but Pangzi knows it makes Wu Xie feel better to be doing something. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Pangzi asks. He takes a moment to catalog his own body, but aside from feeling like he hasn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep (which he hasn’t) and his muscles aching like he’s carried someone down a stepladder (which he has), there’s nothing majorly wrong. “I’m fine.” He peers at Tianzhen closely. “You’re not hiding anything, are you?”

“No,” Tianzhen says. “Xiao-ge may have fucked up his shoulder, though.”

That’s news, so Pangzi looks over to where Xiao-ge is leaning up against the wall, keeping an eye on everyone. The Kylin stares at him for a moment, then very slowly raises his arms above his head, rotating his shoulder blades back and displaying a full-range of motion, so either he’s getting way too good about hiding injuries, or Tianzhen’s going into mother-hen mode again. Pangzi suspects it’s the latter.

“He’s fine,” he decides. “I’m going to get some clothes. Do you need anything from upstairs?”

No one does, so Pangzi makes his way back out of the bowels of the Wushanju, up both the ladders, and into the cabin he shares with Tianzhen and Xiao-ge. It’s the biggest of the ten, as it’s meant for the captain, but that isn’t saying much. The only difference is that the bed is a double instead of a single, which is great, because Pangzi isn’t exactly small, and Tianzhen sleeps starfish. Xiao-ge has a cushioned armchair in the corner that he spends most nights in, because he doesn’t need as much sleep as they do, but sometimes he’ll climb into bed with them and settle into a light doze.

The room is decorated with small trinkets, things they’ve picked up on their journeys. The wall across from the bed has a thick tapestry hanging on it, woven with bright colors and exciting shapes dancing around the focus, which is a large triangle embroidered in a dark thread that seems to include every color, depending on which angle you see it at. Pangzi forgets where it came from, but he likes seeing it there. It reminds him that they’re kind of sewn together, interwoven and stronger as a full piece, rather than individuals, which is a sappy thought, but he’s just had to sew a man’s arm up, so he thinks he deserves it.

He tosses his ruined clothes into the laundry hamper. Either he’ll deal with the bloodstains later, or toss them out. Maybe the second option, considering that they apparently have money now. Which, fuck Mao Xincheng. Pangzi would have been fine with taking the million credits and dipping if that’s all they were being offered, but the promise of another million each is, frankly, a really sweet deal. Pangzi doesn’t give a fuck about Yincangui, but he does give a fuck about having a million credits to his name.

For now, though, he puts on his normal, non-million-credit clothes and slips them on. As an afterthought, he grabs one of Tianzhen’s shirts, because Jinx’s was pretty bloodstained and he’s not about to go digging through his cabin to find one of his shirts for him. If he doesn’t like it, he can go get his own shirt.

He returns to the med bay to find it mostly how he left. Kan Jian still isn’t awake, Wang Meng is folding bandages, Xiao Bai is making a list of things to check and muttering to herself, Tianzhen and Xiao-ge are standing shoulder to shoulder, and Liu Sang appears to be dozing in a corner, though he wakes up when Pangzi throws the shirt in his face.

“Change,” Pangzi orders.

“That’s my shirt,” Tianzhen says.

“Have some charity,” Pangzi says, sitting down at one of the examination tables and putting his head down in the circle of his arms.

“What’s the plan?” Xiao-ge asks.

Tianzhen taps a fingernail on the wall. “First of all, we should try to figure out where we are. Xiao Bai, are any of the tracking systems running?”

“No,” Xiao Bai says. She sounds frustrated. “Everything’s been diverted to emergency power and air filtration. Until I can take a good look at the power core, I don’t want to mess with it.”

“Okay,” Wu Xie says.

Pangzi pulls his head up again, with some effort. “The last coordinates I checked were Quadrant 1954, 1.3B, 56L.”

Tianzhen squints up at the ceiling, his tongue worrying his teeth as he thinks. “So three hours from there… travelling at 0.98 light speed… that should put us somewhere in 1960, I think.”

“We went through a meteoroid field,” Liu Sang says. “Before we crashed.”

Tianzhen’s brain absorbs this new information, and Pangzi can almost see the moment it sparks. “The Envelan System!”

“Is that good?” Xiao Bai asks.

Wu Xie waggles a hand back and forth. “Could be. Most of the planets have a thick enough atmosphere to support life. They aren’t really populated, though, so who knows if we’ll be able to find help.”

“But we’ll be able to breathe, at least?” Pangzi asks. Tianzhen nods. “There we go. We aren’t going to suffocate.”

“Most likely won’t suffocate,” Tianzhen add. “Wang Meng, can you test the air quality?”

Wang Meng nods eagerly and trots out of the infirmary. They listen as he goes into the entry bay, seals the ship’s air filter, and opens the main door. There’s silence for about a minute until the filter disengages and Wang Meng comes back down the hallway, appearing in the doorway with his antennae flattened to his head.

“Not good?” Tianzhen guesses.

Wang Meng shudders. “It’s… it’s breathable, but it’s not very nice.” He makes a face. “It’s thick. Soupy. And not in a good way.”

“It won’t kill us, and that’s good enough,” Pangzi says, standing from his seat at the counter. “Alright, so Xiao-ge, Xiao Bai, Jinx, and me will go take a look around. Check out the ship, see if we can find anyone.”

“Wait,” Tianzhen says, “What? I’m coming.”

Pangzi gives him a look. “No, you aren’t. You’re staying here.”

“I’m not going to keel over, Pangzi,” Tianzhen protests. “Wang Meng said it’s breathable.”

“Yeah, for people with healthy, fully-functioning respiratory systems.” They have this argument every time they land somewhere with questionable air quality. Tianzhen says he’s fine, that he’s completely over the strain of Zymerian Flu he picked up last year, and then spends the entire time turning blue when he can’t get his lungs to work.

“Pangzi—”

“Tianzhen!” Pangzi shouts. “Stay on the fucking ship!”

Wu Xie gives him a wounded look, but he’s not budging. They’re already down one crew member. Maybe one and a half, if you count Jinx, which Pangzi doesn’t. So one.

“He’s right,” Xiao-ge says, “You should stay here.” Which of course makes Tianzhen sigh and immediately promise not to go, because all Zhang Qiling has to do is soften his fucking lips and Tianzhen will do literally anything.

“Besides,” Xiao Bai adds, “Someone needs to be here if Kan Jian wakes up.” Which is another very excellent point, thank you, Si Mei.

As much as Pangzi loves his best friend being the stupidest human to ever travel the universe, he might do something drastic if he’s forced to be in the same space as him any longer. Like tie Tianzhen up and stuff him in a padded room. He can have a book and that’s it. Maybe a spoon if he’s good. Pangzi will visit him every day and they can take naps. How much does a padded room cost?

“What are we looking at?” Liu Sang always asks the stupid questions, which Pangzi might point out if he wasn’t also wondering the same thing.

“Mainly the hull and the right wing,” Xiao Bai says. “I think they were hit the hardest. Once I have an idea of the damage, I’ll know what supplies we need, and we can explore further out to see if there’re any settlements nearby.”

“We’ll be back inside two hours,” Pangzi tells Tianzhen, who’s starting to look unhappy about everything all over again. “If you need something to do, try to get comms up without diverting power, so we can radio out if need be.”

Tianzhen nods slowly, but he’s clearly pouting. Well, whatever. Pangzi doesn’t have the energy to worry about whether or not Wu Xie can breathe. He’s still half-eyeing Liu Sang’s arm to make sure it doesn’t fall off. Also, giving him Tianzhen’s shirt was a mistake. Despite them being similar heights, Tianzhen has a larger build, and his sweatshirt is making Liu Sang look even smaller and more pathetic than he already does. It’s extremely annoying. Pangzi’s surrounded by tiny people all the time. Xiao Bai comes up to his hip and that’s it. Even Xiao-ge, who could probably lift a horse, is leaner than a Viarin Worm, and those things are skinny as shit.

He really wants to punch something.

Instead, he gives Tianzhen a pat on the back and leaves the med bay, the other three following behind him. They go to the entry, digging the orange jumpsuits out and pulling them on, but opting to leave the space helmets behind. Wang Meng seemed pretty sure that they’d be able to breathe, and they don’t want to waste any of the emergency air supply in case they need it later. With the Wushanju running at limited capacity, there’s no telling when they’ll be able to replace resources.

Xiao-ge straps his sword to his back. Pangzi grabs one of the smaller blasters; as much as he loves his big one, the thing is a pain to carry. Xiao Bai has her toolbelt, and Liu Sang just has himself, which, his funeral. It won’t matter; Pangzi’s gonna pair him up with Xiao-ge anyway, so he’ll be fine.

They open the main door and are immediately hit with a blast of hot, steamy air. Wang Meng was right; it’s like inhaling soup, if soup were breathable. There’s something that smells a little like wet dog and a little like maple syrup, which is not a good combination. Also, the ground is mud. Panzi’s boots sink in as soon as he steps outside, up to the ankles, and he’s suddenly abundantly grateful for his height when Xiao Bai goes in halfway up her shins.

“This is disgusting,” Liu Sang says, lifting one foot to watch the muck drip off of it.

Pangzi agrees with him, for once. They squelch a few feet away from the ship, except for Xiao-ge, who is somehow walking on the surface of the mud and not sinking in even a little bit. Xiao Bai keeps having to lift her knees up to her stomach to get her foot high enough to move.

Fortunately, it seems as though the Wushanju is the cause of the mess. The ship has plowed a trench in the surface of the planet, which is where the mud is seeping from, like a sloppy river. They’ve also flattened a considerable amount of thick, green, rubbery trees, which surround the area, creating a deep forest. The sun is glowing a dull, dark yellow, which makes everything look hazy and tepid. The sky is clear of clouds, but for some reason it looks almost navy blue, the deep black of space bleeding through the sunlight.

The four of them clamber out of the trench and onto substantially drier land before they turn back to gaze at the ship. She’s lying on her belly, slightly tipped to the left, her broken wing unbalancing the whole ship. Most of the paneling has been blown off, leaving just the wing frame intact. There’s a deep dent in the back of the hull, the engine is full of mud, and the front is scraped to hell and back, but other than that, the damage is pretty minimal. Pangzi suddenly absurdly grateful for the mud; it probably gave them a softer landing than normal.

Xiao Bai whistles. “So there’s some laser damage, mostly to the wing. That’s going to be our biggest problem, I think. We should have enough scrap in the cargo bay to patch the hull until we can find an outpost, but we’ll need more in order to get her flying again.” She tilts her head, hands on her hips as she looks the wreck over. “I just don’t understand how it wasn’t worse. We were shot out of space. Realistically, we shouldn’t have a ship at all, anymore.”

Pangzi thinks back on the moments after they’d entered the atmosphere. They’d been pointed nose-first toward the ground, cause that was all he could do, and then—

He whips around to Liu Sang. “You!”

Liu Sang pulls his head back like a startled chicken. “What?”

“That move with the engine,” Pangzi says incredulously. “You killed the engine while we were falling, and then hit it again right before we hit… when the thrusters were pointed down.”

Xiao Bai’s eyes get big. “You did that?” Her face breaks into a wide grin. “The final blast from the ignition must have created enough thrust to cushion our impact. And because the engine was off, we didn’t immediately explode. There’s like a one in a million chance of that being timed just right. How did you do it?” She’s beginning to look as though she wants to take Liu Sang apart, to see how he ticks.

“I… I don’t know, I must’ve gotten lucky,” Liu Sang babbles. “Maybe Kan Jian—”

“Kan Jian didn’t do shit,” Pangzi says. “Sorry. I love him, but he was way past the point of freaking out.”

“I promise, I don’t know,” Liu Sang says, hunching his shoulders up to his ears and looking as though he wants to disappear. “I’m not a pilot or anything.”

“The timing…” Xiao Bai murmurs, eyes far away as she runs diagnostics in her head.

Pangzi looks at Xiao-ge, who is staring semi-intently at Liu Sang. To anyone else, it would probably seem like glassy indifference, but Pangzi knows that Xiao-ge is making his own calculations. At least he’s not the only one suspicious of Jinx anymore, which feels slightly vindicating.

“So what should we be scouting for?” Liu Sang asks. His voice is pitched higher than normal, and he sounds like he wants them to change the subject right now, which is hilarious, and usually Pangzi would insist on talking about it for a few more minutes just to piss him off, but they are running on a time limit.

“Ideally, a giant pile of plate titanium that’s just lying around,” Xiao Bai says. “Barring that, an outpost or any signs of civilization, or any thick, metallic substance that we could rig into a wing covering long enough to get us out of here. Also, fresh water or some liquid that doesn’t corrode metal would be nice, so we can get the engines cleaned out without wasting any of our supplies.”

“Ship stuff,” Pangzi agrees. “Si Mei, you and I will go that way. Xiao-ge, you and the Jinx take the opposite direction. Don’t split up. Meet back here in an hour.” He looks up at the sun, which is directly above them. Midday, though there’s no telling how long a day on this planet is, so they could have twelve more hours of light left, or like two. “If anything weird happens, come back immediately.”

Xiao-ge gives him a nod, one tilt of his head. Liu Sang produces an overly-enthusiastic thumbs up, probably glad that they aren’t talking about his wild-ass flying skills, which Pangzi has not forgotten about and will be bringing up again later. They turn and head into the forest.

“Why’d you send him with Zhang Qiling?” Xiao Bai asks.

“Cause I don’t want to hang out with him,” Pangzi snorts. “Why would I, when I have my favorite meimei to go scouting with?”

Xiao Bai gives him a very pleased smirk and he clamps a hand on her hair, messing it up as she squeals.

“Here,” he says, offering up his shoulder, “I’ll carry you to the other side.”

Xiao Bai agrees excitedly, happy not to have to tromp through the mud again, and Pangzi lifts her so that she’s sitting perched on his shoulder. She shields her eyes against the sun with both hands as he makes sure she’s not going to fall off.

“See anything, Xiao Mei?” he asks as he picks his way through the mud again.

“No,” Xiao Bai calls, “Just the weird trees.”

The cross over to the other side of the ship. Pangzi puts Xiao Bai down again once they’re free of the mud and they hike into the grove of rubbery trees. They’re basically giant, smooth trunks with a gathering of strange, spiky leaves at the top, which umbrella out over the forest, shielding them from the sun.

Xiao Bai cautiously pokes one, snickering when it wobbles like it’s made of gelatin. “What the fuck?”

For fun, Pangzi punches the trunk. The entire tree bends over, then slingshots back into place. It hits the top of the trees next to it as it comes back up, sending them all quivering. Xiao Bai claps delightedly. Despite the motion, the trees are completely silent, waving without making a single sound.

“What the fuck,” Pangzi agrees.

They leave the trees alone after that, except to appreciate them for shading the floor from the worst of the sun as they walk.  Pangzi keeps to a straight line, mostly so they can find their way back, letting Xiao Bai dash back and forth, into the trees and out again. She knows what they’re looking for better than he does, so he’s happy to let her do her job while he makes sure nothing is going to jump out and eat them.

After half an hour of finding nothing, Xiao Bai comes back to his side, sighing. “I know we’re only a mile or two from the ship, but it’s not looking good.”

Pangzi nods slowly. “No use losing hope now. Like you said, we’re only a mile or two out. There’s a whole planet to cover. We’ll go back, see what Jinx and Xiao-ge found, and plan from there.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Beside, Tianzhen’ll be mad if we find anything cool without him.”

Xiao Bai rolls her eyes. “Okay,” she says, and they turn back in the direction they came from.

Before they’ve taken two steps, the trees around them start quivering silently, shuddering from their leaves all the way down the trunks. Pangzi and Xiao Bai look up, just in time to see a group fifty meters away bend down toward the earth, like a very big person has stepped into the middle of them.

Xiao Bai whispers, “I think I hear engines!”

“From who?” Pangzi asks, but Xiao Bai is already running toward the area, keeping low toward the ground. He swears inside his head and follows her.

By the time he catches up, she’s already crouched behind one of the tree trunks. He takes the one next to her, grateful that the trees are wide enough to keep him camouflaged. They peer around each of the trees, trying to see what has joined them on the planet’s surface.

It’s a chaser ship. Compact, only a fraction of the Wushanju’s size, and way more streamlined. It’s all gray metal and thin wings, folded up as the ship lands to create the least resistance. It’s not a ship designed for long journeys—chaser ships usually have a home craft to return to, and in their profession, are used to hunt down and damage larger vessels to prepare them for boarding. They also typically do so in packs, so to see a single ship on the surface of a planet is a strange occurrence.

The cockpit window hisses, disengaging from the body of the ship and opening on its back hinge, revealing the inside of the vessel. There’s a beat, and then the pilot appears, climbing out of the ship and sliding down the side of its body, landing in the dirt with barely a sound. They’re wearing full-body black tactical gear, a shiny black helmet covering the entirety of their head. They honestly look more like a cyborg than any sort of person, but Pangzi knows that there is an actual person under there, given the two guns they have strapped to their hips. Cyborgs don’t use guns.

The pilot takes out a datapad from a large pocket on the side of their thigh. They tap a few commands into it, read whatever it says, and then look up and glance around. They focus on a point, and Pangzi’s heart goes still as he realizes they’re gazing in the direction of the Wushanju. He and Xiao Bai stay quiet as they watch the pilot shut the ship’s cockpit and take off in a steady jog through the forest. They stay quiet for a few minutes longer, not wanting to move in case they’re still nearby.

“Shit,” Xiao Bai finally murmurs.

Pangzi agrees. “We should get back to the ship.”

Xiao Bai takes out her pocket knife from her toolbelt and carves three horizontal lines in the trunk of the tree she is hidden behind. She slips it away again. “Let’s go.”

They head back to the ship at a run, trying to be as quiet as possible. Luckily, the trees don’t have many leaves, so the ground is essentially free from vegetation, making their steps relatively silent, as they’re just plodding on the soft dirt. Good for them, but that means that the pilot is also going to have an easy time sneaking up on them if they aren’t careful. Pangzi grits his teeth. He hopes that Tianzhen is keeping an eye out.

They arrive back at the ship five minutes faster than expected, breathless. They make sure to look around the clearing to make sure no one is out in the open before they return to the muddy trench, standing near the entry bay.

Xiao-ge and Jinx haven’t made it back yet, but they had gone in the opposite direction. There’s no way the pilot could have caught up with them, but Pangzi’s still getting nervous. There’s someone else on the planet, someone they don’t know, and they’re clearly not here to have tea.

“Do you think they’re alright?” Xiao Bai asks, looking anxious, though they haven’t even reached the end of the agreed time limit yet.

“They’re fine,” Pangzi says, trying to convince himself as well as Xiao Bai. “It’s Xiao-ge. Don’t know about the Jinx, but Xiao-ge will keep him—”

“Pangzi!” Liu Sang’s voice interrupts. “Pangzi!”

“Speak of the devil,” Pangzi mutters, swinging around to greet them. “Jinx, you—”

He stops in his tracks. Liu Sang is staggering into the clearing, almost falling over as he hits the gooey ground, his jumpsuit leg ripped and his glasses hanging by a stem. His hair’s fallen out of its ponytail and his eye is rapidly swelling shut. But even more horrifying than Zombie looking close to being a real zombie is Xiao-ge hanging off of his shoulder, one arm slung around his neck and the other hanging limp. He’s lost his sword somewhere, his feet are dragging in the mud, and there’s a long purple spine protruding from the middle of his chest.

“Shit,” Pangzi says. “Shit!” He’s across the mud trench almost before he realizes he’s running. “What happened?”

“Help him,” Liu Sang moans, bending under Xiao-ge’s weight.

Pangzi gingerly takes Xiao-ge by the shoulders, easing him off of Liu Sang just in time for the other man to lurch to the side and throw up.

“Fuck, Jinx!”

Xiao Bai is suddenly there, holding Liu Sang by the arm as he bends double, threatening to fall face-first into the mud. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m—” He gags again, and waves at Pangzi with his free arm. “Go!”

Pangzi scoops Xiao-ge up, trying to avoid the spine as best he can. He gets him settled with his knees hooked over Pangzi’s elbow and looks down, which is maybe a mistake. Xiao-ge’s eyes are closed and there’s blood on his face and his breath is coming in little stuttering gasps and shit.

Tianzhen’s going to lose it.         

Pangzi leaves Xiao Bai and Liu Sang, running back to the entry bay. He slams the door with his shoulder, cursing it as it creaks open slowly. Then he’s inside, dripping mud all over the floor, trying not to vibrate as the air filter engages. Why does it take so fucking long for the damn door to open?

He gives the wall a sharp kick that reverberates through the entry bay and shakes into the ship. Help. It’s the shortest word in their tapping language, because if they’re in trouble, they don’t have the luxury to construct an entire message. Help.

Sure enough, when the air system finally decides that he can be let into the ship and the door slides open, Tianzhen is waiting. He goes pale as he sees them. “Pangzi?”

Pangzi can’t answer him. He just shakes his head and moves past Tianzhen to the infirmary.

Kan Jian is still out when Pangzi lays Xiao-ge on the bed next to him. Xiao-ge’s face is creased in pain, even in unconsciousness, small lines running next to his eyes and in the dip between his eyebrows. His teeth are chattering as his whole body shakes.

Tianzhen is next to them, hands shaking. “What happened to him?”

“Don’t know,” Pangzi grunts, going to the cabinets and pulling out an armful of supplies; scissors, bandages, towels. Tianzhen is on the other side of the bed now, holding Xiao-ge’s arms downs as he quivers, murmuring softly to him.

God, Pangzi hates playing doctor. Xiao-ge is usually the one who patches people up, with his strange combination of Kylin instincts and random knowledge he’s picked up from being a universe-wandering nomad. None of the rest of them are good at this. They shouldn’t have to be. In a perfect world, Xiao-ge doesn’t get hurt, and in a normal world, he’s never hurt this badly.

He cuts through Xiao-ge’s orange jumpsuit, which is a little bit funny, because Xiao-ge hardly ever wears the jumpsuit, so of course the one time he does, Pangzi ends up having to slice it off of him.

“Whaddaya think about that?” he mutters. “Never thought you’d be so attached to this ugly thing that you’d get yourself stabbed to keep it on.” The fabric splits, except the piece held in place by the purple spike.

The infirmary door slides open again, and Xiao Bai and Wang Meng come in, supporting Liu Sang between them. Tianzhen’s starting to look even more stressed out. “What happened to you?”

“Hhnngh,” Liu Sang says, ‘Giant porcupine.”

“What?”

Liu Sang collapses onto one of the med bay stools, leaning heavily against the examination counter with one arm to keep himself upright. Xiao Bai hovers behind him, arms outstretched as if he’s going to pass out at any moment, which may be a fair prediction.

“Wang Meng,” Pangzi barks, “Help me.” To Tianzhen, he says, “Keep him still.”

Tianzhen nods and tightens his grip on Xiao-ge’s arms.

Pangzi looks at Xiao-ge’s face and is surprised to find that his eyes are slitted open, gazing hazily. His breath is still going too fast and too shallow, so Pangzi tries to sculpt his face into something reassuring, though he’s not sure how well he does.

“Hey,” he says, “Hey, Xiao-ge. We’re gonna get this out of you, okay? Tianzhen’s right here,” he adds as an afterthought, because he doesn’t know how much Xiao-ge is following, but he does know that Tianzhen will make him feel better.

Xiao-ge’s throat works as he makes a little choking noise, but his eyes slip down to where Tianzhen has a firm grip on his arms.

“Wang Meng,” Pangzi says, “Be ready to apply pressure when I get this out.” He wraps his hand around the spine, a few centimeters from where it sticks out of Xiao-ge, pressing the other hand down onto his friend’s chest to give himself leverage. “Okay, I’m going to pull it out on three. One—”

He yanks. The spine catches, and Xiao-ge’s body contorts, trying to throw them off, which he’d be able to do if he wasn’t currently impaled. As it is, Tianzhen is able to keep him mostly steady, and Pangzi doesn’t lose his grip on the spine.

“Shit,” he says, “Fuck, Xiao-ge, I’m sorry.” He gives another tug and Xiao-ge shouts. Pangzi feels something rip a little, and he wants to throw up. He adjusts his grip and gives another hard tug. The spine slides free, and he staggers back, Wang Meng replacing him to press gauze down onto the hole in Xiao-ge’s chest.

The spine sits in his hand, almost innocuous, if it didn’t have Xiao-ge’s blood dripping from the tip. Pangzi tosses it in the sink and goes back to the bed.  

Tianzhen’s kneeling on the floor, still half-lying on Xiao-ge, who has passed out again. Wang Meng is beside his head, his antennae pulled taut with stress. The gauze underneath his hands is slowly saturating, but it doesn’t look as though Xiao-ge is bleeding out any faster than could be considered normal.

“Lemme see,” Pangzi murmurs. Wang Meng moves out of the way and he raises the edge of the gauze to take a look at the wound. The wound itself is fairly clean, only a few centimeters wide, and the blood coming out isn’t foaming, so it probably hasn’t punctured a lung, which is a relief. Pangzi listens to make sure, but he can’t hear any strange noises as Xiao-ge breathes.

Pangzi exhales. “Okay.” He wipes more blood away and places a fresh gauze pad over the injury. Wang Meng hands him some medical tape, and Pangzi secures the dressing in place. He steps back to examine him, and while the unconsciousness isn’t great, Xiao-ge doesn’t have any other threatening objects sticking out of him, and he’s not bleeding from any other places, so Pangzi decides to count that as a win.

He runs his hands through his hair, then grimaces when he realizes there is blood on them. Fuck, he needs a shower. And there goes the adrenaline, so he stumbles over to a seat next to Liu Sang and falls onto it, because his legs don’t feel very good anymore. Actually, none of him does. That fucking sucked.

“He?” Liu Sang murmurs, and Pangzi almost wants to smack him, because can’t he even speak in complete sentences?

“Fine,” he mutters back, so he guesses he’ll give Jinx a pass; complete sentences aren’t exactly of importance right now. “Be fine.”

“Good,” Jinx says, and then folds forward to put his head in between his knees.

Tianzhen’s gotten a bowl of water and a towel and is gently cleaning up the blood smearing across Xiao-ge’s bare chest, his face rampant with concern. Wang Meng is quietly clearing away the used supplies, looking at the mud-spattered floor with distaste, which Pangzi is slightly sorry about, but it’ll give Wang Meng something to do later, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

“Liu Sang?” Wu Xie asks. “Can you… what happened out there?”

Liu Sang doesn’t lift his head. “Spiky thing… attacked us? Couldn’t hurt it. Got hit in the face, he pushed me out of the way.” He swallows violently, and Pangzi prays that he doesn’t throw up on the floor.

“Is that what’s wrong with you?” Xiao Bai asks. “You got hit in the head?” She looks at Pangzi in concern. They know basic head injury care, which means vomiting is bad, but without knowing Liu Sang’s exact species, there could be any number of things going wrong up in his skull. Well, more so than usual, anyway.

“Uh,” Liu Sang mumbles. “Yeah?” He sways in his seat. “My head hurts.”

Xiao Bai goes quietly over to the supply cabinet, taking out an ice pack and cracking it to activate the cold. She hands it to Liu Sang, who murmurs a thank you and leans forward to rest his head on it like a pillow.

With no one actively dying, Pangzi decides that he can take a few minutes. “I’m going to go shower,” he says. “Come get me if anyone starts hemorrhaging.” Tianzhen does not look amused by that, but Pangzi doesn’t stick around long enough to get yelled at.

Yet another outfit bloodstained, but at least this one was the jumpsuit, which is surprisingly easy to get clean, something he knows from many past experiences. Pangzi makes a detour to get clean clothing, again, stares at the tapestry, again, and then goes and stands under the shower spray until he can’t feel anything anymore. He watches as blood seeps out of his hair and washes down the drain, swirling crimson around his feet, and tries not to think about how Xiao-ge felt, lying limp in his arms.

Eventually, he thinks he’s used enough water, so he towels off, changes, and returns to the infirmary. It looks like the crew is going to be camping out there for the night, which is to be expected. Wang Meng’s put together some sort of dinner, which it looks like only Xiao Bai is eating. Tianzhen’s still sitting next to Xiao-ge, his hands steepled under his chin and knee bouncing, and Jinx has migrated to the bed on the other side of Kan Jian, where he has his arm thrown over his eyes and appears to have passed out. The borrowed sweatshirt is free of blood, so he didn’t tear his stitches carrying Xiao-ge, which is quite honestly a miracle.

Pangzi goes to grab food, a pocket of leafy greens filled with cold spiced meat and vegetables.

“Tianzhen eaten?” he asks Wang Meng, who shakes his head, so he collects a second portion and goes over. Tianzhen doesn’t look up when he does, focused on Xiao-ge’s face.

“Here,” Pangzi says, sticking the food under Wu Xie’s nose.

“Not hungry,” Wu Xie says stubbornly.

“Eat,” Pangzi orders, “Or I’ll get Wang Meng to cry on you.” This is something that Wang Meng will absolutely do, and they both know it.

Tianzhen gives him a suffering look, but he takes his dinner and bites into it. He is hungry, which Pangzi already knew, so he continues eating as Pangzi sits next to him and digs into his own portion.

“Any changes?” he asks.

Tianzhen shakes his head. “He hasn’t woken up yet, but he hasn’t gotten worse either.” He glances over his shoulder. “Same with Kan Jian.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What’s weird?” Pangzi asks, his mouth full. Wang Meng is really a very good cook.

Tianzhen swivels in his seat, moving his head closer to Pangzi. “Liu Sang,” he murmurs. “If Xiao-ge was hurt, how did he get away?”

Pangzi stops mid-chew, because that’s a really good point. Jinx had gone out without weapons and had apparently been hit in the head, so how the fuck did he manage to defeat some alien monster and get Xiao-ge all the way back to the ship without dying?

“I don’t want to suspect him,” Tianzhen says, “But I do.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” Pangzi mutters. He chews thoughtfully. “He brought Xiao-ge back, though. If Liu Sang was the one to hurt him, then he would have left him to die.” He snorts. “Also, I don’t think Jinx has purple spines up his sleeves.”

Wu Xie sighs. “You’re right. The whole situation is just… uncanny.”

“Finish your dinner,” Pangzi says. “And stop worrying. Xiao-ge is fine, we’re all fine. We’ll wake up and try again in the morning.”

“Mm,” Tianzhen hums, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

Pangzi stuffs the rest of his meal in his mouth and stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I’m going to sleep,” he tells Tianzhen, “Come get me when Xiao-ge wakes up?” When, not if, because Xiao-ge will wake up.

Tianzhen nods. Pangzi pretends that he doesn’t see him holding Xiao-ge’s hand. Instead, he goes over to the biggest infirmary bed, which is his, because the other ones are everyone-else sized. He lies down, closing his eyes, and it’s maybe a good thing that this day has been so exhausting, because he doesn’t even have to try in order to fall asleep.

***

“Pangzi!” That’s Tianzhen’s voice. “Pangzi!”

Pangzi’s sitting up before he’s even fully awake. He blinks Tianzhen’s face into focus. He’s standing by his bed, hands outstretched to wake Pangzi, and he looks frightened, which is how Pangzi knows something is wrong, because Tianzhen doesn’t look frightened, even when they’re facing down a hoard of tiny monsters with rotating jaws that can carve a hole into someone’s flesh in a matter of seconds. Even when someone has a gun to his head with his back against the sky on the edge of a cliff. Even when Ershu is demanding that he settle down and get married to a woman and have kids and be straight forever. Even at the end of the world, Tianzhen doesn’t look frightened.

Except now he does. In the dim light of the med bay, standing in front of Pangzi, Tianzhen is well and truly scared, which pierces deep into Pangzi’s gut and yanks out the dread he’s been spooling in there.

“What?” he whispers, because anything louder is going to be a scream.

“Xiao-ge,” Tianzhen whispers back.

Pangzi is off the bed in one second and standing over Xiao-ge in the next. At first, everything seems fine. Xiao-ge is still and quiet, lying on his back, just how they left him, but then he looks again, and nearly loses it right there, because it looks like Xiao-ge is dissolving.

It’s hard to tell exactly what’s happening, but the pallor of his skin has taken on a sheen that is decidedly unnatural. It’s so pale that it looks almost translucent, and Pangzi can see the dark vines of Xiao-ge’s veins standing out starkly against bone. His lips are cracked and leaking blood, the same thing happening around his fingernails. Pangzi takes his hand and nearly drops it again, because Xiao-ge is so, so hot, and usually that means there would be flowery twists and beautiful lines painting themselves across his body but nothing is happening. And Pangzi can see through his skin, and it’s all radiating out from the hole in his chest where the spike had penetrated.

“Oh, Xiao-ge,” he mutters. “What’s happening to you?”

Tianzhen says, “Look at his heart.”

Pangzi does. Unlike the rest of his skin, the area over Xiao-ge’s heart is completely blacked out, the inky darkness of his Kylin genetics rising where the blood is pumping the hardest. It looks as if it’s holding off the translucency of the rest of his skin, a firm wall that pulses slowly as Xiao-ge’s body fights to keep him alive. There’s sweat on his neck, black on his heart, and these are familiar symptoms, which is why Tianzhen is so terrified.

Kylin are specially equipped for longevity. Xiao-ge is older than both of them, despite looking the same age as Xiao Bai, and even he doesn’t know quite how old he is. He’s not invulnerable, though; instead, if hurt badly enough, Kylin are able to rapidly destroy and regrow all of their genetic cells, literally rewriting their biological code to heal themselves, coming out the other side entirely healthy and new.

Xiao-ge’s done it once before, ten years ago now. He had taken a shot meant for one of them—Wu Xie or Pangzi, they can’t remember who anymore—and it had hit something vital. Tianzhen and Pangzi had knelt next to him in the dark of a random cave on some barren planet, watching as he collapsed inward, cocooned in darkness, and then emerged again, unbroken, but not whole.

Because things come with a price, and as it turns out, the price of starting over means entirely starting over. So when Xiao-ge woke up, he found Tianzhen and Pangzi leaning over him, and he didn’t know who they were.  

“I can’t do it again,” Tianzhen says, his voice on the very edge of breaking. “I can’t do it again.”

Without looking, Pangzi takes his hand. Tianzhen clutches it like a tether. Xiao-ge breathes on the bed. His heart pulses black.

“Then we won’t let him go,” Pangzi decides. He squeezes Tianzhen’s hand and drops it, going over to the sink.

The spine he pulled out of Xiao-ge is still lying in it, and Pangzi retrieves it carefully. He turns it on its end to examine the tip, and sure enough, the spine is hollow, a tiny pinprick at the top, which gives Pangzi a crazy swirl of hope, because that means that Xiao-ge’s not just dying, he’s been poisoned, and that’s something they might be able to fix.

“Wang Meng!” he calls loudly. The other members of their crew are still there, each curled in their own beds, but they stir at the sound of Pangzi’s voice. “Wang Meng!”

“Huh?” Wang Meng flails under his blanket, but quickly rights himself and comes over to the sink, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

“Is this venomous?” Pangzi asks. Wang Meng leans forward, sniffing the purple spike.

“I think so,” he says, “It was definitely something. Why, is—?” He turns to look at Tianzhen and Xiao-ge, inhaling deeply. “It’s in him, now.”

“Shit,” Pangzi says. He snaps the spine in half, waiting to see if anything leaks out of it, but it just cracks, dry and empty.

“Antidote?” Wang Meng asks.

Tianzhen says. “Theoretically, we could probably come up with something, but we’d need a sample of the venom to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

“And all the venom is in Xiao-ge,” Pangzi mutters. “Fuck.”

“Not all of it,” Liu Sang says. He’s sitting up, legs swung over the bed, only one eye able to open. He stands up, wobbling a little, but seems determined. “The creature that attacked us. I know where it is. I can go get another spine.”

“Shouldn’t it be long gone by now?” Pangzi demands.

Jinx shakes his head. “I’d be surprised if it was.” He’s already moving, taking the orange jumpsuit from where it had been folded over the bed railing and stepping into it, pulling it up his legs and over his arms, zipping up the front, before gathering his hair and pulling it back into a knot.

Pangzi exchanges a look with Tianzhen, who raises an eyebrow as if to say, What else are we going to do?

“Okay,” Pangzi says, “Let’s go.”

“What?” Jinx says, startled. “I can go alone. You should stay here.”

“Like hell I am,” Pangzi says. “You’re concussed, dipshit.”

“I’m fine,” Liu Sang says.

“Okay, sure,” Pangzi says. “And what if you come across another one of those things? What are you going to do, talk it to death?”

Liu Sang chokes. Xiao Bai gets off her bed to come pound on his back.

“See?” Pangzi says. “You can’t even get the hang of breathing. I’m going with you.”

Jinx is too busy gasping for air to say anything, so Pangzi takes it as agreement.

“Si Mei,” he says to Xiao Bai, “Take care of them.” She nods determinedly, knowing that he isn’t just referring to Xiao-ge.

“Pangzi,” Tianzhen says softly, “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” Pangzi says. He doesn’t say goodbye, because that’s not what this is. He takes Jinx by the arm and drags him out of the infirmary.

Pangzi doesn’t even bother with getting into a jumpsuit, because the only one that fits him is currently wrecked, and also they don’t have time for that. He’s wearing his favorite leather jacket instead, and if it gets destroyed, he will be knocking heads, so that’s how he knows things are going to be fine.

Outside, the sun is just starting to set, proving Pangzi’s theory that this planet just has extremely lengthy amounts of daylight. It’s good for them, though, because Pangzi did not want to try and find a monster in the dark.

They wade through the mud, out of the trench, and head into the forest, in the same direction that Liu Sang and Xiao-ge had gone only hours earlier. Jinx is quiet, focusing entirely on their destination, but he keeps twitching every so often, like there’s something on his peripherals that he can’t quite bring into focus.

“Oh, fuck,” Pangzi says. “I didn’t tell Tianzhen about the pilot.”

Jinx snaps his attention to Pangzi, eyes wide. “What pilot?”

“Xiao Bai and I found a chaser ship,” Pangzi sighs. “Some son of a bitch got out and headed into the forest, toward the Wushanju. But I don’t see them around, so maybe they left.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this before?”

“I was a little preoccupied!” Pangzi says. “Next time, you can do the field surgery and I’ll take a nap, how about that?”

Jinx does not think this is funny. “If you can’t even remember active danger threats, how are you supposed to keep anyone safe?”

“Me?” Pangzi says. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who would rather cut his own arm off than use his brain for two seconds.”

“Are you still on this?” Jinx asks. “I didn’t pull the glass out! I’m not that stupid.”

“Oh really? Then what the fuck were you doing, carving yourself up like a turkey?”

Jinx goes suddenly quiet. “Nothing.”

“God,” Pangzi says, “I still can’t believe Tianzhen let you aboard. You’re literally one of the shiftiest people I think I’ve ever met. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you hypnotized him or something.”

Jinx stops walking abruptly, and Pangzi has to trip over his own feet to avoid crashing into him. “Jinx! Fuck, warn a guy, won’t you?”

“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Jinx mutters.

“What?”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he says, a little louder. “I promise. I… I’m not that.”

“Okay?” Pangzi says, suddenly confused at this turn in conversation.

“I heard you, earlier,” Jinx says. “You and Wu Xie. I didn’t hurt Zhang Qiling. I don’t want to do that.”

“You were supposed to be asleep,” Pangzi says.

“Well, I wasn’t.” Jinx folds his arms defiantly, but he won’t look at Pangzi. “I know you don’t like me, and that’s fine. But I’m not going to kill Ouxiang. Or anyone else.”

“Okay…” Pangzi’s brain finally catches up with the conversation. “Wait, what did you just call him?”

“Nothing,” Liu Sang says stubbornly, and begins tromping through the forest again.

Pangzi trips after him, gleefully. “You called him ‘Ouxiang!’ You like him! You like Xiao-ge!”

“Shut up!” Jinx yells. “He saved my life, okay? I owe him.” He glares at the ground. “And, y’know, he’s cool, I guess.”

“That’s so cute,” Pangzi coos. “You have a lil hero crush, don’tcha, Jinx?”

“I will rethink my stance on murder,” Jinx warns. His eye catches something and he jogs forward a little, behind down to retrieve something from the ground. It’s Xiao-ge’s sword. “We’re close.”

Pangzi takes the sword from him. It looks fine, which is unsurprising, because it’s made out of a fucking indestructible meteorite or some shit, but it is surprisingly free of blood or monster goo or anything. Pangzi sticks it through his belt loop, making sure the blade isn’t going to cut his tendon when he walks.

Jinx continues forward, not even being more careful, just rounding the trees with single-minded determination. Pangzi’s about to call him out on it, tell him to stop being an idiot and at least tiptoe or something, but then he sees the monster.

Or what was the monster. Now, it’s a giant lump of purple and silver spikes, collapsed on the forest floor, back to them. It’s almost twice Pangzi’s height, and like three times as long. It looks sort of like a giant pillbug, the spikes going up and over the rest of the body like a blanket of armor. Pangzi walks around to the front of the creature, where he can see four huge, clawed feet and a clearly vulnerable stomach, which makes sense, given the spike armor.

The strange thing is that the stomach is still undamaged. Pangzi takes an instinctive step back, in case this thing is just playing dead, but then he takes a look at its face. It’s a flat, ugly mug, the jaw gaping just a little to reveal multiple rows of tiny, spiky teeth. It’s eyes are half-lidded and frosted over, staring at nothing, and there’s a strange, gray substance crusted around its ears, as though its brains had leaked out, which is disgusting, and clearly the manner of death.

Jinx is standing at the back of the head, looking abjectly miserable, and also a little green.

“Don’t throw up,” Pangzi says, partially because he does not want to deal with that, and partially to distract Jinx from whatever he’s thinking about that’s making his face all twisted.

It works. Jinx glares at him and says, “Just get a spine, already. We don’t have a lot of time.”

He’s, unfortunately, right, so Pangzi grabs the closest spine to him and pulls on it. It slides free of the skin, leaving a small, puckered hole where it had been attached. When Pangzi shakes it, he can hear something sloshing around inside. He keeps it upright, careful to avoid the tip, and nods in satisfaction.

“Okay,” he says, “Let’s get back.”

Jinx clearly agrees, taking off in the way they came at a walk so brisk that Pangzi has to jog to catch up to him. He doesn’t slow down, weaving through the rubber trees like he’s done this a hundred times before. Pangzi appreciates the determination, but he keeps having to dodge trunks, so he would appreciate it more if they took it maybe a bit slower.

He gets his wish in the next second, when Jinx suddenly grabs his arm and flattens him up against a tree.

“What the fuck?” Pangzi says. “What are you doing? You cannot take my innocence in the rubber tree forest, Jinx, Tianzhen will be so upset.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jinx hisses. He peers around Pangzi cautiously, ducking back out of sight a split second later. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Pangzi takes his own turn peeking out from behind the tree, just in time to see the black-clothed pilot coming through the trees, heading the exact same direction they are. “Oh, shit.”

Jinx breathes in deeply. “Get back to the ship.”

“Uh, no?” Pangzi says. “What about you?”

“I’ll draw him off,” Jinx says. He lightens his weight, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. “I’ll circle back around and meet you there.”

“What if he doesn’t follow you?” Pangzi asks, but it’s too late. Jinx has already steeled himself and run out from behind their tree cover.

“Hey!” he calls, and the pilot whips around, gun coming out of their holster. Pangzi thinks that he’s about to see Jinx get shot and nearly sends up a prayer for him right there, but the pilot doesn’t fire. Jinx takes off at a sprint, back in the direction of the creature, and the pilot goes after him.

“Fucking hell,” Pangzi growls under his breath. He looks at the spine in his hand, then in the direction that Jinx had run in. Why is it always him who has to deal with these situations? For once, he wishes that he had let Tianzhen come and make all the difficult decisions.

He curses again, then runs in the direction of the Wushanju.

It only takes a few minutes for the ship to appear, in all its mud-spattered glory. Pangzi jumps into the trench, almost slipping on the ground, and squelches back to the door. He throws it open and once again curses at the air filter, jogging to the infirmary and almost eating shit on the mud he tracks.

“Tianzhen!” he shouts. Wu Xie appears in the doorway. Pangzi shoves the spine at him. “Here! Make the antidote!”

“Where’s Liu Sang?” Tianzhen asks, almost fumbling the purple spike as Pangzi makes an immediate u-turn.

“He’s using himself as bait for a space assassin!” Pangzi calls over his shoulder.

He hears Tianzhen say, “What the fuck?” but he’s already out of the ship again. Fuck, he hasn’t done this much running in, like, a week. Jinx owes him dinner.

He careens through the forest, half-attempting to find footprints and half-focused on moving as fast as he can. He has no idea where Jinx is leading this guy, but then he hears a laser shot off in the distance.

“Jinx! Shit,” Pangzi yelps, and changes direction, heading in the direction of the noise.

He hears Jinx before he sees him, and scrambles to a stop, ducking behind a tree.

“Stop!” Jinx is saying. Pangzi sees him, orange jumpsuit against the trees, backing up with his hands outstretched. The pilot is advancing on him, gun drawn, but making no move to fire. “You can let me go.”

“No,” the pilot says. The helmet makes their voice all digitalized and warped, monotone and threatening. “I can’t.”

“You can, you can,” Jinx repeats. “Just listen to me. You can leave us alone. Go back to your ship, take off, leave us alone.”

“You know that I can’t,” the pilot says. “He wants you back.”

“I know, I know,” Jinx says, almost in a soothing way. “But he won’t be mad if you come back without me. I promise. You can go back. You should go back.”

The pilot stops, which is good, because Jinx has his back pressed up against a tree now. “I should go back?” They almost sounds as though they're considering it, which, what the fuck?

“Yes!” Jinx says, nodding. He’s smiling, like they’re just having a very nice, casual conversation, without a gun being pointed at him.

The pilot’s gun wavers. “But you said—”

“I know what I said!” Jinx reassures him. “But it’s fine! I’ve never lied to you. Go back. Leave us alone, and go back.”

“Uh…” the pilot murmurs, their gun falling to their side. They stands still.

Jinx is getting paler by the second, even though he seems to be convincing this guy that it is, in fact, a great idea to drop their current occupation and get the fuck off the planet. “That’s right. Go back.”

The pilot tilts their head to the side, and Pangzi thinks for a second that Jinx has actually talked his way out of death, but then the helmet shudders, and the gun is level with Jinx’s forehead again, the pilot’s finger tightening on the trigger. “Sorry, but no.”

Jinx swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, and Pangzi thinks, well, fuck that. He grabs Xiao-ge’s sword from his belt and hacks it into the tree trunk, swinging himself up the thick, rubbery plant, until he gets into the leaves. He stares down at the clearing for a minute, at Jinx and the pilot, and then jumps from his tree onto the leaves of another one, holding the branches tightly and letting his weight bear them both to the ground. The tree moves silently, bending over backward until Pangzi has it completely touching the forest floor, and then he lets go.

Physics works excellently, in his opinion. The tree slingshots up and over in an arch of rubbery motion. Pangzi’s calculations turn out to be exactly correct for once, and the pilot doesn’t even have time to look up before they're being slammed into the ground by a giant tuber that shudders up and down its trunk as it rebounds back into place. It is, quite frankly, one of the most beautiful fucking things that Pangzi has ever seen. He almost cries.

The pilot is on the ground in a crumpled heap, their gun tossed away from his outstretched hand. Pangzi gives them a second, and when they don't get up, walks over and nudges them with his foot. The pilot doesn’t move, so Pangzi drop kicks their gun into the forest, which will hopefully give them a new job when they wake up.

He turns to Jinx, who has slid halfway down the tree, staring at Pangzi as if he can’t quite comprehend what just happened. “Pretty good, huh?”

Jinx blinks at him slowly, then tries to stand. He makes it, almost, before his knees give out and he tips over onto his side.

“Seriously?” Pangzi says. He kneels down next to Jinx, touching his shoulder lightly. Jinx isn’t quite passed out, squinting at the sunlight in distaste. He makes a garbled noise that could be words, but Pangzi does not understand. “What the fuck happened this time?”

Jinx moans and turns his face into the ground.

“Is it your head again?” Pangzi asks. Jinx doesn’t say anything, but none of the rest of him seems injured, so Pangzi is going to assume that the idiot is still concussed, which he really had been suspecting all along. “Are you going to walk, or do I have to carry you back to the ship myself?”

“Walk,” Jinx says stubbornly, and then does not move.

Pangzi rolls his eyes. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” He drags Jinx up into a sitting position, getting his arms around Pangzi’s neck. Jinx decides to be somewhat helpful, and hugs him as best he can. “If you throw up on my jacket, I will leave you in the forest.”

He gets them upright, glancing at the unconscious pilot once more to make sure they're not going to suddenly come up swinging, and begins the trek back to the ship in the fading sunlight.

A few minutes into the walk, he realizes that Jinx is making little humming noises next to his ear, a series of five notes. Low, low, high, high, and low again. He repeats the same ones over and over, with a short break in between. There’s a strange beat on the last note, one that almost reminds Pangzi of an interrogative sound in his language.

He gets the pattern in his head, and then when Jinx pauses in his pattern, he hums it back to him. Low, low, high, high, low.

Jinx goes very still for a moment, and then he repeats the notes again, a little louder. Pangzi hums back, and Jinx melts on his back, his entire body relaxing so abruptly that he nearly slides out of Pangzi’s grip, and Pangzi feels his stomach go, ours now.

“You shut up,” he mutters to his feelings, because he does not want to have Jinx as part of his crew, he does not want to like him, but when Jinx hums the melody again, he says it back.

They sing all the way back to the Wushanju, coming into the med bay just in time to see Tianzhen and Wang Meng inject a syringe of something silvery into Xiao-ge’s dark veins.

“Is that it?” he asks.

Tianzhen meets his eyes. He looks exhausted, but satisfied. “I think so,” he says, his eyebrows knitting as he takes them in. “What happened out there? Is he okay?”

“Probably,” Pangzi says. He deposits Liu Sang back onto the bed, where he curls up on his side, burying his face in the pillow. Pangzi takes his boots off, but leaves the jumpsuit on. They are not at that level of friendship yet.

Tianzhen sighs, stripping the pair of medical gloves from his hands and rubbing his eyes. “‘Space assassin?’”

“I smacked them with a tree,” Pangzi says happily.

“Cool!” Xiao Bai exclaims. Pangzi high fives her.

Tianzhen sits down next to Xiao-ge again. Pangzi drags another chair up to the bedside. They watch with baited breath as the darkness around Xiao-ge’s heart eases back, and his skin slowly colors again.

“Thank you,” Tianzhen says softly.

“It’s Xiao-ge,” Pangzi replies, “There’s no world in which I would leave him.”

“I know,” Tianzhen says. “But thank you for going when I couldn’t.”

Pangzi shifts closer to him, pressing the sides of their bodies together, shoulders to hips. Tianzhen relaxes into his side. They stay like that until Xiao-ge inhales deeply, and opens his eyes.

“Xiao-ge?” Tianzhen asks hesitantly.

Xiao-ge blinks lazily, rolling his head to the side so he can look at them. “Wu Xie?” he asks, and Tianzhen grins blindingly. “What…?”

“You’re fine,” Tianzhen tells him, looking a little teary and putting a hand on his arm. “Just rest.”

“Mmm,” Xiao-ge murmurs. His lashes flutter as he goes back to sleep, but he shifts to face them, curling up around Wu Xie’s hand.

If Pangzi cries a little, he’ll blame it on the fluorescents of the infirmary. No one will believe him, but that’s fine.

***

Things don’t exactly get better, but they get manageable.

Kan Jian wakes up shortly after Xiao-ge, confused and slightly disappointed to have missed all the excitement. He and Xiao Bai start working on getting the ship back up and running, with Pangzi helping them with the heavy lifting. Jinx returns to coherency the next day and spends most of his time avoiding Pangzi and running away every time Xiao-ge looks at him, thanks to his newfound hero worship.

Xiao-ge takes a bit longer to recover, not necessarily because he needs it, but because Tianzhen threatens to sit on him until he gets all of the color back in his cheeks and the hole in his chest scabs over. The three of them spend time listening to Tianzhen try and puzzle through his notes, Pangzi making unhelpful suggestions and Xiao-ge nodding very seriously at anything Wu Xie suggests, which is also unhelpful, because that means he nods at everything.

He is the one to suggest using the monster hide to repair the ship.

“It’s metallic, isn’t it?” he says quietly, curled up at Wu Xie’s desk. Tianzhen, as expected, has not gotten around to cleaning his library at all. “And I couldn’t pierce it at all. It might be tough enough to hold up until we clear the atmosphere.”

“That… might actually work,” Tianzhen concedes. He dashes out of the library to get Xiao Bai’s opinion.

“How did you kill that thing, anyway?” Pangzi asks, draping himself over the back of Xiao-ge’s chair.

Xiao-ge cranes his neck to look at him. “What?”

“The monster,” Pangzi says. “That’s how Jinx knew where to find it, right? Because you killed it?”

“I didn’t kill it,” Xiao-ge says slowly. “It got me with its spine before I had the chance.”

“Huh?” Pangzi asks. “But then… Jinx said he got hit in the head and then you knocked him out of the way. That’s how he got the black eye.”

“I knocked him out of the way of the spine,” Xiao-ge says. “But he hit himself in the face with one of those rubber trees before we even saw the monster.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what happened after I got hurt, but the only one who would have been able to kill the monster would have been Liu Sang.”

“Huh,” Pangzi says again, thinking about that.

He thinks about that until he, Xiao Bai, and Kan Jian have returned to the monster’s corpse, trying to carve the armored skin away from the creature.

“This is disgusting,” Kan Jian says. “Ew, ew, ew. What the fuck, why are we doing this?”

“Cause it’s the best chance we have,” Xiao Bai says from where she’s currently yanking spikes away from the skin and tossing them into a careful pile. “This thing is made up of some sort of living aluminum alloy, and there’s literally nothing else on this planet, so if we’re going to fly out of here, we have to make do with what we’ve got.”

“I hate this,” Kan Jian mutters. He shrieks as the creature gushes green blood at him.

“Suck it up,” Pangzi says. He finishes tearing through the muscle of his portion of the hide and attempts to drag it off of the monster. Unsurprisingly, it’s extremely heavy.

“It’s weird, though,” Xiao Bai says. She’s looking at the monster’s face again, which she’s been doing every so often since they got there. “That it’s so undamaged? It’s like something got into its brain and melted it.”

“Stop,” Kan Jian wails, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Pangzi thinks about that. He thinks about Xiao-ge being taken out, and Liu Sang being the only level of defense between him and the monster. He thinks about Liu Sang not carrying weapons. He thinks about the pilot stopping in the middle of their mission, not shooting when Liu Sang told him not to. He thinks about the chaser ship and the pilot, gone from the planet when they had went back to look, even though they clearly knew where the Wushanju was crashed. He thinks about this, and then decides that he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

“Come on,” he says instead, cutting a thick slab of metallic skin away and dragging it onto the makeshift sled they’ve crafted from some of their cargo crates, “Let’s see if this’ll fly.”

It does not. Despite Xiao Bai’s excellent engineering and Pangzi’s badass piloting and Tianzhen’s hopeful optimism, they remain firmly grounded, the mud squelching and refusing to let them go. The metallic skin of the creature stays on well enough, but starts ballooning outward when air presses against it, creating too much resistance to take off.

“Well, shit,” Tianzhen says glumly, sitting next to Pangzi in the cockpit after their third failed attempt. “I was hoping that would work.”

Pangzi sighs. “It was a long shot, Tianzhen.”

Tianzhen frowns. “Long shots are our specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Pangzi says. “Something else will happen. We’ll figure it out.”

Tianzhen puts his head in his hands and just as Pangzi is about to try reassuring him again, something else does happen. The monitor screen, which Xiao Bai had managed to wrangle into turning on again, flickers, static crackling as a picture appears, blurry at first, but eventually solidifying into a familiar grin, big and bright.

“Hey, Wu Xie!” Li Cu says. “Did you miss me?”

Chapter Text

Okay, if anyone ever finds out, Wang Meng will deny it very, very fervently, but Li Cu is his favorite. Like, ever.

Wu Xie probably thinks it’s him, because who doesn’t love Wu Xie, so his secret is safe for now. He will never tell Wu Xie this because that might make Wu Xie sad but Wu Xie is already Zhang Qiling’s favorite and Pangzi’s favorite and Kan Jian’s favorite and Xiao Bai’s favorite, so Wang Meng does not feel at all guilty about having his favorite person be Li Cu.

He also won’t tell anyone because Li Cu would get all embarrassed, and when he’s embarrassed he turns all pink and gets warm. It’s the exact opposite of when he’s scared, because then he gets very white and cold, and Wang Meng doesn’t like either of those. He likes when Li Cu is just there, and he looks like sunlight and smells like sage and talks like a southern wind.

He hadn’t known Li Cu was coming back, yet, or he would have prepared something. Li Cu likes dishes with alcohol in them, because he likes feeling grown up, and enjoys food that kicks a little. Not literally. He did not enjoy the Tatian bugs they had on Kan Jian’s birthday one year. Wang Meng thinks about what he has in the pantry, and he expects that he can come up with something.

Li Cu’s small ship touches down on the planet. It’s actually one of the Wushanju’s shuttles, which Li Cu had commandeered a month earlier to go visit Su Wan and Yang Hao on some vacation planet. That’s probably how he found them; the shuttles each have a tracker in order to get back to their home base, which has turned out to be very useful in this instance.

“Ya Li!” Wu Xie calls from the door. He has a distinctly shimmery smell, one that means he’s very pleased. “Ya—” He inhales too much of the planet’s soupy air and starts coughing, which dulls his shimmeriness a little bit.

Li Cu comes splashing through the mud, frowning. “Get inside!” he exclaims, pushing Wu Xie back inside and hitting the door close button with his hip. “You don’t have to run out to meet me every time I come home.”

“Yes, I do.” Wu Xie sounds breathless, but he’s smiling. He wraps Li Cu in a hug. “You brat, you’re supposed to be having fun right now. Why are you here tracking us down?”

“Shut up,” Li Cu says, muffled in Wu Xie’s shoulder. “If I hadn’t come along, you’d probably be fucked.”

“Tsk!” Wu Xie lets Li Cu go, but keeps his hands on his shoulders. “No faith in your shouling.”

“For good reason,” Li Cu laughs. He winks at Wang Meng. “If Meng-ge wasn’t here, the ship would have fallen apart by now.”

See, there’s a reason that Li Cu is his favorite.

“You have to tell me all about your trip,” Wu Xie is saying, leading Li Cu out of the entry bay to the stairs. “You look tan.”

“My trip?” Li Cu says. “What about you, how the fuck did you end up crashing in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s a long story,” Wu Xie says. “Oh, you have to meet Liu Sang.”

“Liu Sang?” Li Cu says, and Wang Meng winces, cause he’s gone a few degrees colder just from that sentence alone.

Wu Xie, being human and also remarkably imperceptive when it comes to people reacting to the things he says, does not notice. “He’s new. We picked him up on Haruthul. He’s strange, but nice, I think.”

“Oh,” Li Cu says, tentatively. Wang Meng knows he’s making the same connections that he did when Wu Xie brought Liu Sang aboard.

Wu Xie has a habit of picking up strays, and the more often he does, the less it seems like a coincidence. Just between Li Cu and Liu Sang, there are some remarkable similarities in their origins. Found on a desert planet? Check. A little odd? Check. Went on an adventure with Wu Xie that almost ended in disaster but turned out fine in the end? Check.

The thing about Liu Sang, though, is that he is very clearly resistant to becoming a part of their crew, whereas Li Cu had almost immediately made a nest for himself and then never left. Not a literal nest, though Wang Meng sometimes suspects that he would enjoy that. Liu Sang has not made anything except for a mess, but Wu Xie seems to like him anyway.

But this is all new to Li Cu—he doesn’t know that this is something that Wu Xie does, and Wang Meng can tell that it’s scaring him, the thought that he left for a month and then came back and found someone else in the little hole he had made for himself on the Wushanju. That he’s been replaced. Which he hasn’t, because he is Wang Meng’s favorite, and Liu Sang is not, so there, it’s fine. They will not be leaving him.

Wang Meng doesn’t say any of this out loud, though, because Wu Xie is telling Li Cu about Pangzi crushing the anonymous pilot with a tree, and Li Cu is laughing, but his hands are clenched and he’s getting colder by the second. Not by a lot, but enough that Wang Meng notices and does not like it.

They enter the kitchen, where the rest of the crew has gathered to greet their wayward member. Li Cu warms a little when he sees them, exchanging high fives with Xiao Bai and Kan Jian, getting his hair messed up by Pangzi’s large hand, and receiving an enthusiastic hello in the form of a nod from Xiao-ge. Then he spots Liu Sang, who has taken up residence on Xiao-ge’s left and seems to be trying very hard not to begin smoking.

“Hi,” Li Cu says, because he is a very nice boy, Wang Meng’s favorite very nice boy. “I’m Li Cu. You must be Liu Sang.”

Liu Sang nods. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Which is a lie, because Wang Meng did not tell him anything about Li Cu, because he wanted to keep him special and safe, because people are not allowed to know about Li Cu unless they are Good, and Wang Meng has yet to pass judgement on whether or not Liu Sang deserves Li Cu Privileges .

Wu Xie, however, seems fine with just giving Li Cu Privileges to anyone, so Wang Meng knocks him down a peg on his Favorite People After Li Cu list. Xiao Bai is second favorite now, he decides, because her hair is soft and she does not make a mess of peanut shells in his kitchen (Pangzi is, frequently, at the bottom of the list. Sometimes he beats out Xiao-ge but that’s only because Xiao-ge smells like rocks).

“So, Ya Li,” Pangzi says, digging a handful of pEANUTS out of his jacket pocket and handing them to Li Cu, “How’d you even find us? You were supposed to meet us back on Beitiong, not traverse half the galaxy to rescue us.”

“The ship has a tracker,” Li Cu shrugs, as though he is not the most wonderful person in the universe. “I’ve actually been trying to catch up to you guys for a little while now, but the Wushanju kept outrunning me. And then I got closer and you had already went down so I couldn’t hail you. I circled around the planet for a couple cycles until I managed to get through.” He says it nonchalantly, but there’s real worry behind his voice.

“We’re all fine,” Wu Xie says, so maybe he is slightly more observant than Wang Meng had thought. “Though we are happy to see you, cause I don’t think there was any way for us to leave otherwise.”

“What even happened?” Li Cu asks.

“We were attacked,” Kan Jian says. “Some chaser ship decided it would be a great idea to herd us into an asteroid field and then the screens went down and we got pulled in by the planet.”

“Shit,” Li Cu says. “Do you know who you were attacked by?”

Wu Xie shakes his head. “No idea. Pangzi says that the chaser ship followed us down, though, so they obviously were trying to get something from us.”

“Are they still here?”

Pangzi grins. “They left after I gave them a good smackdown.”

Li Cu laughs. “Wu Xie was telling me about that. Wish I could’ve seen it.”

“We can reenact it,” Pangzi says. “Jinx, you wanna volunteer?”

“Huh?” Liu Sang says. “Volunteer for what?”

“To play the pilot,” Pangzi says, and there’s something in his voice that’s sneaky. “You seem to be familiar with that sort of thing.”

Liu Sang starts sweating. “No.”

Pangzi raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Fuck off, Pangzi,” Liu Sang mutters. His scent is getting pricklier.

Wu Xie looks back and forth between them. “Am I missing something?”

“Not more than usual, Tianzhen.”

Li Cu laughs. He seems happier now, which is very good, in Wang Meng’s opinion.

“I think he means that Liu Sang’s like, a crazy good pilot,” Kan Jian pipes up, and Liu Sang immediately whips his head to him, his back teeth gritted so hard that the veins in his jaw are popping up. “He got us through the asteroid field even with the monitor broken.”

Pangzi did not mean this, if the way his eyes go wider are any indication. “You fucking what?”

“I’m not a pilot!” Liu Sang says. “I didn’t do anything!”

“It was really something,” Kan Jian goes on, blissfully unaware of the glares that Liu Sang is directing his way. “And then with the engine—”

“Okay!” Liu Sang says frantically. “Huh. Wow! I’m so thrilled that we’re talking about this. Wait, I think the sonar device just fell of the roof I’m just gonna go fix that okay BYE.” He slides out under the table and leaves the kitchen as quickly as possible without literally running.

“Well,” Li Cu says, tossing a peanut into his mouth, “You were right, Wu Xie. He’s weird.”

***

Eventually, after they’ve eaten dinner and done the dishes and Wang Meng has chased Pangzi out of the kitchen for the fifth time, it’s just them. He and Wu Xie and Li Cu. Like it was, back then.

“Are you going to tell me?” Wu Xie asks.

Li Cu has his hands wrapped around a mug of a thick, warm liquid, a recipe that Wu Xie came across years ago and Wang Meng has since perfected. “What do you mean?”

“You were so excited about going to see Yang Hao and Su Wan,” Wu Xie says, folding his hands on the table. “So what happened?”

Li Cu shakes his head. “I just decided to come back early,” he says, glancing at Wu Xie to see if he’ll buy it. He doesn’t bother checking with Wang Meng, because he already knows Wang Meng can smell the lie on him.

Wu Xie, even without enhanced senses, can read Li Cu just as well. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But I’d like to help.”

“It’s stupid,” Li Cu mutters. Wu Xie doesn’t say anything, so he sighs and continues. “You told me you were going to be off the radar for a bit, but not to worry, and that you’d meet me in Beitiong, and that’s it. And… I don’t know, I didn’t want you to go without me.”

Wu Xie chuckles. “Ya Li, I’ve gone on missions without you.”

“You wouldn’t even say where, this time,” Li Cu says. “And if you won’t tell me over a message, that means that it’s something important. Of course I came back.”

“Mm,” Wu Xie murmurs. “What did Su Wan and Yang Hao say?”

Li Cu rolls his eyes. “They told me to go.”

“What?” Wu Xie says, clearly having expected the opposite. “Why?”

“According to Su Wan, I was moping,” Li Cu says ruefully. “I don’t mope.”

“Well, that’s false,” Wu Xie says. “Wang Meng, do you remember when we missed the summer festival by an entire half-year and ended up on Foltsun in the dead of winter?”

“Li Cu moped for a week,” Wang Meng agrees.

“I did not!” Li Cu exclaims, but his scent is happy and bright, because he secretly enjoys the teasing.

Wu Xie gets him in a headlock, scrubbing at his skull with his knuckles. “You’re a baby. Baby Li Cu!”

“I’m not!” Li Cu protests.

“Big baby!”

“Meng-gege!” Li Cu wails, outstretching his arms and making grabbing motions. “I’m being assaulted!”

“No,” Wang Meng says calmly. “You’re being hugged.”

Li Cu scrunches his face up, squirming around to try and get Wu Xie off him. “This is a really bad hug.”

Wu Xie gasps exaggeratedly. “All of my hugs are great!”

“No!” Li Cu says. He finally manages to get out of Wu Xie’s hold and scoots over to hide next to Wang Meng. He is reds and oranges, his laugh full of cinnamon and cloves.

Wang Meng found Li Cu. He remembers. He was the one who found Li Cu, curled up and shivering and all by himself, and he had brought him back, and Wu Xie hadn’t even had to think about it, he just said, “Good job, Wang Meng. Good job bringing him here.”

It was a weird few months, then. Pangzi was off annoying other contacts into giving them jobs, and Zhang Qiling was trying to find other Kylin, which had been ultimately unsuccessful. Xiao Bai and Kan Jian were also gone with the Wushanju, chasing a lead on some artifact they had been tracking down, and it was just Wang Meng and Wu Xie in one of the extra shuttles, landing on Gutongjing right as the seasons turned.

They were hunting down information for Wu Erbai, which Wu Xie was only doing in order to get his Ershu off their backs for a few months. It’s something that happens every so often; Wu Xie’s family gets tired of his excuses, demands that he return to Jiaren, where their family lives, and then they yell at him for a few days and Wu Xie comes back to the ship with a black smoky tint encircling his head.

“I don’t know why it’s so important,” he says, “If they care this much, why didn’t they have more kids?” And there’s really not a good answer for that, so Wu Xie flies as fast and as far as he can and then they find a smuggling ring to disband or a community that needs one to form, and eventually Wu Xie comes back to having shades of blue and green in his voice and gets drunk with Pangzi and doesn’t talk about it.

But on occasion, Wu Erbai will give Wu Xie some relief if he runs an errand or two for him, and it’s better than Wu Xie getting chewed out by people who don’t even care that he can map star systems in his head, and speak eight different languages and read four others, and laughs like every word, every joke was made just for him, so Wang Meng will go with him to do the things that Wu Xie is sent out to do because it isn’t fair to expect that much of him but no one is going to tell any of the Wu family that, except for maybe Pangzi, which is why he is no longer allowed to go with them to Jiaren.

So they were looking for information, and Wang Meng didn’t find information, but he found Li Cu, who was very pale and very cold and all sharp fangs and slitted eyes, and Wang Meng brought him back and then Li Cu stayed.

Not to say it was easy. There were months of Li Cu figuring out how to balance with them, and them trying to balance across from him, and honestly if it weren’t for falling through the surface of Gutongjing and having to claw their way back to the daylight, Wang Meng doesn’t know if it would have worked. But they did, and it did, and now they’re sitting in the kitchen, warm and safe and together.

Li Cu yawns, but tries to pretend that he doesn’t. Wu Xie sees anyway.

“Go to sleep, Ya Li,” he says. “You’ve been up a long time, haven’t you?”

“No,” Li Cu mutters sleepily, but they all know he was flying solo up there, which means that he’s been running on fumes for at least a day. He’s starting to look as though he’ll curl up in the dining booth and sleep right there.

Wu Xie gives his shoulder a fond squeeze. “Your room is still up there, dumbass. Don’t make me get Pangzi.”

“Okay, okay,” Li Cu says, because if Pangzi hears that anyone is not sleeping appropriately, he will come cart them off to bed himself. “I’m going.” He stands and stretches. “Night, Wu Xie. Meng-ge.”

“Go,” Wu Xie insists, shaking his head as Li Cu wanders off to the cabins. His eyes remain fixed on the doorway long after he’s gone. “It’s good, right?”

“Is that a question, or are you telling me?” Wang Meng asks. Sometimes Wu Xie does this, where he’ll say something as though it’s not important, but he’s really looking for reassurance that he’s still good and still whole and still okay.

“I didn’t want him to come,” Wu Xie says. His fingernails scratch at the tabletop. “That’s why I didn’t tell him where we were going. I knew he’d insist on coming if he knew it was Yincangui.”

He’s right. Li Cu would never pass up a chance to help Wu Xie with his life-long mission.

“Why don’t you want him here?” Wang Meng asks, because he cannot imagine not wanting Li Cu to be with them.

“We don’t know if we’ll be coming back,” Wu Xie says. “Sanshu hasn’t. Yincangui could be it, and I know you all know that, but Ya Li is still… he can do anything he wants. He doesn’t have to chase frayed leads and useless mysteries.”

Wang Meng folds his hands, giving this due consideration. Wu Xie’s voice is slightly grey-tinged, so it is serious.

“It would be worse,” he finally says, “If you didn’t come back, and he was left wondering forever.”

Wu Xie is silent for a moment. “Don’t do to him what Sanshu did to me, is what you’re saying?”

Wang Meng shrugs. He hasn’t said anything. He’ll let Wu Xie come to his own conclusions.

“You’re right,” Wu Xie sighs. “I couldn’t do that to him. He deserves better.”

“He already has the best,” Wang Meng says, because Wu Xie will start turning in on himself if he doesn’t head him off in another direction first.

Wu Xie gives him the Special Smile, where he doesn’t show teeth, but his eyes get squinty and his forehead smooths out and he smells like happy, happy, happy. It’s a rare one. Wang Meng likes it the best because of that.

“Okay,” Wu Xie says, “I get the point.” He stretches. “We should go to bed, too,” he adds, which is code for I’m going to go find Xiao-ge and Pangzi and whisper at them while Pangzi spoons me and Xiao-ge pretends like the darkness isn’t there.

Wang Meng nods. “Goodnight,” he says, waiting until Wu Xie has left before he clears away their mugs and does a final sweep of his kitchen. It’s clean and quiet when he shuts the lights off.

He climbs the ladder to the cabins, finding the second door from the end. His cabin. He stops outside the door for a moment, tasting the air, and then cracks open the door as carefully as he can.

Sure enough, when he enters the room, there’s a dark shape curled up on the bottom bunk, his hands tangled in the pillow, blanket shunted down around his feet. Wang Meng pulls the covers up.

Li Cu stirs. “Meng-ge?” he murmurs. “It was dark.”

“I know,” Wang Meng tells him. He changes into his sleeping clothes and climbs into the upper bed, which has extra blankets for this exact purpose.

Li Cu will inevitably be gone in the morning, but for now, he breathes underneath Wang Meng’s heart, and Wang Meng falls asleep feeling warm and purple and complete.

***

“If you don’t let me off of this planet,” Wu Xie is saying, “I will literally go insane. Please, Pangzi.”

“I’m not babysitting your brat and the Jinx!” Pangzi exclaims. “I’ve had enough of that already! You can stay here and play house, Tianzhen.”

“This is a spaceship,” Li Cu interjects, obviously irritated at being thought of as a babysitting job.

“But you can go outside,” Wu Xie whines. “I’ve been stuck in here for days.”

“You can go outside,” Pangzi says, “But don’t complain when you start sucking air like a faulty compression valve.”

“Stop using engineering metaphors,” Xiao Bai says. “You don’t even know what they mean.”

“I’m the Shouling,” Wu Xie says. “I get to choose who goes.”

“Oh, now you’re pulling rank!” Pangzi says. “Wish you would’ve done that like, a week ago, when you let a random-ass stranger come on our ship.”

Wu Xie fixes Pangzi with a look. “I thought you were warming up to him.”

“If I don’t watch out for this ship, who else is going to?”

“So then watch out for the ship,” Wu Xie says. “We’ll be back in two days, tops.”

Pangzi grimaces as he realizes that he essentially walked himself into a metaphorical corner and sat his ass down, so he doesn’t argue.

“I want to come,” Li Cu says. “Can I?”

Wu Xie raises an eyebrow. “You just got here. We’re not even going anywhere exciting. We’re picking up repair materials and coming right back.”

“Then why are you taking Xiao-ge?” Li Cu challenges. “He doesn’t know anything about repair materials.”

Wu Xie looks offended on Zhang Qiling’s behalf, but the person in question smirks, so Li Cu’s statement might not be entirely inaccurate.

“It’s Xiao-ge,” Wu Xie says, as if that explains everything, which it sort of does.

Li Cu rolls his eyes. “It’s my ship!”

“No,” Wu Xie says, “It’s my ship, that you borrowed, for a quick trip, that you’re now back from.” He gestures around the kitchen. “Help Wang Meng out. You can organize the library.”

“I’m not organizing your library!” Li Cu cries.

“You’ll figure something out!” Wu Xie calls, already halfway out the door. “Like I said! Two days!”

“You’re an asshole, Tianzhen!” Pangzi yells after him. Wu Xie’s arm reappears in the doorway just long enough to show Pangzi a very particular finger, and then he’s gone.

Xiao Bai shows them an apologetic smile and runs after their shouling. Xiao-ge gives Pangzi a sympathetic eyebrow raise and slips out the door like he’s made of molten metal. Kan Jian is already onboard the shuttle, so he got to miss out on the entire argument.

Li Cu and Pangzi are wearing identical pouts, which is actually very funny. Wang Meng pretends like he’s not smiling while he clears away breakfast dishes.

They hear the sound of the shuttle engines kick off outside, and soon the rumble is far in the distance, disappearing as the rest of their crew flies into the atmosphere. Pangzi sighs heavily and Li Cu groans, tipping his head back onto the booth with a thunk. Pangzi eyes him for a moment.
“Want to go glue Tianzhen’s library door shut?” Pangzi asks.

Li Cu immediately sits up, his eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

Pangzi wiggles his eyebrows and the two of them leave, heads bent together conspiratorially. Wang Meng begins cleaning the countertops. A minute later, and Li Cu pokes his head back in.

“Meng-ge?” he asks. “Have you seen the superglue?”

“No,” Wang Meng says as he places the tube on the top shelf, underneath Wu Xie’s favorite mug.

***

“Wang Meng,” Li Cu says, “I’m bored.”

Wang Meng looks at him. Li Cu is lying upside down on a box in the cargo hold, which they are currently trying to put in some semblance of order after the crash. Li Cu had helped for approximately ten minutes and then began opening random boxes to see what was inside. After twenty minutes of that, he had started drawing faces on the labels, which only kept him occupied for about five, so now he’s back to watching Wang Meng clean.

“You can go organize the library,” Wang Meng suggests.

Li Cu sparks. “Meng-ge!” he says. “You’re as bad as Wu Xie.”

Wang Meng is definitely not, so he puts his box down and gives Li Cu his full attention. “What do you want to do, then?”

Li Cu flips himself around, hopping off the crate gleefully. “Go exploring. This planet smells weird.” Which he is most definitely right about. Wang Meng does not particularly want to go outside where it smells weird, but he’s not about to let Li Cu go wandering around on his own.

“Okay,” he says.

“No,” Pangzi says, when they relay the decision to him three minutes later.

“Pang-ye,” Li Cu says, putting on his best begging voice. “Please? You got to go mess around with the trees. I want to go mess around with the trees.”

“Yeah, you’ll go mess around with the trees and then get eaten by a giant metal monster,” Pangzi says. “No.”

Li Cu pouts. Pangzi doesn’t even look at him.

“Wu Xie would kill me, you know that?” he says, concentrating on his control panel.

“I thought you weren’t babysitting me,” Li Cu says flippantly.

Pangzi freezes. Slowly, he looks up at Li Cu. “You’re a little shit.”

Li Cu smiles at him angelically.

Pangzi groans. “Okay, fine. Leave. Whatever. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Yes!” Li Cu says, gold flaking off of his words.

“But take Liu Sang with you.”

“No!” Li Cu’s arms flop to his sides. “Why?”

“Because I know that he can get rid of space assassins and giant metal monsters,” Pangzi tells him.  “And also because he’s driving me nuts. I swear, I can’t even look at him without him loosing half of his mind. So get him out of here.”

“Uggghh,” Li Cu groans. “Fine. Deal.” He plods out of the cockpit, past Wang Meng, who has been hovering at the door, because he is not nearly as lovable as Li Cu and would not have helped with convincing Pangzi.

“Don’t let them drown in the mud,” Pangzi calls to Wang Meng. Wang Meng salutes him very seriously.

He tracks Li Cu into the entry bay, where he’s already pulling on his orange jumpsuit and boots. He’s got a sling bag across his chest and a small smile across his cheeks, clearly excited.

“Where’s Liu Sang?” Wang Meng asks.

“Outside,” Li Cu says, nodding to where Liu Sang’s jumpsuit is also missing.

“Do you have water?” Wang Meng asks, which is a dumb question, because he packed the supply bag himself.

“Yes!” Li Cu says. He finishes gearing up and dances back and forth until Wang Meng gets his suit on. “Let’s go!”

He hits the door button, leaping out of the Wushanju before the door is even fully open. Wang Meng follows him out into the daylight.

Li Cu runs through the mud, looking up over the crest of the ship as he does. “Liu Sang! Hey!”

Wang Meng peers up. Sure enough, Liu Sang is kneeling next to the cockpit, fiddling with his sonar devices. His hair is falling into his eyes, sticking slightly to the sweat at his hairline. He pushes his glasses up.

“What?” he calls.

“We’re going exploring,” Li Cu says. “Come down.”

“I’ve already been exploring,” Liu Sang says. “You guys go.”

“Pangzi said you have to come.”

“Damn Pangzi,” Liu Sang mutters. He straightens up, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll let you poke the trees first,” Li Cu offers, as he is very thoughtful and generous.

Liu Sang just looks annoyed, which is rather rude of him. “That’s not even a good deal.”

“Fine,” Li Cu says, mirroring Liu Sang’s posture. His eyes glint. “Then come, or I’ll tell Wu Xie that you’re lying.”

Liu Sang nearly falls off the roof. “What?”

Li Cu doesn’t break his gaze. “You’re lying. Last night? When Kan Jian was talking about you flying the Wushanju, your temperature skyrocketed.” He looks very pleased with himself. “Everyone has their secrets, Liu Sang. I’ll be happy to keep yours, as long as you do this favor for me.”

Liu Sang’s eyes are wide and panicked. “You… how…?”

Li Cu shrugs, turning his back on the ship. “Your choice.” He strides off toward the forest. Wang Meng gives Liu Sang a last glance, and then follows him.

He doesn’t need to look to know that Liu Sang is scrambling down the side of the ship as fast as he can. Li Cu has a pleased little smirk on his face and is glowing orange.

“You’re not going to tell Wu Xie,” Liu Sang says, slightly breathless when he catches them up. His scent has turned salty.

Li Cu gives him a lazy side-eye. Wang Meng adores him. “Do I need to?”

“No,” Liu Sang says, almost hesitantly. Then, firmer: “No. Definitely not.” He swallows, fingers tightening around the cuffs of his jumpsuit sleeves.

“Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out already.” Li Cu sighs. “I guess that’s what happens when I leave the ship for a month, huh, Meng-ge? Everything falls apart.”

“Yes,” Wang Meng agrees.

“I mean, if this is who they got instead,” Li Cu says, jerking a thumb at Liu Sang, “Then I’m not surprised how everything’s turned out.”

Liu Sang frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Li Cu examines his fingernails. “The Wushanju’s never crashed before,” he says, which isn’t strictly true. Pangzi did once fly it into the Wu botanical gardens. “Don’t you think that looks a little suspicious?”

“I didn’t crash the ship,” Liu Sang says.

“Maybe not,” Li Cu acquiesces. “But things add up, don’t they?” He raises an eyebrow. “Hope you’re good at math.”

Then he’s dashing forward, kicking one of the rubber trees and making excited noises as it wiggles back and forth. Liu Sang looks as if someone has slapped him across the face, but he’s not making any moves to go back or punch Li Cu, so Wang Meng doesn’t keep an eye on him.

Li Cu is now attempting to climb one of the trees, but he seems to figure out that it’s a fruitless endeavor fairly early on. He makes some valiant attempts at hugging the tree with his arms and legs, though, and Wang Meng is very proud of him.

Liu Sang is trailing behind them quietly as they walk through the forest, until he suddenly turns to the side. “What’s that?”

Li Cu trots back over to him. “What’s what?”

Liu Sang closes his eyes. “It sounds like… water?”

Both Wang Meng and Li Cu go still, straining to try and hear whatever it is that Liu Sang does. They can’t.

Li Cu shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything. Are you sure?”  

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Liu Sang says. He veers off in a different direction, his neck crooked at an interesting angle, like he’s letting his ears lead. Li Cu and Wang Meng exchange a glance and go after him, because this is what exploring is supposed to be like.

A few meters later, and Li Cu shivers. “Oh, you’re right!” he exclaims. “A lot of water.”

Wang Meng is starting to get an idea of what they mean, because the scent of salt is starting to drown out all of the weird planet smells. Sure enough, a few minutes later, they emerge from the trees onto the edge of a small cliff, hit in the faces by the waterfall.

They’re standing about halfway down, a sheer cliff face pouring water above them, cascading into a valley below. It’s massive, all salt spray and cool roar, overwhelming everything around them. The water is a murky white color, foaming as it rages down to the planet’s surface.

“Whoa,” Li Cu says. He inches toward the side of the cliff. Wang Meng grabs the back of his jumpsuit tightly, but Li Cu just sticks his hand out into the spray. “It’s freezing. Meng-ge, can you taste it?”

Wang Meng can, yes, because there’s so much of it. It feels like salt coagulating on his tongue, and his antennae fold back uncomfortably. Nothing seems toxic in the chemical makeup, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He will admit that it’s a nice distraction from the planet’s normal odor, though.

Liu Sang suddenly shouts, “CAN WE LEAVE?”

“Why?” Li Cu asks, “This is so cool!”

Liu Sang knits his eyebrows together. He doesn’t answer, and he’s squinting at Li Cu’s mouth as though that has the answers to every question in the universe, which, in Wang Meng’s opinion, it very well might.

“What’s with him?” Li Cu mutters to Wang Meng.

“WHAT?” Liu Sang shouts, and for some reason, he’s risen his voice into falsetto.

Li Cu laughs. “What are you doing?”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Liu Sang yells. “CAN YOU… TALK HIGHER?”

“Louder?” Li Cu shouts.

Liu Sang just looks more confused. “WHAT?”

Li Cu does not look impressed. “If you’re just being annoying to get back at me, it won’t work.” He turns his back on Liu Sang, very purposefully. Liu Sang’s mouth drops.

As much as Wang Meng loves Li Cu, he’s with Liu Sang on this one. The waterfall is so overwhelmingly scented that it feels as though his olfactory senses are trying to crawl up into his brain and die. Also, Li Cu’s trying to pretend that he’s unaffected, but the gallons of freezing water pouring off the side of the planet have to be seeping into his skin by now. So Wang Meng makes the responsible adult executive decision that they should not continue to stand here.

He taps Li Cu’s shoulder. “Let’s keep moving.”

Li Cu shivers a little. “One more minute. I wanna piss him off. Just a bit.”

Wang Meng sighs. “Ya Li.”

“Okay, okay,” Li Cu says. He gives the waterfall a final long look and then turns back toward Liu Sang, but freezes before he’s even finished moving. Wang Meng’s Li Cu Danger Senses immediately start firing, and he knows what he’s going to see before he even looks.

Liu Sang is facing them, still squinting as if he’s trying to make them out in the dark, but behind him is a group of ten men, big and burly, dressed in a mix of tactical and planetary exploration gear. They’re standing casually, some of them even smirking, and that’s when Wang Meng realizes that these are smart men, because they’ve waited until their prey were standing next to a natural phenomenon that overwhelmed every enhanced sense that they have, and that means that they are very, very dangerous.

Liu Sang takes in Wang Meng and Li Cu’s expressions, and very slowly looks over his shoulder.

“OH,” he says, “THERE’S PEOPLE ON THIS PLANET AFTER ALL.”

Unfortunately, the mercenaries don’t get stupider. Three of them lunge at Liu Sang, and the other seven go for Wang Meng and Li Cu. Wang Meng takes a step backward, just as Li Cu moves forward, placing one foot forward to ground himself and shifting into a lunge, the hair at the nape of his neck lifting as his skin ripples, his scales flipping forward and his eyes narrowing, pupils turning to slits. He hisses, right as the first man reaches them, and dodges his grasp, slipping over the ground as if he were moving through water. The next man to come at him gets a foot in the chest, sending him sprawling. Another attempts to elbow Li Cu in the solar plexus, but Li Cu coils an arm around his neck and squeezes, muscles rippling under his skin. Wang Meng sees him sense the vibrations of footsteps behind him, and kick out to the side without letting go of the person he’s holding.

Wang Meng ducks underneath the strike of his own enemy, feinting enough to the left that the man almost runs right off the cliff, having to catch his balance to attack again. The next person does not fall for that trick, instead keeping Wang Meng with his back to the waterfall. He punches toward Wang Meng’s throat, and Wang Meng makes sure that the block he uses keeps the man’s arm in place long enough for him to clamp a hand over it. The man shouts. When he tears his arm away, there’s a sizzling chemical burn just the size of Wang Meng’s hand encircling his forearm. He drops to his knees, holding his arm in pain, and Wang Meng spins neatly in the opposite direction.

One of the mercenaries has Li Cu clasped with both arms around his neck. Li Cu chokes, and then sinks his teeth into the flesh of the man’s arm, which is very unfortunate for him. He drops Li Cu, who lets gravity take him down low enough to sweep the guy’s leg out from under him. He smiles, his teeth full of blood, and charges across the ground to toss away a man that’s trying to sneak up on Liu Sang.

Liu Sang does a double take when he sees Li Cu, which Wang Meng understands. Li Cu’s Sheiling heritage is pretty impressive when visible, especially if he’s using it in a fight. He’s lit up in ombre now, patches of dark scales rising through his skin and eyes shining golden. He tucks himself into a somersault, using his momentum to launch himself at another man, but right as he does, a different mercenary steps forward and grabs his arm, roughly. There’s the shocking, metallic smell of ozone, and then Li Cu is on the ground, curled up and twitching.

“Li Cu!” Wang Meng shouts. He feels his palms tingle, but before he can attack, the man who hurt Li Cu has a foot on his neck, pinning him to the dirt. Li Cu chokes, muscles still spasming with electricity.

Wang Meng freezes in his tracks. The mercenary smiles at him, as if to say, Good choice.

Now that the biggest of their problems is no longer fighting, the rest of the group is able to gang up on Liu Sang, quickly overwhelming him. They get his arms behind his back, slamming him into the ground on his stomach, forcing all of the air out of his lungs. Liu Sang struggles, but he isn’t any match for six entire people.

With Liu Sang subdued, two of the mercenaries twist Wang Meng’s arms behind him, but he’s not going anywhere. Not when Li Cu is underneath some stranger’s foot, his eyes slowly returning to normal. He’s trying to get his hands underneath him for leverage, but anytime he moves, the boot on his neck applies more pressure to his throat, leaving him gasping for breath, and Wang Meng wants to destroy him.

“Alright,” says the one that Wang Meng is going to strangle with his bare hands. “That’s better.” He nods to the others, and says something in a language that Wang Meng doesn’t know, then grabs Li Cu by the back of his collar and drags him to his feet. Li Cu stumbles, legs shaky, and his arms are grabbed by two others.

Liu Sang is also standing. He looks like he’s trying to say something, but Wang Meng can’t hear him over the roar of the waterfall, and the other mercenaries clearly don’t understand, because one of them simply backhands Liu Sang across the face, the others seizing his shoulders and shoving him to walk when he staggers.

Wang Meng doesn’t do anything, even though his blood feels like it’s boiling and his vision is tinged with fragments of hot yellow light and he wants to melt the skin off of everyone who has touched them, but there are people on Li Cu, people who will hurt him. So he doesn’t.

They’re marched down the opposite side of the cliff, where there’s a small ledge, about four feet across, that leads along the mountain and disappears behind the waterfall. Wang Meng’s stomach falls. It’s a good hiding place, and it’s really not going to help them.

Behind the waterfall is dark and cool, much cooler than the air temperature outside. Luckily, the roar of the water has dimmed a little bit, though the smell hasn’t gotten much better. The men have clearly set up their camp here, and been here awhile, because there are cooking stations and bedrolls and supplies lying at various positions inside the cave that tunnels back into the rock. It’s wide, maybe thirty meters across, and at least fifty long.

The men shove them down next to the back wall of the cave, fitting cuffs on each of their wrists and chaining them each together; Liu Sang on one end, Li Cu on the other, and Wang Meng in the middle. It’s a very small comfort, that they’re all put onto one chain, which makes Wang Meng think that the mercenaries might not have been expecting to find them, and that they’re not entirely equipped to handle actual prisoners.

That’s a problem for a different minute, however, because the moment the cuffs snap closed on Li Cu’s wrist, his pheromones go insane. He manages to wait until they aren’t being looked at before he’s scrabbling at the heavy metal lock, trying to claw it off with his fingers. Wang Meng grabs his hand, which means that Liu Sang tips over, as his arm is directly connected to Wang Meng’s.

“Ya Li,” he whispers, “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Li Cu says, breathy and light. His breath wheezes slightly. “It’s not fine, it’s not. It’s not.”

Wang Meng winces. Li Cu’s got an entire armada of panic building up in his chest, and the only way to stop it is to get these things off of him, and that’s not going to be a quick task.

“Look,” he murmurs, tapping Li Cu’s wrist with two fingers. Li Cu manages to stop long enough to gaze at Wang Meng’s open palm, which is beginning to glisten as his own natural defense begin to kick in. “See? Don’t worry, Ya Li. Meng-ge is going to get you out of here.”

Li Cu gasps. One of his legs spasms, his body still filtering out residual electricity, which at least is distracting enough to get him to focus on something other than the chain. He shifts his body, putting Wang Meng’s hand behind him so that it can’t be seen. He nods, taking a deep breath, and shoving everything inside him. He still smells unsettled and terrified, especially this close, but he is keeping it together, and Wang Meng is so proud of him he might implode with it.

Liu Sang obviously has no idea what’s going on, because he tugs at the chain connecting his hand to Wang Meng’s, twice. He waits a second, then does it again, and then a third time. Wang Meng’s surprised to find that it translates in his head, though he supposes that he shouldn’t be all that shocked that Liu Sang has figured out the basics of the tapping language already.

What? Liu Sang’s saying. What? What?

Wang Meng tries to decide how to say that they still have some tricks up their sleeves in as few words as possible, but at that moment, the mercenary who electrified Li Cu comes up to them.

“So,” he says in a crisp accent, his Galactic cut off slightly at the end of words, “We’ve got ourselves some runaways, huh? I didn’t think there’d be anything to pick up here, but life’s full of surprises.”

Liu Sang says, “Let us—” but before he can get anything else out, the man grabs the end of their chain, and suddenly all of Wang Meng’s sense are lit on fire, sparking and racing through his body, crackling into his bones and out his extremities. It’s hot and burning and he wants it to end—

And as quickly as it started, it’s gone. Wang Meng opens his eyes—when did he close them?—and blinks at the stony ceiling of the cave. Somehow he’s lying on his side. There’s cool skin underneath him, which he registers as Li Cu. His other arm is being tugged uncomfortably in the opposite direction, and he blearily lifts his head to see Liu Sang crumpled on the other side.

The man clicks his tongue. “See, the thing is, you all are in this together, right? So if one of you misbehaves…” He lets the threat dangle, punctuating it with a brief spark of electricity from his fingertip. Li Cu flinches. “Get the picture?” He doesn’t wait for them to answer, just drops the chain and folds his arms, examining the three of them.  “So no talking.”

Liu Sang props himself up on his elbow with some difficulty. His eyes are cold, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“Since you seem so eager, let’s start with you,” the man says. His fingers twitch toward Liu Sang, but one of the other mercenaries calls from the other side of the cave.

“Astar!” he says.

The man, Astar, sighs and walks over to the other men, who are gathered around someone on the ground. Wang Meng cranes his neck to look, and sees that it’s the man that Li Cu bit. He’s trembling on the ground, his arm bleeding red and black onto his clothing. Darkness has snaked into his veins, traveling up to his neck and pumping into his brain as the venom courses through his bloodstream. There are a few more agonizing seconds of life left in him, and then he goes limp, wounded arm flopping down to his side.

The other men burst into a flurry of sounds, looking panicked and, in some cases, angry. Astar yells something in their language, gesturing firmly to the mouth of the cave. His men don’t exactly seem pleased about whatever he’s ordering them to do, but they obey, and to Wang Meng’s horror, lift their companion and carry him to the edge, tossing the body into the waterfall. There’s no ceremony in the action, and as soon as it’s done, they all disperse back to various sections of the cave. Some of them are glaring in the direction of their prisoners.

Li Cu hisses, “Good riddance.” Wang Meng agrees.

Astar stands, staring into the waterfall for a moment. He turns sharply on his heel, marching over to them and crouching in front of Li Cu, taking his jaw in his hand and wrenching Li Cu’s face forward.

“You cost me a man,” he says. “You and your snake bite. You’re a Sheiling, is that it?”

Li Cu screws up his mouth and spits into Astar’s face. Wang Meng feels a particular brand of satisfaction as the man falls back onto his ass, sputtering and wiping frantically at his skin.

“That one wasn’t poisoned,” Li Cu says, and even if there wasn’t venom in his saliva, his voice is dripping with it. “Don’t try again.”

Wang Meng would die for him.

Astar finishes panicking and stands, his jaw fixing into a taut line of bone. “You didn’t learn anything the first time?” he asks. Li Cu narrows his eyes, and Wang Meng prepares for electricity to pump through his blood again.

Instead, Astar moves, crouching next to Liu Sang, his hand closing around his skull, pointer finger on his temple and thumb pressed into the middle of his forehead.

“Think your friend here would enjoy some electroshock therapy?” he asks, voice quiet but deadly. “One bolt, directly into that pretty brain. That’s all it would take.”

Li Cu sucks air in through his teeth.

Astar smiles, though it’s more of a grimace. “Good boy,” he says, and Wang Meng thinks once again about knocking all of his teeth out.

“Stop,” Liu Sang says, and then winces. He attempts the same word again. “Sto—”

Astar’s free hand flashes to his throat, and Liu Sang chokes. “What did I say about running your mouth?” he asks. Liu Sang coughs, trying to bat his hand away. Astar relaxes his grip slightly, and then entirely, as his eyes catch sight of where Liu Sang’s jumpsuit has rucked down on his chest. “What’s that?”

Liu Sang’s eyes go wide. He thrashes, but Astar’s still got him by the face, and slams his head back into the rock wall. Dazed, Liu Sang stops fighting just long enough for Astar to yank the zipper of the jumpsuit and pull the sleeve halfway down Liu Sang’s shoulder, allowing them all to see what he’s apparently found so interesting.

The left side of Liu Sang’s chest is patterned in dark brown scars, skin tight and twisted over the entirety of his pectoral, crawling up to his shoulder and disappearing down below his ribcage. At first, they look random, but if Wang Meng pays attention, he can see what appears to be a very deliberate pattern to the scarring.

“A barcode brand?” Astar says. He whistles, and Liu Sang flinches sharply. “Someone likes you, don’t they?”

He barks a command to one of his men, who brings over a small rectangular box. Astar holds it over the scarring on Liu Sang, and Wang Meng nearly shouts, but the box just hums a little, a red scanner line traversing the lines before the box beeps.

Astar stands, reading the results of whatever scan he just did. For some reason, he looks mildly impressed.

“Mao Xincheng?” he asks, and Wang Meng feels himself stiffen so abruptly that Li Cu presses into his shoulder anxiously. He can’t help it. Liu Sang and Mao Xincheng? That Mao Xincheng? The Mao Xincheng that Wang Meng had scented out back on Haruthul and immediately thought, No, I don’t like him?

He knows he’s gaping at Liu Sang, and that Li Cu can probably sense that he’s feeling more and more out of his depth the longer they stay here, but Li Cu was right and Liu Sang has been lying to them this entire time.

“You’ve been registered as missing,” Astar continues, as though he hasn’t just upended Wang Meng’s entire breath and brain and bloodstream. “And for a pretty hefty reward, too.” He snickers. “You ran away, huh? Well, sorry to do this to you, sweetness, but it looks like your little field trip is over.”

Liu Sang’s face screws up and he shouts, “Let us go!”

Shockingly, Astar’s face goes slack and he drops the scanner. His body twitches toward the chain, but his lackey has already driven his boot into Liu Sang’s stomach. Liu Sang cries out, bending as far forward as he can while being chained to someone else. The man yells at him in the unfamiliar language, and Astar seems to get a grip on himself.

“Seems as though there’s a reason your notice says you shouldn’t be allowed to speak,” he mutters. He calls out something to one of the others in the cave, and a moment later, Liu Sang’s head is being pulled back, a thick wad of cloth being shoved into the back of his mouth. He twists, but his head is shoved down, the gag tied tight in his hair.

Astar looks to Wang Meng and Li Cu. “Either of you branded?”

Liu Sang makes a furious grunting noise and shakes his head violently, but Astar nods to the other mercenary, who undoes the fastening on Wang Meng’s jumpsuit, flipping it open. There’s nothing there, but Wang Meng still feels like something has been violently exposed, like he’s just given away an important secret. He hates it. He hates them.

Li Cu reacts even worse. He snaps his teeth at the man when he reaches for him, which leads to him being punched in the face, hard. His head flops to the side as he tips, stunned, into Wang Meng’s shoulder.

The mercenary is less kind to him, yanking his clothing down to his elbows and examining his chest and back. Like Wang Meng’s, his chest is bare, but his back—Wang Meng should be getting used to these sudden violent urges, because he is going to tear this man’s throat out, because how dare he.

Li Cu whines when his back is exposed. The muscles in his shoulders shift, light dancing off of his scale pattern. It’s the most sensitive part of his anatomy, as the scales are always exposed. Normally, Sheiling keep their serpent features hidden, only revealing them when they’re hunting, fighting, or in distress. Li Cu can do that with most of his Sheiling characteristics, but not on his back.

When Wang Meng found him, back in the cold desert of Gutongjing, Li Cu had already been so brave. He’d been shuttled back and forth between illegal experimentation groups, people who tore him open and knit him back together, just to see what they could uncover. One of their experiments was cutting away the layers of skin that collapse like accordion folds over Li Cu’s scales, which keep him warm and safe and complete. But they took Li Cu and they removed his defenses on his back and waited to see if they would regrow.

They didn’t.

When Wang Meng found him, he had someone managed to escape the facility, hiding out in a crate in some back alley, curled up and freezing to death. Even now, healed as best he can, he’s more susceptible to temperature changes than he would normally be, and the scales on his back are dry and stiff, unlike those on the rest of his body. They crack, sometimes, in the winter, and Li Cu can’t move his shoulders without wincing. But he escaped, then, he made it out and he hid, and he was so, so brave, and when Wang Meng found him, he promised Li Cu, silently, that he would never let anyone take something that precious away from him again.

Li Cu is afraid of the dark, and he hates being locked up, and his back hurts in the cold, and Wang Meng will not let anyone touch him, even if he has to melt the skin off their bones and smell the sour, acrid tang of sizzling muscle and tendon, even if he has to tear himself apart, because Li Cu is his, his favorite, and he made him a promise.

So when Li Cu, half-conscious and shaking and trying to keep himself together, whispers “Stop,” into Wang Meng’s shoulder as someone tries to uncover his scales again, Wang Meng forgets that he is trying to keep them whole and alive and safe and smart. He forgets, and instead, he lunges forward, dragging Liu Sang with him, and places his palm directly over the eye of the mercenary that is touching Li Cu, and he scalds him.

Wang Meng’s people are calm, normally. They have enhanced smell, evolved in order to hide from enemies and to seek out food. They live in groups, using their numbers for safety and comfort, but they are not defenseless, and Wang Meng knows this, knows that he is not without a weapon, and so he has been slowly pooling his acid throughout all of the cells of his body, bringing it up into his pores, storing it to melt their chains off or protect Li Cu, and now he sweeps it into one hand and burns a man’s eye out.

The mercenary falls back, shrieking. His hands go to his face, which is a mistake, because Wang Meng’s acid is still sitting on the surface of his skin, so he only succeeds in burning the flesh on his palms as well. He collapses to the ground, screaming, his eye slowly becoming a blackened pool as the membrane dissolves into the socket, his hands stained bright red, skin bubbling.

Wang Meng feels a deep vein of satisfaction trill through him. He feels Li Cu press into his side, he feels Liu Sang pulling on his other arm, he feels angry and bright and alive. And then he feels fire, and pain, and needles being buried, blazing, into his blood—

And then he feels nothing at all.

***

“Meng-ge,” someone is saying. “Meng-ge.”

Wang Meng resurfaces. His entire body feels like it’s been turned to static. His mouth tastes like someone’s shoved socks into it, and one of his antennae is twitching every other second, uncontrollably.

He’s tilted uncomfortably against something firm and cool. One of his hands is wrapped in someone else’s, and he squeezes it as he comes to, because that can only be Li Cu, and Wang Meng needs to let him know that he’s back, that it’s alright.

Slowly, he sits up straight, feeling as though he’s been microwaved, and tips his head back to rest against the rock. He tilts his face to the left, slightly, and musters up a smile from somewhere deep within him to show Li Cu.

“Thank fuck,” Li Cu whispers. “I thought… you were out for a really long time.”

He’s right. The waterfall is now just a rushing noise in the dark. The sun has set, and the only light is coming from a couple of lanterns set up around the cave. Most of the mercenaries have retired to their bedrolls, but there are still two sitting near the entrance of the cave, talking quietly together.

A small jerk on his right wrist reminds him that it’s not just he and Li Cu in this cave. Liu Sang is sitting as far away from them as he possibly can, one arm stretched out awkwardly. He’s still gagged, but doesn’t look any worse than he did earlier. Wang Meng doesn’t know why he cares, though, because Liu Sang is apparently a liar and an enemy and is not getting Li Cu Privileges anytime soon. Maybe not ever.

“What are we going to do?” Li Cu murmurs, his voice taunt, and Wang Meng is violently reminded of how young Li Cu is. Wu Xie was right, he shouldn’t be here, getting into danger with them, getting hurt.

Speaking of which, Wu Xie. Wang Meng doesn’t know how long it’s been, but Pangzi must be freaking out right about now. He’ll know something is wrong. He’ll come for them… except they’re hidden behind an enormous waterfall and there is absolutely no way any of their crew would look there. Pangzi doesn’t even know which way they went.

They can’t count on being rescued, at least not soon. And if what Astar said about Liu Sang was correct, Mao Xincheng is going to be heading their way as soon as he’s notified of their whereabouts, if he hasn’t been already.

He taps that question against Li Cu’s thumb. Have they called anyone?

No, Li Cu taps back. Said they would wait until morning.

That still doesn’t give them a lot of time. The daytime hours on this planet are insane, with only a few hours of darkness each night. Wang Meng doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, but they’re running out of options. Liu Sang’s out of play without his voice (and that’s a long conversation Wang Meng wants to have, but later), and Wang Meng’s not sure that he’s going to be able to do more than summon up enough strength to walk out of here. Which means that as much as he hates it, their escape relies mostly on Li Cu.

Li Cu must be thinking the same thing, because he taps, Turn out the lights?

Wang Meng nods. The mercenaries obviously are not a species that is good at seeing in the dark, considering they’ve got their hideout artificially lit. Unfortunately for them, seeing in the dark happens to be something that Li Cu excels at.

The question is how to put out the lanterns. They’re too far away to reach, and any movement from them will definitely alert the guards.

There’s a tug on Wang Meng’s wrist from Liu Sang. Wang Meng does not want to acknowledge him so he ignores it, until Liu Sang pulls again, more insistently. Wang Meng glares at him.
Liu Sang is making some exaggerated eyebrow motions. He tosses his head toward the lanterns, then closes his eyes.
“Yeah,” Li Cu whispers as quietly as he can, and Wang Meng wants to tell him to stop being so nice. “If it’s dark, I can lead us out.”

Liu Sang nods. He squares his shoulders, settling his body into the ground and taking several deep breaths. He looks up at the rock ceiling of the cave, which isn’t very high, and then at the waterfall, crashing down past the guards. The lanterns are a few meters away from the opening, just enough to avoid being splashed by the falling water.

Liu Sang tilts his chin up slightly, eyes pointing at the ceiling. He stretches the corners of his mouth open as much as he can, stiffens his jaw, and then… nothing.

Except for it’s not nothing. Wang Meng has no idea what Liu Sang is up to, but he can see his vocal cords vibrating as he stares at the ceiling. There’s no sound coming from him, though, at least not one Wang Meng can hear.

He looks at Li Cu, but Li Cu appears just as confused as he is. For a split second, Wang Meng thinks, Oh great, he’s lost it.

Then, movement from the front of the cave catches his eye. At the very top of the doorway, over the unsuspecting men’s heads, a thin tendril of water is being lifted out of the waterfall and carried along the ceiling, trembling delicately. Wang Meng feels his eyes go wide. He looks at Liu Sang, but he’s still in the same position. His face is tight with concentration, and he’s starting to sweat a little bit, his eyes rigidly focused.

What the fuck, Li Cu taps out on the ground. Wang Meng agrees with him.

The water floats through the air until it’s hovering above the lanterns. They flicker, a couple molecules escaping as the liquid sits suspended above the light. Then, in the span of a second, Liu Sang gasps, the water falls, and the lights go out.

Li Cu is immediately moving. He grabs Wang Meng’s hand and yanks him to his feet. Disoriented, Wang Meng grabs onto the chain that connects him to Liu Sang, forgetting that he’s angry with him right now, actually. Instead of making a direct beeline to the door, however, Li Cu takes them to the right side of the cave, in the direction of where all the men are sleeping.

The guards at the doorway shout when the lights go out, and Wang Meng can hear movement from the other bedrolls as their companions are awoken. He tenses, wanting to drag Li Cu away from there, but Li Cu moves forward insistently, and Wang Meng trusts him with everything he has, so he does his best to stop his instincts from hampering their movement.

They inch along the wall, as quickly as they can. The men are clambering around in the dark, trying to get the lanterns relit.

“Secure the fucking prisoners!” Astar shouts from somewhere in the cave.

Wang Meng can hear the roar of the waterfall getting louder, can smell the stench of salt spray, and he squeezes Li Cu’s hand tighter, just as one of the mercenaries manages to relight a lantern.

They all freeze. They’re about a meter away from the entrance. Wang Meng can feel the waterfall mist on his cheeks. He looks back. They’ve essentially switched places with the mercenaries, standing like sentries at the door while the men are statues in the hollow of the rock.

It’s a standoff for less than ten seconds, which is when Astar apparently decides he is tired of this entire thing.

“What the fuck,” he says, and draws a gun from him belt, leveling it at Wang Meng’s eyes and pulling the trigger.

Wang Meng doesn’t even have time to feel afraid. He hears the blaster fire, and at the exact same moment, Liu Sang barrels into his waist, shoving him into Li Cu and sending them all falling forward, which perhaps prevents them from being shot, though Wang Meng might have preferred to take his chances with that. Instead, there’s a moment of weightlessness, barely a millisecond, and then they’re in the waterfall.

Wang Meng has been wrong every time he’s thought he was going to die, but now he’s almost positive of it. There’s thousands of gallons of water crushing his body, and he’s moving so, so fast, and the only thing he can still feel is the bite of metal around his wrists and the weight of two other people on his arms. The world almost goes still for a minute, suspending him in midair, and then the waterfall plunges into a river and he almost blacks out.

Somehow, he doesn’t hit any rocks. The water swirls him into a tight spin and he swallows some. His head goes fuzzy, something inside screaming louder than the sound of the falls. Wang Meng doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know which way is safe to swim, and then the current spits him out into the river proper, and he’s somehow on the surface, head breaking through to choke liquid out of his lungs and swallow more of it before he’s tugged under again.

Even outside of the waterfall, the river is raging. Wang Meng is swept away with it, tossed, battered, trying to regain some control but having any progress ripped away almost immediately. He has no idea where Li Cu is. He hopes he’s still with him.

It seems like forever, but eventually the water stops racing so hard and so fast, and things become smaller and calmer. Wang Meng feels something tug on his arm, and he follows it blindly, coming up above the water to gasp for breath, coughing, liquid burning in his nose.

He blinks the water out of his eyes. Li Cu is kicking toward the shore on his back, arms dragging as he pulls Wang Meng along with him. The current splashes, pulling him under again for a brief second, but he comes up again, continuing to paddle doggedly. Wang Meng convinces his body that this is the best course of action, rather than just letting the river take them downstream, and makes a passing attempt at swimming.

He pauses for a moment when he flips over. Liu Sang is still attached to his other wrist, though he seems to be having more difficultly than they are. The gag is still in his mouth, and soaked through, which means that he’s having to breathe very heavily through his nose to avoid choking.

Li Cu reaches the shore and heaves himself up onto the bank, wriggling forward on his side, pulling Wang Meng up as well. Wang Meng gets onto his knees, Liu Sang clambering out after him, and all three of them collapse.

Wang Meng closes his eyes and feels the dirt begin to turn to mud underneath him. He coughs, rolling onto his side and spitting river water up next to his head. He feels wrung out and half-dead and he wants to be back on the Wushanju right now.

“H-here,” Li Cu murmurs. He’s getting to his knees and crawling over Wang Meng’s lap to Liu Sang, who is dragging his chin against his shoulder to try and pull the gag down. Li Cu’s shaking fingers undo the knot and drop the cloth from around Liu Sang’s face.

“Thanks,” Liu Sang whispers hoarsely. Li Cu gives him a thumbs-up and then falls over onto his back, landing awkwardly on Wang Meng and Liu Sang’s chained hands, but Wang Meng does not care.

They lie on the bank of the river for a while. It’s not very comfortable, but Wang Meng doesn’t ever want to move again. He might actually be able to fall asleep, he thinks, if he tries really hard. He thinks he’ll do it. It would be nice.

His thoughts are growing fuzzier when something shudders against him, hard. He cracks open an eye only to see Li Cu shiver again, harder than the first time. He has tremors going all through his body, and he seems to be trying to curl himself up, which is hard to do with his hands chained to Wang Meng’s.

Shit. They need to get back to the ship. The night air is tepid, and having been dunked in an icy river cannot be good for any of them, but especially not a Sheiling who already has a hard time thermoregulating. So Wang Meng gives himself ten more seconds of being horizontal, and then sits up, feeling like he’s been travelling at light speed without a ship.

“Li Cu,” he murmurs. “We need to get home.”

“Mm,” Li Cu says through chattering teeth. “S’c-cold.”

“I know,” Wang Meng says. “It’ll be warmer soon.”

He nudges Li Cu up to his feet. Li Cu hunches his shoulders up, trying to keep his body heat contained. Unfortunately, they’re still attached to Liu Sang, and Wang Meng is feeling less magnanimous toward him, considering that he lied to them and got them captured and also pushed them into a waterfall.

He attempts to summon some acid to burn through the chain connecting him to Liu Sang and leave him here for Mao Xincheng to come and find, but Li Cu tugs at his arm. His eyes are wide, lips bleached out in an already-pale face, a cut on his forehead leaking blood down his cheekbone.

“We c-can’t leave h-him,” he says. “N-not for them.”

Wang Meng wants to yell, wants to tell Li Cu that this is not a good person, he’s not even a nice person, he’s dangerous and a liar and he came onboard their ship and now they’ve found him him out and that means they should leave him behind but Li Cu has this look on his face that, in between his trembling limbs and sodden hair, looks small and sad and scared, and he can’t do it.

“Fine,” he says, trying not to feel guilty, because he knows better than to put his family in danger, and here he is, doing it anyway.

Liu Sang has remained on the ground throughout this, watching them, his face strangely naked without his glasses, which are long gone in the river. Cautiously, he tries to push himself to his feet, but his shoulder buckles, sending him to the ground with a yelp.

Li Cu crouches next to him, dragging Wang Meng to bend over. “Bl-bleed-ding.” His shivering is getting worse the longer they’re out here.

Liu Sang switches arms, standing successfully this time. “It’s fine,” he says.

Li Cu shakes, and presses himself into Wang Meng. Wang Meng isn’t much warmer than he is, but Li Cu is going to leech every bit of heat that he can.

He tries not to notice Liu Sang coming closer to Li Cu’s other side, but Li Cu does stop shaking ever so slightly, so he will let it go for now.

They begin to walk, a tightly huddled trio, stumbling over the ground as they make their way through the trees. Wang Meng has no idea how far downstream they’ve gone, or if they’re even going in the right direction, but Liu Sang keeps nudging them slightly when they need to turn, so he hopes that he knows where they are.

Sure enough, despite all of the trees looking the same, Wang Meng begins to smell wet dirt and motor oil and the sharp tang of metal. A crash site, which means the Wushanju should be nearby, unless some other ship has crashed on this planet. He hopes not, because all he wants right now is to be clean and warm and back with their crew. He’s starting to feel their absence like a pain, sharp and buried in his stomach.

Liu Sang mutters, “It should be right over here.” He steers them around two trees and out into an familiar, open clearing.

The sun is beginning to rise again, which barely sheds enough light to see by, but Wang Meng can still make out the clearing, almost exactly as they left it. The deep gash carved into the earth, the mud dug up and spread across the ground, the flattened trees. There’s only one difference, a big one, and Wang Meng’s legs nearly give out right there, almost send him sprawling.

The Wushanju is gone.

Chapter Text

Xiao-ge is an inherently selfish person. That is why, when Pangzi asks to go with Wu Xie to pick up repair supplies, Xiao-ge does not offer to stay behind, even though Pangzi is definitely more suited to the job than he is.

Wu Xie wants Xiao-ge to come, which gives Xiao-ge the little rush of satisfaction that comes whenever Wu Xie expresses wanting. It’s a very annoying feeling, because it means that Xiao-ge is, inevitably, going to give Wu Xie whatever he wants, a hundred times over, a thousand, if he can. Wu Xie could look at a cliff and say, “I want to climb that,” and Xiao-ge would carry him to the top.

Maybe Pangzi should have come instead. At least then, Xiao-ge wouldn’t have to be the one to try and keep Wu Xie from buying every single book with an interesting design on the cover.

“What about this one?” Wu Xie says, hand on his chin as he examines the books on display.

The book seller nods eagerly. “A very good choice, shouling! You are extremely perceptive, to see the worth of this tome!”

Xiao-ge prevents himself from rolling his eyes, which is not hard, as his eyes are not predisposed to do that.

They’re currently walking around the glass-domed market on Macen, the closest civilized planet in the Envelan system to where the Wushanju had crashed. It had taken Wu Xie all of fifteen seconds to figure out they had been marooned on Lihan, which is, unfortunately for them, the least hospitable, and is only home to giant spiny aluminum-based life forms, which they already knew, thanks. It is a stroke of luck that they aren’t too far from a planet they can resupply on, and one that is made to accommodate people.

The air on Macen is slightly less toxic than that of Lihan, but everything is enclosed in huge glass bubbles, which keeps the air purified, so Xiao-ge does not have to worry about Wu Xie dropping dead at a moment’s notice because his body decided that it would no longer be functioning.

He and Wu Xie had left Kan Jian and Xiao Bai haggling over the price of titanium plating with a six-armed merchant, wandering off because Kan Jian handled the money, and Xiao Bai handled intimidating anyone into doing what they wanted by yelling at them very loudly, so Wu Xie and Xiao-ge were basically useless at that point. They probably should have stayed behind with the Wushanju to help Pangzi, but Wu Xie really was going stir-crazy sitting planet-side.

The thing about Wu Xie is that he is, to put it bluntly, addicted to space travel. Xiao-ge has never known him to stay grounded for more than a week, and that’s usually only if they need to make a long-term stop somewhere to resupply or repair or recover. After a week, he starts getting twitchy and restless, and if they’re grounded for more than two weeks without a quest or puzzle or mystery for him to solve, he starts doing things like splicing plant genetics and creating mustard gas in the greenhouse, or rewiring Pangzi’s cockpit panel to only respond to commands in Quiatian, or making Kan Jian shoot kidney beans at him with a slingshot while Wang Meng despairs over the state of his kitchen.

Xiao-ge had hoped that Li Cu’s return would be enough of a distraction, considering that they had only been grounded for three days at that point, Wu Xie, please get a grip, but apparently not. Wu Xie has been acting jumpier than normal, a strange independent streak rising up in him that Xiao-ge is familiar with, because it comes out when he’s stressed, and they’ve all been stressed, to say the least.

Which is another reason that Xiao-ge went on the supply run. He has a feeling if they leave Wu Xie alone for more than five minutes, he’s going to steal a shuttle and fuck off to find Yincangui by himself. At least this way, Xiao-ge can keep track of him, and make sure he’s not left alone, and distract him with pretty books.

(Xiao-ge is not distracted by pretty books, but he is distracted by something just as beautiful and neat and elegant. Full of information, full of words. Glittering gold leaf in the sunlight.)

He takes a closer look at the book that Wu Xie has his eyes on. It just looks like a book. He does not say this out loud.

“A very rare item, shouling!” says the merchant, who does not actually know if Wu Xie is a captain or not. Space bazaar merchants call everyone shouling, because people are more likely to buy something if they feel that it’s special, just for them. “Written by Ducan Whitam, the famous astrophysicist.”

“He studied frequency mapping, didn’t he?” Wu Xie asks. Of course he knows who that is.

“Yes, yes!” the book merchant says eagerly. “Frequency mapping! He came up with the principles of sonar illusion and acoustic relevancy in relation to black holes.”

Xiao-ge has no idea what any of these words mean, but Wu Xie clearly does. “And this is his work?”

“His only philosophical treatise!” The book merchant nods. “Toward the end of his life, he compiled his notes about scientific progress and its worth in universal relations.” Gingerly, he flips the book over, revealing an embossed quote. “As you can see, one of his most famous quotations is featured here.”

“‘When one sees the worth in space, it will turn to something all the more precious—song,’” Wu Xie murmurs. His fingers twitch against the hard cover, and then he suddenly freezes.

Xiao-ge and the merchant exchange an uncertain glance. It is strange to find commonality with a book merchant.

“Shouling?” the merchant says, uncertainly.

Wu Xie inhales. His face brightens and he turns to Xiao-ge, grabbing his arm, looking as though he’s suddenly come awake. “They aren’t financial records!”

Xiao-ge just gazes at him steadily. Wu Xie is working. He will not interrupt.

Wu Xie reaches into his jacket and pulls out Mao Xincheng’s journal, and why the fuck did he bring that. He flips through the pages, running his finger through to find what he’s looking for.

“Here!” he exclaims, and holds the book up for Xiao-ge to see. It says:

Teleran star map shows galactic tracing, but the area is devoid of planetary objects.

            Leave money in a vacuum and it will turn to song.

            Haizi 256.6, 173.12, 588.44, 476, 110.9.

“They aren’t financial records,” Wu Xie says, his eyes big and shining and beautiful as he gazes at Xiao-ge, eager to share this with him. “They’re frequencies.”

Xiao-ge has no idea what this means. Wu Xie gives him a little shake, and then shoves the journal into his hands.

“How much?” he demands.

The merchant looks startled. “Um, 1000 credits, shouling…”

Wu Xie types that into his bank watch, holding it to the merchant’s scanner. It beeps, and he grabs the book.

“Thank you!” he says, hooking his fingers around Xiao-ge’s wrist and dragging him away.
“Thank you?” the merchant calls after them.

Xiao-ge agrees with his confusion.  

Wu Xie is flipping through his newly-purchased book as he walks, which means that Xiao-ge keeps having to nudge him back on course whenever he almost walks face-first into a stall. He makes a small noise of excitement, and then makes Xiao-ge hold out the journal, putting his book right next to it.

“See?” he says. “The quote! It’s nearly the same. We thought these were financial records, but the hint is on this last page. ‘Leave money in a vacuum and it will turn to song.’ It’s not metaphorical—okay, well, it is, because you can’t literally put money in a vacuum, but Mao Xincheng meant that we should apply the numbers to space, and that they’ll turn into sound, which means frequency.”

Xiao-ge nods, even though he still does not know what Wu Xie is talking about, but that’s all that Wu Xie needs to continue.

“We need to get back to the ship,” he says breathlessly. “Liu Sang knows sonar, he’ll have an idea about frequencies.” His steps slow, ever so slightly. “… why didn’t Mao Xincheng just tell me they were frequencies? If these are directions to Yincangui, then what did he need us for? Unless…” His eyes have fallen out of focus as he thinks, and Xiao-ge takes his elbow to keep him moving in the correct direction.

“He didn’t write them,” Wu Xie breathes, his pupils dilating as it falls into place in his mind, everything settling in his head, a short, sweet breath of summer sun. “These aren’t his notes! Except for the last page, maybe. Is the handwriting different? Here.” He takes the journal from Xiao-ge, stacking it onto his own book and pressing his nose down into it, looking as closely as he can at the minute details of the inking. “It’s hard to tell, because the first pages are only in numbers. I wish I had a magnifying glass. Give me your sword?”

“No,” Xiao-ge says, because that can only mean that Wu Xie is about to do something stupid like try and refract light off of the glass dome and set everything on fire, and Xiao-ge would really rather not have to pay for damages.

“Fine,” Wu Xie mutters, just as he runs into someone with his shoulder. Xiao-ge is too late to stop him, but the man keeps walking, head down, as though he didn’t even notice.

Xiao-ge stops, following the man with his eyes. There’s something familiarly strange about him; dressed in all black, a sleek, shiny helmet covering his head, and two guns at his hips… and then it strikes him. It’s the pilot, the one that followed them onto Lihan, just like Pangzi had described him. And that could be a coincidence, but Zhang Qiling is willing to bet that it’s not.

He turns on his heel and melts back into the crowd, a single pinprick in a swarm of people.

“Xiao-ge?” he hears Wu Xie call, but he doesn’t look back. Wu Xie will follow, or he will find him later.

The pilot moves through the market almost as smoothly as Zhang Qiling does, though much more surreptitiously. Zhang Qiling has the ability to make people move out of his way automatically, but the pilot slips past them as though he is a needle weaving through cloth. No one pays attention to him, and he doesn’t pay attention to anyone else.

He finally stops outside of a small, dark restaurant, that boasts to sell “THE BEST ALE ON THIS SIDE OF THE SYSTEM.” Zhang Qiling doesn’t know how true that is, and he doesn’t particularly care, but he follows when the pilot goes inside.

The interior of the building is dimly lit, perfect for solicited meetings and day drinking. There are enough people that Zhang Qiling, dressed in black and with a sword across his back, does not garner enough attention to alert the pilot to his presence, but he’s still able to select his own seat, which is a table about twelve feet away from where the pilot has sat down with another person, his back to Zhang Qiling.

Though his hearing is not nearly as good as Liu Sang’s obviously is, even if he hasn’t told them about it, he’s still able to pick up whispered conversations fairly well, as long as they aren’t outrageously distant. When the waiter comes by, he orders a drink so that he doesn’t look suspicious, even if he has no intention of actually drinking it, and then he listens.

The pilot takes off his helmet, setting it on the ground next to him. “Mao-ye,” he says.

“Took you long enough,” says Mao Xincheng, and Zhang Qiling finds his hand around the hilt of his sword. Mao Xincheng is here, and he’s talking with the pilot. Wu Xie is not here, so he is safe, for now. Zhang Qiling still finds three potential exits, just to be cautious.

“My apologies,” says the pilot stiffly. “He talked to me.”

“You know not to let him do that!” Mao Xincheng hisses.

“I could have shot him,” the pilot mutters. “Would that be better for you?”

“You’re getting dangerously close to disrespect, Jiang Zisuan,” Mao Xincheng tells him, his voice ice cold. “He didn’t remove that command, did he?”

“Technically, he didn’t remove any of them,” Jiang Zisuan says. “He just told me leave them alone.”

Mao Xincheng scoffs. “I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s this useless on his own. He’s always been pitiful.” Jiang Zisuan doesn’t say anything, so Mao Xincheng continues. “Do you know where he is, at least?”

“I know where their ship crashed,” Jiang Zisuan says. “His tracker went dead soon after they hit Lihan.”

“So he cut it out?” Mao Xincheng makes a noise of disgust. “That procedure wasn’t cheap.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jiang Zisuan says. “I blasted their wing off. That ship isn’t going anywhere fast. They won’t be able to outrun us.”

“If I had known he’d be this much of a problem,” Mao Xincheng says. “I would never have let him out of my sight. He was supposed to convince Wu Xie to work for me, not run off to work for him.”

“Maybe you should have made your commands more clear,” Jiang Zisuan suggests, and then there’s a loud crack, and he cries out in pain, strangling the sound in his throat before it can draw attention.

Mao Xincheng does not seem at all perturbed by this. “That’s the second finger you’ve broken this week, Mr. Jiang,” he says. “You should be more careful about what you say, or you’ll run out, and then what use will you be to me?”

Jiang Zisuan growls at him. “I’ll break more than your fingers once this is all over,” he snaps, and then chokes.

Zhang Qiling surreptitiously looks over, because he has no idea what is going on, and what he sees almost makes him drink the entire glass of alcohol he has in front of him.

Mao Xincheng is sitting, relaxed, in his seat, his back still toward Zhang Qiling. On the other side of the table, Jiang Zisuan has his fist wrapped around the handle of a steak knife, the blade buried in his bicep. His jaw is clenched tight, hands shaking.

Mao Xincheng shakes his head and picks up his own drink, taking a sip as if they’re just sharing a meal, rather than watching his employee mutilate himself right in front of him. “At least Haizi does good work.” He swallows the last of his drink, putting the cup down on the table and standing from his seat. Jiang Zisuan follows him with his eyes, hatred simmering beneath his irises.

(Zhang Qiling can understand this. He’s still processing the conversation, trying to figure out where to place the anger he can feel coming to a boil in his ribcage, and he thinks it would be very good placed against Mao Xincheng’s neck.)

“Get back to the ship,” Mao Xincheng says, “We’re going back to Lihan as soon as we’re refueled.”

“Yes, sir,” Jiang Zisuan says, his teeth gritted.

Mao Xincheng does not give him another look as he leaves the restaurant. Once he’s gone, Jiang Zisuan grips the hilt of the knife tighter, and with a practiced tug, yanks it out of his arm. He tosses it onto the table and presses his hand against the cut. He hooks the fingers of his wounded arm through the straps of his helmet, letting it dangle and following his employer out of the restaurant.

Zhang Qiling gives them a minute, then two, and then goes over to the abandoned table. Besides the bloody knife and dirty dishes, there aren’t any other clues, so Zhang Qiling leaves a credit slip as a tip for whatever waiter is going to have to deal with the mess, and leaves the restaurant himself.

He’s hard pressed not to run all the way back to the shuttle. He thought briefly about following Jiang Zisuan and Mao Xincheng, tracking them down to their own ship and dealing with this new threat, but he already knows where they’re going, and if he’s going to protect Wu Xie and Pangzi and the Wushanju, then he has to hurry and warn the others. Get them off this planet, get the ship fixed up.

Wu Xie’s waiting for him in the shipyard, pacing a little bit. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, but drops it from his mouth when Xiao-ge comes back.

“Where did you go?” he asks. “Kan Jian and Xiao Bai have been back for ages. Is everything okay?”

“We need to get back,” Xiao-ge says. “Now.”

Wu Xie nods. He immediately turns and gets onboard the shuttle, calling for Kan Jian and Xiao Bai to prepare for takeoff. Not for the first time, Xiao-ge suddenly feels as though he’s flooding, unmoored by how much Wu Xie trusts him, how he doesn’t even ask questions when he knows Xiao-ge is serious.

It’s something that had taken a while to get used to, that trust. Xiao-ge had woken up after his regeneration, feeling weak and sloppy and horribly confused, and they had just been there, Wu Xie and Pangzi, and they were asking him questions and he had to say that he didn’t know. It’s the worst he’s ever felt, or can ever remember feeling, as he supposes literally dying would actually have been worse.

He hates it, sometimes. Hates that he can’t remember how he met them, how the two most important people in the universe found him and saved him and kept him. They’ve told him, but it’s an empty memory, a space that he should be able to fill and can’t. It’s not like remembering it, like living it.

Wu Xie has said that he doesn’t care, that Xiao-ge is the same, but Xiao-ge knows he’s not. There’s something missing, something he can’t quite say, but can almost taste on the tip of his tongue. Something in the way Wu Xie will turn to him when he’s excited and then look devastated for the barest moment, like Xiao-ge is forgetting him all over again. Pangzi won’t tell him what the missing thing is, either, which Xiao-ge thinks is very unfair of him. Why does Pangzi get to know the details that Xiao-ge is missing?

He’s not really mad at either of them for it, even if a small, petty part of him would like to be. It’s not their fault that none of them know how any of him works. He’s the only one left of his species, so he should be the expert, but the expert can’t remember past ten years ago. It’s not Wu Xie or Pangzi’s fault. It’s not their fault that he apparently decided that sacrificing himself was worth not having to live in a world without them.

Xiao-ge thinks he made the right decision. But he’s inherently selfish, so of course he does. He didn’t lose either of them. They both lost him.

But Yincangui. Yincangui returns lost things. And if anything is lost, it’s definitely Xiao-ge. Maybe he’ll be able to repay Wu Xie that way. He’ll be able to give him back the Zhang Qiling that he loved, instead of the one that’s missing parts.

(Because that’s really what it is, isn’t it? Wu Xie loved him, anyone can see that, and ten years ago, Xiao-ge left him and gave him back a stranger. And Wu Xie, because he is beautiful and kind and selfless, never said anything, never dared. And because Xiao-ge is an inherently selfish person, he never asked, because he likes when Wu Xie looks at him, he likes being held by them, he likes standing at their side, the place reserved always for him. He can’t give that up. He doesn’t want to.)

(Maybe Yincangui will be his one selfless act.)

(Maybe Wu Xie will forgive him.)

(Maybe he’ll love him again.)

“Xiao-ge?” Wu Xie calls from in the ship.

Xiao-ge won’t keep him waiting.

***

When they get back to Lihan, it’s dark, and Pangzi is panicking.

He’s standing ankle-deep in the mud when they see him from the shuttle, pacing outside of the Wushanju, door open like a yawning mouth. Pangzi’s mouth is pulled into a line, and he keeps folding and unfolding his arms across his chest, like he can’t quite choose one position to be in. When the door to the shuttle opens and Xiao-ge gets out, he sees a relief crash over Pangzi’s face like a wave.

“Thank fucking god,” he says, running to them, mud making it difficult.

“What’s wrong?” Wu Xie asks, and his voice is steel.

“I’m sorry, Tianzhen,” Pangzi says. “They… I don’t know where they went, they said they were going exploring, just into the forest, and they never came back, I don’t know what—” His voice suddenly cracks, and he’s grasping at Wu Xie’s arms. “I’m sorry, I should have gone with them.”

“Pangzi,” Wu Xie says, “It’s not your fault.” Pangzi just looks miserable. “We’ll find them, don’t worry. They’re not defenseless. Wang Meng has his acid, and Li Cu is Sheiling, so if they come across any monsters, or if Liu Sang tries anything—”

“What?” Pangzi whispers. “Why would Jinx try anything?”

Xiao-ge had explained the conversation between Jiang Zisuan and Mao Xincheng on the way back. Wu Xie had gone very still and quiet when he relayed the strange sentences about Liu Sang apparently being able to instill commands in people, even one which could make someone hurt themselves if they were disobedient.

Xiao Bai and Kan Jian had sat, very quietly, in the extra seats. Xiao-ge stood next to Wu Xie as he flew, waiting for their shouling to pass a verdict.

Finally, Wu Xie had sighed. “He saved your life,” he said. “So we owe him for that.”

However, if Liu Sang has hurt Wang Meng or Li Cu, from the look on Wu Xie’s face, Xiao-ge knows that even saving him won’t be enough to earn Wu Xie’s forgiveness. Any of their forgiveness.

Now, Pangzi’s eyes go wide, and his mouth shrinks in on itself. He shakes. “Tianzhen. Fuck, Tianzhen. It is my fault.”

“He tricked all of us—” Wu Xie starts, but Pangzi shakes his head.

“I knew,” he whispers, “Or I guessed. In the forest, with the pilot. He told him to leave us alone, and the guy did. And the monster,” he adds, looking toward Xiao Bai and Kan Jian. “Xiao-ge didn’t kill it, and you two saw. It was like something had gotten into its head.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Wu Xie demands, and it seems like that’s the worse thing, that Pangzi didn’t tell him, and considering that it’s them, it probably is.

Pangzi presses his lips together, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he admits. “I was going to wait until he did something.”

(Pangzi’s heart is as big as he is. He is all bravado and bluster, but Xiao-ge gets to see him unfettered, when he is truly joyful and content. He loves Wu Xie, but he also loves Pangzi. It shouldn’t be that simple, but it is. They are all loved, they all love. The love may be different, but it’s there. Love is something that Zhang Qiling did not know. Xiao-ge gets to. He hopes Zhang Qiling will learn, when he returns.)

“And now he has,” Wu Xie says.

“Wait,” Kan Jian breaks in, “We don’t know if he hurt them, yet. They could be lost, or maybe one of those giant metal bugs showed up again. It might not have anything to do with Liu Sang.”

“What’s the more likely option, Kan Jian?” Xiao Bai snaps. “That Wang Meng and Li Cu, who can literally smell where we are, got lost? Or that Mao Xincheng’s spy finally made a move against us?”

“I’m just saying, we don’t know for sure,” Kan Jian protests, but it’s weak.

“It doesn’t matter yet,” Wu Xie says, and there is the shouling in him, the commander of their crew. “We need to move. Xiao-ge, you come with me. We’ll find them. Pangzi, Xiao-Bai, Kan Jian, you three get that wing functioning and get the ship either out of here or as hidden as you can. Mao Xincheng is hunting us down, so we’re on the defensive now.”

Kan Jian, Xiao Bai, and Pangzi, still looking despondent, nod, dashing off to the shuttle and ship to begin the repair process.

“Xiao-ge,” Wu Xie murmurs, and then turns to run into the forest.

Zhang Qiling follows him. There isn’t a lot of light to see by, but enough. It glints off the rubbery skin of the trees, shimmering in the night air as they dash around them. Zhang Qiling keeps his sword in his hand, half-paying attention to their surroundings, half-watching Wu Xie. Wu Xie’s fully focused on finding their missing members, he’ll take care of that. Zhang Qiling’s job now is to watch out for other threats.

As it happens, “other threats” turn out to be Wu Xie himself. There’s a point in their mad run where his breathing hitches once, twice, and then he’s bent over, his hands on his knees, stumbling to a stop as his lungs shudder violently, sending him coughing.

(When Wu Xie had been sick, last year, he and Pangzi and Xiao-ge had retired to their room and stayed there. Pangzi may have preferred the infirmary, but by then, Wu Xie was too feverish and sick and didn’t know where he was half the time, so they kept him where he was most familiar. He spent days filtering in and out of consciousness, because his body was healing him, but also because he’d have fits that left him completely unable to breathe, hyperventilating and gasping in Pangzi’s arms until he passed out. Pangzi and Xiao-ge had stayed for days, sleeping in shifts, terrified that they would look away and Wu Xie would be gone.)

(He does not know what the rest of the crew did during that time, except for Li Cu, because every night, Li Cu sat outside the door and talked for hours, until his voice gave out. Wu Xie didn’t remember it, later, but whenever he heard Li Cu, he would turn his head toward the voice, and his breathing would get a little lighter.)

Xiao-ge puts a hand on his back and another on his arm, holding him up. He can feel Wu Xie’s lungs heaving underneath his ribs. They’re not going any further, for now.

He helps Wu Xie sit on the ground, leaning him back against one of the rubber trees and having him put his hands on his head to open up his airways. Wu Xie wheezes for a little while, his lungs trying to filter through the humidity in the air.

“Do you think they’re okay?” he whispers hoarsely when he finally has his breath back.

“Yes,” Xiao-ge says immediately, because this is not going to be a world where they find Li Cu or Wang Meng too late.

Wu Xie nods. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, only slightly shaky. “And what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“About Liu Sang,” Wu Xie says. He looks very serious now, face garnished with shadows. “Do you think he’s an enemy?”

Xiao-ge crouches next to him. He thinks back to the clearing, against the giant metal monster, which had just appeared, almost out of nowhere, before they could even run.

Zhang Qiling drew his sword, sweeping himself into a low fighting stance. “Go!” he ordered, because Liu Sang would just be a distraction in a fight like this.

Liu Sang’s eye was bruised, which had been funny when it happened, as he tried to brush a rubber tree branch out of the way and had been so startled when it immediately doubled back to whack him across the face. It was less funny now, because it impeded his eyesight, which is why he didn’t see the creature’s tail as it swept through the trees, heading directly for Liu Sang.

Zhang Qiling didn’t hesitate, just launched himself forward to push Liu Sang out of the way, because he knew he could dodge the monster himself. Which he could, normally, but Wu Xie had been right earlier and he had fucked up his shoulder and then lied about it, and so when he jumped into a handspring over the tail as swung toward them, his shoulder twinged, and he didn’t push off of his palms as fast as he thought he could, and then he was on his feet, but only for a moment, just enough time to look down and see a metallic spine sprouting in between his pectorals before the rest of his body figured out what had happened and crumpled.

He lay in a heap, thinking this is strange, this doesn’t happen to me, and then Liu Sang was next to him, hands on his shoulders.

“Zhang Qiling!” he cried.

“Go,” Zhang Qiling choked out, and winced. The edges of his vision were getting blurry, and he tried to push himself up, because at least if he was going to go down, he would give Liu Sang enough time to get away.

Liu Sang’s mouth faltered, briefly, and he looked over his shoulder at the monster, which was turning around and gearing up to charge at them again. He grabbed Zhang Qiling’s hands and lifted them to press over his ears.

“Keep your ears covered,” he ordered, his face grim and determined, and then he was standing and planting both his feet firmly on the ground.

A sound spread out from him, high-pitched and grating, and the monster shrieked, crashing face-first into the dirt, a cloud of dust rising as its great body made impact, momentum sending it almost vertical, before gravity took hold and it plummeted onto the ground.

Xiao-ge thought, just as he passed out, that Liu Sang rings like a bell.

“I don’t,” he says to Wu Xie, who is still waiting for an answer.

“How can you be sure?” Wu Xie asks quietly.

“I can’t,” Xiao-ge tells him, helping him back to his feet. “But that’s what I think.”  

Wu Xie gets to his feet. “Okay,” he says, “That’s what we think.”

Oh no, Xiao-ge thinks, I’m in love with him too.

This isn’t a new revelation, and it isn’t one they have time to think about right now, because in the distance, the sound of familiar engines kick in, and they look to the sky just in time to see the Wushanju, her wing hastily but thoroughly mended, take to the sky, struggling just a little. She hovers over the trees for a moment, then touches down again, disappearing on the horizon.

Pangzi’s voice crackles over Wu Xie’s communicator. “We got the ship moved. Working on more permanent repairs right now. Hopefully we’ll be able to take off as soon as you find them.”

“Good,” Wu Xie replies. He clears his throat a little as he returns the communicator to his belt. “Okay. Now we just have to find them.” His breathing sounds tired.

Zhang Qiling takes out a pair of daggers, sticking them into the trunk of the nearest tree, using them like claws to pull himself up the trunk.

“Show-off!” Wu Xie calls up at him.

 Zhang Qiling ignores him, even though something next to his heart thrums. He perches at the very top, nestled in the branches, and surveys the forest. It’s mostly just the tops of trees, but there’s something rising up in the distance, a huge cliff face that looks as though it is moving. Zhang Qiling realizes that it’s a waterfall, a huge one, trawling down the rock into a river.

He calls down to Wu Xie, “There’s a river, maybe a mile south.”

Wu Xie considers that. “Do you think they went there?”

Zhang Qiling repels down the tree, landing neatly next to Wu Xie. He doesn’t know, but it’s the one unique thing in a landscape of similarities, so it’s as good a place as any to start.

“Alright,” Wu Xie decides, “We’ll go there.”

There’s another thing, then, because Wu Xie reaches out and takes Xiao-ge’s hand.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, his fingers tightening.

Xiao-ge doesn’t need to reply. Wu Xie already knows he would never leave him.

They move through the forest, back in the direction of the Wushanju’s crash site, where Zhang Qiling had seen the waterfall in the distance. Wu Xie’s lungs are rasping, but since they aren’t running, he seems to be able to breathe fine. Xiao-ge is just starting to feel signs of water pricking at his senses when the sky, already lightening with the sunrise, bursts into sparks as something enters the atmosphere.

“Mao Xincheng,” Wu Xie says. He takes the lead, pulling Xiao-ge along after him as he picks up speed a little bit, eyes on the sky, watching as another ship takes shape.

Mao Xincheng’s ship is smaller than the Wushanju by a fair amount, but it’s streamlined and sleek and obviously expensive, all black metal and tinted glass. It hovers above the ground as it touches down, choosing to land at the outside of the trench rather than in the mud.

The ship’s door opens, and Mao Xincheng steps out, along with Jiang Zisuan, who is wearing his full gear again, but has a bandage wrapped around his upper arm.

Xiao-ge yanks Wu Xie behind a tree, crouching near the ground where the shadows are the darkest. They peer out from behind it, watching as Jiang Zisuan examines the mud, Mao Xincheng standing over him impatiently. They’re too far away to hear what’s being said, but Mao Xincheng is obviously displeased that the Wushanju is suddenly gone, and recently.

Further down the clearing, there’s movement. Zhang Qiling immediately alerts Wu Xie, who says, “It’s Liu Sang.”

Zhang Qiling says, “I’ll get him.”

Before Wu Xie can answer, he’s gone, muscles in his legs contracting and expanding as he covers the length of the forest between them. Liu Sang has barely gone a few meters out of the trees before Zhang Qiling has an arm around his chest, a hand over his mouth, and is dragging him back into the cover of the forest.

Liu Sang is breathing hard against his palm, heartbeat racing so fast that Zhang Qiling can feel it pumping against his forearm. As soon as he’s pulled Liu Sang back, though, his vital signs relax, and the man himself goes almost limp in Zhang Qiling’s hold.

“Ouxiang?” he mumbles against Zhang Qiling’s hand.

“Don’t say anything,” Zhang Qiling orders, because he hasn’t forgotten that Liu Sang’s weapon is his voice, and if he’s trying to deliver them to Mao Xincheng, all it will take is one word for Zhang Qiling to let him do whatever he wants.

Liu Sang, surprisingly, obeys. He doesn’t say anything else, so Zhang Qiling uncovers his mouth, but doesn’t let him go.

“Where are they?” he demands.

Liu Sang quirks his head back in the direction he had come from, and Zhang Qiling gives him a little shove.

“Move,” he says.

Liu Sang does, and it only takes them a few moments to find Wang Meng and Li Cu, huddled behind a closely-set pair of trees.

Wu Xie is also there, because he is brilliant, and had gone in the same direction when Zhang Qiling did, albeit for different purposes. Now, he’s examining Li Cu, who is alternating between clutching his arms around his body and waving them at Wu Xie.

“H-he’s not bad!” Li Cu is explaining. “We h-have to g-get him.”

“Xiao-ge’s taking care of it,” Wu Xie tells him. “What the fuck happened, Ya Li?”

“Xia-ao-g-ge,” Li Cu says, “Is gonna j-just s-stab him.”

“I didn’t,” Xiao-ge says. The three others snap their heads forward, almost simultaneously.

“Oh,” Li Cu says.

“Might as well have,” Wang Meng mutters, and there’s something murderous in his eyes that makes Liu Sang wince. “Wu Xie, we can’t let him back aboard. He—”

“I know,” Wu Xie says, because Wang Meng is looking a little bit overzealous, and his words keep faltering into the clicks and squeaks of his native language. “He’s working for Mao Xincheng.”

Wang Meng shuts his mouth so firmly his teeth click together. “You know?”

“I found out,” Wu Xie says.

“Fucking great,” Wang Meng says, and then his entire body shudders, his eyes roll back in his head, and he pitches forward into Wu Xie’s arms.

Wu Xie blinks rapidly. “Wang Meng?”

“H-he’s-s s-shock-k-k-ed,” Li Cu stutters helpfully. He’s is shaking so hard that his knees almost give out.

“Okay,” Wu Xie says, simultaneously holding Wang Meng out of the dirt, and using an elbow and hip to keep Li Cu propped upright, “We need to get you all back to the ship.”

“L-l-l—”

“Liu Sang, too,” Wu Xie says, so that Li Cu doesn’t have to stumble through the question. “Fuck, kid. One-track mind.”

Li Cu’s lips tremble into a smile, but he winces, and tries to constrict himself tighter together.

“I’ll take him,” Xiao-ge says softly. He tenses his arm against Liu Sang’s chest as a warning, a reminder that he will kill him if he tries to do anything, then lets him go and takes Wang Meng from Wu Xie and lifts him up onto his back. He nudges Liu Sang to walk in front of him, so that he can’t run when they aren’t looking.

Liu Sang doesn’t seem like he wants to do that, however. Despite being found out and brought back, he actually seems calmer than he was when walking back to Mao Xincheng, and by all logical reasoning, it should be the opposite. He hasn’t said a single word since Zhang Qiling told him to stay quiet, and he keeps throwing looks over to where Wu Xie has wrapped his jacket around Li Cu’s shoulders and is squeezing him tightly, trying to press warmth back into him.

Behind them, Mao Xincheng’s ship takes off again. They must have decided that the Wushanju has escaped, and gone in pursuit. Xiao-ge wonders how many fingers Jiang Zisuan had to break for this error.

In actuality, the Wushanju is parked near the river, which Li Cu flips off. Pangzi and Kan Jian have the hose out, draining water from the river and spraying residual mud off the side of the ship, and Xiao Bai is on the wing, welding mask secured firmly over her eyes as her torch sizzles metal back onto their ship. Pangzi catches sight of them and shouts, dropping the hose (which causes Kan Jian to almost fall over as he has to suddenly deal with the pressurized spray all by himself) and running to them as fast as he can.

“Fuck,” he says, his hands all over Li Cu, examining him. “Kid, are you alright? What happened? I told you, didn’t I? What the fuck. You’re an idiot, you know that? Let me look at you.”

“P-p-pang-ye,” Li Cu manages, trying to shove him away. Pangzi sees him shivering and immediately throws his own jacket over top of Wu Xie’s.

“We need to get them inside,” Wu Xie says, and then dissolves into coughing.

Pangzi looks about ready to lose all of his shit, patting Wu Xie on the back with one hand and pulling the coats tighter around Li Cu with the other. “We need to get all of you inside.” He catches sight of Wang Meng. “Shit, Wang Meng! Is he alright?”

Xiao-ge shrugs and heads for the door. Li Cu and Wu Xie are both supporting each other as one shakes and the other struggles to breathe, and behind them, he hears Pangzi, very softly, ask, “Jinx?”

Liu Sang doesn’t say anything.

The inside of the ship is quiet and warm. Xiao-ge hears Li Cu exhale with relief once they enter, and they them all tromp to the med bay, leaving puddles where their feet fall. Pangzi disappears upstairs to gather clothes for everyone while Wu Xie hands out towels to Li Cu and Liu Sang, and Xiao-ge puts Wang Meng down on the bed he himself had been occupying only a few days earlier. Quietly, he takes Wang Meng’s boots and jumpsuit off, then gathers three other blankets from the beds and piles them on top of him.

Pangzi returns, shuffling Li Cu to get into dry clothes. Li Cu returns wearing one of Wu Xie’s shirts with the sleeves rolled up at his wrists, and Pangzi immediately stuffs him into a sweater of his own, which is way too big for him. The sleeves hang down past his hands, and he doesn’t have time to move them up before Wu Xie has found literally every other blanket in the med bay and dumped them all on top of Li Cu, pushing him to sit on the floor next to the heating vent, pressed to the wall as if he can absorb all of the heat through osmosis. Wu Xie crouches next to him, toweling his hair dry.

(Wu Xie has never been one for kids, at least not any of his own, though Xiao-ge thinks that is mostly because having biological kids would require a wife, and Wu Xie is extremely resistant to that idea. When Xiao-ge came back from his hunt and met Li Cu, he hadn’t quite known what to think, because Wu Xie introduced him just as Li Cu and nothing else, but Li Cu calls him Wu Xie instead of shouling and lets Wu Xie nudge him and ruffle his hair, but flinches when someone else moves unexpectedly, and smiles with all his teeth when Wu Xie praises him. And Wu Xie brings Li Cu into the library and asks his opinion on things and teaches him the tapping language, and the first time Li Cu flew the ship, Wu Xie had run out of words to say.)

(Xiao-ge doesn’t remember his own parents, doesn’t know how parents are supposed to be, but he thinks that Wu Xie makes a good father.)

Wu Xie is purposefully ignoring Liu Sang in favor of his kid, and Xiao-ge doesn’t know what to do with him either, so Liu Sang is just dripping water onto the floor of the med bay, until Pangzi takes pity on him and hands him a pile of folded clothing.

“Go change,” he says, gripping Liu Sang’s left shoulder to steer him toward the bathroom, but Liu Sang yelps, twisting his body out of Pangzi’s grip and almost dropping the dry clothes onto the wet floor as he grabs at it.

Pangzi sighs. “What did you do now?” He takes the clothing back, sits Liu Sang down on a stool. “I’m going to take a look, okay?” He eases the sleeve off of Liu Sang’s shoulder. “Oh, shit.”

Liu Sang’s arm is dyed red and watery, blood leaking from a neat hole at the crest of his arm.

“H-he was going to shoot M-meng-ge,” Li Cu says on the floor. “Liu S-sang pushed him.”

Wu Xie looks at Liu Sang then. Liu Sang is staring at the floor, pressing his injured arm stable on his stomach.

“Shit, kid,” Pangzi mutters. He presses a towel to the blaster wound. Liu Sang whines, his body tightening. “Sorry. Xiao-ge, can you get me the bandages?”
Xiao-ge does, collecting the cotton pads and gauze wrap for Pangzi, who is examining Liu Sang more carefully.

“It didn’t go all the way through, which is good,” he says. “Must’ve just caught the tail end of it. Doesn’t need stitches, cause you can’t really stitch blaster wounds. Y’know, cause they literally blast stuff away, so there’s nothing left to put back together.”

Liu Sang looks a little sick at this description, but Pangzi keeps talking anyway.

“Lucky thing that it was a small one,” he says. “If it had been my cannon, your arm would be gone.”

“Pangzi,” Wu Xie says, “Maybe not the best time.”

“Right, right,” Pangzi says. He finishes cleaning the blood away, pressing a gauze pad to the neat little hole and wrapping a bandage around Liu Sang’s shoulder. “That should be fine. Go put on something dry, you’re getting everything soggy.”

Liu Sang obeys, still refusing to look at anyone. He’s only been gone for a couple seconds when Xiao Bai and Kan Jian come in. Xiao Bai has soot all over her hands, welding mask flipped up on her head, and Kan Jian is somehow soaked from the waist down.

“How are they?” Kan Jian asks.

Li Cu sticks a thumb out of his blanket cocoon. Xiao Bai takes off her toolbelt and mask and joins him in his nest, whispering something to him that makes him laugh.

“What are we going to do?” Kan Jian whispers to Wu Xie.

Wu Xie sighs. “I don’t know.”

“I know you won’t believe this,” Liu Sang says quietly, “But I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

They all turn to look at him. He’s standing at the entrance of the med bay, face young and empty, hair hanging wet and loose in his face. His feet are bare. He’s still not looking at anyone.

“Sit down,” Wu Xie says, in the tone of voice that he never uses with any of them.

Liu Sang sits on the farthest stool that he can find. He folds his hands on the table, and for some inexplicable reason, looks at Xiao-ge.

(Xiao-ge is not used to being the object of hero worship, because Wu Xie and Pangzi never did that. At least he doesn’t think they ever did. He doesn’t know what happened exactly when they first met, but he’s been told that he was… not very nice. And Wang Meng and Kan Jian and Xiao Bai and Li Cu all have a hero in Wu Xie. Xiao-ge is just… there, for them. A constant. He likes it best that way, because that way he isn’t disappointing. He can be constant. He’s very good at that.)

“So,” Wu Xie says, “Who are you?”

Liu Sang’s eyebrows draw together. “What?”

Wu Xie sighs. “If we’re going to do this, if you’re going to stay with us, then you have to tell us exactly what you’re doing here.”

Liu Sang’s mouth drops. “You… you’ll let me stay?” He looks around at the rest of them, but this is Wu Xie’s ship, and they are Wu Xie’s crew. These are Wu Xie’s answers.

“Tell us the truth, and we’ll see,” Wu Xie says. He sits down on the stool opposite from Liu Sang, making this whole thing feel very much like an investigation. “Starting with your voice.”

Liu Sang suddenly looks as though he’s swallowed an egg. “I can’t.”

Wu Xie levels him with a look. “What?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Liu Sang says. “If I could, I would tell you, I promise.”

“Jinx,” Pangzi says from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms folded, “You’re not making this easy for yourself.”

Liu Sang closes his eyes, looking almost like he’s in pain. “I’m not kidding. I can’t tell you anything about it.”

“Try,” Wu Xie says coldly.

Liu Sang swallows, opens his mouth, and abruptly chokes on his own tongue.

“Shit!” Pangzi exclaims. “Stop! God, what the fuck?”

“I told you,” Liu Sang coughs, “I can’t talk about it. I don’t know why. I just can’t. I can’t explain anything to you, I can barely mention my abilities without—” His voice is cut off into a strangled syllable.

“Okay, okay,” Pangzi says, coming over to stand behind Wu Xie. “Tianzhen, change the subject? Please?” Xiao-ge is inclined to agree with him. If this is an act, it’s a very convincing one.

“Can you answer questions?” Wu Xie asks. “If I guess, can you tell me if I’m right?”

Liu Sang nods.

“We can work with that,” Wu Xie mutters. “So, from what we’ve gathered, you can compel people to do things, just by talking to them. Right?”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says.

“And that’s how you got the pilot to leave, and killed the metal monster?”

“Sort of,” Liu Sang says.

Wu Xie pauses for a moment. “Have you used it on any of us?”

Liu Sang goes very quiet. “Yes,” he whispers, gazing at the table like it will protect him.

“Who?” Wu Xie asks.

“You,” Liu Sang says. He looks up at Wu Xie, desperately. “But only once, I promise. To get me aboard. That’s it. I just needed to be here. I swear, I haven’t done it to anyone else, and not since then.”

“How would we know if you’re telling the truth?” Xiao Bai cuts in, accusingly. “You could have made us do something, and then made us forget.”

Liu Sang shakes his head, but it’s Pangzi who answers.

“It takes too much out of him,” he says. “You all saw what a mess he was after that metal thing and the pilot. If he was going around hypnotizing all of us, his brain would’ve exploded by now.”

Liu Sang looks surprised. Pangzi raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m not stupid, Jinx, I notice things too.”

“Prove it,” Li Cu suddenly says.

“Ya Li,” Wu Xie protests.

“I haven’t seen him do anything,” Li Cu says stubbornly. “Maybe he’s just really convincing. We don’t know that he can psychically compel people, or whatever.”

“Didn’t he just admit to it?” Xiao Bai points out.

“Fair trials demand evidence,” Li Cu says smugly, and even wrapped in ten blankets, he’s not nearly as cute as he thinks he is.

“Do you want to get hypnotized?” Wu Xie asks Li Cu, who shrugs.

“Yeah, I’ll volunteer,” he says, wiggling his way forward in his blanket nest, but Pangzi stops him.

“I’ll do it,” he says. “I’m probably the hardest to hypnotize, anyway.”

Liu Sang looks very uncomfortable. “What if I don’t want to Compel any of you?”

“Is that what you call it?” Wu Xie asks eagerly, and Xiao-ge thinks he’s maybe getting a little to into the mystery solving aspect of this whole thing.  

Liu Sang rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

“Just something harmless,” Pangzi says, widening his stance as though bracing himself for a hit. “Tell me to… I don’t know, tell me to kiss Tianzhen or something.”

“What?” Liu Sang says, “No!”

“Yeah!” Li Cu exclaims. “That’ll be funny.”

“If he can even do it,” Pangzi says.

Liu Sang glances helplessly at Wu Xie.

Wu Xie shrugs. “Like Li Cu said. Prove it.”

Liu Sang mutters something underneath his breath, then looks directly at Pangzi and says, “Kiss Wu Xie.”

Nothing happens for a moment.

Wu Xie says, “Huh. Maybe we were wron—” but the last part of his sentence is cut off by Pangzi grabbing him by the face and kissing him square on the mouth.

Li Cu and Xiao Bai start cackling from over on the floor. Kan Jian has turned bright red. Xiao-ge feels like he should be more upset by this, because he is selfish and wants to be the one to kiss Wu Xie, very much, but he supposes that wouldn’t require any Compulsion, and would therefore be useless.

Pangzi’s face has gone bright red and he’s retreated back to the wall, muttering something about platonic intimacy. Wu Xie keeps blinking slowly, eyes gazing off into the middle distance as if his soul is trying to return to his body.

Liu Sang winces, and rubs his temple. “Is that enough proof for you?”

“Yes,” Li Cu says happily. “I’m very content now.”

“Well, we can make comparisons now,” Kan Jian points out. “To figure out if he’s done it to us before.”

“Good idea,” Wu Xie says. “Pangzi, what was that like?”

Pangzi coughs. “Bad.”

“More description.”

“I don’t know,” Pangzi says. “I heard him tell me that, and then it was like my body just did it by itself. Like someone else was at the controls.” He makes a face. “Is your head supposed to hurt?”

“A little,” Liu Sang mumbles. “I’m shoving psychic frequencies into your brain, not giving you a massage.”

“So there are physical signs,” Wu Xie says. “No one’s had any low-grade headaches over the past week?” The general consensus is no, so he continues. “Alright. So you used it to get on the ship and nothing else. Why did you need to be on the ship? Did Mao Xincheng send you?”

“Technically,” Liu Sang says. “I was supposed to follow you to your ship and Compel you to accept the job, then get the money back.”

Pangzi looks suddenly very pissed. “Wait, we aren’t getting paid for this?”

“Mao Xincheng isn’t that rich,” Liu Sang says. “He wants to be, though, but you guys were going to take the job, find Yincangui, and then I’d have to erase your memories of the entire thing. So no, you were never going to get paid.”
“Figures,” Pangzi mutters.

“If Mao Xincheng hired you, why did you want to leave so badly?” Kan Jian asks.

“He didn’t hire me,” Liu Sang spits.

“Then how did you end up working for him?”

Li Cu says, very softly, “You didn’t have a choice, right?”

Liu Sang looks at him, then shakes his head. “No. I… you saw the brand. Of course I didn’t have a choice.”

Wu Xie frowns. “You’re—?”

“When I was eleven,” Liu Sang says, “I was just with him. I don’t know how I got there, I don’t know where I’m from. All I have is this.” He pulls a necklace out from underneath his shirt, a piece of wood dangling from it. “And it’s basically useless. All he ever told me was that it was from my home planet, and that he has a matching one.”

“But you aren’t the same species?” Pangzi asks.

“I don’t know,” Liu Sang admits. “We could be. But he’s not my father, he told me that much. Not that it matters, because I don’t want him to be.”

Wu Xie is studying the necklace, very intently. “Do you know which planet you’re from?”

Liu Sang shakes his head. “No. I don’t remember anything before Mao Xincheng. I could be from anywhere.”

“Not anywhere,” Wu Xie mutters. He stands suddenly, leaving the med bay. Xiao-ge hears him walk briskly down the hall, and climb the ladder to the second deck.

“Uh,” Li Cu says. “What’s with him?”

“So you have magic psychic powers, you have no idea where you’re from, and you work for Mao Xincheng, but you don’t want to be,” Pangzi summarizes. “And memory problems! Xiao-ge can relate.”

Liu Sang snaps his gaze over to Xiao-ge, who suddenly can’t move. He’s abruptly fiercely grateful for Wu Xie and Pangzi, because he can imagine waking up, not knowing a single thing about his own life, and being entirely reliant on a complete stranger, who claims that they knew him before. He was lucky that he was given people who love him and wouldn’t ever use him and tried to help him, tried to tell him about his past and fill in the missing gaps. Liu Sang wasn’t, and Xiao-ge can suddenly see an entire timeline where Zhang Qiling was taken and used and fed bits of information about himself, like grains of sand in an hourglass, like payment, and how much he would hate that, and how much he would stay, just on the off-chance that one day they would tell him everything, and he would know who he was, before. It makes him want to run. It makes him understand why Liu Sang ran.

(And in that moment, he realizes why Liu Sang would be so desperate to get on their ship, knowing where it was heading. Knowing that they would be going to Yincangui, that he could have something returned to him. It’s the same reason Xiao-ge agreed to it. Liu Sang wants the missing part of himself back, and he was willing to defy the only person he’d ever really known in order to get it.)

(And in that moment, Xiao-ge knows they won’t leave Liu Sang behind.)

(In that moment, he becomes theirs, fully. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is.)

Wu Xie reappears in the doorway, out of breath. He’s holding a journal, different from Mao Xincheng’s, much lighter and more worn out, the cover holding on by a thread; Wu Sanxing’s notes, the originals.

He has the notebook open to a certain page, and he places it down in front of Liu Sang, pointing to the picture sketched inside. The rest of them step in closer to see it; a drawing of huge statues, guarding a gate, holding small shapes to their lips. Rectangular blocks, with three holes drilled into each side. Shapes that match the one around Liu Sang’s neck.

Liu Sang’s lips part when he sees them. He unconsciously takes the necklace in his hand, putting it up to his mouth, holding it there in a mirror position of the sketches.

“Not nowhere,” Wu Xie says, and there’s a note of triumph in his voice. “Yincangui.”

Chapter Text

Wu Xie is literally the most dramatic bitch in the entire known fucking universe.

Like really. What kind of normal person sees a necklace, puts together fifteen years’ worth of clues in their head, leaves, comes back with the fucking equivalent of Sacred Ancient Texts that they don’t show anyone, and then drops the “You’re From A Fucking Lost Planet That My Uncle and I Have Dedicated Our Lives to Finding and Also Apparently This Random-Ass Evil Dude Who Probably Knows About It and Never Told You Because He Has Nefarious Evil Purposes” truth bomb? Please. Wu Xie. You absolutely cannot be doing this.

Wu Xie does it anyway though, because he’s annoying, and Li Cu is honestly impressed by how far he’ll go in order to lay out all this plot like it’s is a damn novel or something. No wonder Liu Sang looks as though he’s about to lose all of his shit. Li Cu’s about to lose all of his shit and he’s not even the one who can’t remember large chunks of his life. Is this what Xiao-ge feels like, every day? No wonder he doesn’t have facial expressions. If Li Cu was trying to keep his shit together twenty-four seven, he would also not have the energy to emote.

This specific thing has nothing to do with Li Cu’s shit, however, so he is perfectly capable of emoting for the rest of them.

“Wait,” he says, “Liu Sang’s from Yincangui? Like, the planet that maybe doesn’t even exist?”

“Well,” Wu Xie says, “We know it exists now.” He waves a hand at Liu Sang, who looks like he’s going to begin choking on his tongue again. “The whistle matches. And the frequencies!”

“Frequencies?” Pangzi asks.

Wu Xie nods, pulling Mao Xincheng’s journal out of nowhere. “Xiao-ge helped me figure it out. Mao Xincheng didn’t write these notes, someone else did. And they aren’t money. They’re frequency numbers.”

Li Cu looks to Xiao-ge, impressed. Usually he mostly just stands there until they need him to stab something and does not help with figuring things out… and it looks like that’s actually the case this time too, because Xiao-ge appears just as confused as the rest of them, though it’s pretty hard to tell. The difference between Xiao-ge’s Confused Expression and his Every Other Expression is basically all held in like three lines next to his eyes, which Li Cu only knows because he hangs out with Wu Xie and Pangzi when they’re drinking, sometimes, and they use that time to basically talk about how much the Iron Triangle love each other. So he’s gotten the run-down on Xiao-ge’s Microexpressions, As Told by Wu Xie and Elaborated Upon In Really Bad Singing by Wang Pangzi.

“You know sonar,” Wu Xie says, putting the journal down in front of Liu Sang, right next to the other one, which Liu Sang has not taken his eyes off of. “Do you know what these would mean?”

Liu Sang grimaces. “I’m not actually a sonar technician, either.”

“Oh, he lied about that too,” Bai-jie mutters. “What a surprise.”

“I don’t know sonar,” Liu Sang says, “I just understand frequencies.”

“What does that mean?” Kan Jian asks.

Liu Sang thinks for a moment, as if he’s not sure exactly how much he’ll be able to say without triggering his psychosomatic gag reflex. “It’s like… people can hear music notes, and know what they are, and name them, but they can’t read sheet music.”

Wu Xie puzzles that one out. “So if you hear the frequencies, you might be able to attach meaning to them, but the numbers don’t mean anything to you by themselves?”

“Basically,” Liu Sang affirms.

Wu Xie’s eyes light up. “Then we just have to translate them into sound.”

“How are we going to do that?” Pangzi asks.

Wu Xie snaps, pointing at Bai-jie. “You can work your magic, right?”

Bai-jie looks at him skeptically. “Maybe.”

“Xiao Bai,” Wu Xie says, leaning down so that he’s level with both Li Cu and Bai-jie on the floor, “You can build anything. I’ve seen you build a tracking device out of a peanut butter jar, two coat hangers, and a potato.”

She did do that, it was awesome.

Bai-jie sighs. “I can try.”

Wu Xie gives her a kiss on the forehead, ecstatic. “Ya Li can help you!”

“Hey!” Li Cu protests, “Why me? I don’t know anything about sound!”

“That’s funny,” Pangzi mutters, “You sure make a lot of it.”

Li Cu sticks his leg out of his blankets and kicks Pangzi in the shin. Pangzi says, “Fuck” at him and moves out of kicking range.

“No promises,” Bai-jie warns.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me,” Wu Xie says. “Liu Sang, Kan Jian, and I will work on decrypting the journal, and trying to figure out where this place is. Pangzi, keep on course for Qiutan. We may have more accurate directions now, but our best guess is that it’s somewhere near there, so we’ll keep going in that direction for now. Xiao-ge, you watch Wang Meng.”

“No,” Meng-ge’s grumpy voice mutters from across the room, “I’m awake.”

“Meng-ge!” Li Cu is immediately out of his blankets and helping Wang Meng to sit up. Meng-ge waves him off, putting his head in his hands and groaning.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Wu Xie and Xiao-ge found us,” Li Cu tells him. He doesn’t want to be crowding Meng-ge, but if he doesn’t get to see that he is alright right the fuck now he may start screaming. “Are you okay?”

Meng-ge gives him a tired smile, which is better than not. “I’m fine.” He pats the end of the bed, and Li Cu climbs on, the sleeves of Pangzi’s sweater getting caught under his knees. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes,” Li Cu says, just as Bai-jie comes over with their blanket pile and dumps all of them on top of him again. “I said yes!”

“Stay in your fort,” Bai-jie orders, so Li Cu busies himself with arranging all of the blankets into a nice warm circle around Wang Meng’s feet.

“What happened?” Meng-ge whispers.

“Liu Sang’s staying,” Li Cu tells him, quickly adding, “He’s good!” when he sees the constipated look on Wang Meng’s face.

Meng-ge scoffs. “And we know that for sure how?” He’s glaring over at Liu Sang, who is pretending very hard not to notice.

“He made Pangzi kiss Wu Xie,” Li Cu explains.

“How does that make him good?!”

“He’s fine, Wang Meng,” Wu Xie says, coming over to the bed. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Meng-ge says. “What do you need me to do?”

Wu Xie blinks. “Nothing,” he says. “You can rest.”

“Oh,” Meng-ge says, “Great. Perfect.” He flips over onto his side, pulling the blanket up over his head angrily. Li Cu decides to be very helpful and puts another one over him. He might also have a secret agenda of making it too warm so Meng-ge will come back out again, but mostly he’s being helpful.  

Wu Xie sighs, because Wang Meng is rarely this cantankerous, and that means that he’s well and truly pissed. “I think maybe all of us need to sleep. We’ll be fine grounded for another night, right?”

“Unless Mao-ye and his pilot assassin come back,” Pangzi says.

“I’ll keep watch,” Xiao-ge offers, which he probably honestly prefers over sleeping, so no one protests.  

“It’ll give the welding time to set,” Bai-jie says, stretching. She yawns. “I’m going to bed.”

Wu Xie swallows air and starts coughing, which sets Pangzi fluttering again. Wu Xie half-heartedly shoves him away, but Pangzi traps him in a spare blanket that he wraps around Wu Xie’s shoulders, and they leave the infirmary bickering. Wu Xie ruffles Li Cu’s hair as he goes. Xiao-ge follows them out, but Li Cu can hear the entry door opening as he leaves, probably to climb up to the roof of the ship and watch the sky. Their sleep schedules are so fucked at this point that it’s daylight again, which will help Xiao-ge keep watch, but also means they’ll be more visible if Mao-laoban decides to come back, which Li Cu hopes he doesn’t.

Bai-jie and Kan Jian also depart, so then it’s just Li Cu, Liu Sang, and the lump on the bed that is Meng-ge.

Li Cu raises an eyebrow at Liu Sang. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Liu Sang is looking at the journals again, so he starts when Li Cu addresses him. “What?” Li Cu waits for his brain to catch up, because it’s been obviously lagging since Wu Xie dropped the Yincangui bombshell. “Oh. Yeah. Um…” He gazes at the lump which is Wang Meng. Li Cu pokes him surreptitiously a couple times, but Meng-ge stubbornly stays buried.

“Okay,” Liu Sang says. “Goodnight.” His hands hover over the journals for a second, as if he wants to take them with him, but he snatches them back, putting them into stiff fists at his sides. He walks to the door, pausing with his hand around the doorframe.

He looks back at Li Cu and Wang Meng, something forlorn and weary in his expression. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone.

Li Cu sighs, waits for a few minutes, because who know how far Liu Sang can actually hear, and then commences his mission to get Meng-ge to talk to him. This involves poking the blankets roughly where he thinks Meng-ge’s stomach is.

“Meng-ge,” he says. “Come out. Everyone’s gone.”

The blankets shift, and then Wang Meng’s antennae appear from under the covers, so Li Cu knows he’s at least listening.

“I know he lied to get onboard,” Li Cu says, “But he hasn’t done anything bad.”

Meng-ge’s voice is muffled underneath the blankets, but he sounds angry. “That doesn’t mean he won’t.”

“I have poison glands,” Li Cu points out. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to bite people.”

“That’s different,” Wang Meng says, “You only use that in self-defense.”

“Yeah, and you use acid to clean the oven and also burn new holes into people’s faces.”

Wang Meng fully emerges, and now he just looks tired. “Ya Li.”

“Liu Sang just has self-defense mechanisms,” Li Cu says, stubbornly. “He’s not dangerous.”

“We don’t know that,” Meng-ge insists. “We don’t know if it’s safe.”

“He tried to give himself up for us,” Li Cu says, because it’s the truth. They had been hiding in the forest, shocked into stillness by the disappearance of the Wushanju, and Mao Xincheng’s ship had landed, and by then Wang Meng had melted the chains off of them and Liu Sang just said, “I’ll go,” and walked out of the trees like he had a fucking death wish, which maybe he does. “Bad people don’t do that.”

Meng-ge exhales roughly, because he knows this.

“I know you’re trying to keep us safe,” Li Cu says, “But someone’s gotta keep Liu Sang safe, too.” He slaps at Meng-ge with one of his sweater paws. “So be nice.”

“You’re a menace,” Meng-ge grumbles.

“Uh huh,” Li Cu says. “I’m going to sleep. You got to nap for hours and I haven’t slept at all.” He very purposefully curls himself into his blankets, which are actually really nice and warm. Like sitting under the sun. Maybe like how it would feel to be a baked potato. Being a baked potato might be nice, actually. All warm and buttery. Or maybe Li Cu’s just hungry.

He’s almost out when Meng-ge suddenly says, “You know that you’re my favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” Li Cu says sleepily, “You tell me all the time.”

Li Cu’s trying very hard to be helpful, and it’s not his fault that he’s really bad at it.

In his defense, he spent all of the formative years of his life being a fucking science experiment, so obviously he doesn’t know how to differentiate between wrench sizes and also why are there so many different sized wrenches anyway?

“Because there are different sized nuts!” Bai-jie exclaims in exasperation. Li Cu just laughs, because “different-sized nuts” is really funny, though Bai-jie does not think it’s nearly as funny as he does, and kicks him out of the engine room to go bother someone else.

This usually means Wu Xie, but Wu Xie locked himself in the library with Kan Jian and Liu Sang about three hours ago, and Li Cu is not going in there because they are most definitely doing Nerd Stuff and Li Cu is not a Nerd. He is nineteen and he never fucking learned how to read because, again, science experiment, and the scientists did not think that teaching him to read was more important than, for example, seeing if his own venom would poison him, which sucked, because it did.

Also, it doesn’t even matter, because Bai-jie and Meng-ge can’t read either. At least, they can’t read words, because writing doesn’t work when seventy percent of your civilization exists underwater, and it’s hard to translate the thirty-seven different clicks that mean “danger” in Meng-ge’s language. But Wang Meng can read emotions and Bai-jie can read computer code and Li Cu can read star charts and coordinates and also the word STOP in twenty-seven languages because he’s seen that word a lot.

Wu Xie’s tried to teach him to read, sort of, but Wu Xie sometimes forgets what language he’s actually supposed to be reading in and starts writing things in a completely different alphabet and then Li Cu excuses himself because if he points it out Wu Xie just starts talking about Arzonian opera or some shit and Li Cu doesn’t even understand opera normally.

Reading is relative, in Li Cu’s opinion, because if you can tell stories with your mouth and navigate with your eyes and hear people say things with your ears, then that’s enough to get you by when you escape from an evil experimentation facility. Which sounds very depressing, but Li Cu is allowed to joke about the science experiments because they happened to him and it is called Processing Your Trauma, according to Wu Xie, who has spent his entire life not Processing His Trauma, so Li Cu does not know why he gets to give him advice.

Today, Bothering Someone Else means going to the cockpit and berating Pangzi, which is what Li Cu does. Xiao-ge is also there. Xiao-ge likes hanging out with Pangzi, especially when Wu Xie is doing Nerd Stuff, because Xiao-ge is also not a Nerd. He can read though. Li Cu is pretty sure about that.

“Turnip!” Pangzi exclaims when he enters the cockpit. Pangzi thinks that it’s very funny to call someone “Pear” and he thinks it’s even funnier to call Li Cu any other fruit or vegetable he can think of other than Pear. Li Cu’s personal favorite is Dragonfruit, because it sounds badass, and his least personal favorite is Mung Bean, because it doesn’t.

Turnip’s a recurring one, so Li Cu doesn’t even acknowledge it. He leans over Pangzi’s shoulder to look at the blinking lights on the dashboard. “Are we on course?”

“Yes, sir, xiao-ling,” Pangzi says. Li Cu continues to ignore him, because if anyone is a xiao-ling, it would be Kan Jian, who basically does all of the work of a captain with none of the title. He says he doesn’t mind, though, because he’s not the one people come after when the Wushanju crew pisses someone off.

Li Cu keeps leaning on Pangzi, who makes no move to push him off, and gazes out into the black. He usually doesn’t like the dark, really doesn’t like the dark, even though he can literally see heat signatures, so he knows where everything is. The problem is when there isn’t anything, because it reminds him of being locked up and alone and in pain, and if he’s left alone in the dark, sometimes he can’t sleep and then he freaks out a little bit and goes and sleeps in Meng-ge’s room, because Meng-ge is a veritable beacon of warmth and light, glowing red, and he’s safe.

Li Cu has never gone into Wu Xie’s room, because even though Pangzi and Wu Xie light up in scarlet, and Xiao-ge shines a deep purple, they are always doing something weird in there, like sleeping on top of each other. Li Cu does not like anyone enough to let them sleep on top of him, except for maybe Su Wan, because Su Wan is very clingy and cries if you scare him by dropping off the grid for months at a time, so yeah, Li Cu will let him lie on top of him if he wants. Hao-ge too, he supposes, maybe, but Hao-ge also doesn’t like to be touched very often, with the exception of Su Wan, because Su Wan is their exception for everything.

Su Wan and Hao-ge are very good friends, Li Cu’s best friends. He met them because one time, Wu Xie had to go to this planet where it was always snowing and Li Cu did not want to do that, so Wu Xie had dropped him off with a friend of his. And he had two students already, Su Wan and Hao-ge, and the three of them decided that they were going to be best friends forever. They might have been influenced slightly by the Iron Triangle, because Li Cu would not shut up about Wu Xie, as the only other alternative was talking about being a science experiment, which he did tell the other two about, eventually, but it’s not nearly as cool or fun as Wu Xie and Pangzi and Xiao-ge.

Anyway, Li Cu doesn’t like the dark, but he likes space. Space isn’t dark, it’s just absent of color, and it burns cold and hot at the same time, and wraps around the Wushanju like tinfoil. He feels safe in space, somehow, because space is the opposite of empty. It is full and wonderful and alive. So when he looks out of the windshield of the Wushanju, he doesn’t feel afraid.

Which is partially to the credit of Pangzi and Xiao-ge. When they were under the surface of Gutongjing, and Li Cu was having panic attacks every hour because it was fucking dark down there and there was no way for him to get out, Wu Xie sat and talked to him about the other two, describing them in such bold, vivid detail that Li Cu could almost see them appearing before him. And Wu Xie said, of course I’m scared. But Pangzi and Xiao-ge… they’re my bravery. If they’re there, I don’t have to be afraid. And if they aren’t, then I just think about them, and I remember how to be brave.

If Pangzi and Xiao-ge can take someone like Wu Xie, who is radiant and larger than life and always smarter than everyone else in a room put together, and make him feel safe, then Li Cu has nothing to worry about.

“How much longer?” Li Cu asks.

Pangzi snorts. “Don’t you start. I’ve already had Tianzhen in here twice, asking ‘are we there yet?’ You both are brats.”

“Hey!” Li Cu exclaims. “That’s not fair!”

“He’s right,” Xiao-ge says. “Wu Xie is much worse.”

“I’m telling him you said that!” Pangzi crows. Xiao-ge only shrugs, because Wu Xie will never believe it. “In answer to your question, though, Asparagus, we should be hitting Qiutan’s orbit in the next couple of hours.”

Li Cu nods. “I will report to the shouling.”

“You do that,” Pangzi says, saluting him seriously. “Lieutenant Cucumber.”

Li Cu sticks his tongue out at Pangzi and makes the trek to the library. He can hear Wu Xie’s voice before he even opens the door.

“So what can you tell us?” Wu Xie is asking.

Li Cu pokes his head inside. Wu Xie is standing in a mass of string which frankly looks pretty much useless, given that it’s all tangled into a giant knot and some of the pieces have come undone from the wall, so they’re just hanging there like tentacles. His glasses are on his forehead, so also useless, and he has two pens in his hands and another behind his ear but no paper, so really everything about Wu Xie right now is useless. By contrast, Kan Jian is rapidly scribbling down everything that anyone says onto a stack of legal pads, continuously having to switch back and forth between them in some strange organization system that probably only really makes sense to Wu Xie.

Liu Sang is sitting in one of the chairs that isn’t behind the desk, looking half-dead. He’s got Mao Xincheng’s notebook open on his lap, but he clearly isn’t reading it, given the fact that his head is tipped back in exasperation and all his limbs are flopped at the edges of his body.

“I don’t know!” he says. “I don’t even know how it works. All I can tell you is that things have different frequencies, but it’s useless to try and pinpoint them in relation to space, because nothing in space has sound.”

Kan Jian looks up from his pen, frowning. “Why not?”

“Sound waves can’t travel without a medium,” Liu Sang explains. “Like air or water or something. It’s all about the vibrations, cause that’s how the waves are created, so if you don’t have something to vibrate, there’s no sound. And since there’s no air in space, there’s nothing for the waves to travel through.”

“But there’re like, planets and stuff,” Kan Jian says. “Can’t the waves hit those?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Liu Sang says. “But sounds waves propagate, so once they’ve hit an object, they spread out until they get smaller and disappear. If there’s nothing for them to travel through to keep them moving, they’ll just fizzle out right away. That’s why I had you shoot the meteors when we were traveling through that asteroid field. The frequencies were able to bounce off of the debris and were carried through the residual heat and gas from the explosions.”

“Wow,” Kan Jian breathes, and Li Cu agrees with him, even though he’s only understanding about every third word Liu Sang says, but it seems really cool.

“What did you put on the ship, then?” Wu Xie asks.

 “Just a magnifier,” Liu Sang says. “It’s more for on-planet use. It picks up sounds and translates them into an earpiece, even if they’re really far away, and then I can hear them.”

“What about the water in the cave?” Li Cu asks.

Liu Sang shoots his head up in surprise. “Oh. Um. That was an acoustic levitation trick. Water molecules are smaller than the wavelengths of high frequency sound waves, so if you can generate a high enough frequency, you can suspend water in air. To move it, you just modify the frequencies a little bit.”

“You can levitate things?” Kan Jian asks incredulously. “That’s so cool!”

“Only small ones,” Liu Sang says, then coughs.

Wu Xie quickly changes the subject. “So you’re sure that these frequencies aren’t referring to planetary masses or mapping?”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Liu Sang says. “You’d need a lot of specialized equipment to determine the frequencies of objects in space.”

Wu Xie sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Cross that one off the list too, Kan Jian.”

Kan Jian dutifully puts a line through a group of words on one of his legal pads, which seems to be the fifth or sixth idea they’ve discarded so far.

“What’s left?” Li Cu asks, because he will be helpful at some point, damnit.

Kan Jian shows him the list, which says:

• Frequencies are like a code; correspond to galactic coordinates
• Frequencies and finances are paired; shows where money was spent
• It’s a song, Tianzhen Pangzi get the fuck off my notes—Wu Xie
• Frequencies are from planetary masses and objects in space
• Frequencies are actually useless and don’t mean anything Pangzi I swear to god
• They’re a metaphorrrrr Get OFF
• Frequencies are specific to the atmosphere/surroundings of Yincangui; will not be able to determine meaning until on-planet

Li Cu pretends like he can read any of that. “Tough go of it, huh?” Li Cu says.

Kan Jian sighs mournfully. “Yeah. We’re about out of ideas.”

“Well, I have good news,” Bai-jie says, coming into the library, which is just about reaching its capacity for people. “I finished the frequency generator.” She holds up a small black box. It has a thin rectangular screen at the top, and a dial in the middle, with two speakers at the bottom. “You just enter whatever frequency you want using the dial, and it should play.”

Wu Xie exclaims joyfully, squeezing Bai-jie around the shoulders. He takes the device from her, delicately. “You’re a genius.”

Bai-jie is pleased, though she tries to cover it up by looking smug. “I know,” she says. “I’m going to go see if the wing is holding up. Good luck!”

“Best engineer!” Wu Xie calls.

“Decent shouling!” Bai-jie says, departing with a wave.

“Okay,” Wu Xie says, handing the device off to Li Cu and taking the journal from Liu Sang to give to Kan Jian. “Kan Jian, you read out the numbers; Ya Li, you enter them in the device, and Liu Sang and I will listen and see if we can get anything from it.”

Liu Sang sits up straight in his chair, looking a little nervous.

“835.98,” Kan Jian says, and Li Cu turns the dial until the numbers match. They listen as a tinny sort of sound emerges from the speaker, a little staticky, but otherwise clear.

Wu Xie‘s watching Liu Sang, but there’s no change to his expression. “Anything?”

Liu Sang shakes his head. “Try the next one.”

“465.33,” Kan Jian says. The sound drops in pitch, lower than the first.

Liu Sang sighs. “Nothing familiar in that one, either.”

“That’s fine,” Wu Xie says. “We’ll keep going.”

So they do. Kan Jian reads off a number, Li Cu enters it into the device, and then they all listen to whatever notes comes out. Sometimes, Liu Sang will look as though something has almost struck a chord in his head, but he ultimately ends up not noticing anything special or specific.

They go through the entirety of the notebook like this, and by the time they reach the last page, Li Cu is getting a headache from listening to a bunch of buzzing frequencies. Kan Jian is starting to squint at the page like he’s having a hard time reading, and Wu Xie has resorted to chewing on his glasses stem, because he was chewing his pen earlier and wore it down so much that it started squirting ink into his mouth, which Li Cu thought was hilarious.

“This is the last one,” Kan Jian says. “112.5.”

Li Cu puts it in and they all listen to the low register that forms in the air before looking to Liu Sang, who looks just as exhausted as the rest of them.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “If it means something, it’s not something that I recognize.”

Wu Xie exhales heavily. “Well. It was worth a shot.” He leans up on the desk. “What’s next?”

“Wait a minute,” Li Cu says, pointing to the page that Kan Jian has open. It’s different from the rest, with words on it, instead of just numbers, but there’s a series of five frequencies at the bottom of the page. “Aren’t these some?”

“I don’t know,” Wu Xie says. “They’re with Mao Xincheng’s portion of the notes, so they might not mean anything. Why would he write down frequencies, if he doesn’t understand them?”

“We should try it anyway,” Li Cu says, and quickly enters the series of numbers into the device. 256.6, 173.12, 588.44, 476, 110.9. Low, low, high, high, low.

On the last note, Liu Sang nearly falls off of his chair. “Do it again,” he demands, his eyes going wide.

Li Cu does, twisting the dial as smoothly as he can so that the tones aren’t interrupted. Low, low, high, high, low.

Liu Sang swallows, and whistles the notes perfectly. “That’s it, right?”

“Is that… does that make sense to you?” Wu Xie asks, leaning forward.

Liu Sang nods. “I’ve… I know that. It’s a song. I think. It’s been… in my head, forever. I thought I’d just picked it up somewhere.”

“Does it mean anything?” Kan Jian asks.

“‘Your name is the key,’” Liu Sang tells them. “But I have no idea what that means. I thought it was a song lyric.”

“Why would a song lyric be written down in here?” Wu Xie mutters, picking up the journal and examining it. “If none of the other frequencies make sense, then why does this one?”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Li Cu says. “You thought the frequencies were some sort of code at first, right? Maybe the name we’re looking for will allow us to translate the rest of the journal.”

“Li Cu!” Wu Xie exclaims, pointing to Li Cu, who tries not to feel too warm about it. “Genius!” He frowns. “But we still would need a name.”

“It’s paired with Haizi,” Kan Jian says. “So the message would be, ‘Haizi, your name is the key’? Is Haizi the name? Or is it a message to a specific person, and their name is the key?”

“It doesn’t really help us if we don’t know who Haizi is,” Wu Xie sighs.

“… that’s me,” Liu Sang says. “That’s… that’s what Mao Xincheng calls me.” His eyes are fixed on the journal, as if it might suddenly catch fire.

“Your name is the key?” Li Cu says. “Liu Sang?”

“Does ‘Liu Sang’ even translate into a frequency sound?” Wu Xie asks.

“Yes,” Liu Sang says, “But it depends on who’s speaking. Everyone speaks in a different register, so the frequency would also change.”

“So there’s no way that whoever wrote the journal would have been sure that your name would be spoken in the correct frequency to decode the others,” Wu Xie says, tapping his glasses stem against his teeth. “Then why did they—”

“Not Liu Sang!” Kan Jian exclaims, standing up in excitement. “That’s not your name!”

“What?” Wu Xie and Li Cu ask at the same time, because that makes literally no sense.

“Whoever wrote this must have known you,” Kan Jian explains. “So they would know about that.” He points to the piece of wood hanging around Liu Sang’s neck. “Your name. It’s a specific note, a specific frequency. It can’t change. Your name is the key!”

Liu Sang’s mouth makes a little “o” shape. He grips the whistle around his neck.

Li Cu can almost see the gears turning in Wu Xie’s head. “So if we make the frequency of your name the base of the system, then we should be able to add the other numbers from it to get the real frequencies.” He flaps his hands, shooing them back to their stations. “What is it?”

Liu Sang gently blows into the whistle, summoning a clear, sharp note from it. Li Cu twists the dial of Bai-jie’s frequency generator until he matches the pitch.

“415.31,” he reports.

Kan Jian scribbles it down. “So then… adding that to 835.98… it would be 1,251.29.”

Li Cu turns the dial up, a much higher note emerging from the generator.

Liu Sang pinches his eyebrows together. “Do the next one,” he says, eyes searching in the air for an answer.

“880.64,” Kan Jian obliges.

Li Cu puts it in, and Liu Sang says, “If you.”

“What?” Wu Xie asks.

“That’s what it’s saying,” Liu Sang murmurs, looking dazed. “Those notes. They mean, ‘If you.’” He blinks. “I don’t know how it’s translating, but it is. That’s how it starts.”

“‘If you,” Wu Xie says breathlessly, grabbing for a spare sheet of paper and writing the words down. “Keep going!”

Kan Jian is frantically adding numbers together, Li Cu looking over his shoulder to input them into the generator, and Liu Sang coming up with words that actually make sense, almost as if in a dream, like he doesn’t quite know where they’re coming from. Li Cu feels a strange sort of triumph inside him, because it is so fucking cool that they’ve figured this out.

Finally, Kan Jian says, “Okay, 415.31… plus 112.5. 527.81.”

The final note creaks out of the generator, which is starting to feel very hot in Li Cu’s palm.

“‘Home,’” Liu Sang reports. He deflates into his chair like all his strings have been cut. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Kan Jian confirms.

They all look at Wu Xie, who is holding a stack of papers with the translated journal written out onto them. Despite their success, however, he doesn’t look particularly happy, which forms a chunk of ice in Li Cu’s stomach.

“Wu Xie?” Li Cu asks. “What is it?”

“This… isn’t really about Yincangui,” Wu Xie says. There are lines in his forehead that mean that he’s hovering somewhere between worried and disturbed. He hands the stack of paper to Liu Sang. “You should probably read it first.”

Liu Sang gingerly takes the papers, keeping his eyes on Wu Xie as he does, like he needs permission. Carefully, he begins to read the translation they’ve compiled, his face furrowing deeper as he does. Li Cu has no idea what it says, what the full thing is, but from the look on Liu Sang’s face, it doesn’t look like it’s anything particularly good.

Liu Sang finally finishes reading, flipping the last sheet of paper to the back of the stack and holding them carefully in both hands, like they’ll disintegrate if he’s too rough. Li Cu exchanges a look with Kan Jian, but Wu Xie is fully focused on Liu Sang, elbows on his thighs and fingers steepled under his chin.

“… what does it say?” Kan Jian prompts gently.

Liu Sang exhales shakily. He stands, coming over to the desk and setting the translation down on the top, so softly. “See for yourself.”

He doesn’t stay to watch them read it, leaving the library as quickly and sharply as Li Cu’s ever seen.

“… can we?” Li Cu asks. He’s so curious, wants to see exactly what they’ve found, but he feels like it would be going into a room whose door is shut.

Wu Xie’s face is grim, but he only nods.

Li Cu takes the papers, pulls them closer. It feels safer that way. Kan Jian begins to read them aloud.

If you are reading this, then I am gone, and you have been so, so brave.

I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to be there, Haizi. I promised you that I would train you through your life, that I would help you master your gift, and it looks like I had to break that promise. I don’t know where you are now—I hope that you aren’t alone—but I know that you are good and brilliant and beautiful. You have a marvelous voice, even this young. It symbolizes good fortune for your life.

As I write this, our world, our Yincangui, is in danger. It is my fault. I have a plan, though, and I have sent for someone who will come and will help us. Don’t worry, Haizi, I will not let us fall.

If I am not with you, there are some things you should know about yourself and your gifts:

Compulsion is a tool. It is not inherently good or inherently bad. It is up to you to decide what you will make of it. Our people have used it for many different tasks in our existence. We have used it for good and evil. I have used it for good and evil.

Twenty years ago, a shuttle crashed on Yincangui. Most of the crew had already been lost, except for the captain and his first officer. We do not see outsiders here very often, so their appearance created a stir. They were confused and despondent after losing their crewmates, so our people gave them a gift, allowing them to see them one more time, in their minds. And they were grateful, but the gift came with a price; they had to remain on Yincangui forever.

Our existence cannot be revealed to the universe. Our people and our abilities are too easily controlled, too easily corrupted. You must understand that we couldn’t let them leave for the safety of our own people.

The captain and his first officer were good men. They were of a species that couldn’t die, whose lives would spread out long before them, which is where the trouble began. They were discontent with staying on Yincangui. They had left behind too many things outside in the universe. They wanted to go back. They said they would never tell.

I became good friends with them during their stay, and I believed them when they said this. So against the knowledge of our people, the three of us devised a plan to allow them to return to their homeworld, but it failed. The plan was found out, and to save his first officer, and to save me, the captain gave himself up to the Council, and was executed for his crimes. They are long-lived, but not invincible.

The first officer escaped, however, and we were able to keep in contact through a secret frequency that I developed for our personal use. I did not want to give him up. After a few years, we even met again. We communicated with our private frequency, and eventually, he was going to take me with him. But that’s when you came along, Haizi, and I knew that I couldn’t leave you or take you with me. You deserved to grow up on our planet, with others like you. So we stayed, and I made do with hearing his voice and seeing him on brief, flitting occasions.

Good things, no matter how infallible they seem, are never permanent. Someone has discovered our frequency and tracked it to the galaxy where Yincangui resides. I heard him, and I have called for our friend. He will be coming soon, and then you and I will leave with him. We will lock Yincangui into the cosmos, where it will be safe. But to do this, you must know about your gifts.

Your voice is special, Haizi, as you already know. There are some rules for our gift, which are fairly straightforward, and then some addendums, which are less so.

Compulsion comes with three circumstances: the subject must be able to understand what you are Compelling them to do; you must use your own voice in order to Compel; and only the Compeller can break a Compulsion. If you do not speak the same language as your subject, the Compulsion will not take. It will also not take if you do not speak it aloud with your natural voice (that’s why our people use whistles; our natural voices are too dangerous to be used freely around others, except for those you trust intimately. The whistle provides a method of speaking without risk of Compelling). And once a subject is Compelled, only you may break it. It is a heavy power to carry, Haizi, and one that you should never take lightly, because if you make a mistake, you are the only one who can fix it.

This will come in handy for our purposes, however. I am going to lock Yincangui, but you will provide the final bolt, so if the day ever comes when you must return home, you will be able to undo the Compulsion that guards our people. I can only hope that you will never have to.

As in all things, this gift comes with a price. You must be careful not to over extend yourself. To Compel, we take our own psychic energy and change it into frequencies, which enable us to override the psychic energy of another being. Though we can build up reserves and develop our energy to last longer, there is always a limit. If you use too much energy without allowing enough time to replenish, the consequences could be fatal. With any luck, I will be able to teach you control, but you must be cautious, always.

I don’t know what will happen after this. You are asleep in the next room, and I wish you

could stay that way, but our time is drawing quickly to a close. I am writing this in our language so that only you will be able to understand it, and locking it with your name. It is my greatest wish that you never read this, but if you are, then know that I am sorry and that I am proud.

R will be here soon. If ever we are separated, he will look after you. Wherever you may be in the universe, I hope one day you will find your way home.  

Kan Jian’s voice is hoarse when he finishes reading, which Li Cu can sympathize with.

“That’s a lot,” Kan Jian says. “That’s a lot to put on a kid.”

“What do we do?” Li Cu asks.

Wu Xie is gazing steadily at the floor, forehead set in a ridge across his eyes. “Nothing,” he says, “We’re done.”

“What?” Kan Jian asks. “Shouling—”

“Yincangui was sealed off,” Wu Xie says. “And for a good reason, apparently. Liu Sang is our only ticket in, and if he doesn’t want to go, we aren’t going.”

“But…” Li Cu feels his heart stutter, confused. He doesn’t have any real stake in finding Yincangui—he’s only ever gained things since Wu Xie found him—but this is Wu Xie’s life’s work. This is the only chance he has of finding his uncle, who he’s been searching for for over a decade. And Wu Xie never gives up. “Sanshu—”

“It’s just a story,” Wu Xie says sharply. “It was only ever a story. Even if we go, Sanshu won’t be there.” His voice is angry, but there’s something soft underneath, more like despair. “Things that get lost stay lost.”

He leave Kan Jian and Li Cu in the library. It feels strangely empty without him in it, even though there is still a mass of string on the walls and books all over the floor and papers coating the desk. Without Wu Xie there, it’s only just a room.

“Fuck that,” Li Cu decides.

“Li Cu!” Kan Jian calls, but Li Cu is already out the door.

There aren’t many places on the Wushanju that Liu Sang could be. He won’t be in the cockpit, because Pangzi and Xiao-ge are there, and he won’t be in the kitchen or engine room, because that’s where Meng-ge and Bai-jie will be. No one goes to the infirmary if they need to be alone, because that’s weird. So that leaves the cargo hold, the greenhouse, or the cabins.

The cargo hold is empty, which isn’t that surprising, as anyone is likely to come in there at any given moment. Li Cu doesn’t receive an answer when he knocks on Liu Sang’s door, so he checks the greenhouse… which is also empty of people.

Li Cu is stumped for a minute. He has no idea where the fuck someone would go on a spaceship when they want to escape… until he does.

Sure enough, when he enters the entry bay, Liu Sang is pressed up against the door like he’s going to throw himself out the second he gets a chance. There’s no real danger of him being sucked out into space, because the decontamination unit is between them and the deadly vacuum, and the door is triple-locked during flight, but it must make Liu Sang feel better anyway.

“Don’t say it,” he says, not even looking up when Li Cu gets close.

“Say what?” Li Cu asks, because he’s not sure what Liu Sang’s expecting, but he’s almost positive that he wasn’t even thinking of saying it.

“Anything that has to do with pity,” Liu Sang mutters darkly. “I don’t even remember. So it’s useless. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything like that,” Li Cu says, leaning against the wall. “I was gonna say that you can’t say no.”

“Say no to what?” Liu Sang asks.

“To finding Yincangui,’ Li Cu tells him. “Wu Xie’s going to give you the choice, because he’s nice like that, but you’re going to do it.”

“What if I don’t?” Liu Sang challenges, his eyes flashing behind his glasses. They’re different from the ones he lost in the river; thicker and darker, more visible on his face. “I’m the only one who can, so if I decide not to, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t need to do anything,” Li Cu says. “You already want to. But Wu Xie’s going to put it all out there, and you might start second guessing, and I’m telling you that you can’t. You’re not the only one who’s depending on Yincangui to find things.”

“You know what the journal said,” Liu Sang says. “It’s all a trick.”

“Maybe,” Li Cu admits. “Or maybe not. We won’t know for sure until we’re there.” He fixes Liu Sang with his eyes. “Wu Xie won’t say this, but he wants to get to Yincangui worse than anything in the universe, and if you keep him from that, I will make sure that you regret it.”

“What has he lost?” Liu Sang scoffs, which makes Li Cu’s blood boil a little, because Wu Xie, for all of his bright smiles and big eyes and innocent nickname, has lost a lot.

“His uncle, for starters,” Li Cu says.

Liu Sang considers this. “What about you?”

“What?”

“What do you want?”

Li Cu wants, sure. He wants to fly the stars forever. He wants to be safe and warm during the night. He wants to see the people he loves be happy. He wants to run along the currents of sky and sweep space dust into his palms and let it seep into the cracks of his skin. He wants to be filled up with light from the inside out.

“You could get your memories back,” he says instead. “Get back the things you’ve lost.”

“The things I’ve lost are better off gone,” Liu Sang says briskly. He pushes himself to his feet and brushes off his legs. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going back to a home. I don’t have one of those.”

Li Cu watches as he strides off down the corridor, only feeling a little guilty. Yincangui may be a myth, but unless they go there, it will always be a what if. Li Cu has too many what if’s in his life, and they’re all terrifying. What if he didn’t escape from the science facility? What if Meng-ge had never found him? What if they hadn’t survived Gutongjing? What if he had never met Su Wan and Hao-ge? What if Wu Xie had decided, halfway through, that Li Cu was too much of an annoyance and a bother and not worth keeping around? What if, one day, he does decide that?

So Li Cu is going to be helpful. Wu Xie deserves to get some of the things he wants, and if he won’t make it happen, then Li Cu will, even if it means ducking a little bit to fit underneath the moral baseline. If he can be useful to Wu Xie, then Wu Xie won’t ever wake up thinking, Why am I keeping him?

He promised himself, when Wu Xie first took him aboard, that he would earn his place on Wu Xie’s crew. And Li Cu is afraid of a lot of things, but he isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

So he feels guilty for one moment, and then goes to find the others.

They’ve gathered in the kitchen when Li Cu arrives, as if subconsciously summoned there. Wu Xie is blocked in by Xiao-ge and Pangzi, sitting like sentinels on either side of him. Kan Jian and Bai-jie are slid in at the edges of the booth. Meng-ge is making tea to keep his hands busy, but he’s also eyeballing Liu Sang, who’s standing at the front of the table, glaring everyone down, as if that’s enough to make them listen to him.

He’s apparently just asked a question, because Wu Xie sighs and answers. “We’re not giving up, it’s not the same thing.”

“You were hired to find Yincangui,” Liu Sang says. “And we’re close now.”

“We were hired under false pretenses. Mao Xincheng is not a good person,” Wu Xie says. “Do you really want him getting to Yincangui?”

Liu Sang’s shoulders go stiff. “You think I don’t know that?”

Wu Xie winces, like he just realized that Liu Sang probably knows exactly how much of a bad person Mao Xincheng is. “That’s not what—”

“He’s a bastard,” Liu Sang says fiercely. “Obviously I don’t want him getting there. But we’re ahead of him. We’ve got the information, and the supplies, and the head start. We just have to get there first.”

“What about the journal?” Wu Xie says, his voice softening. “Whoever wrote it didn’t want you to go back.”

“Well, they’re not here,” Liu Sang says flatly. “They don’t get a say. They abandoned me. And whoever R was didn’t exactly do a great job either. I don’t owe them anything.”

 “Are you sure?” Wu Xie asks.

“What the fuck else do I have to lose?” Liu Sang says. His fists clench at his sides.

Surprisingly, it’s Pangzi who responds to that. “That’s the spirit, Jinx!” he says, and the look Liu Sang gives him is simultaneously annoyed and grateful. Something beeps from the vicinity of the cockpit, and Pangzi gently shoves Bai-jie out of the way. “And just in time! We’re in range of Qiutan’s flight base.” He presses a button on the thick bracelet on his wrist, a portable communicator Bai-jie designed to connect to flight towers. “This is the Wushanju, requesting permission to enter Qiutan’s air space.”

There’s a pause for a few moments, then the speakers crackle, and an automated voice says, “Request denied.”

“What?” Pangzi frowns. “Why?”

“Our records indicate that the Wushanju is owned by Shouling Wu, who has been banned from entering Qiutan or any of its territories,” the voice says. “Also banned are Wushanju crew members Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling, Bai Haotian, Kan Jian, and Wang Meng. This is in response to Galactic Incident 12548369, which involves counts of assault, property damage, and attempted trespassing into a federal archival building.”

“Oh, right,” Pangzi says. “We did do that.”

Wu Xie grabs his wrist. “We have passengers! No crew affiliation.”

There’s a slight pause. “Passenger names?”

“Liu Sang and Li Cu,” Wu Xie reports.

The watch beeps as the computer checks it over. “Liu Sang and Li Cu are cleared for entrance into Qiutan airspace,” the automated voice says. “All entrants must provide ID and proof of heritage at the designated checkpoints. Have a nice day.”

Wu Xie winces. “Shit. That’s going to be… a problem.”

“No,” Liu Sang says, eyes focused and determined. “I’ve got it taken care of.”

“Are you sure?” Li Cu whispers to Liu Sang half an hour later.

“Shut up,” Liu Sang says.

They’re coming up to the first checkpoint. They had taken a shuttle from the Wushanju to Qiutan’s airspace entrance facility, a floating satellite with an elevator shaft connecting it to the planet, where their papers will be checked and they’ll be able to go down.

Well, hopefully. Li Cu technically doesn’t exist, so he doesn’t have any ID or heritage papers. He’s avoided being caught so far by just not going onto planets that require proof of existence. Liu Sang might exist, but Mao Xincheng holds all of his documents, and also he’s from a planet that may not be real anymore.

They’re wearing thick parkas, a little big on them. Li Cu’s got his hood pulled up and dark sunglasses, while Liu Sang has let his hair down to obscure his face as much as possible. They both have face masks on, and backpacks, and hopefully look just like two passengers coming to explore the frigid cities of Qiutan, which no normal person should ever want to do, in Li Cu’s opinion, but appears to be a fairly popular occupation.

The person manning the entrance has skin that is a very nice shade of lavender, and curly antennae sprouting from the top of their head, with three eyes and a giant stool that they’re perched on to see over the counter, considering that they’re maybe three feet tall.

“ID?” they ask languidly as Liu Sang and Li Cu approach.

Liu Sang pulls out a sheet of paper, which is blank, but he slides it forward like it’s actual identification.

The purple alien looks confused. “Sir, this isn’t—”

“Let us through,” Liu Sang says, and his voice is doing something shimmery, like it’s wavering a little bit, but it sounds completely steady. “And then forget we were here.”

The guard blinks, and then their face goes blank. They hit a button beneath the counter, and the entrance door to the elevator slides open.

“Come on,” Liu Sang says. He takes the sheet of paper back, folding it and sticking it into his pocket, before leading Li Cu into the elevator.

Li Cu holds his breath until the door slides shut again and they begin moving downward. “Whoa,” he breathes, “That was so weird.”

Liu Sang stares straight ahead. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You could do anything,” Li Cu says. “You could be rich, or like, take over a planet or something.”

“It’s not that simple,” Liu Sang says. “Also, I don’t want to do that.”

“If you can just control people with your voice, why didn’t you tell Mao Xincheng to let you go years ago?”

A muscle in Liu Sang’s jaw twitches. He doesn’t answer.

“It would’ve been pretty easy,” Li Cu continues. “You barely said two sentences back there. Mao Xincheng couldn’t have been any harder to hypnotize.”

“Shut up,” Liu Sang says, just as the elevator grinds to a halt and opens up onto Qiutan.

The planet is just like Wu Xie described it; icy and cold, but strangely peaceful. There aren’t any harsh winds whipping snow through the air, and the sun is shining. It feels like they’re inside crystal, smooth and silent, except for the flocks of people that crowd the streets. Qiutan’s permanent winters are their main tourist attraction, so it’s not surprising to see how busy it is.

“Where do we go first?” Li Cu asks. Wu Xie had given them a list of places that they should look, but it isn’t sorted by any particular relevancy.

Liu Sand doesn’t even look at the list. “Mercenary bar.” He ducks into an alley and begins taking off his parka, unzipping his backpack and taking out some folded clothes.

“What?” Li Cu says. “But Wu Xie said—”

“I don’t care,” Liu Sang bites out. He’s replacing his heavy winter jacket with a thick, black, plastic trench coat that hangs past his hips, not quite to his knees. Out of the backpack comes a set of leather straps, which Li Cu is going to make fun of as Liu Sang straps them around his thighs, but they’re just tool pouches. Liu Sang pulls on fingerless leather gloves and finally, a knife sheath, which straps around his chest, hiding underneath the trench coat. He’s apparently foregoing his cover entirely, because he scrapes his hair back into its ponytail, and pins his the bangs back. He folds up his glasses and sticks them into one of the pouches on his thigh.

Li Cu feels his mouth gape, but he shuts it again when Liu Sang raises an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing?”

“Changing,” Liu Sang says. He shoves his backpack at Li Cu. “You too.”

“Huh?” Li Cu looks into the bag, and can see more folded gear at the bottom. “Where did you get all this?”

“I stole most of it,” Liu Sang says, peering out of the alley, and Li Cu nearly drops the bag.

“You what?!”

“Relax,” Liu Sang says, “I stole it from Mao Xincheng’s goons.”

“Oh,” Li Cu says. Clumsily, he digs out a pullover windbreaker with a large hood attached to it, another pair of gloves, and a chest holster. He yelps when he sees the blaster that probably goes with it.

Liu Sang smirks. “That I stole from Pangzi.”

“What the fuck,” Li Cu says. He drops his backpack and fumbles his way out of his own parka. Despite the windbreaker being thin, it’s fairly warm, all things considered. He puts the gloves on, then takes them off again, because he can’t get the holster buckles attached with gloves. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Liu Sang balances his weight, folding his arms while he waits for Li Cu to finish getting dressed. “This is what I do for a living.”

“You play dress-up?”

“No,” Liu Sang says testily. “I get information.” He looks Li Cu over, sighing. “It’ll work. Here.” He reaches a hand out, which Li Cu instinctively shrinks back from, but Liu Sang just sweeps his fingers through his hair, messing up the part. “You can have your hood up, but leave the glasses. You’ll just look suspicious.”

Li Cu wants to argue, but Liu Sang probably knows what he's talking about, so he sticks them into the side pocket of his backpack.  

“Okay,” Liu Sang says, “Come on.” He steps out of the alley, and Li Cu throws his backpack aside and hurries after him, because Liu Sang is speedwalking, which is very unfair, because Li Cu is also at least just a little bit shorter than Liu Sang, so he’s practically jogging to keep up. And then Liu Sang hisses, “Stop running, you’re too conspicuous,” so Li Cu has to make his strides as long as possible, which is very hard when half the ground is ice. He almost eats shit like twice, but luckily doesn’t, because he doesn’t know if he could handle that type of embarrassment.

Liu Sang leads like he knows exactly where he’s going. Occasionally he pauses when they come to an intersection, but chooses their next direction after barely a moment of hesitation. Li Cu has no idea how he’s doing it, because he sure as hell has no idea where they’re going, or even where they’ve been.

Eventually, Liu Sang comes to the door of a low building that looks like it’s made half out of brick and half out of ice. The sign above it says something, but fuck if Li Cu knows what it is.

“Should be good,” Liu Sang mutters before going inside.

He walks straight to the bar. Li Cu tries to keep close to him, while also trying to get a scope of the place. It’s pretty crowded, with people wearing the same sort of clothing that Liu Sang put them in. There are miscellaneous weapons lying scattered next to drinks and plates of some sort of weird-looking fish dish, which must be the house special. Everyone is speaking with heads close together, or playing games at the long tables near the back of the building.

Liu Sang swings himself up onto one of the barstools, thunking his arm onto the counter like he belongs right in that seat. Li Cu sits too, a little more tentatively.

“Two Nandin beers,” he orders. The man behind the counter looks unimpressed, and turns to begin filling two glasses.

“What the fuck?” Li Cu hisses. “We’re on a mission.”

Liu Sang doesn’t even look at him, just takes a long drink from his glass when the bartender brings it over. Li Cu picks up his own and sniffs it. It doesn’t smell like poison, so he takes a sip of his own. The beer is nutty, and doesn’t taste that strongly of alcohol, so he takes a longer drink.  

“How are you at gambling?” Liu Sang asks suddenly.

“Uh,” Li Cu says. “I don’t know? I’ve never tried.”

“Okay,” Liu Sang says, taking his glass and standing up. “Perfect.”

He slides off the barstool and heads toward the game tables at the back of the restaurant. Li Cu has no choice but to follow, wavering as he tries to keep his drink from spilling.

Liu Sang doesn’t go up to the tables entirely; instead, he hangs back on the outskirts and watches. Li Cu stands next to him, craning his neck so that he can see the game.

It’s nothing he’s ever played before. The people at the table are sitting around a large wooden dome that is covering the center of the table, talking and paying no attention to it whatsoever, at least until one of them calls, “Pull,” and the others look at the dome. One lifts it up, and Li Cu can see glittering shapes underneath.

“Eighteen,” the man who must be calling the game says. “That was your number, right, Banm?”

Another man says, “Yup. Pay up.”

There’s a collective groan around the table as each person writes a credit slip, handing them all to Banm.

“You’ve won twice tonight,” a woman with fluorescent green hair says, rolling something around in her mouth with her tongue. “You got x-ray vision or somethin’?”

“Lucky guesses,” Banm says. “I’m out.” He stands, pocketing his newly-acquired stack of credit slips, then jerks a thumb in Liu Sang and Li Cu’s direction. “Maybe the hoverers will want to join in.”

Li Cu swallows as all eyes turn toward them, but Liu Sang just laughs. “Diamond Beetles aren’t my game, unfortunately.” Without warning, he nudges Li Cu forward. “My friend’ll give it a go, though.”

“Uh,” Li Cu says, stumbling into the chair.

The woman looks him over. “You old enough to be in here, kid?”

Li Cu bristles, but Liu Sang answers. “He’s older than he looks. One of those freaky age statis species, y’know?” He snorts. “He’ll still look like this at seventy.”

“Lucky,” the woman says. “I wish my skincare routine was that easy.”

“You ever played before?” an alien with long tusks protruding from the corners of their mouth asks.

“No,” Li Cu says, trying to copy Liu Sang’s newfound arrogance. “How hard can it be, though?”

“The rules of the game are simple,” the caller says. “We put the cover on the bugs, give ‘em five minutes, and choose numbers. When time’s up, we pull the cover off, see how many are still alive. Whoever guessed the closest wins.”

Li Cu feels something cold begin to grow in his stomach. “They kill each other?”

“Diamond Beetles are vicious lil things,” Tusks says. “Stick ‘em in the dark and it drives ‘em batty. They’ll turn on each other in a second.”

Li Cu looks at the gathering of insects on the table. They’re all lying still and docile in the light, looking like small, shimmering crystals. Occasionally, one twitches.

Green Hair reaches in and plucks out the bug carcasses, putting them into an empty glass that’s already halfway full. The dead bugs are dull, losing their gemlike tones as their empty corpses begin to decay. The caller dumps a few more live ones onto the table from a different jar, nudging them with his finger in order to get them arranged.

“What’re you betting?” the caller asks.

Li Cu blinks. He has credit slips, which Wu Xie gave him, but they were supposed to be for buying books or, at worst, bribes. Not gambling over how many beetles can kill each other in five minutes.

“Standard bet is fifty credits,” Green Hair says, examining her nails casually.

“Fine,” Li Cu says, “Fifty credits.” He pulls out one of his slips, just to prove that he has them.

“Alright,” the caller says. “Set.” He places the dome over the group of bugs. Li Cu strains to listen, but he can’t hear whether or not the bugs are actually fighting.

“There’s thirty-four in there right now,” Tusks says. “I’m going with twenty left.”

“I’ll do sixteen,” Green Hair says, and they both look to Li Cu.

Go low, Liu Sang suddenly taps on the back of his chair, which almost makes Li Cu jump, because when the fuck did he learn the tapping language?

“Four,” Li Cu says.

Green Hair laughs. “You scared him, Ansen. He thinks they’ll be wiped out.”

Tusks, or Ansen, snorts. “You sure?”

Li Cu is most definitely not, but he nods anyway.

“Time,” the caller says, marking down the number each of them guessed.

“What brings you to Qiutan?” Green Hair asks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before. I’d remember a kid. Er, sorry. Someone who looks like a kid.”

“We’re on a cargo run,” Liu Sang says before Li Cu can start panicking over trying to figure out a convincing lie. “Waiting to pick up a shipment from Jalupthar.”

Ansen whistles. “Big payoff?”

“Bigger than we’ve had all year,” Liu Sang says. “Isn’t that right, Orkhun?”

Li Cu starts when he realizes that’s supposed to be him, and swears at Liu Sang in his head for not telling him the fucking plan earlier. “Yeah, real good.”

“Need any other hands?” Green Hair asks. “I’m joking, of course. We’ve got our own job to do. Me, Ansen, and Banm. We’re all on the same ship.”

“Yeah?” Liu Sang asks. He pulls a chair over from another table, flipping it around so he’s straddling it rather than just sitting, which Li Cu privately thinks is maybe a bit overkill. “What do you all have?”

“We’re getting paid a good death tax,” Ansen says eagerly. They gesture to Green Hair. “Naane said it wasn’t enough, but two hundred credits per day is pretty decent, especially for a black hole radius.”

Liu Sang nods, like that makes any sense at all. “There’s a hole nearby?”

“Not really,” Naane says. “It’s like seven hundred light-years, but you’d have to be stupid to fly around here without getting death tax.”

“Huh,” Liu Sang says. “It’s our first job on Qiutan.”

Ansen laughs. “Yeah, that was obvious. You two aren’t dressed at all for the weather.”

Li Cu privately makes fun of Liu Sang for that. Serves him right for making them abandon their parkas.

“Yeah,” Liu Sang says. “Coming from Haruthul, though. Don’t need a lot of heavy clothing there.”

“Haruthal?” Naane says. “That’s a ways out.”

“It’s a weird job,” Liu Sang says. “Shouling’s a scary piece of shit, too.”

Li Cu bristles, but manages to keep his mouth shut.

“Would have to be, to do a deal with someone from Jalupthar,” Ansen says. “You know what it’s gonna be?”

“Rumor is we’ll be hauling pieces,” Liu Sang says, dropping his voice lower. “But I think that’s bullshit.”

“Why?” Naane asks.

Liu Sang shrugs. “They’re supposed to be some sort of psychic soldiers. Able to influence anyone with a single word. Don’t know how much of that I believe, though.”

Ansen’s forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know. There’s been a buzz around here lately about something similar.” They look across the room, pointing to a figure sitting at a low table in the corner. “Chantyr would know more about that than we do, though. They run the docking station. If anything special’s coming in, they’ll have heard about it.”

“Mm,” Liu Sang hums. He stands, swaying a little bit, like he’s drunk, which is impossible, because he’s only had one glass and it isn’t even that strong. Liu Sang reaches out in alarm to steady him, but Liu Sang weaves away. “I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

“No,” Li Cu says. Liu Sang pats his shoulder in a weird, stilted four beat, and walks off.

“Pull,” the caller says, and lifts the dome.

The three of them lean in, looking at the collection of Diamond Beetles on the table. A good number are lying on their backs, wings open and bent, legs held stiff, dark blue blood flecking the tabletop, but there are still enough crawling slowly around, settling still as the light hits them.

The caller counts them up. “Fifteen.”

Naane crows. “Yes!” She grins at Li Cu. “Sorry. Looks like your lowball wasn’t the right way to go.”

“Guess not,” Li Cu mutters. He tries to surreptitiously look for Liu Sang as he writes out the correct number of credits, but can’t see him anywhere.

“You playing again?” Ansen asks, scribbling numbers on his own credit slip.

“Nah,” Li Cu says, thinking of Liu Sang tapping out Meet us out back on his shoulder before he had staggered off. “Not sure when we’ll be getting paid for this one, so it’s probably best I keep my money.”

Naane snickers. “You sure aren’t a gambler.”

“Nope!” Li Cu says cheerfully, and then pushes back from the table, trying not to run away from the stupid, awful beetle game.

He looks to the table that they had been pointed to earlier, but it’s empty. Liu Sang is still nowhere to be seen, so Li Cu just leaves, heading around the side of the building.

He hears voices before he sees them, and flattens himself against the wall before peering around a corner, but it’s just Liu Sang, talking to an alien that must be Chantyr.

“Tell me about the MX887 cargo,” he says.

Chantyr’s face goes a little slack, just like the guard at the entrance. “There’s supposed to be a special shipment sometime this month. Don’t know when it’s supposed to come in, but it’s big. We’ve been sending out messages to everyone we can, trying to get buyers to show up for auction, but people are skeptical.”

“Fuck,” Liu Sang mutters. “Why the hell is he so certain about this?” He shakes his head, then orders, “What about the black hole?”

Chantyr smiles, a little sloppily. “That’s been here forever,” they say. “We try to steer around it, but most ships still pay death tax anyway. Doesn’t show any signs of disappearing, either, which is weird. Should’ve collapsed in on itself by now.”

“Seven hundred light-years is pretty far,” Liu Sang says. “Wouldn’t death tax be moot for that distance?”

Chantyr shrugs. “We give it a wide berth. No telling if it’ll expand or not.” Their forehead wrinkles. “Who are you, again?”

“Not important,” Liu Sang says. “Go back inside.”

Chantyr’s face smooths out once more, and they totter back toward the door of the bar. Liu Sang pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What was that?” Li Cu asks, stepping around the corner. “Also, why the fuck did you make me waste fifty credits on that stupid game?”

“We’re trying to blend in,” Liu Sang says. “It’s a lot easier to do this if people aren’t immediately on their guard around you.”

“What is ‘this,’ exactly?” Li Cu says. “Wu Xie told us to explore data archives and stuff, not go drinking with random mercenaries.”

“We’re not going to get new information from data archives,” Liu Sang says. “Wu Xie already took care of all that stuff years ago. We need to know what’s going on now, not what already happened. And the best way to find that out is to talk to the people who do the work around here.”

“And to do that we have to dress like idiots and badger people in restaurants?”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says. “At first, anyway. Now we need to go to the trade registrar.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“The person that records transactions that are going to come in and out of Qiutan, and schedules auctions and selling dates,” Liu Sang explains. He walks out of the alley, turning the corner so sharply that Li Cu nearly slips and dies again.  

“Why don’t you know any of this already? Weren’t you like Mao Xincheng’s favorite?”

Liu Sang looks disgusted. “You think he actually liked me? Or that we worked together? He told me what to do and I did it. That’s it. All I know is his ship model and what identification number his stuff is going to be registered under.”

“But you’re smart,” Li Cu says. “You didn’t figure out all this earlier?”

“I didn’t exactly have time,” Liu Sang says. “We’ve been trying to find Yincangui for years, that’s what I do. And it’s not exactly a fruitful endeavor.”

“I’ve been wondering,” Li Cu says. “Why does Mao Xincheng need Wu Xie, specifically? There are plenty of ship captains out there who are way more corrupt and willing to do dirty work.”

“Wu Xie’s got the notes,” Liu Sang says. “Mao-ye’s been trying to track him down for a long time, too.”

“How does Mao-ye know about Sanshu’s notes, though?”

“I don’t know!” Liu Sang exclaims. “You think any of this is easy or fun for me? It’s not like I’m not telling you stuff because I like keeping you in the dark.”

 “Okay,” Li Cu says, rolling his eyes. “Shit. I’ll stop asking questions.”

“Thank you,” Liu Sang mutters, stomping down the streets.

Li Cu’s teeth chatter. “Couldn’t we have warn warmer clothes, though?”

“We wouldn’t be able to get anywhere,” Liu Sang says. “The parkas were cream colored. Mercenaries don’t wear white, in any shade.”

“Where’d you learn all this, anyway?” Li Cu asks. “Like, what’s a death tax?”

“I thought you were going to stop asking questions,” Liu Sang gripes. “We’re here.” He stops in front of a glass ice building that looks very modern and official, so it’s probably the right place to find a registrar, which is a fancy word, so it stands to reason they’d be in a fancy building. “And a death tax is an extra fee ships captains pay hired crew if the risk of death is especially high on a job.” Liu Sang looks slightly embarrassed. “I’ve spent a lot of time doing this.”

“We should get death tax,” Li Cu says.

“Do you even get paid?”

“No.”

“There you go,” Liu Sang says, and pushes the door of the building open.

The lobby is gleaming white, and clean, and Li Cu immediately feels horribly out of place in his dark clothes and wet boots. Liu Sang, though, just marches over to the front desk and says, “We’re here to see the registrar.”

The person at the desk looks up, unimpressed, but before they can say anything, Liu Sang puts on his Compulsion voice, and says, “Let us in.”

The secretary nods, and points to a door. “Right through there.”

“Great,” Liu Sang says, then, “Nmf.”

“You okay?” Li Cu asks, because Liu Sang’s squinting under the fluorescent lights of the lobby.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Liu Sang mutters.

He pushes the door open and leads them into a long back hallway. There are filing cabinets lining each side, and a thick door at the end of the hallway with what must be REGISTRAR’S OFFICE written on it, because Liu Sang makes a beeline to it, slamming it open and walking in without any ceremony. Li Cu scrambles after him, making sure to close the door a little more quietly than it had been opened.

The registrar is a thin, noodly looking alien, with lots of wispy hair and giant, bulging eyes. He has a datapad in front of him, which must say some very interesting things, because he immediately tries to cover it up with his arms, which aren’t very big, so it doesn’t exactly work.

“Relax,” Liu Sang says, then winces because the noodly alien immediately slumps back in his chair. “Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

“Nice,” Li Cu says, and Liu Sang glares at him.

“Tell me about Mao Xincheng’s accounts,” Liu Sang says.

The registrar sighs. He taps around on his datapad, apparently pulling up records. “Mao-laoban is a valued merchant under our jurisdiction. He has purchased docking space with us for the past fifteen years, but has yet to make a return on his promised collateral. If he does not come up with the cargo that was agreed upon by the dockmasters, he will be forced to give up his ship and crew, as well as pay any reparation fees that have been waved in the past.”

Well, fuck. That’s new information, and Liu Sang apparently thinks so too.

“What’s the cargo?” he demands. “What did he promise?”

“According to our records, Mao-laoban will be providing piece soldiers for purchase. They have special abilities that will make them very desirable to our customers.”

“People?” Li Cu exclaims, feeling sick. “He’s going to sell people?”

Liu Sang sucks in air through his teeth, biting down on his lip. “He’s trying to get people from Yincangui. That’s why he’s been searching for it this long. And if his contract’s coming to a close… then he’s getting desperate.”

“But he already has someone from Yincangui.”

“You think he’s going to rent me out?” Liu Sang asks. “I’m his most powerful playing card. He barely let me out of his sight for more than a decade.”

The registrar frowns, sitting up at his desk. “What are you doing in here?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Liu Sang says offhandedly, beginning to pace the room.

The registrar smiles. “Oh, okay.”

“What are we going to do?” Li Cu asks. “We can’t… we shouldn’t find it, then, right?”

“Or should we warn them?” Liu Sang mutters. “If we get there first, and tell them what’s happening… they have to have some form of defense, right?”

Li Cu shrugs helplessly.

Just then, an intercom crackles next to the desk. “Mr. Anslo? Mao Xincheng is here to see you.”

Liu Sang’s eyes grow wide. “Fuck!” His eyes dart around the room. “No, no, no.”

“Just tell him to leave,” Li Cu suggests.

“No!” Liu Sang exclaims.

“Mr. Anslo?” the secretary asks.

“Answer it!” Liu Sang hisses.

Mr. Anslo presses a button. “Send him in.”

Liu Sang’s eyes go wide. “No, shit!” He moans. “Uh, okay. Um. Act normal. Don’t open that cabinet. Ever. When Mao Xincheng comes in, you’re going to forget that we were ever here.”

Mr. Anslo nods, still looking out of it.

Liu Sang grabs Li Cu’s wrist and drags him over to the tall, raised cabinet standing against one of the walls. He opens the door, pulling them inside, which is holding a bunch of coats. Li Cu grunts as he squishes himself inside, he and Liu Sang nearly pressed together in the dark. He swallow, and tries not to freak out. There’s a crack of light coming in through the door, which is helping, but he is still not a fan.

Liu Sang doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s got his back pressed flat against the side of the cabinet, his chest heaving. He clamps a hand over his mouth, the one not holding onto Li Cu’s arm, trying to keep quiet.

Li Cu leans forward, carefully, putting his face up to the crack in the door, peering through it to see the room, just as the door opens, and Mao Xincheng steps in, with the scary pilot dude following him.

It’s the first time Li Cu’s seen him, but Mao Xincheng doesn’t really look like someone who wants to kidnap people and sell them as weapons. He’s not very tall, but his hair is dark and slicked back, and he’s wearing a neatly tailored waistcoat, which makes him seem larger than he really is. He’s not carrying weapons, but the pilot behind him is threatening enough. He has a carefully trimmed beard, but it’s starting to look a little shaggy in places, like he keeps being interrupted while shaving. He might be handsome, Li Cu thinks, if he wasn’t a complete scumlord.

“Mr. Anslo,” Mao Xincheng says smoothly. “A pleasure, as always.”

To his credit, or perhaps Liu Sang’s, Mr. Anslo does not look as though he has just been psychically accosted in his office. “Mao-laoban. What can I do for you?”

“I came about my account,” Mao Xincheng says. “I know that the terms of our contract are almost up, but I’ve run into some trouble recently, and I was wondering if it would be possible to extend them.”

Mr. Anslo scans his datapad. “The terms were very clear when you signed on, Mao-laoban. To renegotiate, you would have to talk to the trading council.”

“And there’s nothing else to be done?” Mao Xincheng asks.

Mr. Anslo shakes his head sympathetically. “Unfortunately not.”

“Mm,” Mao Xincheng says. “Pity.” He looks at his henchman. “Jiang Zisuan.”

Before Mr. Anslo can blink, the helmeted pilot has pulled his blaster and shot him neatly through the head, the silencer keeping the shot from making noise. In the cabinet, Li Cu barely manages to suppress a yelp as he watches the body slide limply from the chair, hitting the floor with only a small thud. Liu Sang’s fingers are gripping his wrist like a vice.

Mao Xincheng picks the data pad up from the desk, sitting on the tabletop as he scrolls through it with a stylus that he pulled out of his coat pocket. “This was so much easier last time.”

“Last time you didn’t have to kill anyone,” Jiang Zisuan mutters, holstering his gun. “Had the psychic to do all the dirty work for you.”

“I utilize my resources,” Mao Xincheng says, ignoring the dirty look Jiang Zisuan is giving him. “Make yourself useful, why don’t you? See if there’s anything important in here.”

Jiang Zisuan’s shoulders don’t look happy about this, but he begins wandering around the room, pulling books from the shelves and flipping through them, opening drawers and poking around inside.

Mao Xincheng is busy tapping commands into the datapad. “Idiot left his accounts open.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Jiang Zisuan says, moving over to the front of the cabinet. Li Cu holds his breath.

“I like a challenge, sometimes.”

“Find that hard to believe,” Jiang Zisuan mumbles, and then immediately kicks the bottom of the cabinet, hard.

Liu Sang squeaks, clamping his hand tighter as if trying to prevent the sound from escaping, but Jiang Zisuan looks up at the crack in the door. He stares at it for a moment, head tilting, and his hand reaches out for the handle.

“You wouldn’t have to punish yourself if you’d just stop the snide comments,” Mao Xincheng says mildly, not looking up from his work.

“I’ll keep your advice in mind,” Jiang Zisuan says. It sounds like his teeth are gritted. His hand drops away from the cabinet and he continues on his trek around the room. Li Cu is so relieved he thinks he might pass out. He exhales as softly as he can, and tries not to start panicking. Again.

Mao Xincheng taps in a final command, then sets the tablet back on the desk, shifting it so that it lies neatly in the center of the desk.

“Alright,” he says, “Place the weapon, and let’s go.”

Jiang Zisuan takes the blaster he used to kill Mr. Anslo from its holster and bends down behind the desk, presumably putting it into the alien’s hand to frame him as his own killer.  “Done.”

Without a backward glance, Mao Xincheng opens the door and leaves the office. Jiang Zisuan follows after him, but he glances back at the cabinet before he disappears, which makes Li Cu hold his breath again. But then, they’re gone, footsteps fading down the hall.

Liu Sang is frozen on his side of the cabinet. Li Cu manages to give them exactly one minute before he’s pushing his way out of the cabinet and back into the light.

“What the fuck,” he whispers. “What the fuck, what the fuck.”

“Shit,” Liu Sang agrees, sitting down in the open cabinet door, putting his head in his hands. “That… could have gone better.”

“He killed him,” Li Cu says. He swallows and looks over toward the desk. He can’t see Mr. Anslo’s body from here, something he is absurdly grateful for, because his sanity kind of feels like it’s hanging on by a thread.

“Yeah,” Liu Sang murmurs. “Sorry.”

“What?” Li Cu asks. “Why are you sorry?”

“Cause it’s my job to convince people,” Liu Sang says miserably. “Mao Xincheng doesn’t have to kill people if I do my job.”

And that’s starting to sound like Liu Sang’s blaming himself for this, and also like something that can only have been beaten into him through years of conditioning, and that’s fucked up, so Li Cu is going to put a stop to that right now.

“It is not your fault,” Li Cu says. “You have nothing to do with this. Mao Xincheng is a bastard asshole, and that’s his choice. You didn’t tell him to kill someone.”

Liu Sang shakes his head, not looking convinced, which Li Cu will work on, but they should probably be going, before someone else with a gun shows up.

“What did he do with the tablet?” Li Cu asks.

Liu Sang goes to the desk, wrapping his hand in his jacket before he picks up the datapad. He pulls his glove off with his teeth, using his knuckle to scroll to avoid getting his fingerprints on the screen. “He lengthened his contract,” Liu Sang mumbles through the glove in his mouth. “About what I expected.” He puts the datapad back, pulling his glove on and clenching his fist a few times to work the leather back into place. “Alright, let’s go. I don’t…” He swallows, eyes flickering over to where Mr. Anslo is lying behind the desk.

“Yeah,” Li Cu agrees, because he doesn’t want to be here any longer either.

They go out the same way they came, with a quick peek out to make sure Mao Xincheng and Jiang Zisuan aren’t loitering in the lobby.

The secretary at the front frowns at them as they walk to the door. “Where did you come from?”

“Forget we were ever here!” Liu Sang calls over his shoulder, and then promptly stumbles.

Li Cu grabs his arm. “What the fuck? Are you good?”

“Fine,” Liu Sang says through his teeth. “Sorry.”

“You’re overdoing it, aren’t you?” Li Cu asks. “The Compulsion stuff. Like the journal said.”

“It’s fine,” Liu Sang repeats. “It’s been worse.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s reassuring,” Li Cu says, still holding Liu Sang up in front of the building. “Do you need to like, take a break or something?”

“We don’t have time,” Liu Sang says. He straightens up, rolling his head on his neck and grimacing. “Don’t worry about it.”

“My specialty is worrying about it,” Li Cu says. “I love worrying about it. I worry about things all the time.”

Liu Sang gives him a look that seems to be a cross between a smile and confusion. “You do not.”

“I do,” Li Cu insists as they begin walking again, half-staring at Liu Sang’s feet to make sure he’s not going to trip again. “I’m very good at it.”

“We literally got kidnapped, and you were fine,” Liu Sang says.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Li Cu tells him. “I’m also great at pretending.”

That actually makes Liu Sang snort. “You couldn’t even pretend that you liked playing Diamond Beetles. I was watching you. Your heartbeat kept stuttering, and also you kept making faces.”

“That’s because that game sucks, objectively,” Li Cu says. “Wait, you can hear heartbeats?”

“Yeah,” Liu Sang says.

“Oh, that’s cool as shit,” Li Cu exclaims. “What does mine sound like?”

“Why do you want to know?” Liu Sang asks, like he didn’t just tell Li Cu that he can hear when his heartbeat changes rhythm.

“Cause you can hear stuff inside my body,” Li Cu says. “Obviously I want to know what that sounds like.”

“Okay…” Liu Sang tilts his head toward Li Cu’s chest. “It’s strong. Steady, but not too loud. It’s got a nice rhythm. Kind of fast, but that seems to be your resting heartrate, so it’s not worrying.” He shrugs. “It’s a heartbeat. It sounds like you’re alive.”  

Li Cu thinks about that, and decides that it’s a nice answer. He’s about to say so when Liu Sang suddenly grabs his elbow and yanks him to duck behind a sandwich board sign.

“Shit!” Li Cu yelps, almost falling on his ass. “What? Are you going to throw up or something?”

“No,” Liu Sang hisses. He looks panicked, crouching on the ground and peering around the sign, which is really not a good hiding place. “That’s one of Mao Xincheng’s people.”

Li Cu looks out underneath Liu Sang’s elbow. “Where?” He doesn’t see anyone on the street. It’s getting later, so most people are going inside for the night.

“Oh, fuck,” Liu Sang mutters. “This isn’t good.”

“You’re right,” a voice says from behind them. “It really isn’t.”

Li Cu whips around to see a tall mercenary with closely-shorn hair standing behind them. They’ve got their arms folded over their chest. A scar crosses diagonally across their face, which makes them look way scarier, actually.

“Bzo,” Liu Sang says weakly. “How’re things?”

“Well, ever since you fucked off, it’s been hell,” Bzo says. “Mao-ye’s been bitching about everything. And don’t even get me started on how many times we’ve had to haul ass to some random quadrant because some idiot decides to call in a sighting, and it’s not fucking you.”

“Must be difficult,” Liu Sang mutters.

“Yeah, it sure fucking is,” Bzo says. “So you’re going to get up and come with me, so we can stop being jerked around the entire fucking universe.”

“Uh, no?” Li Cu interjects, tired of being ignored. “Liu Sang, do the… do the thing.”

Bzo actually laughs. “Who’s this?”

“No one,” Liu Sang says. “Never met him before.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Bzo snorts. To Li Cu, he says, “He can’t do his weird psychic thing to me. Already took care of that a long time ago.”

“Let him go,” Liu Sang says. He just looks exhausted now, like he’s given up already.

Bzo shrugs. “I don’t give a fuck about him. Just you.”

“What?” Li Cu says. “No!”

“Go back to the ship,” Liu Sang says, his shoulders slumping as he stands up.

“Fuck no,” Li Cu says, and sweeps Bzo’s legs out from under them.

The mercenary goes down with a yelp and Li Cu grabs Liu Sang, dragging him back onto the street and running as fast as he can back in the direction of the elevator shaft.

“Wait!” Liu Sang gasps. “We can’t outrun them!”

“Says you,” Li Cu says, but then there’s a flash in front of them, and Bzo appears out of thin air. Li Cu yelps and drags Liu Sang down a side street, barely pausing to consider it.

“That’s why!” Liu Sang says. “They can teleport!”

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” Li Cu gripes. “Thanks for letting me know that now!”

“Duck!” Liu Sang says, pushing Li Cu to stumble forward right as Bzo materializes in their path again, arm outstretched, which clips Li Cu’s forehead instead of clotheslining him at the neck.

“Stop fucking running,” Bzo grounds out through their teeth.

Li Cu attempts to bring his scales up to give him a bit more speed, but he’s too cold, which he honestly didn’t notice until now. He settles for turning up his thermoreceptors, which turn everything into a muted shade of blue, except for Liu Sang, who is burning bright orange in his grasp.

There’s a flash of white in his peripherals, and he swings Liu Sang in front of him just as Bzo’s fist comes out of nowhere and connects with Li Cu’s arm, which he manages to raise in time to block. The blow still pushes him backward into a wall, which is completely ice, though that turns out to be helpful, as he just uses the lack of friction to tip himself into a high kick, getting Bzo in the chin. Blood sprays into the cold air, and Li Cu winces in sympathy.  

“Fucker,” Bzo mumbles through their split lip, and goes for the knife at their hip. They don’t get a chance to grab it, however, because Liu Sang is there, taking their arm and wrenching it back.

Bzo howls, and then they disappear with a pop. Liu Sang doesn’t waste any time, grabbing Li Cu and shoving him to start running again.

They careen down another side street, sliding on the ice, which is making Li Cu feel rather off kilter.

“They’re almost out,” Liu Sang pants. “Only have six jumps before they have to recharge.”

“Okay,” Li Cu says. The air above them lights up with warmth, and Bzo manifests in the fucking sky, dropping in between them and sending Li Cu sprawling one way, Liu Sang staggering in another.

“You guys are really annoying,” they say.

“Thanks,” Li Cu says, and comes up swinging, aiming a punch for Bzo’s cheek..

Bzo’s managed to get the knife in their hand, and they slash it through the air near Li Cu’s throat, causing him to stagger backward. He arches, jumping backward as the blade goes for his stomach, and slips on the ice when he comes back down, ankle twisting awkwardly under him. He lands on his side, and has just enough presence of mind to roll, so the knife cuts into the icy ground rather than his abdomen.

Liu Sang comes up behind Bzo, kicking them in the back of the knee. The joint buckles, and they swear and swing around, knife catching Liu Sang in the arm. Liu Sang doesn’t even seem to notice, spinning away from the full effect of the blade and ducking around to elbow Bzo in the ribs.

Li Cu runs his tongue along his teeth. His poison glands are functioning, but in order to use them, he’ll have to get in close enough to bite, and Bzo is dressed for the weather, which means that the only exposed skin is on their face. Li Cu can’t bite through cloth very well, so he scraps that idea for now.

Liu Sang kicks them in the small of their back, and Bzo goes stumbling into a wall, giving Li Cu just enough time to get back to his feet and move to Liu Sang’s side.

“Great,” Liu Sang says. He reaches around to Li Cu’s hip, and by the time Bzo is upright again, he has his blaster pointed level at his eyes. “Don’t move.”

Bzo freezes, holding up their arms in surrender.

“We’re going,” Liu Sang says coldly.

Bzo nods. Liu Sang relaxes his grip on the blaster just slightly, which is when Bzo’s body folds into the air and vanishes.

“Shit,” Liu Sang says, “I miscounted.”

Li Cu doesn’t have time to respond, because he feels heat on the back of his neck, and instinctively steps into a half-turn, positioning himself as a shield at Liu Sang’s back just in time to feel Bzo’s knife sink into his shoulder. And that hurts like fuck. He drops to one knee, which ends up being both a good and a bad thing, because the movement tears the knife out of his flesh, which hurts more, but gets him out of the way as Liu Sang whirls, already firing.

The shot passes through Bzo’s chest and out the other side, and the mercenary staggers backward, their mouth forming into an unhappy little shape before they hit a wall, legs crumpling underneath them as they slide to the ground.

“Li Cu!” Liu Sang exclaims, crouching down next to him.

Li Cu swallows, pressing his hand to the hole above his collarbone. “I hate this fucking planet.”

“We have to go,” Liu Sang says frantically, helping him up. “I don’t know if Bzo got a chance to contact Mao Xincheng, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Back to the elevator,” Li Cu gasps, his feet feeling floppy as he stumbles into a jog.

Liu Sang keeps a hand on his back as they run, urging Li Cu forward, which is very helpful, because Li Cu is starting to feel like he would like to not be moving anymore.

The guard at the exit elevator looks extremely alarmed when they stagger up to the door.

Liu Sang doesn’t even give them time to speak. “Let us through, forget you saw us.”

The guard blinks and hits the button to give them access to the elevator. They stumble onto it and the door slides shut, and then they’re shooting upward through the shaft.

Li Cu gasps, clasping his shoulder tighter. He tries to get air back into his lungs, because breathing so hard is honestly very aggravating to his shoulder wound. He folds against the wall, legs half-collapsing as he uses it to keep himself upright.

Liu Sang’s not faring well either. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the handrail, and there’s a thin line of blood trickling from his nose to rest in the margin of his upper lip.

“You—” Li Cu says breathlessly.

Liu Sang brushes his wrist under his nose, smearing some of the blood away. “It’s fine,” he says, then closes his eyes in a wince.

“Your plans fucking suck,” Li Cu mutters.

To his surprise, Liu Sang starts laughing, soft little gasping sounds that fill the elevator compartment. Li Cu looks at him through half-lidded eyes, because maybe he’s gone crazy, and that would also fucking suck.

“Shut up,” Liu Sang says, but there’s no heat behind it.

The elevator doors open with a ping and let them off into the long docking hallway where they left their shuttle. The Wushanju should still be in orbit, waiting for them, which is good, because Li Cu doesn’t think either of them are up for flying long distances right now.

Liu Sang unlocks the small craft, helping Li Cu climb inside. Li Cu collapses in the passenger chair, because he’s not even that good a pilot when both of his arms are functional. Liu Sang sits in the pilot’s place, flipping the ignition switches and radioing the Wushanju.

“Anyone there?” he asks.

It’s Wu Xie’s voice that crackles over the comm. “Liu Sang?” He sounds anxious. “Are you headed back?”

“Yeah,” Liu Sang says, undocking the ship, easing them out of the bay and back into space. He presses forward on the thrust, and the shuttle cruises forward, a little jerkier than expected, which makes Li Cu slam back against his seat, forcing a little pained noise from his throat.

“What was that?” Wu Xie asks. “Are you guys okay?”

“More or less,” Liu Sang says.

“More or less,” Li Cu agrees.

Wu Xie is waiting for them when they return, sealing the shuttle into its compartment and staggering onto the Wushanju. “What the fuck happened?” he asks. “You were supposed to be going to a library!”

“The librarian was mean,” Li Cu mumbles, then starts giggling, because that’s really funny.

Liu Sang laughs too, but it’s tinged with a lot more concern than is probably warranted. Li Cu is fine. He can’t even feel his arm anymore. “He got stabbed.”

“With a library book,” Li Cu says, and that’s even funnier. He finds himself leaning against Wu Xie, which is very nice.

“What?” Wu Xie exclaims, alarmed.

“He’s kidding,” Liu Sang explains. “It was a knife.”

“That’s supposed to be better?”

“S’fine,” Li Cu says, patting Wu Xie’s chest clumsily. “M’holding the blood in.” He lets go of his shoulder to prove it, which accidentally means he gets blood on the floor when it comes out of the knife hole. “Oops.”

“Okay,” Wu Xie says, “We need to get you patched up before all of your brain cells give up and die.”

“Too late,” Li Cu sighs happily, then starts laughing again. Everything seems very funny right now, for no reason.

Wu Xie tightens his grip around Li Cu’s shoulders, which is honestly probably the only thing keeping him upright, so Li Cu will allow it. “Any flight direction?”

“Sort of,” Liu Sang says. “I’ll go tell Pangzi.”

“Okay,” Wu Xie says, then half-drags, half-lifts Li Cu down the hall to the med bay. “We’re spending a lot more time in here than I’d like.”

“It was warm last time,” Li Cu mumbles. “Nice.”

“Are you cold?” Wu Xie asks.

Li Cu’s eyes go wide. “Oh, fuck!” he says. He grabs onto Wu Xie’s shirt sleeve. “Wu Xie! I forgot! We forgot the parkas!” This betrayal is so horrifying that he feels something prickle behind his eyes. Wu Xie gave him the parka and he just forgot it. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to.”

“Ya Li,” Wu Xie says, “It’s fine. It’s just a parka.”

“No,” Li Cu mutters. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Wu Xie tells him, and he’s a little hotter than normal, but he doesn’t sound that upset, so Li Cu decides to maybe believe him this one time. “Where did you even get all of these clothes?”

“Liu Sang stole them,” Li Cu says, because it was very cool that Liu Sang did that. “From Mao Xincheng.” Oh, right. That’s a thing. “Wu Xie!”

“What?”

“Mao Xincheng is a bad guy.”

“Yes,” Wu Xie says, “I know.”

Oh. Well, that’s good. Wu Xie is so smart.

“Thank you?” Wu Xie says. “Hey, Ya Li? Maybe you should stop talking for now. Just hold still.”

“Okay,” Li Cu agrees. Wu Xie is busy trying to get the windbreaker off of him, anyway, which is making his arm throb, so he mostly concentrates on not screaming about that.

Eventually, his shoulder is exposed to the bright lights and air of the infirmary as Wu Xie examines it.

“You got it pretty good,” Wu Xie says.

Li Cu folds his chin under so that he can look down. His shoulder is a mess of blood, and his vision is starting to go a little blurry, so he honestly doesn’t even know what’s so bad. “Are you gonna… gonna…” He can’t remember the word for it, so he makes a wave motion with his good hand.

“Stitch you up?” Wu Xie asks. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, which he does when he’s very stressed, so Li Cu reaches out and pokes him in the face to get him to stop. “Ya Li.”

“Don’t be upset,” Li Cu orders, poking him again.

“My kid got hurt,” Wu Xie says. “Of course I’m upset.”

Li Cu frowns. “Who?”

“You, dumbass.” Wu Xie gets up and disappears for a minute. Li Cu can hear him rummaging around in the med bay cabinets, but can’t see him, and he’s just starting to get anxious about it when Wu Xie reappears. “I don’t think I’ll have to stitch you. The cold worked for you, this time. It’s slowing your blood down enough that the wound is having time to clot, you little snake.”

“Hiss,” Li Cu says.

“Once you warm up, it might be a different story, but hopefully you’ll also be more coherent then.” Wu Xie taps him gently on the forehead. “So tell me if it gets worse, alright?”

Li Cu nods in agreement. Wu Xie gets out disinfectant and gauze and begins patching him up.

“Wu Xie?” Li Cu asks.

“Yeah?” Wu Xie murmurs, concentrated on sponging blood away.

“Can I come with you?”

“You’re already with me, Ya Li,” Wu Xie says.

“No,” Li Cu says, trying to get his brain to work for a moment, because it is very important that Wu Xie knows what he’s saying. “Can I come with you? Like, forever? Like Pangzi and Xiao-ge and Kan Jian and Meng-ge and Bai-jie and Pangzi.”

Wu Xie looks at him, his eyebrows furrowing. “Do you think that we’re going to leave you behind?”

Li Cu gazes up at the ceiling, which is swimmy and kinda funny looking. “I’m not… I can’t read.”

“I know that,” Wu Xie says slowly.

“But I can bite people!” Li Cu says. “So you don’t have to worry, okay? I won’t… I’m not gonna be… I’ll be helpful, sometimes. Okay?”

“Ya Li,” Wu Xie says, very soft, “You don’t have to do things for me to want to keep you. I said that you can stay, remember? That doesn’t have an expiration date.”

“But what about forever?” Li Cu insists.

“Forever, too,” Wu Xie tells him, smoothing medical tape over his skin, as gently as Li Cu’s ever known him to be. “You are allowed to stay with me until you get annoyed and want to leave. And then, you’re allowed to come back again. Your room is your room. We’re not going anywhere.” He grips Li Cu’s wrist. “So stop worrying about that, okay? Worrying is my job.”

“I’m great at worrying,” Li Cu mumbles. His mouth is starting to feel loose. “Very good at it.”

“Yeah,” Wu Xie says. “I know.” He moves then. “Open your eyes for me, Ya Li?”

Li Cu blinks up at him, which is shocking, because he had no idea that he wasn’t already looking at Wu Xie. Hmm. Maybe he should take a nap.

“I think that would be a good idea,” Wu Xie says. “You’re smart too, Ya Li.”

That makes Li Cu feel all warm inside, and he doesn’t even hurt when Wu Xie pulls him up to lead him over to one of the beds, which is also warm, and then there are sheets being pulled over him, and the thick press of blankets, which keep growing as Wu Xie moves back and forth, building Li Cu a little nest on the bed, and then there’s a bright blazing coal somewhere next to his feet as Wu Xie puts heating pads under the blankets with him. His scales ripple happily underneath his skin, soaking up the little stars he can feel surrounding him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

A hand cards softly through his hair. He thinks he feels something press against his forehead, but he’s asleep before there’s time to consider it.

Waking up again isn’t as hard as Li Cu expected it to be.

He blinks up at the ceiling of the infirmary, which is much clearer than it had been before he passed out. He feels okay, he thinks. His shoulder throbs uncomfortably, but for the most part, it seems fine. And he’s warm again, which is the most important thing.

He sits up with a groan, pressing a steadying hand to his shoulder. Blood hasn’t soaked through the bandages, so he thinks he’s probably good on that front. His chest is otherwise bare, but someone has left him a large button-up shirt at the end of his bed, which he shrugs on before padding out of the med bay to go figure out what his family is up to.

Climbing the ladder to the second deck is a little bit of a challenge, but he makes it without getting stuck halfway up, or falling back down, which means that a reward is in order, and since his stomach has been growling since he woke, he wanders into the kitchen.

It’s surprisingly empty, even though he has no idea what time it actually is. Meng-ge is moving around softly, heating something in a pot on the stove, and Liu Sang is at the table, though he’s facedown, head is hidden in the circle of his arms.

“Meng-ge,” Li Cu says softly, so he doesn’t startle Wang Meng.

Meng-ge whirls around, smiling brightly when he sees Li Cu. “Ya Li!” He rushes over to fuss over him for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Li Cu says, because he really is. He sits down at the table, across from Liu Sang. “How long was I asleep?”

“Just a few hours,” Meng-ge says. He goes over to the stove and ladles something from the steaming pot into a bowl, bringing it back over and putting it down in front of Li Cu. It’s one of his stews, warm and thick, and, somehow, exactly what Li Cu didn’t know he wanted. “Everyone’s in the cockpit, I think. Trying to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“We have a direction?” Li Cu asks between shoveling stew into his mouth as fast as he possibly can.

“Liu Sang said something about a black hole,” Meng-ge says. “And Wu Xie went into rapid calculation mode, so we’re headed toward that. I don’t know, there were a lot of numbers happening.”

“Mm,” Li Cu says. He looks at Liu Sang, who hasn’t moved. “Is he okay?”

Meng-ge rolls his eyes. “He was trying to wait for you to wake up, but he fell asleep. I don’t know why he couldn’t have done that in his own cabin. Getting in my way.”

Li Cu laughs. “You like him again?”

“No,” Meng-ge says petulantly. “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I will tolerate him.”

“Okay,” Li Cu says. “Good enough.”

Liu Sang stirs then, raising his head and blinking blearily at Li Cu. When he registers that it’s him, though, he sits up fully, yawning.
“You’re awake?” Liu Sang asks.

“Yup,” Li Cu replies. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah,” Liu Sang says. “Wang Meng made a really nice dinner.”
Wang Meng glares at him. “No, I didn’t,” he says, then gets up and goes to wash dishes.

Liu Sang looks confused. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Li Cu says. “He’s trying not to like you, and complimenting his cooking is the quickest way into his heart. Isn’t it, Meng-ge?”

“No!” Meng-ge shouts from the other side of the kitchen.

Li Cu shakes his head. “So we’re heading for a black hole? Who’s idea was that?”

“Technically the monks,” Liu Sang explains. “Mao Xincheng had this weird Teleran star map that showed a galaxy that was supposed to be swallowed by a black hole years ago, and all the notes we have correspond to this area. Qiutan is the commonality between all of them, so if we’re looking for a black hole, it should be somewhere in the vicinity. Which is why we talked to crews. Records wouldn’t consider that worth mentioning, especially if it’s been around forever, but any ship’s crew worth its salt would demand a death tax for even flying near a black hole.”

Li Cu drops his spoon, and it lands in his bowl. “You figured that all out on your own?”

“Wu Xie helped,” Liu Sang says, slightly embarrassed. “It was his idea to head in that direction. We should be getting in range within the next half hour or so.”

“If that galaxy was swallowed, though, is there even going to be anything there?” Li Cu asks.

“That’s what I said,” Liu Sang tells him. “But Wu Xie thinks that maybe there’s something else, just out of reach, but people are too nervous to fly in the area, so no one’s ever checked it out.”

Li Cu frowns. “If people aren’t supposed to fly there, why the fuck are we going?”

“Not close enough to get sucked in,” Liu Sang says. “We’re just checking it out.”

That is not very convincing, but Li Cu does not have the capacity to deal with potential death-by-black-hole right now, so he just finishes his dinner instead.

Liu Sang and Meng-ge wait until he’s done, and then the three of them go to the cockpit together. Despite it being one of the smaller rooms on the ship, the entire crew is packed in there. Pangzi’s in the pilot seat, of course, and Bai-jie is sitting in the copilot’s chair. Wu Xie stands in between them, staring intently out the windshield, Xiao-ge on his right. Kan Jian is once again in possession of all the notes, sitting cross-legged on the floor and flipping back and forth through the stacks of papers.

“Oh, good,” Wu Xie says, “We’re just about there.”

Li Cu takes up his position on Wu Xie’s left. “What do we look for?”

“Any unusual star patterns,” Wu Xie says. “Anything weird.”

“Or,” Pangzi says. “Y’know, a massive, deadly black hole.”

“That too,” Wu Xie acquiesces.

“Fun,” Li Cu says.

“I’m going to pull out of light travel,” Pangzi says, “Just to be safe.”  

Wu Xie nods. “Go ahead.”

Pangzi grips the accelerator, punching in the command code, and easing back on the thrust. The Wushanju falls out of light speed, the stars unblurring around them as they lose just enough speed to see the surroundings clearly. They’re surrounded by unbothered space, stars winking in the distance, galaxy clouds and dust spinning marbled cotton candy patterns against the black.

Shockingly enough, it’s not as colorful as Li Cu has known deep space to be, the reason for which is evident when Wu Xie points it out; a small, jagged tear of pure darkness at the edge of the windshield’s vision.

“There it is,” he says. “Black hole.”

Pangzi winces, and looks cautiously at his controls. “We’re safe for now, but I don’t know how much closer we want to get.”

“As close as we can,” Wu Xie says.

Pangzi nods solemnly, and presses the acceleration gear forward. The Wushanju’s engines churn, and they move cautiously, the black space slowly growing in their field of vision. Li Cu feels a hole open up in his stomach too, and he presses his feet into the floor as firmly as he can.

“It matches,” Wu Xie breathes. He’s gazing out, his lips parted slightly in disbelief. The silk star map is in his hands, held carefully as he takes the pattern on the cloth and places it in the stars. “This is it.”

Pangzi laughs. “You did it, Tianzhen.”

“Not yet,” Wu Xie says. “We still have to find the planet.”

“Could it be behind it?” Liu Sang asks. He’s got one hand clenched around his whistle and the other wrapped around his body, like he’s trying to hold something inside. “It has to be somewhere.”

“We’re sure it didn’t get swallowed already?” Kan Jian asks.

“Liu Sang wouldn’t be here if that were the case,” Wu Xie says. “Unless he’s over seven hundred years old.”

“I don’t think so,” Liu Sang says.

“Okay,” Wu Xie says. “Pangzi, let’s try circling to the side. Give it a wide berth.”

“Got it,” Pangzi says, shifting the yoke slightly so that the Wushanju tips a little bit, pointing it’s belly toward the black hole.

The ship glides forward, arching away from the darkness. Li Cu lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He keeps his eyes on the black hole, unwilling to tear his gaze away.

“I’m not seeing anything, Tianzhen,” Pangzi says. “It all just looks… the same.”

“Keep going,” Wu Xie murmurs, focus still sharp.

Pangzi shifts the yoke to send the ship into another lazy glide, but at that moment, something slams into them from the side. Li Cu flies forward into the back of Pangzi’s seat, shoulder protesting savagely when he tries to catch himself. Liu Sang’s been thrown next to Kan Jian, Wang Meng is sprawled in the doorway, and Wu Xie is on one knee, scrambling up using the seats for leverage. Only Xiao-ge has stayed upright, but even he looks shaken.

Pangzi’s got the yoke gripped tightly in his hands, straining to keep the Wushanju from death spiraling, but the impact was too strong, and their ship is rattling through space faster than Pangzi can control it. An alarm blares on the dashboard, the words HULL BREACH flashing across the screen.

“There!” Bai-jie says, pointing.

Pangzi finally manages to get the ship straightened out, pointing in the direction they came from. Where the Wushanju had been flying is Mao Xincheng’s gray ship, slightly dented in the front where they hit.

“Did they just—?” Wu Xie asks.

“The bastard hit us at light speed!” Pangzi growls. He adjusts his grip on the thrust, flipping switches. “Let’s see how they like it.”

The Wushanju groans, engines firing, but the ship doesn’t move.

Pangzi curses and presses on the acceleration harder. “What the fuck?”

“Shit,” Bai-jie says. “We got too close.”

She pulls up the rear-camera as Pangzi continues to wrestle with the thrust. The picture comes up, showing the small area of black hole behind them… only it isn’t as small anymore. In fact, it’s closing up around the picture, getting larger and larger every second.

“Fuck,” Pangzi grunts.

Wu Xie stands stock-still between the seats. “Pangzi, how much more can you put on the accelerator?”

“We’re already almost to max, Tianzhen,” Pangzi says. Li Cu looks at his hands. They don’t even appear to be pressing down that hard, but the strain on Pangzi’s face says otherwise.

“Shit,” Wu Xie whispers, eyes on the screen that’s getting closer and closer to being entirely covered in dark matter.

The Wushanju shakes, the effects of gravity picking at her seams.

“Come on, baby,” Pangzi mutters. “Don’t give out on me yet.”

Mao Xincheng’s ship is suspended in space, just watching them. They aren’t getting any closer, for fear of being pulled in as well… but they also aren’t getting any further away.

Li Cu snaps his eyes down to the dashboard, with all of its blinking lights and numbers. He doesn’t understand what any of them mean, but none of them are changing, despite the fact that they should be moving at hundreds of miles per hour. Even the gravity sensors are calm. The only alarm that’s going off is the one notifying them that they had been hit, which was pretty obvious.

“Wu Xie,” Li Cu says, “The controls.”

Wu Xie looks at the controls, then back up at Mao Xincheng’s ship, then at the reverse screen, which makes it appear like they’ve been swallowed up already. “What?” He taps at the barometer. “Xiao Bai?”

Bai-jie is on her knees for leverage, helping Pangzi flip switches, but she stops when Wu Xie points out the mechanics. “What the fuck?”

“It’s not real,” Wu Xie whispers. “Sonic illusions! Acoustic relevancy in relation to black holes—Liu Sang!” He points to Liu Sang, who has picked himself up off the floor. “Can you hear anything?”

Liu Sang looks at Wu Xie like he’s gone crazy, but he puts his earpiece in anyway, turning it on to listen to whatever his magnifier is picking up. He blanches.

“There’s… that’s psychic frequency,” he says. “But that’s impossible, sound isn’t able to travel in space.”

“We’re not in space anymore!” Wu Xie exclaims. “Pangzi, turn the ship around.”

“Tianzhen, have you lost it?” Pangzi shouts. “We’re not flying into a black fucking hole!”

“Yes, we are!” Wu Xie cries. “Pangzi, trust me!”

Pangzi growls. “If we die, I’m going to kill you.”

He tilts the yoke as far to the side as he can, whirling the Wushanju around and pointing her nose into the mass of emptyness.

“Holy fuck,” Bai-jie breathes.

Li Cu’s heart is beating in his throat. Wu Xie is still standing firm in the center of the cockpit, unwavering, and Li Cu wraps the fingers of his good hand into Wu Xie’s coat and presses his forehead into Wu Xie’s back, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he can, so he doesn’t have to watch the darkness swallow them whole.

The Wushanju groans, her frame rattling, engines whining as everything feels like it compresses in, tighter and tighter, until the pressure in Li Cu’s head is almost too much to bear—

And then the darkness spits them out, and Li Cu’s closed eyelids turn gray with light.

He opens his eyes. The Wushanju is in an unmistakable downward descent, but instead of flying into a giant gravity well, they’re soaring over dark blue land, mists rising up to caress the ship’s hull. A deep navy green peppers spots on the ground, and there are jagged gray lines of mountains cutting across the planet’s surface. Li Cu can see a large swatch of light pink in the distance that seems to ripple as they get closer and closer to the ground. Sunlight shines into the cockpit, illuminating them. It’s soft and yellow, warm. Li Cu wants to bask in it.

Wu Xie’s face has softened in amazement, and his eyes are glowing like stars. He points. “Pangzi.”

Pangzi turns the ship into a gentle tilt, heading in the direction Wu Xie’s indicated. They’re soaring between two crags of rock, close enough to touch, but Pangzi handles the ship with care. They thread between the mountain peaks, splashing through mist and fog, and coming out in sight of a huge cliff face, rising up into the sky, two towering figures emerging from the rock. The statues are exact matches of the drawings from Wu Sanxing’s journal, whistles to their lips, faces solemn as they guard a deep opening in the rock, one that can only lead into a city proper.

“We’re here,” Wu Xie whispers.

Pangzi brings the ship down, settling it in the blue grass that covers the dirt and letting the engines shut down. Quiet settles around the ship, and Li Cu feels like they’re hardly breathing at all, everything still.

“I can’t believe it,” Pangzi says, his voice mellow compared to its usual volume.

“Me neither,” Wu Xie says. He’s got one hand clenched on Pangzi’s shoulder, and the other wrapped around Xiao-ge’s wrist.

“Do we…?” Kan Jian asks. “Are we going out?”

“Are we?” Wu Xie repeats, but his question is directed at Liu Sang, who is staring, mesmerized, out of the windshield.

It takes him a moment to answer. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah.”

Wu Xie smiles, and then he’s dragging Xiao-ge to the door, Pangzi close behind him. The others file out after them, walking with a sort of haze through their hallway, down the ladder, and into the entry bay.

Bai-jie checks the oxygen levels on the diagnostics panel next to the door. “Should be breathable,” she says. “Wang Meng?”

Meng-ge inhales deeply and nods. “I can’t tell as well through the door, but nothing seems to be immediately dangerous.”

“Okay,” Wu Xie says, “Then let’s go.”

Bai-jie presses the controls, and the door slides open.

Li Cu squints against the onslaught of light that spreads out through the doorway. He shields his eyes with his hand, watching as blue blades of grass and the hulking form of the mountain takes shape in front of him.

Wu Xie steps out, boots silent in the soft grass. Xiao-ge is next, then Pangzi, each at one of Wu Xie’s shoulders, all pressed together. Kan Jian and Bai-jie follow, then Meng-ge, and Li Cu after them, fanning out so that they can all get a good look at the rock carvings.

Only Liu Sang stays on the ship, hand clutching the doorframe, eyes big and unblinking when Li Cu looks back for him.

“Come on,” Li Cu says. “It’s nice.”

Liu Sang exhales, then takes a cautious step forward, one foot in the grass, then the other, until he’s standing firmly on his planet, shining gently in the sunlight. He stares down at his feet like he can’t quite believe that they’re there, and then he looks up at Li Cu, a smile breaking over his face.

Li Cu wants to smile back, but before he can, Liu Sang’s eyebrows press together, the smile falling from his lips as his face creases in pain. He cries out, falling to his knees, hands pressed to his ears and fingers clutching at his hair.

“Shit!” Li Cu says, throwing himself down next to Liu Sang, who is folded over his thighs, forehead nearly touching the dirt.

Wu Xie’s suddenly on Liu Sang’s other side, one hand on his arm and the other at the top of his shoulder blade, keeping him from falling completely. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Li Cu says, wincing as Liu Sang makes a pained sort of sound.

“Is he okay?” Pangzi demands, standing above them.

“I don’t know!” Li Cu says.

Liu Sang presses his hands over his ears harder, moaning through his teeth, and then his whole body goes limp, and he tips over into Wu Xie’s arms. Wu Xie adjusts his hold, propping Liu Sang’s head up against his arm.

“Hey,” he says, “Liu Sang, you there?”

Liu Sang’s eyelids flutter for a moment. His face creases in a grimace, and then he’s rocking his head back to look up at Wu Xie, eyes wide and full.

“It’s you,” he mutters. “Wu Xie.”

“Yes,” Wu Xie says. “It’s me.”

Liu Sang’s throat bobs. “No,” he says. “It was you. He talked about you.” His hand comes up, fingers tightening on the open flap of Wu Xie’s jacket, like he’s trying to keep himself from disappearing and failing at it.

“What?” Wu Xie asks. “Who talked about me? Liu Sang.” He jostles Liu Sang slightly as his eyes roll back underneath the lids.

Liu Sang manages to blink back into focus for a moment, his voice a whisper.

“He talked about you,” he repeats. “Sanshu.”

Chapter Text

There’s a gemstone hanging in the corner of the sky.

Su Baiyin stares at it, displeased. She’s outside the city, practicing her sound shots, but the thing in the sky keeps winking at her, and it’s very distracting. She wants to be able to shoot a needle leaf off of a Broyn pine by the end of the day, and to do that, she needs to be able to focus.

Su Baiyin is a very good disciple, one of the best. She can map locations a hundred feet below her, and distinguish bird calls one hundred kilometers away. She can Compel as easily as breathing, and she can track anyone just as fast as they can run. She is almost able to use her voice as a long-range, highly-specific weapon, but she’s not going to be able to do that if things keep appearing in the sky and breaking her focus.

She puts her hands on her hips and glares. “If you’re going to just hang there, you might as well come down!”

The thing blinks, a short flash of light, obviously not inclined to obey her, so she sits down on the forest floor, because she’s not going to get much work done until the thing disappears or she figures out what it is.

She tries pitching a scan wave up into the sky, but the thing is too far away for her too make out anything useful about it. She wonders if Ma Xin has seen it yet, back in town. Her friend would probably ignore it, even though she likes shiny things. She’s always finding interesting rocks when she and Su Baiyin go exploring.

Maybe the thing in the sky is a rock. It’s certainly shiny, and sometimes rocks enter the airspace of Yincangui long enough to burn a streak across the clouds. If it is a rock, she might be able to bring it home for Ma Xin.

The thing winks again, and Su Baiyin cocks her head to the side. It looks slightly larger now than it had when she first spotted it, which is interesting. She does not know about rocks getting bigger. They don’t tend to do that.

What they are able to do, she realizes, is get closer.

She’s on her feet in the next instant, standing on her tiptoes to watch as the shape rapidly expands as it hurtles toward the ground in an uncontrolled descent. From this distance, it still looks mostly like a rock, but it’s very shiny, and also has strange sticky-out bits protruding from its sides. There’s a tail of flame rocketing after it as it plummets, and Su Baiyin watches as it arches above the trees and disappears into the clutch of the forest, near where the ocean lies.

Su Baiyin runs. Every so often, she sends out a scan, but aside from a few panicked birds, and some broken-tree tops, nothing scary is reported back to her. She pushes her way through the forest, branches scratching up her arms when she doesn’t pay attention and runs into trees.

She skids to a stop at the edge of the forest, white sand coming up the slope from the soft, pink ocean. Normally, the ocean is calm and gentle, pastel waves lapping at the shore, but now there’s a giant hunk of grey looming above the water line, soaked and smoking. A piece of it seems to have broken off, leaving a large hole near the top.

And there, in the water, are two people. One is stumbling, their arms around the other, dragging them away from the wreck. They trip, at one point, both going underneath the water for a moment before coming up again, making a last few unsteady steps before they collapse onto the beach.

Su Baiyin stands for a second longer, making sure that the two aren’t going to suddenly explode or something, but they don’t move, and that means that they need help, and Su Baiyin will help them.

She goes, slipping on the loose, soft sand. One of them is sitting up now, and appears to be trying to throw himself back into the ocean. The other’s grabbing at his waist, but is clearly already exhausted, and his fingers keep fumbling against his friend’s clothing.

She stops herself a few feet away, so as not to suddenly appear and startle them. She drops to her knees in the sand, crawling forward slowly.

The man sitting up is making some strange sort of wailing noise. He’s repeating the same sounds, over and over again, but they’re unfamiliar to Su Baiyin. The other man is trying to push himself up to get enough leverage to keep the crying man from crawling back into the water, but the other just shoves him away, frantically.

Su Baiyin puts her hand on his arm, which startles him enough that he stops trying to assault his friend. “Stop,” she says, putting Compulsion in her voice. “Listen to him.”

It doesn’t work, mostly. They clearly don’t speak the same language, so the Compulsion doesn’t take, but her sudden appearance and speaking offer enough of a distraction that the second man is able to sit up and attach himself firmly to the other, so that he can’t continue trying to drown himself.

He stares at her while simultaneously trying to comfort his friend. Su Baiyin shifts back uneasily, giving them space. They’re both handsome, even exceedingly so, and clearly not from Yincangui. The calmer one has blood running down from his hairline, thin and watery from being in the ocean, and the crying one’s arm looks strange, like it should be fitting in his shoulder differently. They don’t look seconds away from dying, though, which is good.

The calm one says something, and Su Baiyin can recognize it as the Galactic language. She can understand a few words in Galactic, even though they don’t use it on Yincangui very often. They have one elder who knows enough of the language, and Su Bai has taken some lessons from her, but she only recognizes the word, “Where” from the other person’s mouth.

“Yincangui,” she says, which gives no recognition on the calm man’s face. “Help?” She gestures between herself and the other two, which she hopes will get her message across.

The calm man nods. He says something to his companion, who, unfortunately, does not seem particularly inclined to stop freaking out, so Su Baiyin, very subtly, sends out a pulse of frequency, hoping that it will be enough.

She may have overdone it, because the man immediately stops screaming and collapses onto his friend, who looks very surprised, but at least they don’t have to deal with a struggling, injured person anymore. Su Baiyin winces. The frequency wasn’t strong enough to kill, hopefully, but she had meant to be slightly more gentle.

Unceremoniously, she drags the unconscious man off of his friend, careful of his injured arm, and pulls him up onto her back. He’s very solid, probably would be considered heavy, but Su Baiyin goes and moves boulders up the mountains every morning for fun, so she is fine. The calm man just blinks at her.

She nods at him, trying to get him to follow, and begins the trek back to the city. He gets up and, only swaying a little, walks after her.

Su Baiyin smiles. The elders are going to have a fit.

The elders sure do have a fit, which is honestly a little unnecessary. Su Baiyin wanted them to throw enough of a tantrum to be funny, not immediately try to kill her new friends.

She and Ma Xin are crouched, hidden, outside of the Council Circle, where everyone is arguing about whether or not the intruders should be executed. The one Su Baiyin knocked out is in a house nearby, but his friend, who has told them that his name is Zhang Qishan, unfortunately has to stand in the middle of the Circle as though he’s on trial, and listen to everyone whistle very loudly at each other, which has to be aggravating.

“What were you thinking?” Ma Xin whistles breathily at Su Baiyin, for the fifteenth time.

Su Baiyin says, “I wasn’t,” because that’s the truth. She absolutely was not thinking about this when she decided to save people from drowning because she was just a little preoccupied with saving people from drowning.

“You’re going to get in so much trouble,” Ma Xin mutters.

“Why would I get in trouble?” Su Baiyin asks. “I’m not the one who crashed a ship.”

That’s what the strange rock is, apparently, according to Elder Kaolin, the one who knows Galactic. Apparently the rest of the universe uses them to travel between planets, which is amazing. Su Baiyin didn’t even know you could do that. She’ll have to go back to the ocean later and see if she can figure it out, cause she doesn’t even know how the thing got into the sky in the first place.

“We cannot allow them to stay!” Elder Pansheng whistles shrilly. “They have disturbed our peace! We must get rid of them! Outsiders are not allowed in Yincangui!”

“They have not committed any crimes,” Elder Tienwu says. “We also do not allow the killing of innocents on Yincangui.”

“Death!” Elder Pansheng demands, slamming his fist on the table excitedly.

“We will not be executing them,” Elder Kaolin says calmly. She looks toward Zhang Qishan, who is starting to look slightly uneasy, though he’s trying valiantly not to show it, and says something in Galactic.

Zhang Qishan nods, and is about to say something back, but before he can, the other survivor stumbles into the Council Circle.

Elder Pangsheng loses it. “Intruder!”

Elder Kaolin gives him a look. “You already knew about him. This one is Zhang Rishan.”

Zhang Rishan does not look like he’s having a good time. He’s clutching his shoulder, which they had managed to get back into the socket, but it still clearly hurts, and his face is drawn and pale. He looks confused and worried, but when he sees Zhang Qishan, a storm cloud lifts briefly from his face. He says something, softly, and then his knees buckle, Zhang Qishan lunging quickly enough to catch him. They both end up in the dirt.

The elders have gone quiet, and seem to be having a furious discussion through eye contact alone.

Zhang Rishan has started repeating the phrase he was saying on the beach again, which Su Baiyin now recognizes as “Ba-ye,” though she has no idea what that means. She can only parse it out because he was mumbling it into her ear as she carried him.

Elder Kaolin sighs. “We can help, if you would like.” She must translate that into Galactic, because Zhang Qishan looks up, his arms still wrapped around his friend, and says something in a steel-tinged voice.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Elder Tienwu asks. “You know our laws.”

“He says they have no way to leave, even if they wanted to,” Elder Kaolin reports, after another brief discussion. “They will accept our help.”

She goes forward, crouching next to the pair of them and saying something too softly for Su Baiyin to make out, but slowly, the tension seeps out of each of their bodies, and their eyes travel off to look at something that no one else can see. Zhang Rishan actually smiles, though the effect is dulled by the tears still trailing their way down his face.

“Come on,” Su Baiyin whispers, pulling Ma Xin away. This feels like something too personal to be spying on.

Later, she will go to Elder Kaolin and say, “Teach me Galactic.”

Su Baiyin is going to kill Zhang Rishan.

Zhang Rishan, as she’s found over the past two years, is a complete idiot, and not in the fun, cute way that Ma Xin is, where she says silly things and pouts when she doesn’t understand something. Zhang Rishan is the type of idiot who will go sticking his hand in a bear trap because he thinks he can pull it out fast enough to avoid getting caught (in his defense, he can, but barely).

Since he and Zhang Qishan crashed on Yincangui, Su Baiyin’s life has been leagues more exciting. She learned Galactic with Elder Kaolin, with help from Zhang Qishan, who they call Fo-ye. She was a fast learner, because languages are easy when you already know how to determine the locations and placements of objects based on their frequencies alone. When Zhang Rishan recovered from the crash, he demanded that Su Baiyin teach him all about Yincangui and its culture and people in her stumbling and broken Galactic, and then they went and explored the forests and mountains, and hauled Fo-ye and Zhang Rishan’s spacecraft out of the ocean.

Fo-ye was a ship captain, and Zhang Rishan his first officer. They don’t talk about that, ever, if they can help it, but Su Baiyin knows that their home ship had crashed, and they had barely managed to escape themselves, only surviving due to their species’ incredible resilience, bouncing around the galaxy until they had somehow fallen into the black hole gate that guards Yincangui.

Zhang Rishan’s best friend, their science officer, didn’t make it with them. He was who Zhang Rishan was calling for when Su Baiyin found them, and who Rishan saw when Elder Kaolin granted them a final meeting through Compulsion. Su Baiyin doesn’t know much about him, because Zhang Rishan doesn’t tell her those sorts of things, but she knows that he was called Ba-ye, and that Rishan misses him so fiercely it aches.

She would say they’re close, her and Rishan. Fo-ye too, but he’s usually preoccupied with being a good guest, even though they’ve been living there for more than a year. He goes to meetings and helps out around the city, and makes sure that he and Rishan aren’t overstepping their boundaries. Rishan is a little younger, a little wilder, a little more willing to drop everything and go on whatever adventure Su Baiyin has cooked up for them.

Sometimes, rarely, he’ll go off on his own, which stresses Fo-ye out a lot, so today Su Baiyin has tasked herself with getting him back before Fo-ye notices that they’re gone. Normally, this would be easy, because Su Baiyin knows Yincangui inside and out, but Rishan has apparently decided that he’s going to be the most difficult person in the universe today and hide in all the not-normal places, and Su Baiyin can’t find him.

“Zhang Rishan!” she calls. “If you don’t come out right now I will Compel your ass!”

She stands for a minute, listening to see if this threat worked. Probably not, because even though it’s occasionally funny to Compel Rishan into doing dumb things like hiding Fo-ye’s shoes or jumping into a slime pit, not knowing where he is makes the Compulsion a little riskier. If he’s in a tree and she tells him to come out, he might just step off the branch and plummet to the forest floor, depending on how his brain interprets her command. Just because he and Fo-ye are practically invincible doesn’t mean that Rishan will be happy if she makes him break his leg.

Again.

A whistle tone flites through the forest. Her name, and she grins, popping her tongue loudly to let him know that she’s coming.

Rishan doesn’t have a whistle of his own, obviously, because he’s not Yincanguian, but he’s managed to pick up some of the simpler words and phrases using his own vocal range. He’s best at saying Su Baiyin’s name, as that’s the first sound he learned.

She sends out a frequency that will map out the forest in her mind, trying to pinpoint exactly where Rishan is. It takes her a moment, because he’s decided that he does actually want to be in a tree, because he’s essentially a cat in person form.

Sure enough, when she does track him down, he’s lounging on his back on one of the upper branches of a pine tree, as close to the sun as he can be. Su Baiyin cranes her neck as she shouts.

“Zhang Rishan!”

He sits up, mouth already half-laughing. The inky black patterning that appears when he’s in the sun is swirling in lazy lines across his cheekbones, tickling the corner of his eyes.

“Su Baiyin!” he whistles in response and swings himself down from his perch. Su Baiyin has to look away, because he likes to miss every other branch and ends up falling tens of feet at a time, which is fine for him, but she hates watching that. He lands again in a crouch, then straightens up to his full height, all solid muscle and smooth skin and slightly gapped front teeth.

Su Baiyin wants to climb him like the tree he was just in.

She smacks his arm, instead. “Why are you all the way out here? Fo-ye’s going to be pissed if we’re late for dinner.”

Rishan’s eyes are lit up. He takes her hand. “Wait until you see what I did.”

Su Baiyin groans. “A-Shan. No.”  

“It’s good!” he says. “It’s good, I promise. Trust me.”

She lets him lead her through the forest and down to the beach, where the crashed ship rests. It’s only a hot hunk of metal, now, but Rishan comes out every so often and cleans it, polishing off the salt and sand and rust. He’s meticulous about it, which Su Baiyin and Fo-ye have definitely discussed before, because it’s slightly worrisome.

Now, Rishan positions her on the beach. “Wait here.”

He scales the side of the ship, hopping into the hole that the door makes. There’s silence for a moment, and then Su Baiyin’s heart drops to her toes, because there’s a coughing sound, a whir of electronics starting up, and the ship’s engines fire to life, blazing shimmering heat into the air over the ocean.

The ship only runs for a few seconds before it powers down, and Su Baiyin stands frozen on the sand until Zhang Rishan’s head pops out of the door, seconds before the rest of his body. His face is alight, even though his patterning has disappeared, and there’s a lack of tension in his shoulders that Su Baiyin doesn’t think she’s ever seen.

“I fixed it!” he says, hopping neatly onto the sand and standing in front of her, beaming. “What do you think?”

“Oh, Rishan,” Su Baiyin whispers. “What have you done?”

That night, Rishan and Fo-ye have their first fight.

They don’t ever fight. Fo-ye is too calm, too diplomatic to ever do something petty as get in a screaming match, and Rishan respects his shouling more than anyone, would follow him without question. But that night, Rishan is so upset that he’s not only talking back to Fo-ye, but shouting at him. And even more terrifying is that Fo-ye is truly angry, because Fo-ye is truly scared.

“What were you thinking?” Fo-ye shouts. “Do you know what you’re risking?” He gestures at Su Baiyin. “You’re risking everything. You’re risking Su Baiyin.”

“I just fixed a ship!” Rishan exclaims. His eyes are like bullets, and he’s still, which is how Su Baiyin knows that he’s not handling this well, because Zhang Rishan is perpetual motion, the steady tick of a clock. If he’s this still, that means that there is something very wrong. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Rishan,” Fo-ye says. “Of course it does. It’s you. You don’t do things you don’t mean.”

“And what if I do mean it?” Rishan says. “This isn’t our planet, Fo-ye, it’s not our home.”

That stings, hurts a little more than Rishan probably meant it to, and Su Baiyin winces.

“It is now,” Fo-ye says. “We promised. We can’t leave.”

“You promised,” Rishan says bitterly. “I didn’t swear to anything. And you thought that our situation was hopeless, that we’d never have the chance. Well, we do.”

“That doesn’t mean we take it!” Fo-ye exclaims. “Zhang Rishan, you will end up dead.”

“I should be dead!” Rishan shouts. “I would be, if you hadn’t pulled me away.”

“I was keeping you safe,” Fo-ye says, and there’s something cold in his tone that suggests that this is a topic they were never supposed to breach.

“You kept me safe, and Ba-ye died,” Rishan says flatly. “Am I supposed to forgive you for that?”

Fo-ye’s jaw stiffens. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for anything. Just to stop throwing yourself recklessly at everything you come across. We’re hard to kill, not impossible.”

“Don’t you want to leave?”

Fo-ye closes his eyes. “Enough, Lieutenant.”

“We’re pulling rank now?” Rishan asks, his voice sharpening to a deadly point. “The captain’s supposed to go down with his ship.”

Fo-ye looks like he’s been slapped. “Rishan—”

“I wish we had,” Rishan says, and then he’s movement again, stalking out of their house, throwing the door open wide and disappearing into the darkness, not even bother to close it behind him.

And then it’s just Su Baiyin and Fo-ye, standing in a room together. Fo-ye is in the center, powerful, as if all the furniture were rearranging itself around him. Su Baiyin is on the side, watching. It reminds her of their first days, when Fo-ye was lost, begging Rishan to muster up the courage to keep going, to stay with him. He had whispered to Rishan in the evenings, sitting by his bedside, and Su Baiyin had stood and watched, because it was her house, not understanding the words Fo-ye was saying, but feeling the meaning behind them all too well.

She may have cheated, a little bit. May have gathered Fo-ye’s words and sent them to Rishan herself, Compeling him to wake up without entirely knowing what she was saying.

Rishan did, not because of Su Baiyin’s voice, but because somewhere, there was a part of him that desperately wanted to live. A part that Fo-ye could call back, even from death.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Fo-ye says now, quietly.

“The Elders are worse,” Su Baiyin says, trying for levity.

Fo-ye gives her a tired smile. “Still. We should not disturb your home like this.”

“It’s your home too,” Su Baiyin says, which she has ever since Fo-ye and Rishan moved in with her, years ago. “You’re allowed to shout.”

“I still apologize,” Fo-ye says, “Especially because I must ask a favor from you.” He glances toward the door. “Will you… will you go find him? I would, but… I doubt he will want to see me.”

“Of course,” Su Baiyin says. “Fo-ye. Are you alright?”

Fo-ye doesn’t look at her, and Su Baiyin suspects that he’s surprised to even be asked. “I am fine.”

Su Baiyin knows that’s a lie, but she also knows that Fo-ye won’t say anything else, even if pressed.

“I’ll bring him back,” she says instead, and follows Rishan’s path from the house, only looking over her shoulder once, waving to Fo-ye when she sees him watching after her.

Rishan is not hard to find, because he’s making a considerable amount of noise, just outside the city’s sound borders. It’s the farthest out they can hear from the city center, so he’s safe to make sounds, but if he doesn’t want Su Baiyin to find him, he should maybe be quieter.

One of Rishan’s cuter habits is that when he’s stressed, he likes music. Unfortunately, all of Yincangui’s music is a combination of body percussion and voice and whistle, and they make up compositions as they go along, no song sounding the same. This frustrates Rishan, who likes familiar melodies and traditional instruments, but he has to make do, so when Su Baiyin finds him, he’s singing angrily underneath his breath, drumming on a log with a stick.

“He sent you to find me,” he says when Su Baiyin approaches, which isn’t a question. He knows Fo-ye too well.

“He’s just worried,” Su Baiyin says. “And he’s right. If the Council, or anyone, really, finds out that you’re trying to leave, they won’t be happy.”

“Who said I’m trying to leave?” She only looks at him, and he sighs. “Okay, yes, but can you blame me? Baiyin, you want to see the stars up close, you’ve told me. You could come with us. I could show you.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Su Baiyin says, patting his arm. “But we can’t. That’s the deal Fo-ye made.”

“We wouldn’t tell anyone,” Rishan says. “You know that.”

“I know that,” Su Baiyin agrees. “But not everyone knows you as well as I do.”

“You’re just especially perceptive,” Rishan says, then whistles, “Come with me.”

“Stop teasing,” Su Baiyin says.

“I’m not,” Rishan says, and there’s something open and honest and earnest in his face as his lips press together, air whistling in and out in Su Baiyin’s own language. “We just have to be fast and quiet.”

“I’m not good at being quiet,” Su Baiyin says.

“Scared?”

“Not of them,” she whistles back. “Scared for you.”

Rishan rolls his eyes. “I’m very…” He pauses, trying to figure out the correct whistle tone for what he’s trying to say. “… well at being.”

Su Baiyin laughs. “You’re looking for surviving,” she says, then says it in Yincanguian, which is on an inwards inhale, which is probably why Zhang Rishan forgot it. He’s always had a harder time with the inhale words.

“Surviving,” he says. He smiles at her, all big teeth and happy, happy eyes.

Su Baiyin kisses him.

It’s not the first time. Rishan likes kisses, very much, but she’d been the one to kiss him, on the beach, skin salt-damp and hair tangled up. Here, in the forest, his hands find their place, thumbs gently resting on her cheeks and fingers spreading around the base of her skull. His lips are dry, and his nose bumps into her cheek, just slightly.

He smiles against her lips, and she can feel his teeth clack against hers.

“Okay,” she says.

“Hmm?” he murmurs.

“Let’s leave,” she says. “You’re right. You deserve to go home, and I want to see the universe. We won’t tell anyone. Let’s go get Fo-ye, and let’s leave. They can’t stop us if we’re already gone.”

“Really?” Rishan asks.

“Really,” Su Baiyin says. Rishan kisses her again, pulling her to her feet as he does.

“Let’s find Fo-ye,” he says, and they’re about to go back to their house, to go back for Fo-ye, when the man himself comes running into their section of the forest, almost breathless, which, for a Kylin, is unheard of.

“You have to go,” he gasps, and Su Baiyin’s fingers turn stiff and cold in Zhang Rishan’s hands. “They found out.”

Rishan’s mouth drops, which Su Baiyin would normally make fun of him for, but now he just looks horrified. “They…”

“Hurry,” Fo-ye says, his face serious. He takes Rishan’s wrist and pulls, leading them toward the beach, where the ship waits. “Could you take off right now?”

“Yes,” Rishan says, his voice small. “I made sure that it was entirely fixed.”

“Good,” Fo-ye says. “Then you have to go, right now.”

“Wait,” Rishan says, wrenching his arm out of Fo-ye’s grasp and stopping, which they do not have time for. “I’m not going alone. We have to go.”

Fo-ye shakes his head. “They only know about you. You can come back for me.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Rishan insists, because he’s stubborn as hell.

Fo-ye shakes his head, glancing desperately behind them. Su Baiyin can hear people behind them, footsteps and voices and anger.

“We don’t have time to argue,” Fo-ye says.

The three of them run, night-quiet, down to the beach, where the ship is waiting. Rishan climbs up the side, dropping down into the door, smooth and silent. Fo-ye and Su Baiyin stand on the beach, listening as he moves around inside.

“They’ll bring us back down again,” Su Baiyin says, quietly.

Fo-ye nods. “The frequency pulsars.”

Yincangui may not be technologically advanced, but they are extremely good with sound mechanics and propagating them for long distances. It’s how they created the Black Hole Gate that guards the planet; it’s an illusionary frequency that is carried outside of the planet by the natural gases that rise from the surface as a mist and tendril out into space, allowing the sound to be carried into orbit. It’s Yincangui’s camouflage and defense sytem. As long as something is within the gas cloud, the Council will be able to send frequencies to fry its controls and mechanics and whatever else they can.

They won’t be able to leave the planet alive.

“It’s an escape pod, technically,” Fo-ye whispers. “I can seal it and set it to take off while staying here. I’ll distract them long enough for you two to get away.” He doesn’t say, Maybe they’ll let me live, because they both know that won’t be the case.

Su Baiyin bites her lip. She looks at the ship. She takes Fo-ye’s hand, just like Rishan took hers.

“Rishan isn’t the only one that I care about,” she says. “I’ll stay with you.”

He looks at her, and there’s something small and scared in his eyes, but they are standing hand-in-hand, on the beach, and there’s a man they both love, and they are going to save him.

Fo-ye goes to the door, pulling away a piece of the plating, revealing a keyboard panel and entering a of code. The ship beeps, and the door slides shut, just as Rishan appears in the doorway.

He looks confused for a split second, and then he’s pounding on the glass window, his mouth open and shouting, but for once, Su Baiyin can’t make out the sound. Rishan presses his hands to the window, fingers splayed, palms facing them as though he’s surrendering.

Su Baiyin gazes at him steadily, Fo-ye at her side. She isn’t afraid, not yet.

The ship’s engines kick in, and it slowly lifts off from the ground. Rishan pounds on the door again, leaning his full weight against it, and Su Baiyin hasn’t seen him look this devastated since they first met. Since he lost Ba-ye.

But he’ll be okay. He knows where to find them, and it’s Zhang Rishan. There is no one stronger in the universe.

She and Fo-ye turn to face the rest of the planet, and, as Su Baiyin’s people crest the shore, as the ship fires into the atmosphere above them, they drop hands.

They fight just long enough for Rishan’s ship to disappear above them, to be confident that he’s gotten away, and then they let themselves be overwhelmed, dragged to the Council Circle, pushed to their knees.

The Elders stand above them, and they’re furious.

“There was an agreement,” Elder Kaolin says, “That you would not betray our people’s secret, when we allowed you to experience our gift.”

“I apologize,” Fo-ye says, his head bowed. “It was my idea.”

“Elder,” a guard says, rushing into the Circle. “We were unable to compromise the ship. I’m afraid it has left the atmosphere.”

Elder Pansheng turns purple, and Elder Tienwu sits down heavily in their chair. Su Baiyin knocks her shoulder into Fo-ye’s, because he made it.

Elder Kaolin turns back to them. “There will be consequences.”

“I understand,” Fo-ye says softly. “I will accept whatever punishment the Council deems fit.” He raises his head then, staring at them dead on, and Su Baiyin is once again reminded that he was a ship’s captain. “But I acted alone.”

“What?” Su Baiyin says. “No. Fo-ye!”

Fo-ye ignores her. “It was my idea. My betrayal. Su Baiyin had nothing to do with it.”

Elder Kaolin does not look convinced. “She was with you at the beach.”

“She did not know what we were planning,” Fo-ye says.

Elder Kaolin raises an eyebrow. “Is this true, Su Baiyin?”

“No,” Su Baiyin says fiercely, ignoring Fo-ye’s grunt at her side. “I said I would stay with you.”

Fo-ye’s eyes are unreadable, dark and lonely, and Su Baiyin knows that his happiness is with Rishan, is with her, and he wants to sacrifice himself for them, more than anything.

“I said I would stay with you,” Su Baiyin repeats, but it’s weak.

“I’ll be fine,” Fo-ye murmurs, only for her. “Please. Don’t give up. Rishan will be waiting.”

“Fo-ye…” Su Baiyin says.

“I acted alone,” Fo-ye says to the Elders, firmly. “The punishment is mine.”

“Very well,” Elder Kaolin says. “Zhang Qishan, you have betrayed the people of Yincangui. You were informed of what would be done should you choose to give our planet up, and this action must be taken.”

“Elder,” Su Baiyin says, desperately. “You can’t… Fo-ye is good, he’s helped us—”

Elder Pansheng says. “He cannot be trusted.”

“Su Baiyin has made a fair argument,” Elder Kaolin says. “For this, we will give the foreigner Zhang Qishan a quick execution. He will not be subject to the Repentant Torments, nor forced to undergo a Cleansing Trial.”

Elder Pansheng grumbles about this, but doesn’t argue.

“Please, Elders—"

“Our laws are clear,” Elder Tienwu says, cutting her off. “Su Baiyin, you were once a promising disciple. Due to your transgressions, you will be stripped of your title as a student and your access to the materials and archives of Yincangui will be revoked. You will be allowed to stay in the city, but only as a citizen. You will never be allowed to hold a public office, nor marry.”

Su Baiyin glares. “I don’t care.”

Elder Pansheng whistles shrilly. “She does not even speak in our language!”

Elder Kaolin fixes Su Baiyin with her best stare, solemn, regal, and imposing. “You will also be the one to carry out the execution.”

Fo-ye’s head snaps toward her, and Su Baiyin can feel all the muscles in her body turning to fire.

“No,” she croaks. “No, please. Don’t make me do that.”

“You will perform the execution ritual, or Zhang Qishan will be made to repent,” Elder Kaolin says. “We will not offer this mercy a second time.”

There are tears in Su Baiyin’s eyes, then. She feels like she’s choking, drowning. The Repentant Torments are horrible, and the Cleansing Trial is even more so. Many people die before the trials are even finished, in agony. Zhang Qishan should be having to undertake them, given the severity of his transgression, and the only one who can prevent him from being forced to do so is Su Baiyin.

“Baiyin,” Fo-ye says. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Su Baiyin says. “It’s not.”

“Be strong,” Fo-ye whistles to her, and she didn’t even realize she wasn’t speaking Galactic.

She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to be the one to take Fo-ye away from the universe. Fo-ye deserves to stay. To stay with her.

“You have one minute,” Elder Kaolin says, and the Elders turn their backs on them, their verdict finished.

The execution ritual is simple, quick; a high-pitched, specialized frequency, driven into the core of the brain, a subtle command for the body to give itself up. It’s painless. Everything just stops, like blowing out a candle, and Su Baiyin does not want to be the one to do it.

“Su Baiyin,” Fo-ye murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“Fo-ye,” she says, and her voice is thick and choked. “Fo-ye.”

“He’ll be waiting for you,” Fo-ye says. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Please,” Su Baiyin whispers.

“This is my privilege,” Fo-ye tells her, and smiles. He takes her hands in his, closes his eyes.

Su Baiyin looks desperately at the backs of the Elders, but there is no help coming. Rishan is already gone. Fo-ye is about to leave. She holds the knife in her voice, and the only way to save him from more pain, to save this brave, wonderful man, is to let him go.

Su Baiyin leans in, her lips pressed against Fo-ye’s ear. She swallows the tears. She doesn’t let him hear her voice shake.

“You are loved,” she whispers. “Forever. Zhang Qishan.”

His pulse beats against her cheek, and something in him relaxes. Like he’s letting her know.

She inhales, holds her breath.

The frequency is inaudible even to them, but the feeling of it is like razor blades as it leaves her mouth.

The heartbeat stops.

She holds Fo-ye, on her knees in the Circle, until the sun rises again.

Su Baiyin watches the night sky.

She sits on her roof, a bottle in her hand, and looks up at the stars she can see pinpricked in the clouds. The mists on Yincangui are thick, rising into the atmosphere, and they hide many of the stars from view. The ones that can be seen are beautiful, however, winking like rhinestones in the deep purple fabric of the universe.

There’s a radio next to her. She found it in Fo-ye’s things, before they came to take her discipleship. She hid it, and tuned it, and kept it safe, and now it sits on the roof with her, waiting.

She takes a drink. It’s cold outside. If she concentrates, she thinks she can hear the lap of waves on the beach. She hasn’t been to the beach since that day.

The radio buzzes. It’s tuned to a special frequency, one that only she and one other person in the universe know. They had come up with it early on, a line balanced on one specific note, so that if they were ever separated, they would be able to find each other again.

And they did.

The radio crackles, and Zhang Rishan’s voice filters through. “Baiyin?”

Su Baiyin is there.

Chapter Text

Liu Sang is four years old when he learns that he very well could be a bad person.

His father takes him to an execution trial. He doesn’t want to be there, but his father says that it’s important to see the people who have done wrong so that he never becomes one of them. The man at the trial does not look bad, just scared. He is kneeling in the Council Circle, and the Elders are saying a lot of words that Liu Sang does not understand, but his father nods in agreement with.
“What did he do?” Liu Sang whispers at one point.

“Pay attention,” his father says, which does not answer the question, but Liu Sang turns back to the trial anyway.

“Wang Zai, you have been found guilty of assault, robbery, and the betrayal of the gifts of Yincangui,” one of the Elders says. Liu Sang doesn’t know which one it is, but she is very tall, with long, dark hair and blue robes, and very scary. “For these crimes, you will be executed before this Council and your fellow citizens. Executioner?”

There’s movement from the sidelines. A woman steps forward, and somehow, even though she is the Executioner, she seems much less scary than the Elders. Her hair is tied back in a thick braid, and her clothes are patched and ragged, but her arms are strong and her eyes clear. She looks at the man for a split second, lips slightly parted, and in the next moment, he is lying in the ground, eyes still open, but he doesn’t look like anything anymore.

“Oh,” Liu Sang says.

His father applauds with the rest of the crowd.

On the way home, Liu Sang asks again. “What did he do?”

“Does it matter?” his father asks. “All you need to remember is to follow the rules. That’s the only way you can live well and be good. Alright?”

“Okay,” Liu Sang says, even though he doesn’t really get it.

The Rules are like this:

1. Be good.
2. Listen.
3. Only use your whistle to speak. Your voice is dangerous.
4. Be afraid.

Liu Sang is very good at the fourth one.

Liu Sang is seven when he learns that his stepmother does not like him.

His real mother is gone. He doesn’t know when, or where, because it happened a long time ago, and his father won’t tell him. His stepmother has a son too, younger than Liu Sang, and so that means that Liu Sang has a brother, and that means that there is a fifth rule, which is “Look after your brother and don’t let him get in trouble.”

His brother is not nearly as good at following the rules as Liu Sang is, so Liu Sang doesn’t know why his stepmother likes him the most.

“Can we go?” A-Yang asks, hopping from foot to foot. He is five, and likes running.

Liu Sang is trying to use frequencies to determine the difference between a pebble and a nut. This is technically a Year Five skill, but Liu Sang has already mastered the other four years, despite only being Year Two. “Go where?” he asks, closing his eyes very hard and sending out a pulse.

“To the Executioner’s house,” A-Yang says, bouncing more, which is distracting. “Li Cen at school says that she is evil, and a witch. He says that she got her voice taken away.”
“That’s stupid,” Liu Sang says, which is what he thinks of most things that Li Cen at school says. “How would she get her voice taken away?”

“I dunno,” A-Yang says. “We should go see. We should find out.”

“We have to stay in the yard until dinner,” Liu Sang says. “That’s the rule.”

A-Yang groans. “Gege, that’s boring.”

“I’m doing homework,” Liu Sang says.

“No, you’re not!” A-Yang exclaims. “You’re just staring at a rock.”

“I’m trying to do homework,” Liu Sang amends.

“If you don’t come with me, I’m just going to go by myself,” A-Yang says, and his voice does sound further away.

Liu Sang opens his eyes just in time to see A-Yang run out of the gate and down the path.

“A-Yang!” he yells, but his brother ignores him, so he braces himself to leave the yard, even though it’s against the rules. But it’s also against the rules to stop looking after his brother and that one is higher up on the list, and Liu Sang has determined that rules higher up on the list are more important.

So he follows him, catching up with A-Yang only when he throws himself into the grass outside of what must be the Executioner’s house. It’s the furthest from town, and the most run-down, though it still has a roof and windows and a door. It’s small, but that’s fine, since only one person lives there.

“Look,” A-Yang whispers when Liu Sang drops down beside him. “She’s up there.”

Liu Sang looks up from his place on his stomach. Sure enough, the Executioner is sitting on the roof, gazing up at the sky as the sun sets, like she’s waiting for it to get dark. There’s a jar sitting next to her, and a small box with a long piece of metal sticking out from the top of it.

A-Yang frowns. “She doesn’t look scary.”
“She’s just a person,” Liu Sang says.

“I’m going to get closer,” A-Yang announces, and wiggles forward on his stomach.

Liu Sang tries to grab the back of his shirt, but he’s not quite quick enough. Instead, he lands on his face and has to spit dirt out of his mouth as he watches A-Yang crawl through the Executioner’s yard.

His younger brother makes it to the side of house, and gets into a crouch, peering out from the under hang of the roof. Liu Sang follows him with his eyes, and blinks when he sees that the roof is empty.

“A-Yang!” Liu Sang whistles, scrambling to his feet. He takes a couple of shaky steps backward, and then his back hits something firm and warm, and he’s stumbling forward again, falling back onto the ground.

The Executioner is standing behind him, just watching. Her hands are on her hips, one eyebrow raised. She doesn’t say anything.

“A-Yang!” Liu Sang yells, scooting backwards. The Executioner doesn’t move, so he pushes himself up and runs to grab his brother, who is frozen by the wall, dragging him by the wrist away from the house.

A-Yang is crying as they run back into town. “She was going to eat you!”

“No, she wasn’t.” Liu Sang’s gotten over the surprise by now, because really the Executioner is just a person, so he’s mostly just annoyed that he had to drag them out of trouble again, and also didn’t get a chance to practice.

A-Yang runs straight into his mother’s arms when they get home, sobbing something about witches and dinner and Gege, which leads to Liu Sang’s stepmother yelling at him about being more careful with his younger brother, which is unfair. His younger brother should be more careful with him.

She sends Liu Sang to his room without dinner anyway, tells him to wait for his father to get home, which isn’t much of a threat. Liu Sang’s stepmother might not like him, but his father at least likes him a little bit, he thinks. He doesn’t get mad at him, usually, just sighs and says, “You’re supposed to follow the rules, remember?” Also unfair, because Liu Sang is actually very good at following the rules.

So he sits in his room, at the end of his bed, and practices levitating water droplets off of the window and across the room. He’s gotten better at this, lately. Sometimes he’ll go down to the ocean and levitate entire globes of water, but that’s kind of cheating, because saltwater is less dense than regular water, so it’s easier to lift. The hard part about acoustic levitation is the fact that the frequency has to remain constant the entire time, so he can’t take a breath in the middle, which is why he’s been practicing holding his breath, too. The frequency is easy to produce, though. Liu Sang is very good at frequencies. And that’s not bragging, no matter what his stepmother says, because it’s true, and the eighth rule is “Don’t lie.”

When he gets tired of levitating water droplets, he tries to find all the nails in the walls, and just when he’s found almost all of them, he hears his father’s footsteps on the street.

Rule Fifteen is “don’t make people wait for you,” so Liu Sang creeps out of his bedroom and down the hall to stand around the corner from the living room, so that when they eventually call for him, he’ll be right there.

“Hello,” his father says when he comes in. “How was your day?”

“The boys got into trouble again,” his stepmother says without preamble.  “I think they went somewhere dangerous. A-Yang was distraught when they got home.”

“Did they?” His father sighs. “I’ll talk to him.”

Liu Sang prepares to emerge from his hiding spot, but before he can, his stepmother says, “Talking isn’t going to work for much longer. You know what his teachers are saying about him? The people in town?” She drops her whistle register, as though she’s telling a secret, which is almost an impossibility on Yincangui, because they are all very good listeners. “They’re saying that he’s unnatural.”

“He’s bright,” his father says. “His grades are good. He doesn’t cause trouble at school.” Liu Sang feels something relax in him, because that’s true. It’s good that his father knows it.

“Doesn’t he?” his stepmother asks. “I’ve caught him before, without the whistle. How do we know he’s not figured out Compulsion yet? A-Yang is so sweet, and he still gets into all sorts of trouble with him.”

That’s not true. A-Yang gets into trouble all on his own. Also, that’s Rule Three: Only use your whistle to speak. Liu Sang has never broken that one. It’s in the top three rules. He can’t break that rule. He lets his whistle hang, sometimes, especially if he’s working with a tricky frequency, because it keeps him from shaping his lips correctly, but he never tries to speak without it.    

“He wouldn’t Compel A-Yang,” his father says. “They don’t even learn that until Year Ten.”

“He’s already doing tricks from Year Four,” his stepmother hisses, which is technically correct. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gotten one of the older children to teach him. Or maybe he just figured it out on his own.” Her whistle gives a little inhalation pop, a tsking sort of sound. “Like I said. Unnatural.”  

“What do you want me to do?” his father asks.

“One of the Elders suggested a test,” says his stepmother.

“You talked to the Elders about this?”

“What else should I have done? He could hurt any of us. He could hurt A-Yang.”

Liu Sang feels something tighten in his chest. He wants to scream, but that’s definitely against the Rules, so he doesn’t. He puts his hand over his mouth so that sound won’t escape.

“He’s not going to hurt anyone,” his father says, but something in his tone sounds unsure.

“Just a test,” his stepmother insists. “Just to see what he would do.”

Nothing, Liu Sang thinks. I won’t do anything, I promise.

“Can we discuss this later?” his father asks.

“Fine,” his stepmother says, her notes short and clipped. “Later. But we are discussing it.”

His father’s footsteps begin to step in Liu Sang’s direction, and he knows he’s supposed to be good, supposed to be there if his father wants to see him, but right now he wants to be anywhere else, so he runs back down the hall as quietly as he can, slipping into his room and under the blanket on his bed, curling himself up until he thinks he might have disappeared.

His father doesn’t even come into his room to check.

Liu Sang spends the next few days tiptoeing around the house, trying his best to be invisible, because if he pretends like he’s not there, maybe they’ll forget that he is. He spends most of his time outside, quietly. A-Yang comes out, sometimes, wanting to play, and Liu Sang will go along with whatever game he comes up with so that he doesn’t tell his mother that Liu Sang is being mean to him.

Days pass by, then a week, and Liu Sang slowly feels his heart uncurl, nerves retreating. Maybe they didn’t really mean it. He’s still safe.

And then he wakes up one night and there’s people standing over him in the dark.

He doesn’t see them so much as hear them, and, half-asleep, he pushes himself off the bed as they reach for them, falling over his own feet when he tries to get them under him.

There’s a bright flash of light at one side, and he screams. The light falls onto his bedclothes, and it’s fire, of course it is, and it catches on the threads of fabric easily.

A hand grabs his arm, and his whistle isn’t his mouth, and he wants them to let him go, so he says so, in his own voice, which is suddenly flooded with something that tastes a little like power, heady and rushing.

“Don’t touch me!” he yells. His back is against the wall. The fire on his bed is licking the walls. His hands are shaking. “Stop!”

The two people—there’s two of them, he can see that now—freeze like their feet have been glued to the floor. One tries to speak, but Liu Sang is not going to listen.

“Don’t talk!” he says, and his voice is strong and sure. His body lists out of the door and he can run, now, so he says, “Don’t follow me!” and then goes.

The house is getting very hot and his head hurts and he stumbles on a floorboard, falling onto his back and gazing up at the ceiling as fire creeps along the wood. There’s smoke billowing into the hallway, and he coughs, head spinning.

A-Yang’s room is just a little further down, and he’s supposed to keep his younger brother safe, so he finds the strength, between his aching head and heavy limbs, to get up and stagger to his brother’s door, hand on the wall to keep himself upright. He pushes the door open, leaning against the frame, and A-Yang is sitting up in his bed, wide-eyed and terrified, face illuminated in the flames that have now reached his ceiling.

Liu Sang coughs, bathed in smoke, and says, “A-Yang, come—”

He can’t say anything else, after that, because his voice is drowned out by a cracking roar, and then the ceiling is falling, collapsing inward, and he has just enough time to see his brother’s mouth open in a scream before there’s just burning wood and thick, surging smoke and dizzying heat.

He falls, then, pushed by a rush of hot wind, and it’s cooler on the floor, and he feels his throat trying to cry out before the smoke rushes in and he’s choking on it, lungs battered and rasping. He wants to leave. He wants to get out, but it’s hard to breathe, and hot, and his entire body aches, but especially his head, which feels like it’s going to crack down the middle, the pressure inside so great that he doesn’t know how there is any room for thought.

He holds his breath, the lack of smoke entering his body giving him just enough lucidity that he’s able to pull himself, on his stomach, away from his brother’s room, toward the front door of their house. His pant leg catches on something, tearing at the fabric and his skin, and he almost yells again, because it hurts, but he’s holding his breath, he’s levitating water, he’s holding his breath, he can’t break.

And then, somehow, impossibly, he’s outside, and gulping a lungful of cool, misty air, which simultaneously feels good and wreaks havoc on his lungs, sending him coughing again, so hard that he’s gagging on it, rolling on his side and pressing his cheek to the ground, trying to figure out what’s going on, where he is, where everyone else is, because there is no one out there with him, and his voice is going, going, and then, in a minute, so is he, fingers grasping at the thin blades of grass under his body, conscious fraying loose like thread, fizzling up and away like sparks into the sky.

When he wakes up, he learns that his family is gone.

“You can’t do this,” someone is saying. “He’s a child.”

“He’s a murderer,” another voice says. “There is no mercy to be had for him.”

It’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he opens his eyes, and he’s lying on cold stone. His leg throbs. His hands are chained in front of him. Through his bleary vision, he can see tall robed figures, the circular seating of the Council Circle, and someone standing in between him and the others, braid hanging to her waist. The Executioner’s back is to him, but he still knows it’s her, and that can’t be good.

“He crawled out of the house,” she argues. “He’s half-dead. And you think he set the fire?”

“Who else would have?” one of the Elders says. “He’s the only survivor. The parents were found in the middle of a room. Why didn’t they escape, unless they were told not to? Where is his whistle?”

“It’s wood,” the Executioner says. “It probably burned.”

Something winds tightly in Liu Sang’s head, almost to a snapping point. He killed them? His father and stepmother and brother are dead, and it’s his fault? He doesn’t want to know this. He wishes he hadn’t woken up.

“Regardless,” another female voice says. “We cannot allow for speculation. Three people are dead. One is alive. It’s not a hard conclusion to come to.”

“I’ll say it again,” the Executioner protests. “He’s a child. You really won’t take that into consideration?”

“Our job is not to consider,” the Elder says. “Our job is to condemn. And your job is to carry out the condemnations, Su Baiyin. That is part of your punishment. Or have you forgotten?”

“No,” The Executioner mutters. “I haven’t forgotten. You make sure of that every time you drag me in here.”

If the Elders are surprised by this lack of respect, they don’t say anything. “We suggest you do it now, then, if him being conscious is going to be too difficult for you.”

The woman’s shoulders slump, ever so slightly. She turns toward Liu Sang, who watches with half-cracked eyes as she kneels down next to him. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him awake.

“Hello, haizi,” she says softly. “Don’t be afraid, alright?”

Liu Sang doesn’t have enough left in him to be afraid.

He merely stares as the Executioner’s lips part, and a feeling like a gust of wind strikes his face, working its way deep into his head, and everything is gone again.

Then he opens his eyes, and he’s lying somewhere soft, comfortable. There’s a tightness in his leg, but the pain is a dull throb now. His throat feels like something’s taken claws to it, and his head is sloshing like there’s water inside his skull.

“You’re awake,” a voice says.

Liu Sang turns his head to the side and blinks. The Executioner is sitting next to him, busy with a needle and thread. She doesn’t look at him, just remains focused on her work.

“I’m sure you have questions,” she says. “But you need rest first. I’m going to take care of you, so you can sleep.”

Liu Sang wants to sleep. He wants to sleep so badly.

So he blinks, and when his eyes open again, it’s daylight, and the Executioner is no longer next to him, and his head doesn’t feel as bad, though his throat is still charred and painful.

He sits up, propping himself on his elbows. He’s in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar house. There’s water plinking into a bucket from a hole in the ceiling, and a table against a wall with dishes stacked on it. It’s one big room, with only a door to the outside and another leading somewhere else. Liu Sang suspects it’s a bathroom but he doesn’t know for sure.

The door opens and the Executioner—Su Baiyin—steps inside. She sees him awake, and nods. She doesn’t smile, but somehow Liu Sang still feels that she’s pleased to see him up. She goes to the table and picks up a glass, bringing it over to Liu Sang.

“Here,” she says. “Drink.”

Liu Sang takes it, his hands only shaking a little bit. He sips the water at first, relishing the feeling on his throat, and then gulps the rest of it down, thirstier than he expected. Su Baiyin brings a pitcher over and refills the glass before sitting down in the chair at Liu Sang’s bedside again.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

Liu Sang thinks about this. His family is dead. He’s alive. He shrugs.

Su Baiyin nods as though he’s just said something very eloquent. “That’s about what I expected. I’m not a doctor, and I can’t get one in here to see you, but your leg should be fine, and you’ll recover from the smoke damage quickly enough.” She puts the pitcher of water on the floor, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her legs. “Can you tell me your name?”

Liu Sang’s throat closes up. He’s been subconsciously aware of the phantom weight around his neck where his whistle should be, and now that lunges to the forefront of his mind, because his voice is gone. It’s back in a house he’s not sure even exists anymore, amongst soot and char, and he spoke without it, he broke the Rule, he broke all of the Rules, except maybe number four, Be Afraid, because he is terrified right now, so much that he thinks he’s going to die.

“Haizi, haizi.” There’s a warm hand on his shoulder, another taking his fingers and pressing them against someone’s chest, which rises and falls as they breathe, and the sound of breath is soothing, and Liu Sang seeks out the heartbeat under it, because that’s steady and sure, too, and he desperately needs to hear something other than his own frantically pumping heart. “Shh. It’s alright. You’re alright. I can call you Haizi. Would that be okay?”

It’s not a name, it’s not even that specific, because it just means child, but that’s what Liu Sang is, that’s all he is, anymore, so he nods, frantically, and silently begs that Su Baiyin will make this stop.

“Okay,” Su Baiyin says. “Haizi.” She keeps his hand pressed to her own sternum, making sure he can feel how she breathes, and they sit like that, for a long, long time, until the world stops fracturing.

Liu Sang learns that he is technically dead.

He doesn’t really mind this. Instead of killing him entirely, Su Baiyin had only almost killed him, which is a very big distinction, she says. So Liu Sang gets to live with her, now, because she’s the only one that knows he isn’t dead, and if he would like to stay Not Dead, they have to keep it that way.

Liu Sang likes how she words that. They, as if he has a choice and is part of this secret and is expected to uphold it.

Su Baiyin is brilliant. He doesn’t know why she’s the Executioner, because she’s better at sound shaping than pretty much every one of his teachers had been. She can tell the difference between a pebble and a nut. She can tell the difference between a gnat and a speck of dust, which she says is easy because gnats have wings that vibrate at a much higher frequency than a speck of dust, but they’re both so small that Liu Sang has no idea how she can hear well enough to say for sure. She can break a needle off of a tree fifty meters away and carry it across the wind into her palm. She waters the plants on the windowsills by levitating water out of the sink. Sometimes she’ll make it into dancing shapes, just to make him laugh.

That’s the only sound that comes out of him, lately. He still doesn’t have a whistle, so he still can’t talk, and he refuses to use his natural voice. He’s never going to break the Rules again, ever, so even though Su Baiyin tries to coax him into saying things, bribing him with treats or promising to teach him tricks, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, and she sighs and shakes her head, and says, “You’re a stubborn one, Haizi.”

She teaches him tricks anyway, because she likes doing it. In just a month, Liu Sang learns how to calculate the distance between trees in the forest and find his way out of a cave blindfolded and what notes to sing to make the roots of plants vibrate and soak up water and grow faster.

These sounds don’t count as talking, Liu Sang has decided, because they don’t mean anything. He can’t command anyone with them. He can’t accidently hurt Su Baiyin if he tells her to stay still and then a tree falls on her, which is something that he has nightmares about. He tells himself that this is logical, that anyone would do the same thing, but a small, secret part of him knows that he misses his voice, misses being able to talk, and these small, harmless noises are as close as he can get.

But he still misses it.

One evening, he’s drying the dishes after dinner, batting away little splashes of water that Su Baiyin levitates over into his face to make him squirm as she rinses, and returning fire with droplets of his own that Su Baiyin lets hit her. She finishes her half of the job, ruffles his hair, and then says, “I have something for you.”

Liu Sang puts his plate down, gently. Su Baiyin’s already given him things, like mended clothes and food and lessons, so he doesn’t know what else she would have for him.

Su Baiyin reaches into her pocket, bringing her fist out, closed, and holds it out to him, uncurling her fingers, gently. Resting in her palm, on a length of cord, is a naming whistle, a little unevenly carved, but smooth and shiny brown.

Liu Sang blinks. Su Baiyin looks a little embarrassed, but keeps her hand outstretched.

“I know it’s not your original one,” she says, “But that one is a little… gone. I thought you could use a new one. I don’t know if it’ll sound correctly, I’m not good at carving. But I couldn’t exactly ask the Elders to make you one, since, you know, you’re supposed to be dead. If it doesn’t work, I’ll try again.”

She presses her hand forward, a little more, and Liu Sang, slowly, reaches out and takes the whistle from her. He slips the cord around his neck, holding the wood gently in his fingers. His breath feels stilted, but he brings the whistle to his lips anyway, exhaling gently into the hole at the top.

A single note, clear and woody, floats out of the whistle, and just like that, Liu Sang feels something slot back into place in his chest, because he has a voice again. His name is different than his old one, a little lighter, but also steady and focused. He likes it.

“I know it’s not the same name you had,” Su Baiyin murmurs. “I don’t know what that one was. I hope this is okay.”

He looks up at Su Baiyin, who has saved him again, who has given him a name that is just as beautiful as the last one, who looks very anxious, her eyes wide, a hesitant smile playing on her lips.

He says, “Thank you.”

Su Baiyin’s face breaks into a beaming grin, and she kneels down in front of him, taking his face in her hands and pressing her forehead to his as he says, “Thank you, thank you,” over and over again.

He learns that Su Baiyin is sad.

It’s not a big thing, usually. During the day, they work together. Su Baiyin teaches him how to use frequencies better than even the oldest kids at school. They’ve deviated from the traditional educational curriculum, which involves a work up to Compulsion, but everything Su Baiyin teaches him has practical applications. More important than just practical application is that she teaches him how to defend himself without Compulsion. That’s the ultimate power of Yincangui, Su Baiyin says, but sometimes you won’t be able to speak, or you’ll be dealing with someone who doesn’t understand you, so it’s important to learn alternatives.

That’s also why she teaches him Galactic. He’s nervous, at first, because Galactic has to be spoken with his natural voice, but Su Baiyin says that he can’t accidentally hurt her because his Galactic isn’t quite good enough for that, and also she’ll be able to tell if he puts anything into his voice. She’s right, as usual. Liu Sang is always concentrating too hard on making the right sounds that he doesn’t think he could Compel if he tried.

She teaches him the Execution frequency, too. Somehow, Liu Sang is less scared of that, probably because he can’t use it on accident. He has to purposefully summon that type of power.

It’s a strange sort of thing, to know that you can end someone with the sound in your throat. He’s never actually killed with it, because Su Baiyin wouldn’t make him do that, but he knows how the frequency feels in his mouth, knows how to elongate his cleft palate in order to sharpen it into a steel point, but he always pulls the sound before it can escape, which is something else Su Baiyin taught him.

He hopes he’ll never have to use the Execution frequency. Every so often, Su Baiyin will have to leave him at home, go into town, and she’ll return silent and strange, and get one of the alcohol jars that she keeps on the top shelf in the cupboard, and she’ll climb onto the roof with her strange box and stare at the stars until it’s so late that Liu Sang has already climbed into bed and lies there, waiting for her to come back inside so that he can sleep. It takes her a long time, sometimes, but she always comes back in and says, “Goodnight, Haizi,” before going to her own bed, and then Liu Sang is able to fall asleep.

Occasionally, he’ll hear the box crackle and spit out sounds, an eclectic mixture of Galactic and Yincanguian, and Su Baiyin will talk back to it. There’s something different about her voice when she does, something light and gentle. It reminds Liu Sang of the ocean, warm and rhythmic.

Once, he asks her who is in the box, who she talks to, and her face gets soft and sad, fingers playing with the silver cuff that she always has around her wrist.

“Someone I miss very much,” she says. “You would like him, Haizi. He likes music and climbing trees and looking at the stars.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s out there, somewhere,” she says, pointing at the sky.

“He’s not on Yincangui?” Liu Sang is skeptical about this, because even though Su Baiyin has told him that there are hundreds of worlds beyond Yincangui, and even more people, it all seems like a far-away fantasy.

“He was, once,” Su Baiyin says. “But he had to leave.”

That’s news. “You can leave Yincangui?”

“Well, we can’t,” Su Baiyin says. “We would need a ship to fly in, and someone to fly it.”

“And he had that?”

“Yes,” she tells him. “Maybe someday you’ll find someone to take you.”

“You’ll come, right?”

Su Baiyin laughs at him, rumples his hair with her hand. “Of course, Haizi. I’ll come.”

Even though he has a name again, she still calls him Haizi, a leftover habit, or perhaps just a teasing word, something that means him and sounds like mine.

And then, when he’s ten, he learns Compulsion.

It’s been coming for a while now; he’s just pretended that he hasn’t noticed. But he’s learned everything from the skill levels that come before, and even some that come after, and Su Baiyin has taught him all of the other things, and he knows that she’s been eager to teach him this, to see what he does with it. Su Baiyin is very good at Compulsion. He’s never seen her use it, but he knows that she is, because Su Baiyin is good at almost everything.

“Compulsion is different from just using frequencies,” she tells him. They’re standing in the grass behind the house, just in case anyone comes by. It probably won’t happen, because it never does, but they’re not going to tempt fate. “How do we use frequencies?”

“In tandem with the natural order,” Liu Sang recites. “We listen to the sounds that exist in the universe and create our own to harmonize with them.”

“Exactly,” Su Baiyin says. “Harmony. We don’t push back against the natural sounds, but weave together with them. Listening. But Compulsion is taking the natural sounds and twisting them. It’s a direct contrast, rather than a harmony. Discordant. You’re trying to overpower another frequency, not meld with it.”

“I don’t want to overpower other frequencies,” Liu Sang mutters. He’s been trying not to be petulant about it, but it’s hard.

Su Baiyin just smirks. “Ah, Haizi, you say that now, but what about when you get out into the universe?”

“I’ll just ask,” Liu Sang insists.

“Now you’re just being silly,” Su Baiyin says, but her voice softens. “You don’t have to use Compulsion to hurt, Haizi. You don’t ever have to use it at all. But I’m going to teach you in case you need to.” She gives him an encouraging eyebrow raise. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says immediately, because he does. Su Baiyin is strong and warm and steady. She tells Liu Sang when she leaves the house and when she’ll be coming back. She takes him with her into the forest so he’s not left alone. She’s taught him everything that she can, and she saved him, even though she would have been executed herself if anyone found out. Of course he trusts her.

“Good,” she says. “Well, I trust you. I know you’re not going to hurt me. And if I trust you, and you trust me, then you have to trust yourself, right?”

That logic seems slightly suspicious, but Liu Sang says, “I guess.”

“Okay,” Su Baiyin says happily. “Now, since Compulsion is like pushing back against the natural resonance of someone’s mind, the closer you can get to natural inclinations, the better. For example, Compelling someone to drink water rather than alcohol is going to be easier than Compelling them not to drink at all; they already want to drink something, so substituting their command to their body with one of your own is going to be easiest if it’s in line with what they’re already thinking. Compelling someone to do something they absolutely do not want to do is very hard, so that will take a lot more energy and practice.”

“But you can do it?” Liu Sang asks.

“Yes,” Su Baiyin says. “Technically, if you put enough energy into it, you can do it.” She claps her hands. “Now, I want you to picture the frequency of my movement like it’s a river. See which way the energy is flowing, and then swim against the current, and give me a command.”

“Just like that?” Liu Sang asks, because he thought that they were going to do some theoretical practice first, maybe.

“Just like that,” Su Baiyin confirms. She puts her arms at her sides, and she doesn’t look afraid.

Liu Sang sighs, but closes his eyes, finding the thrum of Su Baiyin’s heartbeat, the energy of her sound flowing around her. It’s a familiar direction, one that he’s very in-tune with, so it’s not as hard as he expected to put his own energy opposite it.

“Come over here,” he says. Something sparks on his tongue, a brief ignition, but nothing comes from it.

“You have to be confident, Haizi,” Su Baiyin says. “If you don’t really want me to come over to you, then your energy won’t be convincing, and I won’t do it.”

He sighs, widening his stance a little so that his grasp on the ground is firm. Once again, he seeks out Su Baiyin’s frequency, across from him in the yard, standing in its current just long enough to get the feel of it, and then he summons strength from the deep well in his chest, opens his mouth, and commands, “Come over here.”

The change is small, but he sees Su Baiyin’s face goes a little bit lax, her eyes falling out of focus. She takes two steps toward him, arms swaying slightly at her sides, and that’s so, so wrong, because Su Baiyin doesn’t do anything that she doesn’t want to do, and Liu Sang shouldn’t be able to make her. She’s his adult, she’s in charge, and he’s simultaneously there in the yard and back in his old house, smoke blurring Su Baiyin’s image, or maybe those are tears, but he can’t tell the difference anymore.

This is wrong, this is horrible, and the word tears itself from his lips before he can suppress it. “Stop!”

Su Baiyin goes stock still, freezing in the grass, and Liu Sang wants to throw up, because that’s what happened before, when he didn’t know what he was doing, when he wasn’t in control, it’s happening again, and any moment he’s going to look and see his brother on the bed or see Su Baiyin’s form go up in flames. The scar on his leg aches as if he’s torn it open, and he’s falling on his hands and knees in the grass, a choked sound escaping him as he grabs for the whistle around his neck, because that’s the failsafe, that’s what he’s supposed to use, he’s not supposed to be doing this.

He puts the whistle in between his teeth. “Stop,” he says, “Stop, please.” The notes are jagged and broken because he can’t breathe smoothly enough to get them out in one exhale.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there for, but eventually he can hear Su Baiyin’s voice over the rushing in his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

He clutches the sleeves of her shirt, because somehow he’s wrapped in her arms, his ear pressed against her chest. “Bai-yi.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “You weren’t ready. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

It’s so reminiscent of when she asked him his name for the first time that he nearly starts panicking again, but digs his fingers into her clothing and his heels into the ground and reins in his breathing with a vice grip on his heart and swallows his voice, shoving it as far into himself as he can.

“Don’t make me try again,” he says finally, his voice shaky. “Please.”

“Okay,” Su Baiyin says, just a murmur in his ear. “Okay.”

When he’s eleven, he learns that everything can change, very abruptly.

He’s lying in bed, on his back, staring at the ceiling, because Su Baiyin is on the roof again, talking to the box. She’s trying to be quiet, because Liu Sang’s hearing has only gotten better since Su Baiyin trained him, but he can still make out the majority of the conversation.

“Are you doing alright?” the box says. Liu Sang has learned that the voice is named Rishan, and he calls Su Baiyin just “Baiyin,” which seems a little bit too familiar for a voice in a box.  

“Are you worried?” Su Baiyin asks, and Liu Sang rolls his eyes, because they have this conversation every other time Rishan contacts her.

“No,” Rishan says, “I’m never worried about you.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Su Baiyin says mildly. Liu Sang hears her swallow as she takes a drink. She always drinks when she talks to Rishan. Usually more when she’s done. “How’s the search going?”

“Fine,” Rishan says. Liu Sang has no idea what he’s searching for, but he’s been doing it for a long time. “The burial texts led us to a labyrinth planet. It’s entirely rock formations that trap you in this giant maze.”

“But you got out okay?”

“Not without a lot of effort,” Rishan says ruefully. “If you had been there, you would’ve just led us out, no problem.”

“I can’t make your job easy,” Su Baiyin teases. “What would you do? You’d be so bored.”

“Maybe,” Rishan says softly. “But it would be worth it.”

“Mm,” Su Baiyin hums.

They go quiet for a minute, then two. Liu Sang yawns, and wonders if maybe he’ll fall asleep before Su Baiyin comes in, but then Rishan’s voice crackles out of the radio again.

“Baiyin—”

Before he can say anything else, the frequency cracks, splits. Liu Sang sits up in bed, because it’s never done that before.

“Bai—what—give—I—” Rishan’s words keep filtering in and out.

“Rishan!” Su Baiyin exclaims. Liu Sang can hear her fiddling with the radio, twisting the frequency ever so slightly to get Rishan’s voice back.

“Hello?” a different voice says, and Su Baiyin goes completely still.

Liu Sang does too, because this voice is definitely not Rishan. It’s too happy, too bright. Rishan’s voice is more like pumice stone, a little rough, a little dark, but warm and solid, and this voice is nothing like that.

“Is anyone there?” it says. “I could’ve sworn—”

“How did you find this frequency?” Su Baiyin says, her voice so cold that Liu Sang shivers.

“There is someone!” the voice exclaims. “Is… are you on Yincangui?”

It goes so silent that Liu Sang has to strain to make sure Su Baiyin is still on the roof.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“This is incredible!” the voice says. “I’ve been searching for this for so long! Oh, he’s never going to believe it—just give me a minute, I’m sure I can track this to a coordinate system—”

Liu Sang never finds out if that happens or not, because there’s a loud thump, and then the radio is flying off of the roof and smashing into the yard, metal fragmenting and scattering in the grass.

Liu Sang sits, frozen, blanket pooled around his lap. Su Baiyin leaps off of the roof, her heartbeat racing. She lands clumsily in the grass, stumbling forward to kick the radio again.

“Shit,” she mutters, which is a Galactic word that Liu Sang has never actually heard before, but doesn’t sound pleasant. “Shit, shit. Oh, god, Rishan—”

Liu Sang hears her fall to her knees in the grass, the telltale clink of metallic scraps as she tries to press the radio back together again, but it’s already destroyed.

“No,” Su Baiyin whispers. “No.” Her voice sounds thick.

Slowly, Liu Sang lies down again, rolling onto his side to face the wall and pulling the blanket up to his face. He’s never even met Rishan and still it feels like something’s been scooped out of his insides now that he’s gone. He wonders if Su Baiyin feels the same way.

After a while, she comes back into the house.

“Haizi?” she whispers in the dark. Liu Sang wants to respond, wants to help, but he doesn’t think that he can this time.

Su Baiyin goes over to their table, pulling out the chair and lighting the lamp sitting on top. Before too long, the scratch of a pen on paper fills the house. Liu Sang tries his best to stay awake so that Su Baiyin doesn’t have to be alone, but the soft sounds jumble up his head, and the next thing he knows, Su Baiyin is shaking him awake.
“Haizi,” she says. “Get up.”

Liu Sang rubs his eyes, yawning. It’s not quite daylight, yet, but the sun is starting to creep along the floorboards. Su Baiyin is kneeling in front of him, wearing her thickest clothing, a bag tucked under her arm.

“Bai-yi?” Liu Sang says. “Are you going somewhere?”

“We’re going somewhere,” Su Baiyin corrects. She gives Liu Sang a stack of clothes, his own heavy winter gear, even though winter isn’t quite there yet. “Do you remember how I said maybe someday we would leave Yincangui and go to the stars? We’re going. I think you’re ready.”

Liu Sang frowns, but he gets out of bed and starts pulling his clothes on anyway. “I thought you needed a flying ship to leave the planet?”

“One will be here,” Su Baiyin says, a little distracted as she moves around the room, gathering food and a few other supplies and sticking them in a smaller bag.

“Rishan?” Liu Sang tries.

Su Baiyin freezes. She looks at Liu Sang, then chuckles. “You were listening, huh?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Liu Sang mutters. “I couldn’t help it.”

Su Baiyin shakes her head, fondly. “Your ears are too good, Haizi. Yes, Rishan. He’ll come.”

“But…” Liu Sang hesitates, then presses forward, curiosity burning his tongue. “The radio broke before you could tell him. How do you know that he will?”

“He knows something went wrong,” she says. “He’s probably already on his way.”

“Why didn’t he come before?” Liu Sang asks. “If he knows where we are, he could have come and visited.”

“It’s too dangerous for him here,” Su Baiyin explains. “He made a lot of people angry, and so we decided that he wouldn’t come back unless it was an emergency. And now it is.”

“Oh.” Liu Sang must look as nervous as he feels at the word emergency, because Su Baiyin kneels down next to him, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“Don’t be afraid,” she says. “We’re going to go on an adventure, okay?”

“Okay,” Liu Sang responds.

“Good boy,” Su Baiyin tells him, squeezing his arms before she stands up and hands him the bag she’d been packing. “Here, you get one too.”

“Are we just going to leave everything?” Liu Sang asks. Their cabin doesn’t have much in it, but he knows that they’ll need plates and spoons and their books in the future, and Su Baiyin hasn’t packed those yet.

“Everything that we can’t fit in our bags,” Su Baiyin tells him. “It’s okay. Rishan will have the other things. I’m sure he won’t mind sharing.”

“What about the books?”

“You’ve already read all the books, Haizi,” Su Baiyin says. “We’ll leave them here, and find you some new ones, okay?”

Liu Sang bites his lip. “Are we ever going to come back home?”

At this, Su Baiyin sighs, a little sadly. She holds out her hand. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But if you’re with me, then I won’t be scared or sad, and if I miss our house too much, I’ll just come find you, because you have all of our home inside you. Do you think that’ll work?”

Liu Sang thinks about it. He doesn’t want to leave their house, necessarily, because he thinks he’d miss it, but actually what he’d miss is Su Baiyin. If she’s coming with him, he won’t have to miss her. And also he really wants to go on an adventure.

“Yes,” he decides, curling his own fingers around Su Baiyin’s.

She smiles at him again, and it’s a soft, warm thing, and he smiles back at her, which seems to make her happy.

“Alright,” she says, “Let’s go.”

They leave their house, hand in hand, not bothering to lock it behind them, because they never do. Su Baiyin takes them around the back and into the edge of the forest, slipping between the trees expertly.

Yincangui is set up like this: it’s a small planet, so their city is where most of the inhabitants stay. There are a few groups who travel for scientific purposes, or just because they want to, but for the most part people stay in the city proper.  On one side of the city is the beach and the ocean, which connect in a semicircle to the forest on the other side, which covers the rest of the city and the land, up to the mountain range where the Guards are.  

The Guards don’t really do much. They learned in school that the Guards are responsible for keeping Yincangui safe, but Su Baiyin told him that they’re really just for decoration. The two statues stand at the mouth of the mountain tunnel, which winds through the base of the tallest mountain, sort of like a naturally-formed entrance. No one really goes in or out that way, except for the science groups, and disciples when they finish their training and attend the graduation ceremony.

Liu Sang’s never been to see the Guards, but he’s knows that’s where they’re going, and that’s how he knows that they really are leaving, no matter how much his still-sleepy brain says that maybe Su Baiyin is just tricking him, and they’ll be back home in time for lunch. The other way he knows this is that Su Baiyin has never lied to him.

They reach the end of the forest and Su Baiyin tugs him gently over to a crack in the rock. It seems too small for anyone to fit through, but that turns out to just be an illusion. When Liu Sang looks closely, he can see that the cave splits into two layers, one overlying the other, and leads into a long, dark stretch of rock. He puts out a tentative pulsing frequency and discovers that it goes very, very deep into the mountain.

“Do you want light?” Su Baiyin asks him, but Liu Sang shakes his head. He’s never been afraid of the dark. If he can’t see, he just chirps a few times and listens as his sounds echo off of the things around him, creating a complete picture in his head. It’s almost better than seeing, because he doesn’t miss the important facts. He may not be able to see the color of a field of flowers, but he knows exactly how many there are, and how to walk so that he doesn’t step on a single one.

They step into the tunnel. Su Baiyin takes charge of putting out sounds for them. It’s a little different for Liu Sang, because he’s behind Su Baiyin, and also shorter than she is, so the sounds echo strangely, making everything seem looming and ominous, but Liu Sang has a firm grip on her hand and Su Baiyin always bounces her frequencies low enough to give him a good view of their surroundings.

The trek takes a longer than Liu Sang expected, and he’s just started to get a little wary of how the rock walls are pressing so close to them, but finally, he hears the mouth of the cave and sees light begin to flicker at the center of his pupils. They come to the entrance, stopping just before exiting the tunnel.

“We’ll wait here,” Su Baiyin says. She peers outside briefly, eyes scanning the sky. “Breakfast?”

It’s about midmorning now, and Liu Sang is hungry, so they sit on a little ledge jutting out from the cave wall and eat some bread with a milk paste spread thick on top; a little plain, but filling and familiar.

Su Baiyin keeps watch at the mouth of the cave, gazing up at the shimmering stretch of light at the top of the atmosphere, where the Black Hole Gate is. From the ground, it just looks like a silver scar, bisecting the clouds.

“Are you sure he’s coming?” Liu Sang asks. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been waiting, but it’s starting to seem like a very long time.

“Yes,” Su Baiyin murmurs absentmindedly, squinting in the light of the sun. “We planned this all out a long time ago. He was going to come and get me, and I would lock up the city, and then we would be able to leave together.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Su Baiyin looks down at him. “Because you came along, Haizi. And I didn’t want to take you away from here so suddenly. So Rishan and I decided that we’d wait until you were ready.”

“Oh,” Liu Sang says. He looks down at his legs, crossed underneath him. There are bread crumbs on his pants. “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t supposed to make you feel guilty, silly boy,” Su Baiyin says, crouching down next to him. “Sometimes you think your life is going to go in one direction, and then something happens or you meet someone and it changes. And sometimes you’re sad about it for a while, but then you know that this is how your life was meant to go, and then you realize that you’re happy.”

“Are you happy?” Liu Sang asks, because he is, he thinks, and he wants Su Baiyin to be happy with him.

Su Baiyin smooths his hair back, cups his face in her steady hands, kisses his forehead. “The happiest.” She flicks his cheek gently. “Now stop worrying.”

“Okay,” Liu Sang says, just as the sky flashes above them.

They go to the mouth of the cave, standing just within its shadow, and watch as the speck in the shimmering scratch turns into a black star against the clouds. Su Baiyin’s face is lit, and if she wasn’t happy before, she definitely is now.

“Rishan,” she murmurs. She squeezes Liu Sang’s hand briefly. “I told you he would come, didn’t I?”

Liu Sang can only nod, watching in amazement as the ship gets bigger and bigger above him. It looks just like Su Baiyin said it would; a smooth, shiny capsule with a veil of flame streaming out behind it, captured in light as it descends, a bird diving, wings outstretched. The treetops are brushed back by the force of it, bending to allow the craft to lower itself onto the ground.

Liu Sang’s hair is blown straight back. He puts an arm up to shield his face from the wind, and winces, because the engines are a sound he’s never heard before. They give off an unnatural sort of hum, a buzz that lodges itself deep in his skull, like water in his ears.

The engines have barely stopped when Su Baiyin is running out of the tunnel, legs pumping as she flies over the grass. The ship is maybe fifty meters away, far enough so that they weren’t knocked down by the landing, but Su Baiyin is covering the distance like it’s mere step.

The side of the ship slides open, and there’s a figure squeezing themselves out before the space is even fully realized, twisting free of the metal shell and sprinting just as quickly toward Su Baiyin.

They meet, Su Baiyin flying into Rishan’s outstretched arms, the force of her joy knocking him backwards, tripping over his heels and tumbling them both into the grass. Her face is hidden in the bowl of his shoulder as he lies on his back, arms wrapped around Su Baiyin’s body, holding her so tightly that Liu Sang thinks he can hear the muscles in Rishan’s arms trembling with the strain. Su Baiyin is whispering something to him, too softly for Liu Sang to make out the words, but he can hear her little gasps of breath as she speaks.

Liu Sang watches as they sit up together, and Rishan takes Su Baiyin’s face in his hands, examining her. She laughs, slaps him away gently, and then pushes herself to her feet, fingers outstretched to help Rishan back to his, and then they’re walking toward Liu Sang, palms still pressed firmly together.

Su Baiyin is smiling, wide and brilliant, so Liu Sang tries not to look apprehensive when she brings Rishan forward.

“Haizi, this is Rishan,” she introduces. “This is Haizi. Liu Sang.”

Liu Sang examines Rishan, and is surprised to hear that his heartbeat is pumping a little fast, and something about his natural sounds are slightly shaky, like he’s nervous. He doesn’t know what Rishan would have to be nervous about, because it’s just Liu Sang here, but maybe he’s afraid that they’ll get caught.

“It’s okay,” Liu Sang says reassuringly, “Bai-yi is very good at not getting in trouble.”

Rishan blinks, and then he laughs, a sound that’s light and airy and squeaks at the end, and Liu Sang likes him.

“You said he was good,” he says to Su Baiyin, and Liu Sang really likes him.

“He is,” Su Baiyin says, proudly. Liu Sang blushes under his bangs, ducking his head.

Rishan makes a questioning noise, and then tries to form the sound of Liu Sang’s name in Yincanguian, the pitch hovering a little bit. Su Baiyin says it correctly, patiently, and Rishan repeats it a few times until Liu Sang hears his name echo on the walls of the cave, a bit shaky, but it feels safe in Rishan’s smooth stone voice.

Su Baiyin beams at him, like he’s given her the world, and Rishan’s smile is soft and wondering in return, like this is a dream he hasn’t figured out is real.

“Are you ready?” he asks. “We had better hurry.”

Su Baiyin nods. “Haizi, I’m going to need your help.”

Liu Sang straightens his spine a little. He’s helped Su Baiyin before, sort of, but with things like washing the dishes and gardening and making sure birds don’t get into the house. This is obviously going to be a big, important thing, and he doesn’t want to let them down.

“What do I need to do?” he says.

Su Baiyin takes his bag from him and gives it to Rishan, along with her own. Rishan goes back to his ship to stow them.

“We have to lock Yincangui up, right here,” she says. “Do you remember how we trap pheasants back home?”

Liu Sang murmurs an affirmative. He also helps with hunting, another skill Su Baiyin taught him, by creating a bubble of high-pitched frequency between two rocks. When an animal wanders in—or is chased in, which is how they do it—the frequency overloads the brain and stuns them, leaving enough time for Su Baiyin to do the actual killing. It’s less specialized than the Execution frequency, which is a single pitch, a bare second of sound. This frequency is spread out over a larger area, so that they are sure to catch their prey, no matter what point they run into. Their hunting tactic could theoretically last for years, sound rebounding between two places, but they always break it before they move on so that other animals don’t get caught unnecessarily.

“We’re going to do that, in the tunnel,” Su Baiyin explains. “Only instead of the hunting frequency, we’re going to load it with Compulsion.”

Liu Sang starts, flinching backward.

Su Baiyin looks apologetic. “It’s not going to hurt anyone, just keep them away. You don’t have to do much, just seal the Compulsion at the end. I’m going to put as much psychic energy into it as I can, but you’ll need to put in the command. Do you think you can do that?”

Liu Sang bites his lip and looks behind him. It’s the perfect place to create a trap; with how the cave walls are laid out, the sound will be able to echo itself for years. The problem is that he doesn’t like trapping people.

“Why?” he aks, stalling for time, brain desperately trying to come up with an excuse not to do it.

“Because if anyone finds this entrance, Yincangui could be in a lot of trouble,” Su Baiyin explains. “After Rishan and Fo-ye, we’ve gotten very good at watching the skies for threats, and the pulsars will take out anything within their range, but the tunnel is something that they don’t keep track of. There are people out there who would love to have our gifts, Haizi, and if someone was already able to find us, more will be able to in the future. It might be years from now, but they’ll eventually figure it out. So this is our parting gift, alright? We’re just going to keep people away. We aren’t going to hurt them.”

Liu Sang thinks about that. He doesn’t want other people going into Yincangui and hurting the people in there, but he also doesn’t want to hurt anyone coming from the outside.

“But what if they’re good?” he asks. “Like Rishan?”

“They might be,” Su Baiyin says. “But they could also be bad. It’s a risk that we can’t afford to take.” She takes his hand, gently. “It’s for their safety as well as ours. The Elders aren’t known for giving anyone the benefit of the doubt.”

That’s certainly true. Liu Sang must make some sort of face, because Su Baiyin laughs at him, just a little huff of air, and he knows that she knows that he’s already agreed.

Rishan comes back, a quizzical look on his face. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just be ready to get out of here,” Su Baiyin tells him, and then kisses him on the cheek. Liu Sang frowns. He knew that they liked each other, but kissing is a weird old people thing, and if they start doing that in front of him, he might go back inside and give himself up to the Council.

They stand just outside the entrance of the tunnel, feet firmly planted. Liu Sang sucks in a breath, then another. He doesn’t want to be nervous. There’s no reason to be. Su Baiyin is going to do all the work.

“Alright,” she says, “I’m starting.”

Liu Sang can feel when the psychic energy shifts. Just like with their traps, Su Baiyin calls up a frequency in the back of her throat, pulsing it outwards slowly so that it has time to catch itself in a feedback loop.  The hunting frequency doesn’t sound pleasant when they’re making it, but this is an entirely new kind of discord. Liu Sang’s teeth are standing on edge and he digs his toes into the soles of his shoes, trying to keep them from curling inward.

Su Baiyin’s note is trembling, ever so slightly. She pushes it out, her eyes steel focused, weaving together a web of sound that will permeate through the tunnel, rippling over and over itself. Liu Sang watches until he receives an okay, a quick flick of her chin.

He summons his own sound, inhaling deeply and vibrating it through his vocal chords, matching Su Baiyin’s pitch with his own voice. She’s already pushing the current back, her frequency stronger than anyone he’s ever met, so it’s easy for him to slip in and wade upstream, against the natural beat of their homeworld.

His ears find the space that Su Baiyin’s left him, a pinhole gap in the net she’s weaving. He positions his sound neatly next to hers, and clamps the two together.

“Stay away,” he says, feeling the Compulsion flow out of him, smoothing down the edges and welding their trick to the stone. For good measure, he adds, “It’s dangerous here.”

He ends the command on a hum, continuing the frequency as he slowly turns his head to look at Su Baiyin. They have to cut off the sound at the exact same time, a full-stop, or the trap will have a weakness, a stitch out of place.

Luckily, he’s very familiar with Su Baiyin’s method of conducting, so all it takes is a quirk of her eyebrow for him to recognize the preparation, and then they exhale on the same beat, the rest of the air leaving their lungs all at once, cutting the note off and releasing their hold on the trap.

Liu Sang finds himself swaying for a moment, feeling suddenly exhausted. He hears Rishan cry out in alarm behind him, and blinks when he sees Su Baiyin crumpled on the grass next to him.

His legs decide that they also would like to stop working, so he sits down heavily next to her.

Rishan is propping Su Baiyin up, her head lolling against his chest. There’s blood running from her nose, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

“I’m fine,” she murmurs, gathering her sleeve over her palm and pressing it to her face. “Just give me a minute.” Her eyes find Liu Sang. “Haizi?”

“Tired,” Liu Sang says.

“You did so well,” Su Baiyin tells him. She coughs, spits a mouthful of blood onto the grass. Rishan makes an alarmed noise. “It’s fine, I just swallowed it. I’m not bleeding internally.”

“Bleeding externally is still bad,” Rishan says unhappily.

“You worry too much,” Su Baiyin says.

Liu Sang yawns, ignores the pulsing in his temple that signals an oncoming headache, and pushes himself back to his feet to check on their work. They always check their traps, because a misplaced sound or an uneven one could mean the difference between having dinner and going hungry.

It is, in his opinion, the best trap they’ve ever made. The threads are strong and supple, woven so tightly together that Liu Sang can’t hear anything else through them. He gives a little chirp, bouncing it off of their invisible tapestry, and it flies right back to him as though he directed it at solid rock.

“Good?” Su Baiyin asks.

“Good,” Liu Sang confirms, and Su Baiyin doesn’t even need to check for herself, just nods and accepts his word for it, which makes Liu Sang feel proud and grown-up.

Rishan helps her stand, steadying her as she leans heavily against him. “Stop fretting,” Su Baiyin commands, even though she’s pale, the tops of her cheekbones bleached white. “Let’s go.”

Rishan nods and they walk toward Rishan’s ship, bodies pressed together like they’re trying to be one person. Liu Sang looks back into the tunnel. It seems just as innocuous as it was when they entered, but if he listens closely enough, he can almost hear a warning sort of message, something that makes him want to turn around and go.

So he does, trailing Rishan and Su Baiyin into the ship.

He stops upon entry. The shuttle isn’t very big, not even the size of their house. It’s circular, all one room, with a bunk built into the wall and a cabin at the back. The front is made up of what looks like a table, a semi-circle that lines the big window in front, filled with flashing lights and buttons and switches. Liu Sang has no idea what any of them do. There’s one seat in the midst of all the busy electronics, and two others behind it. Liu Sang listens closely, but despite all the lights and movements on the controls, they don’t make specific sounds, all blending together in one electronic hum.

It’s one of the weirdest things he’s ever seen, and he knows he probably looks ridiculous, stupefied and wonderous, but he can’t help it.

Su Baiyin doesn’t seem nearly as amazed at the contents of the ship, because she had been in Rishan’s old one. Never when it was functioning, but she had told him what it was like. Her description had not done it justice.

“It’s nice,” Su Baiyin says to Rishan. “Much flashier than the other one.”

“I upgraded.” Rishan shrugs.

Su Baiyin points to the seat next to her. “Haizi, sit down.”

Liu Sang does, very gingerly, and almost squeaks when he feels the material of the seat enshroud the muscles of his legs and back with soft foam, like he’s sinking into soft sand. He looks at Su Baiyin in alarm.

She smiles reassuringly, though her eyes are tired. “It’s supposed to do that. It protects you.” She pulls a strap away from her chest, nodding to him. “Put your seatbelt on.”

He doesn’t know what a seatbelt is, but finds his own strap attached to the side of the seat and tugs it across his chest in a mimicry of Su Baiyin. The end of the strap hooks itself into a clasp near his hip, and he yelps as it slaps tight across his torso, locking him in like magic. He glances to Su Baiyin in alarm, but she’s got her head tipped back, eyes closed, lines of pain tense on her forehead, but she doesn’t look worried, so he tries to relax.

Rishan is up in the center seat, flipping a bunch of switches, and Liu Sang hears the ship begin to purr as it starts up. Rishan grips a sort of lever at his side, looking back over his shoulder at them.

“We’re ready,” he says.

“Go,” Su Baiyin murmurs, and Rishan does.

Liu Sang’s fingers tighten on his seat as the ship rises off the ground, grass blurring together as it hovers. Rishan pushes them forward, slowly, skimming through the trees at a gentle, swimming pace.

“I’m getting as far away from the city as possible, before we get into the sky,” he explains. “Maybe they won’t notice us.”

“I’m sure they already have,” Su Baiyin mutters. “But good idea.”

Liu Sang just watches the trees speed past. His eyes sting, and he realizes that he’s forgetting to blink.

“Here we go,” Rishan says, and pulls back on the lever.

The ship tips upward, and Liu Sang feels his stomach drop to somewhere around his feet as they pick up speed, hurtling into the clouds. He whimpers, and Su Baiyin reaches over to squeeze his wrist. He wants to take her hand, but he’s frozen in his seat.

The sky gets lighter and lighter as they go into the Gate, the silvery split shimmering in front of them. Liu Sang wonders if it will hurt, and presses his eyes shut. Nothing changes. The ship continues forward, and then the color splashed on his closed eyelids changes from a lit gray to a deep, rich black, and he peeks out from under his lashes, then opens his eyes fully.

They’ve made it, and space is beautiful. It’s deep color, bright specks of stars against a black backdrop. Galaxies swirl at the edges of his vision, and he can make out fluffy clouds of dust and smoke. It’s huge, infinite and full.

Su Baiyin’s staring ahead, just as intently. Her fingers are still curled loosely around his wrist, and he manages to pry his own free just enough to flip his hand around, holding hers back.

“Look at it,” Su Baiyin murmurs. “Look at it, Haizi.”

He is.

Rishan exhales steadily. “We’re through,” he says, turning in his seat, a grin brighter than any of the stars outside flashing on his cheeks. “What do you think?”

Su Baiyin has tears running down her face, relief and joy playing there in equal measure. “I never thought…” she trails off, and then suddenly frowns. “What’s that?”

Rishan and Liu Sang look back out. It takes him a moment, but then he notices a glint of white streaking across the windshield, getting bigger as, suddenly, another shuttle appears fully, more boxy than Rishan’s but still moving fast and sure. Headed directly for the Black Hole Gate, for Yincangui.

“Stop them!” Su Baiyin yells.

“Shit,” Rishan says, and then whips their ship into gear, pressing them forward, directly toward the other vessel.

“Wait, what?” Liu Sang says, just as Rishan tips them on their side and uses the bottom of their ship to scrap along the glowing engine of the other craft. Su Baiyin shouts, Rishan huffs, and they swing around, watching as the stranger’s flight pattern falters, and their engine shuts off with a cloud of smoke, going black.

“Zhang Rishan,” Su Baiyin says, with a measured sort of patience in her voice. “What the fuck.”

“You told me to stop them!” Zhang Rishan says. “How else was I supposed to do it? The bottom of the hull is specially reinforced, it’s fine.”

Su Baiyin mutters an unpleasant phrase in Yincanguian.

“What does that mean?” Zhang Rishan asks.

Before Su Baiyin can answer, writing flashes across the windshield. Liu Sang has no idea what it says, but Zhang Rishan says, “They’re hailing us.” He presses a button, and the front screen flickers, blocking off the view of the other ship, but pulling up a picture of a man, looking very unhappy.

“What was that for?” he demands, and Liu Sang sits up straighter in his seat, because that’s the other voice from the box, the one that made Su Baiyin destroy the radio. From the way she goes tense in her seat, he knows that Su Baiyin has recognized it too.

“You can’t go in there,” Zhang Rishan says.

“Who are you?”

“Uh.” Zhang Rishan glances back at Su Baiyin, who just widens her eyes at him, like she’s telling him to come up with something. “Space cops?”

Su Baiyin groans, slumping in her seat.

“No, you’re not,” the man says, looking confused.

“Fine, we’re not,” Zhang Rishan confirms. “But you really can’t go in there.”

“Well, now I can’t,” the man grumbles. “You wrecked my vessel.”

“Sorry,” Zhang Rishan says, but he does not sound very apologetic.

“So, can I come aboard yours?”

“What?” Zhang Rishan says, glaring at the screen. “No.”

“You destroyed my engine!” the other pilot cries. “How am I supposed to go anywhere? You can’t just expect me to float around out here until I die.”

“Let him on,” Su Baiyin says.

“Are you sure?” Zhang Rishan asks.

“Yes,” Su Baiyin says. “We need to figure out what he wants.”

Zhang Rishan doesn’t look convinced by this, but he says, “Okay. We’ll line up with your door. We don’t have a docking seal, though, so you’ll have to tether yourself.”

“Fine,” the stranger says. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

He ends the transmission, blipping off of the screen.

“Shit,” ZhangRishan says again.

“That’s the one who found the transmission,” Su Baiyin says. Her face is getting paler by the minute, but she’s leaning forward against her seatbelt, like she’s getting ready to fight. “He knows about Yincangui.”

“Then we can’t let him go,” Zhang Rishan says. He frowns. “Do we…?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“No,” Su Baiyin says. “Not until we know what he’s up to.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, standing up, keeping her hand on the back of the chair to keep herself upright. “I’ll ask him.”

“Are you up for that?” Zhang Rishan asks, concerned.

“I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Su Baiyin mutters.

Something on the control panel beeps.

“He’s here,” Zhang Rishan says, and opens the door.

Liu Sang tries to make himself as small as possible in his seat as the outer door shuts, and the inner opens, a figure stepping in. It doesn’t look the man from the screen, because this person is dressed all in orange, with a backpack on, and his head wrapped in a giant black bubble, which Liu Sang does not like. The creature’s fingers reach up for the bottom of the bubble and lift it up, revealing the face of the man from the other ship.

“Ugh,” he says. “You really are going to make my life difficult, aren’t you?”

“Stop right there,” Su Baiyin says, her voiced laced with Compulsion. The man does, freezing in position, eyes going wide and blank. “Who are you? What do you want with Yincangui?”

“I’m Wu Sanxing,” the man says. “I’m a treasure hunter. Mostly. I want to see Yincangui.”

“Tell the truth,” Su Baiyin demands. Her knees tremble.

“I am,” Wu Sanxing says. “I’ve been looking for it forever. It’s supposed to be beautiful. I just want to see it.”

“You don’t know about the gift?” Su Baiyin asks. “Don’t lie.”

“What’s that?” Wu Sanxing asks.

“Hmm,” Su Baiyin says. “Okay.” And then her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses onto the floor of the ship.

“Bai-yi!” Liu Sang yells, fumbling at his seatbelt. He manages to get it undone and hurls himself next to Su Baiyin. Her nose is bleeding again. He pats her cheek, softly. “Bai-yi?”

Zhang Rishan is there, then, next to him. He puts two fingers under Su Baiyin’s jaw, sighing with relief when he finds a pulse. “She’ll be okay,” he says. “She just used too much energy, right? That can happen?”

“Yeah,” Liu Sang murmurs, but Su Baiyin doesn’t ever run out of power. Liu Sang’s never seen her with so much as a headache, and now she’s unconscious on the floor of a ship, and there’s a stranger in there with them, and he doesn’t even know Zhang Rishan that well. He grabs Su Baiyin’s hand, clutching it tightly.

“I’m going to take her over to the bed, okay?” Zhang Rishan tells him. He waits for Liu Sang to nod, then slips his arms under Su Baiyin’s body, lifting her off the floor. It’s only a few steps over to the bunk, Liu Sang still holding her hand. Zhang Rishan doesn’t make him let go, not even when he puts Su Baiyin down, smoothing her hair away from her face. Liu Sang kneels on the floor next to her, gazing at her closed eyes as if that will make them open again.

“Oh,” Wu Sanxing says. He hasn’t moved from his spot. “Are you guys a family?”

“Shut up,” Zhang Rishan says. “Go sit down or something.”

“I can’t,” Wu Sanxing says, and while he sounds a little perplexed by this, he doesn’t seem too disturbed. “My feet won’t move.”

Zhang Rishan glares at him like he’s crazy, but Liu Sang says, “Bai-yi Compelled him to stay there. She probably put in too much.”

“Will it wear off?” Zhang Rishan asks.

Liu Sang shrugs. “Maybe? Otherwise she’ll have to wake up and undo it.”

“Well, that’s one way to keep him secure,” Zhang Rishan mutters, and goes back to the pilot’s chair. “Do you need anything else from your ship?”

“Nope!” Wu Sanxing says cheerfully, like he’s on a delightful outing instead of being psychically captured and kidnapped. “I’ve got everything I need.”

“Alright,” Zhang Rishan says, and puts their ship into motion again.

“Though you do owe me a shuttle,” Wu Sanxing says, only swaying a little as they pick up speed. “Those aren’t cheap, you know. My nephew—I left him back on our home ship—is always getting after me about keeping the shuttles well-maintained so that we don’t have to pay for repairs, but one well-placed hit, and the thing’s toast. Ironic, isn’t it? I’ll have to tell him.”

“There’s another one of you?” Zhang Rishan mumbles, half-focused on driving. “Great. Does he know about Yincangui too?”

“Yes,” Wu Sanxing says. “So killing me won’t do any good.”

Zhang Rishan turns his chair around fully. “Who said anything about killing you?”

Wu Sanxing smiles. “Oh, so you’re not criminals!” he exclaims. “Good. I thought not, what with the kid, but maybe he was just a very small criminal.”

“I’m not a criminal,” Liu Sang says.

“Me neither,” Wu Sanxing tells him. “Well. That may be a bit of an exaggeration. Because, have I done crime? Yes. Do I consider myself a criminal? Not really.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Zhang Rishan asks, looking more and more annoyed with Wu Sanxing.

“Not usually,” Wu Sanxing says. “It’s mostly a defense mechanism, I think. If I keep talking, you’ll either get too annoyed to keep me around, or I’ll eventually talk my way out of things. It’s worked out so far.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Zhang Rishan says, “We’re not letting you go.”

“Talking my way out it is,” Wu Sanxing says. He looks around himself, as casually as if he’s trying to decide what to eat for lunch. He slings his backpack off of his shoulder and bends his knees, crouching to get comfortable on the floor without moving his feet. He wiggles his fingers at Liu Sang. “Hi.”

Liu Sang ignores him.

“What are you all doing out here?” Wu Sanxing asks, not offended in the slightest. “You obviously know about Yincangui, too, which is interesting. No one knows about Yincangui. I’ve been hunting down information for years, and it’s most been fruitless. So where did you all come from?” When no one answers, he just continues. “It’s been a tough search, but I got lucky last night, and I came here as fast as I could. And I was just about to find it, wasn’t I? That’s why you crashed into me? Cause I’ve been around for a while, and people only do stupid things like that when they’re desperate. You could have seriously damaged your own ship. Also, now you’re stuck with me.”

“I am regretting that decision more by the minute,” Zhang Rishan mumbles, re-focused on flying.

Wu Sanxing raises an eyebrow at his back. “Prickly, aren’t you?” He rolls his eyes at Liu Sang, like they’re sharing a secret. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says, because she has to be.

“Is that your mom?”

“No,” Liu Sang says, but something about that makes him clench his fingers tighter around Su Baiyin’s.

“What’s your name?” Wu Sanxing asks.

“Stop talking to him,” Zhang Rishan gripes.

“Fine, what’s your name then?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Wu Sanxing says. “Suits you. Captain Nothing. Has a nice ring to it.” He nods to Su Baiyin. “Or is she the captain?”

“No one’s the captain,” Zhang Rishan says.

“Huh,” Wu Sanxing says. “Interesting.” He smiles at Liu Sang. “I’m not a captain either. It’s just me and my nephew on our ship. We do research. Planet hopping, you know. Finding interesting things. Yincangui was supposed to be our big find.” He chuckles, a little ruefully. “He’s going to be wondering where I am. He was sleeping when I found the transmission, and I didn’t want to disappoint him if it turned out to be nothing, so I was going to go and see for myself, and then go back and tell him.” He sighs, a little more dramatically than perhaps is warranted. “Guess he’ll be waiting awhile.”

“Sad nephews aren’t going to help you,” Zhang Rishan calls.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Wu Sanxing yells back. To Liu Sang, he says, “You remind me of him, a little bit, when he was younger. He’s all grown up now, twenty years old, but he had the same type of eyes. All big and curious. You look like you’re a fast learner. Smart kid, right?” Liu Sang doesn’t answer, but Wu Sanxing just laughs. “Like I said, smart kid. Don’t give information out to strangers. She taught you well.” He looks down at his feet, shifting his weight as if they’re suddenly going to come unglued from the floor and sighs when they don’t, though he doesn’t look too disappointed. “Can you undo this?”

Liu Sang grimaces. “No.”

“You sure?” Wu Sanxing asks. “You seem like the type of kid who can do a lot of things. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, am I right?”

“That’s it,” Zhang Rishan says, pushing himself back and stomping over to Wu Sanxing. “Shut up, or I will make you.”

“Oh?” Wu Sanxing says, tongue between his teeth. “How are you going to do that, Captain Nothing?”

Zhang Rishan looks like he may be contemplating murder, but before he can say anything, Su Baiyin stirs, and he’s immediately next to Liu Sang, a hand on her forehead.

“Haizi?” she murmurs, eyes finding him first before they settle on Rishan. “Rishan, what…?”

“Hey,” Zhang Rishan says. “How are you feeling?”

“Hngh,” Su Baiyin says. Her half-closed eyes land on Wu Sanxing, still squatting on the floor. “What’s his deal?”

“You stuck my feet to the floor,” Wu Sanxing says cheerily.

“Oh,” Su Baiyin says. She pushes herself onto her elbows and says, “You can move again. Don’t hurt them.”

Wu Sanxing yelps as the Compulsion breaks and he falls onto his ass, which would be funny, but Liu Sang is distracted by Su Baiyin suddenly leaning over the side of the bed and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

“Baiyin!” Zhang Rishan exclaims, gripping her shoulders as she threatens to follow the mess on the floor. She’s gotten blood on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Baiyin, please, what’s wrong?”

“M’fine,” Su Baiyin says, and Liu Sang wants to yell at her, because she is not fine, very clearly not fine, and it’s not helpful that she keeps insisting that she is. “I’m going to—” It becomes apparent what the end of that sentence is going to be, even though she doesn’t say it, passing out again before she gets the chance, head rolling limply on her neck.

Liu Sang wants to cry, but he manages not to as Zhang Rishan maneuvers her into lying down again.

“Shit,” he mutters once she’s settled, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t good.”

“She’s in danger?” Wu Sanxing asks, and Liu Sang had almost forgotten he was there.

He and Zhang Rishan both turn to look at Wu Sanxing, who’s standing up again now that his feet are free, and brushing off his jumpsuit.

“She just needs to rest,” Zhang Rishan says, but it doesn’t sound convincing.

“I know a doctor,” Wu Sanxing says. “A really good one. He’d be able to help.”

Zhang Rishan folds his arms, squinting at Wu Sanxing suspiciously. “Where?”

“Not too far,” Wu Sanxing says, “Alfenathor. Maybe three systems away. You know it?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Rishan says slowly, still frowning. “Why?”

Wu Sanxing shrugs. “I’m not just going to let someone die. Like I said, I’m not a criminal.”

“She’s dying?” Liu Sang says, and both adults turn to gaze down at him, making him feel very small and very afraid. He wraps his fingers into Su Baiyin’s sleeve to make sure she doesn’t suddenly leave him.

Wu Sanxing bends down to smile at him. “Of course not. She seems strong, your Bai-yi. That’s what you called her, right? She won’t go easily, I don’t think.” He nods to Liu Sang’s hand, clutching Su Baiyin’s. “She needs someone to watch over her, though. Keep her company so she doesn’t wake up alone. Do you think you can stay with her? Rishan and I will need to pilot the ship.” Rishan sputters at being addressed by his actual name, which Wu Sanxing had apparently caught when Su Baiyin said it.  

Liu Sang was going to stay with her anyway, but if this will get Wu Sanxing to take them to get help, he’ll agree, so he nods slowly.

“Good boy,” Wu Sanxing tells him. He stands and claps Zhang Rishan on the back. “Come on then, Rishan Nothing. I’ll give you the coordinates.”

“It’s Zhang Rishan,” Zhang Rishan mutters darkly. “We’re not friends.”

“Mm hmm,” Wu Sanxing says mildly. “Come on, ShanShan.”

Zhang Rishan makes a horrified noise, but allows himself to be led over to the controls.

Liu Sang stays on the floor for a little while, but even holding Su Baiyin’s hand doesn’t feel close enough, so he climbs onto end of the bunk, sliding over her feet and pressing himself between Su Baiyin and the wall. He watches her chest rise and fall, trying to keep his eyes open so that he doesn’t miss anything.

The beeps and hums of the ship are soothing, though, if a little strange, and he can’t help but doze, because his own head hurts a little bit, and when he blinks back into consciousness, the lights are dim, Wu Sanxing in the pilot’s seat. Zhang Rishan has taken Liu Sang’s spot on the floor, one hand holding Su Baiyin’s, the other being used as a pillow as he sleeps next to them.

Liu Sang sits up, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes. Someone put a blanket over them while they slept, which he pushes off of his legs, tucking it around Su Baiyin, a little sloppily. He puts his palm against her forehead. She’s a little warmer than normal, but otherwise seems alright, so he climbs over her legs again, careful not to disturb Zhang Rishan on the floor, and wanders over to the controls to look out the window.

“Hey,” Wu Sanxing whispers when he comes up next to him. “Sleep well?”

Liu Sang side-eyes him. Wu Sanxing looks perfectly normal, perfectly pleasant, but there’s a strange little hop in his blood pressure whenever he talks that makes Liu Sang suspicious. It sounds like he’s trying to play a trick, even though his smooth hair and impassive expressions suggest otherwise. Liu Sang isn’t fooled by body language, so he doesn’t answer.

If Wu Sanxing is upset by that, he doesn’t say anything. “You’re Haizi, right?”

“No,” Liu Sang says vehemently. That’s Su Baiyin’s name for him. Wu Sanxing doesn’t get to claim ownership of that.

“Okay.” Wu Sanxing holds up his hands, chuckling a little. “No need to get angry. I just want to know what I should call you.”

Liu Sang sighs, and takes his naming whistle out from underneath his shirt, where he’d stowed it for safekeeping. He puts it to his lips and blows softly, making sure the note isn’t too loud, so that Zhang Rishan and Su Baiyin don’t wake up.

Wu Sanxing’s breath catches, so Liu Sang stops whistling abruptly, but Wu Sanxing is just smiling at him.

“That’s your name?” he asks. “Interesting. I’ve never met anyone with a note for a name.”

“Well,” Liu Sang says, shoving his whistle back beneath his shirt collar. Wu Sanxing’s eyes track it as he does. “Now you have.”

“Hmm.” Wu Sanxing purses his lips and trills a little, a thin, wavery note floating out. “Like that?”

“No,” Liu Sang says, and then whistles it using his own lips.

Wu Sanxing copies him, though he has to try a few times to even get into the right range, but eventually he has some approximation of Liu Sang’s name, so Liu Sang finally nods in approval. Wu Sanxing looks incredibly pleased, like Liu Sang has just given him an excellent gift.

“Now that we’re friends,” he says, “I think you can call me Sanshu.”

Liu Sang says. “I don’t think we’re friends.”

“Well, it’s going to be weird if you call me Wu Sanxing,” Wu Sanxing says. “With your big serious eyes. Just call me Sanshu. Like my nephew. He’s bigger than you, but he still calls me that.”

“Maybe,” Liu Sang says.

Wu Sanxing shrugs. “Good enough for me.” He sighs, looking out into space. “You’d like Xiao Xie, I think. That’s my nephew, by the way. Wu Xie. He’s got a penchant for getting himself into trouble, but he usually finds his way out of it again. One time he accidentally stumbled onto a swamp nest of goo-shooting insects, and got completely slimed, and the stuff wouldn’t wash out, and it stank. I wouldn’t even let him get back on the ship until he’d figured out a way to get it off. And do you know what he did? Just stood in the sun until the goo dried and he was able to chip it off with his pocket knife, because he’d noticed that the bugs liked living in the water, which meant that their goo was hydrophobic, but they didn’t like going out into the daylight, because they’d dried up. And he was right. Didn’t even leave an odor behind.”

“Where is he?” Liu Sang asks, despite himself, because this Xiao Xie does sound like an interesting person, and he doesn’t know why Wu Sanxing wouldn’t have brought him along.

“He’s back on our ship,” Wu Sanxing explains. “He’s a good boy, knows how to keep it running. We’ve been looking for Yincangui together, but I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case it turned out to be a lie. He always gets overeager about things, and then disappointed when they don’t work out. Very bad at being disappointed, too. Makes these stupid faces. It’s very annoying.” Wu Sanxing grins at Liu Sang. “Do you make stupid faces?”

“No,” Liu Sang says.

“I do,” Wu Sanxing announces, and then pulls a face so weird that Liu Sang can’t help but giggle, even though he claps both hands over his mouth to keep the sound in.

Sanshu’s face softens toward him, lines appearing next to his eyes. “There we go. I was thinking you looked too sad.”

This time, when Sanshu smiles at him, Liu Sang smiles back, just a little.

Of course, that’s when the ship decides to groan and lurch and suddenly shut off almost completely, the engines creaking and powering down, the constant hum suddenly vanishing, leaving them with dim light and silence.

“What the—?” Sanshu starts poking around on the dashboard, pressing buttons rapidly and flipping switches back and forth.

“What happened?” says Zhang Rishan’s voice, tired and grumpy. He comes up behind Liu Sang, glaring at the controls. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Sanshu protests. “It just shut down. Probably because… yeah. There. See?”

He pulls up a screen on the monitor. Liu Sang still can’t read it, but whatever it is makes Zhang Rishan grimace.

“Core failure?” Zhang Rishan says. “How did that happen?”

“This is just a guess,” Sanshu says, “But it might have been from when you rammed your ship into mine at full speed.”

“I used the hull!” Zhang Rishan exclaims. “It’s reinforced!”

“Reinforced doesn’t mean invulnerable,” Sanshu mutters. “Idiot.”
Zhang Rishan glares at him. “It was fine before now.”

“Well, we’ve been flying for a while,” Sanshu tells him. “It probably was damaged earlier and then we overworked it. Not exactly surprising. Why didn’t you just hail me or something?”

“Would you have listened?” Zhang Rishan demands.

“Probably not,” Sanshu says. “Fair point.” He stands from the pilot’s seat, stretching his arms above his head. “Is there any food on this ship?”

“Can you fix it?” Zhang Rishan asks.

Sanshu snorts. “I’m not a mechanic. Maybe, if we were on a planet with supplies and I had time. But you’ve got zero tools and zero experience, so no.” He slaps Zhang Rishan on the back. “Sorry, ShanShan.”

Zhang Rishan grabs his wrist, yanking him forward so that Sanshu is almost nose-to-nose with him. “Don’t touch me.”

Sanshu doesn’t even blink. “Touchy.” He very purposely unwraps Zhang Rishan’s fingers and removes his wrist. “Don’t worry. Your girlfriend made it so that I can’t hurt you, remember? You’ll be fine.” He meanders over to his bag, crouching down and rifling through it. “Luckily, I brought food with me.” He holds out some sort of wrapped package in Liu Sang’s direction. “You want one, kid?”

Liu Sang looks up at Zhang Rishan, who is breathing very heavily through his nose, but he doesn’t caution against it, so Liu Sang goes over to Sanshu, accepting the package, because he is very hungry. Sanshu gives him a bottle of water as well, and he takes that over to Su Baiyin, crawling back up onto the bed.

Her lips are parted in her sleep, so he busies himself with trickling some water into her mouth, watching to make sure she swallows it. Thankfully, she does, so he gives her a little more, and then sets about figuring how to unwrap the food Sanshu gave him.

“He’s a good kid,” he hears Sanshu whisper to Zhang Rishan.

“Don’t talk to him,” Zhang Rishan growls. “Just leave him alone. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need you manipulating him.”

“When are you going to believe that I’m not going to hurt you?”

“Mm. Never,” Zhang Rishan says.

Sanshu sighs. “Look, I have a friend flying in the area, around Qiutan. I’ll radio her. She’ll be able to pick us up. We’re far enough from the planet now, she won’t know where it is. Will that satisfy you?”

“No,” Rishan says, “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to get her some help,” Sanshu says.

Zhang Rishan’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Liu Sang finally gets the food unwrapped. It’s soft and spongy, sort of like bread, but when he takes a small bite, it’s sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and he almost spits it out in surprise.

“It’s pound cake,” Sanshu says. He’s sitting in one of the passenger seats now, having swiveled it around to face Liu Sang. He has his own pound cake, a few bites taken out of it already. “It’s Xiao Xie’s favorite. He always keeps some on the shuttles, just in case. And to keep it away from me, even though his hiding places aren’t that hidden. I’ll have to buy him some more the next time we go home.”

Liu Sang takes another bite, the sweetness not nearly as cloying this time. He likes the texture.

Sanshu nods in approval. He doesn’t say anything else to Liu Sang, just lets them eat in silence.

Liu Sang makes quick work of the pound cake and drinks some of the water, then gives Su Baiyin a little more. She’s a little more feverish, now, which makes him worried.

“She’ll be fine,” Sanshu says, seeming to pick up on his anxiety. He’s gotten a handheld device out from his bag and is busy typing something into it. He nods, satisfied, and then calls over to Zhang Rishan. “My friend says they can afford to make a detour.”

“What kind of friend?” Zhang Rishan asks.

“We’re… in the same business,” Sanshu says. “Also, we’re both fully human. So, y’know. You kind of know everyone.”

Rishan raises an eyebrow. “You’re part of the Nine Bloodlines?”

Sanshu looks embarrassed. “Yes. Well, technically. They don’t really like me.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Rishan grumbles. “What business?”

“Research, mostly,” Sanshu says, shrugging.

Liu Sang looks up at that, sharply, because his heart just sped up a little bit; not enough to catch him in a lie, but definitely not the full truth either. Zhang Rishan has no idea about this, though, so he just nods and goes back to fiddling with the ship controls.

Liu Sang holds on to Su Baiyin’s arm, wishing that she were awake, so she could tell him what to do.

“You should get packed up,” Sanshu says. “They should be here within the hour.” He grins blindingly. “See, isn’t it a good thing you ran into me? If not, you’d be floating out here without a leg to stand on.”

“If we hadn’t crashed into you, we wouldn’t need help,” Zhang Rishan mutters. “And Su Baiyin wouldn’t have had to use Compulsion on you and waste her energy.”

“Compulsion?” Sanshu says, and Zhang Rishan immediately pales. “Is that what it’s called? It’s a cool trick.”

Zhang Rishan shuts his mouth so hard that Liu Sang hears his teeth clack together. He starts rummaging around in the cabinets, pulling things out and sticking them in a sling bag. Liu Sang gets off the bed and goes to look through their bags, which haven’t even been opened since they got on the ship, so they don’t really need repacking, but Liu Sang wants to appear busy.

His knapsack holds a couple changes of clothes, some medical supplies, and food and water. Su Baiyin’s bag holds mostly the same, but there’s a light brown, leather bound notebook inside, as well as Su Baiyin’s silver bracelet, which she must have put in there for safekeeping. Liu Sang takes it out, moving it back and forth in the emergency lighting of the spacecraft. The light refractions paint spots on his face. It’s soothing, in a way.

From behind him, Zhang Rishan makes a choking noise. Liu Sang looks over his shoulder to see him staring, wide-eyed, at the piece of jewelry.

“Where did you get that?” he asks.

“It’s Su Baiyin’s,” Liu Sang says. “She’s had it for forever. I don’t know why she isn’t wearing it, she normally does.”

“Oh,” Zhang Rishan says, his voice very soft. His fingers twitch at his sides, and Liu Sang instinctively finds himself gripping the metal cuff tighter, so that it can’t be taken from him.

“It’s okay,” Su Baiyin’s voice says from the bunk. “It’s his, Haizi.”

“Bai-yi!” Liu Sang scrambles over to her bedside, Zhang Rishan just behind him. “You’re awake again.”

“Mm,” Su Baiyin says. She attempts to sit up, and Zhang Rishan takes her arms, helping her to lean back against the wall. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Liu Sang says, almost automatically, even though he knows Su Baiyin can see right through him.

She laughs, puts a hand on his cheek. “Of course you weren’t.” She holds her palm out. “May I?”

Liu Sang gives her the bracelet, because it’s hers, and she takes it gently, her other hand grabbing Zhang Rishan’s.

“I would have given it back sooner,” she says, “But… well. You know. Things came up.” She slides the bracelet onto his wrist solemnly. Zhang Rishan watches her do it, lips parted just barely, eyelashes fluttering and brow pinched. She holds his hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry, Rishan.”

“No,” Rishan says, his voice oddly choked. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. It’s always been my fault.” He shakes his head. “I never got to… I was able to apologize to you, I’ve never stopped apologizing to you, but… Fo-ye… he died without knowing how sorry I was.”

“He knew,” Su Baiyin whispers. “He didn’t blame us.”

Zhang Rishan’s lips crease, his jaw stiff. “Thank you. For staying with him. I was… I was angry, at first, but… thank you.”

Su Baiyin smiles sadly, hints of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She leans forward, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to Rishan’s, and this is another soft, private moment, so Liu Sang stands as quietly as he can and goes to Sanshu, who is back at the front of the ship, gazing intently out of the window and very pointedly ignoring whatever is going on behind him.

“They’ve got some history, huh?” Sanshu asks. He almost sounds disinterested, but Liu Sang can hear the prick of curiosity underlying his voice.

He stretches himself up as tall as he can, lifting his chin. “Don’t bother them.”

Sanshu makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “What is with you people?” He sighs. “I’m not going to bother them, kid. I’m just curious.”

“Me too,” Liu Sang admits, because this is the most he’s seen of Su Baiyin’s past, and it’s basically just Zhang Rishan, who he already sort of knew about.

Sanshu’s eyes sparkle. “Then we have a mystery to solve, don’t we? We should spy on them.”

Liu Sang frowns. “I don’t think that’s very nice.”

Sanshu taps a finger on his chin. “You have a point there. But how else are we going to solve the mystery?”

“Ask them,” Liu Sang says, because he can ask Su Baiyin anything, and she always gives him an answer of some kind.

Sanshu chuckles. “You are just like Xiao Xie. He never wants to do the unethical parts of mystery solving either, but sometimes you have to cross over to the wrong side of the tracks in order to get things done.”

“What are ‘tracks?’” Liu Sang asks.

“Ohhh,” Sanshu says. “You don’t have trains where you come from?” When Liu Sang shakes his head, Sanshu explains, “They’re long, metal railings on the ground, that ships with wheels run on. People use them to travel. ‘Crossing to the wrong side of the tracks’ is a human idiom. When you’re waiting for a train, you stand on one side of the track, so the train can pick you up and take you to where you want to go. ‘Crossing to the wrong side of the tracks’ means that you go on the side away from where you’re supposed to be.”

“Wouldn’t that take you away from where you want to go, then?” Liu Sang asks.

Sanshu shrugs. “Maybe. But sometimes where you want to go isn’t where you need to be.”

This doesn’t sound like a very logical concept to Liu Sang, because who goes somewhere they don’t need to be, so he decides that humans must be a little stupid, which is okay. If they’re all like Sanshu, then maybe they aren’t so bad.

Sanshu seems to take his silence as protest. “Fine,” he says, “We won’t spy on them, okay? I promise.” He holds out his smallest finger to Liu Sang.

“What?” Liu Sang asks.

Sanshu laughs. “It’s how humans swear something. You link your pinky to mine, and then it’s unbreakable.”

Liu Sang wrinkles his nose. “Is it magic?”

“No,” Sanshu says, “Just an old tradition. Which is a kind of magic in and of itself, I suppose. Lasting this long.” He shakes his hand a little. “Come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Cautiously, Liu Sang hooks his pinky around Sanshu’s, and the human punctuates their promise with a firm tug.

“There,” he says. “We’ve sworn, and we can never break it.” Something beeps in the vicinity of his pocket, and he pulls out the device he was handling earlier, face brightening as he reads the screen. “Hey, lovebirds! They’ll be here in five!”

Zhang Rishan sends a particularly nasty look Sanshu’s way. “Shut up,” he says.

Su Baiyin attempts to climb out of the bunk, and Zhang Rishan has to grab her arm when she wavers, but she manages to stay on her feet. “Who’s coming?”

“Friends of mine,” Sanshu says. Su Baiyin squints and opens her mouth, but Sanshu interrupts before she can say anything. “Don’t do your Compulsion thing! It’s fine, I promise. They’re perfectly decent people, and I didn’t tell them anything about you. Besides, they’re human, like me, so no freaky powers or anything like that.”

“Humans don’t need abilities to be dangerous,” Zhang Rishan says. “That’s why they’re dangerous.”

Sanshu gives him an exasperated look. “You all can control people with a word. I wouldn’t be worried if I were you.”

“Do we have any other choice?” Su Baiyin asks quietly.

Zhang Rishan still looks like he’s smelled something unpleasant, but he shakes his head. “Not if we want to get anywhere fast. Our ship’s dead in the water, and anyone I try to contact will be at least three days away. They were heading in the opposite direction, and to get them to turn around would just be exhausting.” He scoffs a little bit. “They’re not exactly cooperative.”

“My people are!” Sanshu claps his hands together. “And they’re almost at our doorstep, so let’s get ready to go! Grab your bag, kiddo.”

Liu Sang thinks that means him, so he dutifully goes and picks up both his and Su Baiyin’s bags, slinging them over his shoulders.

“I can carry my own bag, Haizi,” Su Baiyin says. He just stares at her, and she laughs. “Alright, fine. I’ll let you do it.”

Zhang Rishan has left her leaning on the back of a seat in order to grab his own bag, but he quickly comes back, putting his hands underneath Su Baiyin’s elbows to support her. “It’s going to be fine,” he says.

“I’m not worried,” Su Baiyin says. “You’ll be there.”

Zhang Rishan goes a very deep shade of pink, and Sanshu snorts.

There’s a flash in the corner of Liu Sang’s vision, and he turns to look out the windshield just as Sanshu says, “Here they are.”

As if by magic, a ship appears in the sky, and Liu Sang feels his eyes go wide. It’s much bigger than both their ship and Sanshu’s wrecked shuttle; a large, boxy vehicle that fills up their entire field of vision, blotting out the stars. It’s colored red and gray, fairly smooth, but every so often there will be a bump or attachment slapped onto the sides, like someone had stuck things on as an afterthought. There are three engines on the back that they can see as the ship swings around to come to their side, each pulsing with an orange glow. The sight of it gives Liu Sang vertigo, because he can’t hear anything from the ship, and something that big would have to make noise. He shakes his head, trying to see if that will change anything, but it doesn’t.

Su Baiyin seems to be having the same sort of trouble, because she’s grimacing as she leans against Rishan, but she still manages to explain it to Liu Sang. “Sound doesn’t travel in space, Haizi. It feels weird, doesn’t it?”

Liu Sang nods and looks away. His eyes are telling him one thing, but his ears, which have always been his main sense, are basically saying that the ship doesn’t exist, even though Liu Sang can see it right in front of him.

A hailing transmission pops up on the screen, revealing a man with closely-cropped hair and serious eyes, his mouth set in an unfriendly line. “Wu Sanxing?”

“Jiang Zisuan!” Sanshu says exuberantly. “How’s my favorite didi?”

Jiang Zisuan ignores this question. “Are you able to land in the shuttle bay?”

Sanshu makes a face. “Our engines are pretty much fried. We might have a couple hits left in the emergency thrusters, but I don’t know how accurate it’s going to be and we can’t float ourselves over. Not enough spacesuits.”

Jiang Zisuan nods. “I’ll come hook you up to a tow line.”

“A man of honor,” Sanshu says, pressing his hands together and giving Jiang Zisuan a little bow.

Jiang Zisuan continues to look unimpressed, and cuts the transmission.

“Excellent!” Sanshu exclaims. “We’ll be over there in no time. Jiang Zisuan is very efficient. A good pilot, too.”

“Is he your friend?” Zhang Rishan asks.

Sanshu waves a hand from side to side. “Eh. Sort of. He won’t ever say so.”

Liu Sang starts as their ship is tugged forward, wavering on his feet.

“See?” Sanshu says. “What did I tell you? Efficient.”

They gather near the doors, Sanshu in front, Su Baiyin and Zhang Rishan behind him, and Liu Sang pretending like he isn’t hiding at the back. Their ship is settled onto some sort of track, and Liu Sang can feel the clunk of gravity setting back in as they leave space entirely.

Sanshu pushes the button to open the door, revealing a wide-open bay, metal walls and stacks of boxes surrounding them. There are a few other ships parked inside, each with its own hatch to release it into space if necessary.

Three people are waiting for them when they depart; Jiang Zisuan, who is pulling off his spacesuit and mostly ignores them, and then a man and a woman, standing side by side, their backs straight and tight. Liu Sang shrinks back behind Su Baiyin a little more, because they exude an authority that he has yet to comprehend.

“A-Ning!” Sanshu says, throwing his arms wide. “It’s a pleasure to see you!”

“I would say the same thing, Wu Sanxing,” A-Ning says, “But that would be a lie.”

“Oh,” Sanshu scoffs, looking back at them to roll his eyes. “I know you love me.”

“That’s… one way of thinking about it.” Shouling Jiang steps forward, nodding to Zhang Rishan and Su Baiyin. “I’m Jiang Ning, the captain of this ship. I understand that you ran into some trouble recently?”

“Yes,” Zhang Rishan says, “Rather literally. Thank you for allowing us on board your vessel.”

“If you ran into Wu Sanxing, I’m surprised that it wasn’t worse,” Jiang Ning says. “He has a penchant for causing problems.”

Liu Sang glances at Sanshu, because this seems to be the truth, but Sanshu just shrugs.

“I’m a risk taker!” he says. “A-Ning, do you have a spare cabin? I can sleep with the rest of the science officers, but they need rest.”

“They can take my cabin,” Jiang Ning says. “I’ll stay with Zisuan.” Jiang Zisuan’s expression doesn’t even change upon hearing this news. “You know where it is, Wu Sanxing?”

“I’ll take them,” Wu Sanxing says. “Change the door code to mine?”

Jiang Ning nods in agreement, then gestures to the man still standing behind her. “This is my first officer. Mao Xincheng. If you need anything, feel free to ask him. Or myself, of course, though I might be harder to find.”

Liu Sang peers out from around Su Baiyin’s back to look at the first officer. He’s not as tall as Sanshu or Zhang Rishan, and doesn’t appear overly threatening, but there’s something about him that makes Liu Sang uneasy, like he’s going to blink and Mao Xincheng will have grown into a twisting vine, thick and thorny. Like all the cells in his body are vibrating just a little too slowly for him to really be considered alive. He seems almost a step out of sync with the rest of the world, but in a casual way, like he’s just leaning to the side and watching things go by.

Mao Xincheng meets Liu Sang’s eyes, and Liu Sang shivers.

“This way!” Sanshu says, gesturing them forward.

Zhang Rishan and Su Baiyin thank Jiang Ning once again, and then they all follow Sanshu out of the shuttle bay and into the corridors of Jiang Ning’s ship.

“Luckily, the captain’s cabin is close to the bridge and the kitchen, so you shouldn’t get too lost, but I’ll take you around,” Sanshu is saying as he leads them through the halls.

“Are you part of their crew?” Zhang Rishan asks.

Sanshu laughs. “No, I just hitch a ride with A-Ning sometimes. We end up in the same locations a lot of the time, so we help each other out, when we’re not trying to stab each other in the back.”

“What?” Su Baiyin asks, sounding alarmed.

“Not seriously,” Sanshu reassures her. “We’re competitors, so there’s a little animosity, but Jiang Ning is a good shouling. She wouldn’t leave us out to dry, not when we’re really desperate.”

“She wouldn’t leave you out to dry,” Zhang Rishan corrects. “Your Nine Bloodlines are built off of give-take relationships, but that doesn’t mean she would do the same for us.”

Sanshu sighs. “Can you be grateful for anything, for even a minute? You’re exhausting. Try to be at least slightly optimistic. She’s not going to throw you out on the first planet we get to, so calm down.”

Zhang Rishan bristles. “I’m just watching out for—”

“Rishan,” Su Baiyin says, “He’s right. They’re doing us a favor. Don’t look for trouble where there is none.”

Zhang Rishan doesn’t look happy about being told off for caution, but he doesn’t say anything further.

Sanshu brings them to a door that looks exactly the same as every other door on the ship. He keys in a code, and the panel slides open with a soft whoosh, revealing a dark cabin, simple furnishings revealed when Sanshu flips on the light. There’s a double bed and a closet lining one wall, a desk against another. Liu Sang can see a doorway that must lead to an attached bathroom.

“A-Ning might be by to pick up her clothes and things, but otherwise, no one should bother you,” Sanshu says. “I’ll come back to get you for dinner. Find me if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Su Baiyin tells him, softly. “I’m sorry we dragged you into this mess.”

Zhang Rishan makes a wordless sound of frustration.

Sanshu ignores him. “It’s understandable. I’m just glad you aren’t stuck out there by yourselves, or who knows what would have happened.” He nudges Zhang Rishan with an elbow. “Don’t worry, ShanShan. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Zhang Rishan says, glaring Sanshu down.

“Watch after them, okay, Liu Sang?” Sanshu says, ruffling Liu Sang’s hair when he nods. “Alright. I’ll let you rest for a bit.” He gives them one last cheery wave, and then disappears, door sliding closed behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, all of the energy seems to seep from Su Baiyin’s spine, and she clings onto Zhang Rishan’s arm. “Sorry. Give me a minute.”

“You need more than a minute,” Zhang Rishan says, but he doesn’t sound angry, only concerned. He leads her over to the bed, letting her sit down on the mattress. “You did a lot in a very short amount of time, Baiyin. It’s going to take a while for you to recover. Please don’t push yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Su Baiyin says. “If we need me to Compel, I’ll do it.”

“No,” Zhang Rishan says. “You won’t. You can’t keep giving like this. We’ll figure something else out. We’ve gotten this far. And… as much as I hate to admit it, Wu Sanxing may actually be a friend.”

“Even though you destroyed his ship?” Su Baiyin asks, teasing.

“Not my best idea,” Zhang Rishan mutters. “But it’s going to be fine. Liu Sang and I will take care of it.”

Liu Sang nods. “Bai-yi, I can help.”

“I know you can, Haizi,” Su Baiyin says. “But you don’t have to, alright? You can wait until you’re ready.”

“I can do it,” Liu Sang insists, even though the thought of actually Compelling someone makes his blood turn to static in his veins, but if this is what will make Su Baiyin better, then he will figure it out somehow.

“Okay,” Su Baiyin says gently. “I trust you.”

Liu Sang nods firmly.

Su Baiyin gazes between them, fondly. “I think I should sleep again.”

“We’ll wake you when there’s food,” Zhang Rishan tells her, which seems to be reassuring enough, because she lays down, closing her eyes, and it’s a testament to how she must be feeling, because Su Baiyin has never once gone to sleep before Liu Sang, but he hears her breathing even out almost immediately.

Zhang Rishan sighs. “Baiyin, what will I do with you?” He places the back of his hand against her forehead and his eyes go tight, worried. “She’s still warm.” He turns to Liu Sang. “Do you think you could go find water? You’ll be better at tracking Wu Sanxing down.”

Liu Sang nods, eager for something to do. He’s still not used to space travel, and while it’s better aboard a running ship, the lack of sound is setting him on edge, and he’d like a distraction.

He leaves Zhang Rishan with Su Baiyin and tentatively creeps into the hall, standing very still and listening as hard as he can. Despite all the whirs of machinery and buzzing of electricity, he’s always been better able to pick out biorhythms, and is able to pinpoint the heartbeat he’s already distinguished as Sanshu’s above all the other noises of the spacecraft. He must be talking to Jiang Ning, because the heartbeat next to his sounds nearly identical, which is typical of lifeforms of the same species.

He follows the faint beating of their hearts through the hallways, and it isn’t long before he finds them, standing in what sounds like a closet, given how all of the sounds are pressing in on each other instead of echoing like they would be in a larger space.

“What exactly do you want me to do about it?” Jiang Ning is saying.

“Go back,” Sanshu says. “I know how to get there now, and my ship is still floating around in space, like a marker. This is it, A-Ning. We can get out of Jiumen, finally.”

“You didn’t even see a planet,” Jiang Ning says. “I’m not going there on a whim, even if it is yours.”

“It’s not a whim,” Sanshu persists. “They… they’re clearly not used to space travel. And, the kid had one of the whistles. From the statues. Exactly the same.”

Liu Sang feels his breath stutter to a halt, because somehow, Sanshu has seen the Guards, and Liu Sang showed him his whistle, and he knows about Yincangui. He knows.

Jiang Ning sighs. “Did you get any useful hints? Like what the treasure of Yincangui actually is? How things Return?”

Sanshu’s voice sounds like it’s smiling. “That’s the thing, Ning. I don’t think it exists. Not physically anyway. But when I got there… they did something to me. They could make me do anything with a single word. I’ll be that they could doing anything. Like—”

“Like show someone their long-dead crew,” Jiang Ning breathes. “Like the journal said.”

“Mm hm,” Sanshu says, pleased. “Exactly like that. Think about what just a little of that power could do. Not only would we be famous for discovering a legend, but we could get Jiumen to do whatever we wanted. They’d have to let us go.”

Jiang Ning is quiet for a moment, thinking. “What about them?”

“What about them?” Sanshu asks. “They won’t be any trouble. The woman’s on her last legs, psychically, and I don’t think Zhang Rishan or the kid can Compel at all. If they could, they wouldn’t have made her do it, not when she’s sick like this. Trust me, Ning. This is our ticket. We just have to take it.”

Jiang Ning doesn’t seem to need any further convincing, because she barely hesitates before saying, “Alright. I’ll tell Zisuan.”

Liu Sang takes a stuttering breath and a step backward, his back knocking into someone. He jumps, whirling around, because he had been so focused on eavesdropping that he didn’t even hear someone come up behind him.

Mao Xincheng looks down at him, eyes unreadable. His frequency flickers, just a little bit, making Liu Sang’s heart jump up into his throat. He moves back, away from Mao Xincheng’s dark eyes.

“What’s this?” Sanshu’s voice says, and Liu Sang nearly jumps again. “Haizi, what are you doing out here?”

Liu Sang swallows. Sanshu’s smile is the same, but there’s something hidden in it now, or maybe it had always been there. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh?” Sanshu says, his expression freezing just a little. “Did you need something?”

“Water,” Liu Sang says, trying to keep the waver out of his voice.

“No problem,” Sanshu says, “I’ll show you where the kitchen is.” He nods pleasantly at Mao Xincheng, putting his hand on Liu Sang’s shoulder to steer him away. His grip is a little tighter than Liu Sang thinks it should be.

Liu Sang can feel Mao Xincheng’s eyes following them as they go down the hall and turn the corner.

Sanshu leads him to the kitchen, gathers some water bottles, and then delivers him back to Shouling Jiang’s cabin.

“Try not to wander around too much,” he says mildly. “I wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

He leaves Liu Sang with a final smile, slinking down the corridor, hands in his pockets and back a sloped curve, loose and casual.

Liu Sang stands, frozen, bottles of water sweating onto his palms, watching him go. The vast, untampered darkness of space buzzes around him, and Liu Sang feels very, very small.

He breathes, once, twice, and goes inside.

Chapter Text

When he returns, the cabin is dark and quiet. He can see Su Baiyin’s form on the bed, and Zhang Rishan must be beside her, because it’s a little too much of a person. Liu Sang tries to close the door quietly, but Zhang Rishan still stirs, sitting up gingerly so that he doesn’t disturb Su Baiyin.

“Okay?” he asks.

Liu Sang hesitates, because things aren’t actually okay, because he thinks they’re in danger, that they’re not safe anymore, and he feels off-kilter and strange, like there are bugs in his ears, filling his skull with filament. He doesn’t like it, and he doesn’t know what to do, because he thought that Sanshu was going to help them, so what if Zhang Rishan suddenly decides that he doesn’t want them anymore too?

So Liu Sang just nods, his stomach shriveling sickly, and brings the cold bottles of water over to the bed. Zhang Rishan takes one of them and presses it against his own neck, which seems strange, until Liu Sang looks closer and realizes that Zhang Rishan’s face is not only cast in shadow, but that there are black streaks marring his skin.

“Are you okay?” Liu Sang blurts.

Zhang Rishan laughs a little. “Yes,” he says, “This just happens.” He must sense that that’s not enough of an explanation for Liu Sang, because he continues. “My species has this regenerative ability that’s triggered with high temperatures. The black marks are my blood cells renewing themselves, dying and building new ones. If I’m injured badly enough, they’ll all do it at once, but usually it’s just a few at a time. I like to stand out in the sun sometimes to give them a quick jumpstart. Mend any minor damages.”

“There’s no sun in here,” Liu Sang says slowly.

“Her fever’s climbing,” Zhang Rishan murmurs. “It was heating me up too. Hence the—” He gestures to his face.

“Oh,” Liu Sang says, which seems inadequate, but he doesn’t have any other words.

Zhang Rishan collects the other bottles from Liu Sang, placing them at the vulnerable points of Su Baiyin’s body: two against her neck, one on each side; two disappear under the blanket. The final one Zhang Rishan cracks open, passing it to Liu Sang.

Liu Sang takes the water, sips it carefully. After he’s had enough, he hands the bottle back to Zhang Rishan, who drains the rest of it, keeping his eyes thoughtfully on Su Baiyin.

“We’ll wake her if she’s not up soon,” he says. “She needs to stay hydrated.” He folds his hands together. “How was the ship? See anything interesting?”

There’s a sudden spike in Liu Sang’s stomach, like Zhang Rishan knows that he’s lying, that he has seen something. Wake up, he thinks desperately at Su Baiyin. Bai-yi, wake up.

“No,” he says out loud. “Nothing interesting. It all looks the same. How are you supposed to find your way around?”

“You get used to it, I suppose,” Zhang Rishan says. “When you spend enough time on spaceships. My old ship—the one I was on before I met your Bai-yi—was even bigger than this one, if you can imagine that.”

“Did you like it?” Liu Sang asks.

Zhang Rishan smiles. It’s a little wistful, a little broken, but soft with a sort of everglow inside it. “Yes,” he says, “It was my home.” He turns a questioning eye to Liu Sang. “Did Baiyin ever tell you about Fo-ye?”

“A little,” Liu Sang says, because she had, on certain nights, when the stars were the clearest, and Liu Sang could imagine that he was seeing up into the sky, through the atmosphere and out into space, where a little ship had circled round a sun, Su Baiyin’s love with it, wrapped up in two different people.

“That’s where Fo-ye was,” Zhang Rishan says simply. “So of course I liked it.”

“Why did you leave Yincangui?” Liu Sang asks. He’s been wondering this since he first found out about Zhang Rishan’s voice, held in a box.

“I didn’t want to,” Zhang Rishan says, then pauses. “No. That’s not entirely true. I didn’t want to leave without Fo-ye or Baiyin. But I wanted to leave. The universe is very big, and I missed it. Yincangui just seemed too small.”

Liu Sang thinks he can understand that. For years, his world has been the house and the forest, and now that he’s seen the wide, black reaches of space, he doesn’t know if he could go back.

“Can I ask you something?” Zhang Rishan asks, and when Liu Sang nods, he continues. “Has she been… okay? Has she been happy?”

Liu Sang doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he says, because Su Baiyin had said so. “It took a while, I think, but she’s happy.”

“Okay,” Zhang Rishan breathes, “Okay. Good.” His eyes crinkle up, suddenly, and his teeth appear, a happy sort of look that reminds Liu Sang of seashells when the ocean pulls up the beach and lays them on the sand. “Thank you, by the way. For being there with her.”

“She saved me,” Liu Sang says simply, and Zhang Rishan nods.

“I think you saved each other,” he says.

Su Baiyin sleeps until Sanshu comes to collect them for food.

“Most of the crew already ate,” he whispers at the door, while Zhang Rishan shakes Su Baiyin gently. “I thought you would appreciate a quieter environment.”

“Thank you,” Su Baiyin says as Zhang Rishan helps her stand. She looks better than she had earlier, more color in her cheeks and the thin tremors gone. “I’m sure your friends are lovely, though.”

Sanshu snorts. “I’m only friends with Zisuan and A-Ning. The others come and go. It’s not exactly a stable crew.”

“Mercenaries?” Zhang Rishan asks.

Sanshu nods. “Don’t be afraid, though. A-Ning keeps them in line, and they don’t really care about anything except for when they’re getting their next paycheck. As long as we’re around, they won’t bother you. We pick up random passengers all the time.”

Liu Sang hangs back by Su Baiyin as they make the journey to dinner. If Sanshu notices, he doesn’t say anything, talking to Zhang Rishan.

“Were you on a ship at one point?” he asks when Zhang Rishan turns a corner without being prompted. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Zhang Rishan nods. “I was… a first officer, for a long time. But we were officially sanctioned. No offense.”

“None taken,” Sanshu says. “What happened?”

“We crashed,” Zhang Rishan says shortly, and that’s the end of that conversation.

Like Sanshu said, when they arrive at the mess hall, it’s almost empty. Shouling Jiang and her brother are sitting at one table, four empty places next to them, and there’s a person wearing an apron wiping down the tables.

Shouling Jiang greets them as they approach. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s filling.”

Jiang Zisuan doesn’t even acknowledge them, fully focused on eating.

It’s a quiet meal for them, because Su Baiyin is still recovering and Zhang Rishan does not seem like the type of person to make small talk and Liu Sang does not want to say anything to these people until he figures out what they want. Sanshu, however, keeps up a steady stream of conversation with Jiang Ning, telling a very detailed story about joining a band of space pirates for a few months.

“It was one of the most lucrative jobs I’ve ever taken,” he says.

“Because you just stole shit,” Jiang Ning says, then winces. “Uh, sorry. You stole stuff.”  

Liu Sang’s already heard the shit word, so he doesn’t mind, but given how all the adults get cagey about it, he guesses that it’s not something he’s supposed to say.

“As if you’re any better,” Sanshu snorts. “Weren’t you the one who scammed an entire species out of their heritage treasure?”

“I didn’t scam them,” Jiang Ning says. “I made a very rigged deal.”

“That’s what a scam is,” Jiang Zisuan mutters.

Jiang Ning gives him a playful shove with her elbow, and the corners of his mouth edge up, his heartbeat giving a happy sort of skip.

“How’s Wu Xie?” Jiang Ning asks, and Sanshu’s face immediately brightens.

“He’s good, he’s good!” he exclaims. “He’ll be upset that he missed out on this adventure, but he was just complaining about how we never have time to organize the library, so a couple days of downtown might be just what he needs to finally get that done. And then he can stop bothering me about it.”

“He could have come with you,” Jiang Zisuan says, and then immediately blushes.

Sanshu does not miss this. “Aw, do you miss him? You two were almost friendly last time we got together. He still talks about it, how much fun you had.”

“He talks about me?” Jiang Zisuan asks, a little bit too eager, because Sanshu cackles and scrubs his knuckles in Jiang Zisuan’s hair.

“You kids!” he says gleefully, as Jiang Zisuan pushes him away.

“I’m not a kid,” he says.

“Yes, I know,” Sanshu says. “Twenty is very grown up. Xiao Xie thinks so too.”

Jiang Ning says, almost offhandedly, “You’d make a good pair.”

“A pair?” Sanshu asks, his smile broadening. “You want to be a pair with my Xiao Xie?”

“No!” Jiang Zisuan says. His face has gone very red, and he stands up from the table, grabbing his dishes and stomping off.

Liu Sang frowns after him in confusion. Jiang Zisuan is not that much older than Liu Sang is, but apparently being twenty is very complicated, especially when you have to deal with other people. He decides not to worry about that, because he doesn’t even know anyone his own age anymore, and goes back to eating.

“Did you find the Jytokylipat tomb?” Jiang Ning asks. “Last I heard, you were close.”

Sanshu nods. “Xiao Xie tracked down some obscure bit of code that translated into a quadrant description. We were headed there when I got… sidetracked.”

“Is everything okay?” Jiang Ning asks, suddenly including them in the conversation, and she almost sounds concerned, but her heartbeat is just as level as it was a second ago. “Your ship wasn’t very well-equipped for a long journey.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be long,” Zhang Rishan says. “And everything’s fine.”

“Wu Sanxing said that you were looking for a doctor,” Jiang Ning continues. “I hope it’s not serious.”

“It’s not,” Su Baiyin says, and Liu Sang looks at her sharply, because there’s a hint of Compulsion in her voice, like she’s preparing for a fight.

“Good,” Jiang Ning says mildly, and puts her fork down. “I’ll leave you all, then. Have a good night.”

“Mm,” Su Baiyin responds. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

Sanshu shakes his head at Jiang Ning’s retreating back. “She’s not that bad.”

“If you hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have told you either,” Su Baiyin says. “The less they know about us, the better.”

“Not very friendly of you,” Sanshu says.

Su Baiyin stares at him with the look that she gives the water spigot when it’s not bringing up water fast enough. “Do I need to be?”

“No,” Sanshu says. “I guess not.”

They finish the rest of their meal in silence, and then Sanshu takes them back to their room.

“I’ll knock for breakfast,” he says at the door. “Get some rest.” He glances down the hallway. “I wouldn’t leave, if I were you. This crew isn’t exactly known for being friendly.”

“Once again,” Zhang Rishan mutters, “Love that you decided this was the best option.”

“Never said best,” Sanshu calls, already halfway down the hall. “Goodnight!”

Zhang Rishan sighs. “It’s too late to leave, isn’t it?”

“We’ll be fine,” Su Baiyin says, taking his hand as she presses in the code to the door. “I’m tired.”

There’s only one bed in the cabin; though it’s wider than a one-person bunk, it’s definitely not meant to sleep more than two people.
“I can sleep in the chair,” Zhang Rishan offers, but Su Baiyin just rolls her eyes at him.

“You won’t get any rest that way,” she says as she sits down on the edge of the mattress, sliding her shoes off and shifting back so that she’s lying closest to the wall. “Just come here.”

Zhang Rishan looks at Liu Sang, as if asking his opinion, and Liu Sang shrugs, toeing off his own shoes and climbing under the blanket to settle his head on Su Baiyin’s arm, which he’s doing because there aren’t enough pillows for all of them, and he’s small enough to use her shoulder. Not because he likes the feeling of her arm wrapped around him, keeping him pressed tightly against her, where he can hear her heartbeat pulsing gently through his skull.

He yawns, because he’s tired, too, and closes his eyes. He can feel when Zhang Rishan slides in next to him, tentatively, and presses in close. Liu Sang sleepily pats around until he finds Zhang Rishan’s wrist, and curls his fingers around it. Zhang Rishan gives a little inhalation of surprise, body going tense for a moment, but he relaxes, increment by increment, when Liu Sang doesn’t let go.

Liu Sang sighs, body feeling loose and soft and happy, and thinks that he could float away, into the stars.

He thinks he was supposed to be worried about something, but right now, he can’t remember what that is.

They’re woken by screams.

At first Liu Sang doesn’t know what he’s heard when he blinks awake in the dark. Su Baiyin and Zhang Rishan are still breathing deeply, though he can hear that Su Baiyin is on the edge of waking up. He wrinkles his nose, shifting under the blanket, until he hears another scream, louder than the first, accompanied by the sharp sizzle of something hot and fast.  

He sits up, the movement waking Zhang Rishan. Su Baiyin is already up, acute hearing finding the same sounds.

“What was that?” she asks.

Zhang Rishan gets out of the bed, slinking to the door on silent feet. He presses his ear to the wall, straining to make out what Liu Sang can hear clearly.

“They’re screaming,” Liu Sang says. “Out there.” Then he sits up very straight, because one of the shouts is familiar. “Sanshu!”

“Shit,” Zhang Rishan says. He flaps a hand at them, telling them to stay put. “I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful,” Su Baiyin says.

Zhang Rishan nods, and opens the door, but there’s no chance for him to leave the room due to the crewmember already framed in the light. They step in, and Zhang Rishan strikes out, the flat of his palm meeting their chin. The person staggers backward, and the blaster in their hand fires, shot going errant and splitting into the ceiling, but it’s still a sharp shock against Liu Sang’s ears, and he slaps his hands over them.

Zhang Rishan moves fluidly into the hallway, and Liu Sang can hear the grunts and shouts of people outside as Zhang Rishan’s fists make connections with their bodies. Liu Sang winces at the crack of bone from a particularly well-placed kick.

“I’m going to help him,” Su Baiyin says, yanking her shoes over her toes. “Stay here.”

“Bai-yi,” Liu Sang protests, but she just squeezes his arm and leaves. Liu Sang can hear her voice flooding itself with Compulsion even before she speaks.

“Stay where you are!” she commands, and it’s as if everything goes frozen, the sounds of fighting outside their room ceasing abruptly. Liu Sang can still hear people struggling further along in the ship. “Stop fighting!”

“Let us go!” one of the crewmembers shouts, furious.

“Rishan,” Su Baiyin gasps, and Liu Sang can hear how weak her voice has become, so he pulls on his own shoes and runs out into the hall. “You can move.”

Su Baiyin is leaning against the wall, head tipped to the side. Zhang Rishan is shaking off the effects of the Compulsion that left him frozen in a high kick, which can’t be comfortable, but he brings his body back into equilibrium and runs to Su Baiyin’s side.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I had it handled.”

Su Baiyin laughs. “You can have the next ones.” Liu Sang slips underneath her arm, and she pats his shoulder. “I’m alright, Haizi.”

“We should get out of here,” Zhang Rishan says. “Back to the ship.” He slips Su Baiyin’s arm over his shoulders. Liu Sang goes on her other side, still a little too short to be helpful, but keeps her from listing too far to the right as they stumble forward.

Liu Sang winces at the barrage of sounds that keep appearing, hot and short, abruptly cut off in a way that is unnatural and terrifying, like swatting flies. There’s so much going on, and he doesn’t know how to pinpoint the direction things are coming from, because they’re coming from everywhere, so he focuses on Su Baiyin’s ragged breathing and Zhang Rishan’s heartbeat, heightened but steady, as they half-stagger, half-run back to their tiny ship.

They might have made it, if a few hallways down they hadn’t rounded the corner and come face-to-face with ten laser blasters, twelve irate crew members, and Sanshu, who is sporting a split lip and a face full of fury.

His eyes widen when he sees them. “Go!”

Liu Sang starts backward, but then the weapons are being trained on them, and Zhang Rishan goes very, very still, so Liu Sang freezes too, just as more people come up behind them, led by Mao Xincheng. They’re dragging Jiang Ning, whose hair has come out of its pristine ponytail and is flickering around her face, and Jiang Zisuan, spitting insults as quickly as he can, until Mao Xincheng slaps him across the face.

“Don’t touch him!” Jiang Ning screams. She lashes out with her foot, but Mao Xincheng neatly sidesteps the attack and kicks out the back of her knee, sending her falling forward.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says.

Jiang Ning growls, glaring up at him underneath the flyaways along her hairline. “You son of a bitch.”

“Maybe,” Mao Xincheng says. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it.”

“How long have you been planning a mutiny?” Jiang Ning asks.

“Long enough that it didn’t take much work to get everyone mobilized,” Mao Xincheng says. “You should really keep track of what your crew is doing in their spare time.”

“Three years,” Jiang Ning seethes. “You’ve been under me for three years. Why did you wait?”

“For the payoff,” Mao Xincheng says. “You never let us go after the big jobs, the ones that would have made us rich beyond belief. We’re tired of going on half-cocked missions, throwing spitballs at caskets that might yield treasure. It’s demeaning, frankly.”

“We had to outrun the Nine,” Jiang Ning says. “Had to stay under their radar. We couldn’t take the big jobs.”

“You had to outrun the Nine,” Mao Xincheng corrects. “None of the rest of us are human, except you, your brother, and Wu Sanxing. The Nine Bloodlines could care less what we do.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Sanshu says, “If you kill us, they’ll be on your doorstep in days. Vitality trackers. As soon as I die, they beam my location directly to my family. Quite the problem for you, Mao-ye. Which you knew already.”

Mao Xincheng says. “Which is why I can’t kill you, unfortunately. The Jiangs here, however—they don’t have a Bloodline to back them, do they? No one will miss a couple of normal humans being squashed from the universe.”

“Do you really want to gamble with that?” Sanshu asks.

“I’ve spent a lot of time playing it safe,” Mao Xincheng says, running his fingers along the edge of his gun. “Ship’s under new management now. We’re going to take the risk.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jiang Ning spits, her teeth bared, full of sharp fury. “You can’t access any of the ship’s functions. You aren’t the shouling. They’re coded to me.”

“True,” Mao Xincheng says, “The ship is yours as long as you’re alive.”

He’s already pulling the trigger on his blaster as he finishes the sentence, and Jiang Zisuan shouts, and then Su Baiyin, because in the single space of the gun firing, Zhang Rishan has wrenched himself free from their little triad and launched himself at Jiang Ning and her captors, knocking them all to the floor, and for a moment, Liu Sang thinks that they’re safe, but then they’re all untangled, Jiang Ning held captive once again, and Zhang Rishan is on his knees, three other people holding him down, or maybe holding him up, because there’s a dark stain spreading slowly across the buttons on his shirt.

Mao Xincheng doesn’t look surprised by this. “You’re fast, aren’t you?”

Zhang Rishan’s arms are being pulled behind him, which must be aggravating on the stomach wound, but he just swallows, a little convulsively, breath thick and staggered with pain.

“You would have probably gotten away with it, too,” Mao Xincheng says, fiddling with the settings on his blaster. “Unfortunately for you, however, I changed trajectory accordingly.” He smirks. “That’s my talent. I’m always a step ahead. Remember that, won’t you? I’d rather not have to murder all of our guests.”

“Surprising,” Sanshu says sarcastically.

The emotion that flickers across Mao Xincheng’s face looks a little like hatred. “There are worse things than death, Wu Sanxing.”

There’s no chance for a warning, then, and even if there was, no one would have been fast enough. In the time between heartbeats, the blaster goes off again, and Jiang Ning’s head is flying back, a single streak of blood spitting into the air. There’s not enough time for Zhang Rishan to make a miraculous dive at her again, there’s not enough time for Su Baiyin to turn Liu Sang’s head away, and there’s not enough time for Ning’s brother to say goodbye.

He has to settle with a horrible, wordless wail of grief as he watches her body fall forward, gravity pulling her from the arms holding her up, and landing hard on the cold floor of the ship, no life to catch herself on. She lands with her face toward Liu Sang. Her eyes are still open.

“You fucker!” Sanshu is yelling over the roar in Liu Sang’s ears, over Jiang Zisuan’s cry, enough words in him for all of them. “You bastard!”

“Shut him up,” Mao Xincheng says, and the man nearest to Sanshu drives his fist into Sanshu’s jaw, cutting off his voice. Sanshu’s neck snaps backwards, and Liu Sang wonders for a moment if he’s going to be dead now, too, but the crew members continue to hold him up, and Liu Sang can see his chest still moving underneath his drooping head.

Su Baiyin tenses behind him, and he can feel her about to do it, to Compel, and then a blaster shot is flying past them, so close he can feel the heat on his upper arm as the beam slashes into the wall behind him. He screams, jerking away, and Su Baiyin, still unsteady, stumbles with him, her concentration broken.

“I wouldn’t,” Mao Xincheng says, his strange sound pulsing even louder than usual. “I will kill him before you even begin.” The gun is pointed directly at Liu Sang’s head, and he feels Bai-yi’s fingers freeze as she clutches him. “Hold her.”

Liu Sang cries out as he’s pulled away from Su Baiyin, and she calls out, “Haizi!” and then there’s three people on her, two pushing her to her knees by her shoulders and one pulling her head back, exposing her throat, which jumps with nerves, but her eyes are steel.

Mao Xincheng approaches her, a knife held in his hand. “Cover his mouth,” he says, and a hand is clamped over Liu Sang’s lips, just as he’s about the breathe, about to tell Mao Xincheng to stay away from her, but now his voice is trapped and all hope of Compulsion with it.

Still, he thrashes, and he can hear Zhang Rishan’s heartbeat going double, which can’t be helping the blood stay in his body, as Mao Xincheng presses his thumb to the center of Su Baiyin’s neck, feeling along the smooth, corded muscle, and then lays the tip of his knife at the point his thumb is marking, and before Liu Sang can even comprehend what is happening, Mao Xincheng pulls down.

The blade opens the skin beneath it, and the men holding her up let go of her arms as Su Baiyin chokes, her hand going to cover the injury, blood seeping from beneath her fingers. She gasps, on her hands and knees, blood is dripping onto the floor like a leaking tap.

Liu Sang is screaming around the hand covered his face, straining desperately, but he’s still small, still weak, and there’s no way he’s getting out of this, not unless he—he kicks the leg of his captor, hoping that it’ll distract him for a split second, enough for Liu Sang to reclaim his voice and speak, to tell them all to stop, but the arm that is holding him tightly moves from his chest up to his throat, and then he can’t breathe and he has to stop screaming.

Bai-yi is still upright, for the most part, though on all fours and lungs heaving, but she’s not dead, not yet, even though blood is still spilling from her neck and she’s not making any noise.

There’s a choked cry to Liu Sang’s right, and he looks over just in time to see one of the men holding onto Zhang Rishan kick him in the stomach again, right where the blaster had pieced his gut. Zhang Rishan coughs, and then there’s more blood on the floor, and Liu Sang thinks that if he could breathe right now he wouldn’t be doing a very good job of it anyway.

“Put them in one of the storage bays,” Mao Xincheng orders. “Make sure she doesn’t bleed out.” And then he’s turning on his heel, going back down the hallway, wiping off the blade of his knife as he does.

People pull Zhang Rishan to his feet, then Jiang Zisuan, then Su Baiyin, and all of them are unsteady, staggering. Sanshu dangles, limp, in between his guards, and Jiang Zisuan keeps trying to throw himself at his sister, who is folded, still and silent, like a page torn from a book, pupils blown wide and sightless.

They’re taken down the hallways, an endless trek between walls that all look the same. There are bodies there, too, other crew members that must have refused to mutiny and were killed for their trouble. Liu Sang tries to avoid looking at them, at the unblinking eyes and empty corpses. He keeps his gaze on his feet, watching them trudge along until the crew members find the door they’re looking for, and enter the access code.

Their new prison is a bare room, with barely enough light to see by, and they’re all very unceremoniously shoved in. Sanshu’s thrown in a heap in one corner, and Su Baiyin falls again, landing painfully on her hip. Zhang Rishan manages to stay upright, as well as catch Liu Sang when he’s released. Jiang Zisuan just crumples, a thin sort of whine tearing itself from him as he does.

There’s a blaster being aimed at Liu Sang again, so he stays quiet, clings to Zhang Rishan as the crew members very pointedly give them a couple of blankets, a roll of bandages, and three bottles of water. Not nearly enough to sustain four adults and one child, but it’s better than nothing. The mercenaries withdraw, and the door shuts, and then it’s just them, together in the dark.

Liu Sang doesn’t waste any more time, dropping to his knees next to Su Baiyin. There are tears on her face, which echo those on Liu Sang’s, because he’s been crying for a while, though he’s not sure when he started. Her shirt collar is being dyed red, hand still clutching her throat, and she just stares at him. His hands are getting bloody because he’s trying to help, trying to touch, trying to make sure that she’s still here, and that makes him cry harder.

“Haizi,” Zhang Rishan says gently, and Liu Sang might have been upset about him using the nickname, once, but now it’s comforting, “Move, please.”

Liu Sang finds it in him to listen, scooting to the side to allow Zhang Rishan to crouch down in front of Su Baiyin, the bandages and a water bottle in his hand. He takes a piece of the gauze, moves Su Baiyin’s hand, and presses it against her throat.

“It’s not too bad,” he murmurs. “It looks frightening, I know, but it’s not very long, and he made sure not to cut any major veins or arteries. Don’t worry. Here, hand me the bandages.”

Liu Sang does so, and Zhang Rishan winds one around Su Baiyin’s neck, which doesn’t do much to help the blood already splashed across her front, but just looking at the white bandage makes Liu Sang feels a tiny bit better. Su Baiyin smiles shakily at him, and that’s also good.

Zhang Rishan finishes his work, sitting back on his heels. “There. That will be okay, I think.” He attempts to stand, but it doesn’t last too long, and he returns to a crouch, hand pressed to his side. Liu Sang had almost forgotten that Rishan is hurt too, and from the dark swatch that’s slowly eating up the white of his shirt, it’s not good.

Su Baiyin makes a pained noise, but Liu Sang isn’t sure if it’s for Zhang Rishan or for herself. They both get into Zhang Rishan’s space, and Su Baiyin whistles, “Are you alright?” The notes are weak and tremorous, but the relief of hearing her sends a wash of cold through Liu Sang’s bloodstream.

“Fine,” Zhang Rishan grits out through his teeth, which could not be more of a lie, because he’s gone very pale, and is shivering. He sits, moving back to rest against the wall in agonizing little movements. “I’ll be fine.”

“Turn on your blood,” Liu Sang says. Zhang Rishan said that his blood fixed him, that it made things better.

“T-too cold,” Zhang Rishan murmurs. “I can’t get it working. N-not well, anyway.”

Su Baiyin makes a questioning noise, then whistles a soft, “Can we help?”

“Not yet,” Zhang Rishan says. His eyes travel up to the ceiling, like he’s looking for something that should be there, but he blinks them back. “Maybe in a bit.” His hand presses down a little tighter, and he winces.

Liu Sang scrambles to his feet, picking up the pair of blankets they’d been left, and bringing them back to Zhang Rishan and Su Baiyin. “Here. Will these help?”

Zhang Rishan’s breathing is stuttering in his chest as he tries to mask what has to be a considerable amount of pain, but he gives Liu Sang a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah.”

Su Baiyin holds up the bandages as well, but Zhang Rishan shakes his head. “There aren’t enough. We should save them. If this works, I’ll be fine without them.”

Liu Sang isn’t sure about that, because this looks very bad in multiple ways, but he believes in Zhang Rishan and his Kylin blood, so he just hands over one of the blankets, which Zhang Rishan maneuvers up around his shoulders. He tries to stop Liu Sang from laying the other one on top of the first.

“Save it,” he says. “For you.”

Su Baiyin gives him an unimpressed eyebrow raise, then takes the blanket from Liu Sang’s hands and very purposely tucks it around Zhang Rishan. He doesn’t have it in him to protest, instead resting his head back against the wall, eyes closing, face tense. Liu Sang looks very carefully, but can’t see any of his veins spreading black across his cheeks, not yet.

There’s a groan from the corner, and they turn to see Sanshu, sitting up and rubbing at his jaw, which is starting to darken into an ugly bruise, even in the dim light of the storage bay. He blinks around the room, frowning.

“What the—” His eyes widen. “They killed A-Ning.”

Jiang Zisuan makes a pained noise from over next to the door, where Liu Sang had nearly forgotten him. He’s sitting, legs splayed in a W-shape, hands lying limp and useless in between his knees. His eyes are wet as he gazes at a spot on the ground, and he doesn’t seem to be quite aware of what’s going on.

“Shit,” Sanshu says. “Zisuan, I—”

“This is your fault,” Jiang Zisuan mumbles. “You put the idea into her head. Mao Xincheng wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t know that we were going to Yincangui.”

“We were what?” Zhang Rishan asks, and even injured and bundled under all the blankets they have, his anger is palpable, and Liu Sang shrinks closer to Su Baiyin. “What did you say?”

Sanshu’s eyes grow wide. “No, it’s not—Zhang Rishan, I didn’t mean—”

Zhang Rishan struggles to push himself up higher on the wall, as though he’s going to lunge at Sanshu at any minute. “You told them where it was?”

“No!” Sanshu protests. “I didn’t say where. Just pointed A-Ning in a direction, and told her my suspicions.”

“Which were?”

“That you’re from Yincangui,” Sanshu says. “That you can make people do anything. That we could… we could use that power.”

“You were going to use them?”

Sanshu holds his hands out in front of him. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t know, I thought it could have been a skill or something. Something we could learn.”

“He’s lying,” Liu Sang says, because that’s the truth. Sanshu’s heart is racing rapidly as he tries to wrestle the situation back under his control.

“Thank you,” Zhang Rishan says, “Now I won’t feel guilty when I beat his face in.” The blankets fall off of his lap as he gets to his feet, but he only makes it a few steps before he stumbles, and Liu Sang darts forward to steady him. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Su Baiyin says in Yincanguian. “Sit down, you’re supposed to be healing.”

“You don’t understand,” Sanshu says, “You don’t understand. It’s—my species, humans, they’re not… nice, exactly. A-Ning and I, we were born into this system, and they’ve been keeping track of us, since forever. And we might have gotten in over our heads, a little bit, because they’re after us, and we needed a way to get out. But they’re everywhere. Yincangui was going to be our ticket; we were just going to use whatever was there to get away, that’s all.”

“What’s there is people,” Zhang Rishan growls. “What did you think it was? Just some treasure trove on a completely uninhabited planet? Are you stupid?”

“I don’t know what we thought!” Sanshu says. “What we were thinking. Maybe we weren’t. But A-Ning wasn’t going to hurt you. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Well, look where that’s gotten us,” Zhang Rishan spits. “I—” He wavers, suddenly, and Liu Sang has to use most of his strength to keep him propped up.

“Rishan!” Bai-yi exclaims, coming up on Zhang Rishan’s other side, though she’s not exactly steady herself. “Stop. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Of course it does,” Zhang Rishan mutters darkly. “Jiang Zisuan is right, it is his fault.”

“It doesn’t matter because it won’t help us to escape,” Su Baiyin says. “That’s our priority right now, and we won’t be able to do it alone.”

Sanshu looks puzzled by the whistling, looking between Su Baiyin and Zhang Rishan like they’re holding a weapon, but he’s about to take it from them.

“You… he cut your vocal cords, didn’t he?” he asks. “So you can’t do the thing anymore? You can’t… make me do something.”

Liu Sang feels like Sanshu’s suddenly slapped him.

Su Baiyin turns her head, very slowly, and for a split second, it’s the Executioner in the room with them. “I don’t need—”

“I can,” Liu Sang says, cutting her off, and he can feel every eye in the room go to him, which is not the most pleasant feeling in the world, but he is so angry right now, and he wants all of these people to stop and leave them alone, and if they have to be scared of him to do that, then they will be. “I can Compel you.” He’s still holding onto one of Zhang Rishan’s arms, and he can hear Jiang Zisuan’s shaky breaths, and the wheeze in Su Baiyin’s throat, but right then, it’s as if the world has narrowed down to just him and Wu Sanxing, on his knees across the tiny room. “She taught me everything.”

The expression on Wu Sanxing’s face changes only slightly, but Liu Sang can hear how his heartbeat speeds up and his frequency changes so that it’s just on the other side of nervous, which is vindicating, which is illuminating, which is good.

“So shut up,” Liu Sang says, and he can feel the nudge of power behind his voice, tickling at the top of his throat, and he lets the barest amount eke out, stitching itself into his words. “Shut up.”

Wu Sanxing gulps, and then his mouth shuts so quickly that his teeth clatter together. His eyes widen in panic, and Liu Sang recalls what he said back on Zhang Rishan’s ship, when they had first met.

“It’s mostly a defense mechanism, I think. If I keep talking, you’ll either get too annoyed to keep me around, or I’ll eventually talk my way out of things. It’s worked out so far.”

Well. This is Liu Sang’s defense mechanism, and it works even better.

“Haizi,” Su Baiyin says, her Yincanguian sounding small and sad.

“It’ll wear off,” he mutters, and then turns his attention to Zhang Rishan, who is starting to sag in their grasp. “Start healing,” he orders, letting that little bit of power out again, because if he’s going to use this now, then he’s going to do it right.

“That’s not how it—” Zhang Rishan’s comment is cut off by the veins in his neck suddenly darkening, and he cries out in pain, legs giving out and taking all three of them to the floor.

“Rishan!” Su Baiyin exclaims.

The whole of Rishan’s body is pulsing with black now, at least the parts that Liu Sang can see. His fingernails are being dyed indigo, ink-dark lines crawling up his jaw and down from his hairline, ringing shadows around his eyes. He twitches, a violent jerk that nearly knocks his head against the wall, and Su Baiyin has to stick her hand behind his skull so that he doesn’t crack it on the metal.

“Haizi,” Su Baiyin says, “Stop.”

“No,” Zhang Rishan grits out. “No, don’t. It’s fine, it’s workiNGH.” He grits his teeth, blood pulsing underneath his skin. “It’s working.” He gasps, biting down on his lip so hard that the skin splits, and his fingernails scratch along the floor as he scrambles to find some sort of purchase.

Liu Sang and Su Baiyin try to keep him steady, to prevent him from injuring himself more, but Zhang Rishan is strong, and throws them off when his body jerks again. Liu Sang tries to press down on his shoulder again, but he can’t get a good grip, and then Wu Sanxing is on his other side, face grim and silent, hands firm.

“Shit,” Zhang Rishan gasps, “It’s working too well.”

“How can it be working too well?” Su Baiyin says.

“Kylin are—we do something, when we’re dying—”

“You’re not dying.”

“I am,” Zhang Rishan manages, “It’s okay, just—Haizi.”

“Yes?” Liu Sang says. He slips out from underneath Wu Sanxing, coming around to look at Zhang Rishan’s face. It’s pale underneath the black swirls on his skin, sweat prickling along his hairline.

“It’s going to try and take me,” Zhang Rishan says, “I need you to hold on.”

“Uh.” Liu Sang wraps his fingers around Zhang Rishan’s ankle. “Like that?”

“No, hold—AH, fuck.” Zhang Rishan’s fingers fist together, then splay out, muscles cramping in time with the pulsing underneath his skin. “My mind. I need you to hold onto my mind.”

“How?” Liu Sang cries.
“Just—just find me,” Zhang Rishan says, his breath coming in pants. “Find me and hold on.” He screams, then, back arching as he subconsciously tries to wrest himself from Su Baiyin and Sanshu’s hold.

“Like Compulsion,” Su Baiyin says urgently. “Find the current.” She’s having to use all her weight to keep Zhang Rishan still, and even her considerable strength is almost not enough, weakened as she is. Wu Sanxing grunts as Zhang Rishan’s arm hits him in the stomach, but he doesn’t let go.

Liu Sang takes Zhang Rishan’s hand.

Holds his breath.

Dives.

If Su Baiyin’s natural frequency is a river, Zhang Rishan is a whirlpool, and Liu Sang doesn’t know if that’s normal, or if it’s just because Zhang Rishan is trying to disintegrate before their eyes. His psychic signature is being sucked away, a roaring vortex that seems to want to devour everything in its path, including Liu Sang. It’s pulling him, out of his body, his psychic energy being yanked away from his own mind and fed into the swirl of Zhang Rishan’s dying cosmos. It’s hard to tell where anything is, specifically, because all of it is being twisted and pulled and forced into a titanic spiral, but there’s a glimmer of light near the center of the maelstrom, like a rock sparkling in the sun, and Liu Sang reaches for it, taking his own energy and encircling the shine like a lasso, holding tightly to it.

There’s something there, like the whisper of a voice, or more like the illusion of one. It snags on Liu Sang’s consciousness, and he follows it, lets it lead him into the eye of the storm, his mind mapping out a picture of something that only exists in the barest hints of sound.

Zhang Rishan is standing there, almost glowing, looking very lost. He’s dressed in white, but the front of his shirt is splattered in red, a deep maroon that’s leaking up his chest and dripping from his arms. He’s gazing off into the storm clouds, like there’s something in them that he’s missing. He wavers on his feet, like all it would take would be a strong gust of wind to tip him over and into the raging sea.

“Don’t go,” Liu Sang says.

Zhang Rishan turns to look at him, but it’s slow, sluggish, like he doesn’t quite remember how to be a person.

“I should…” he murmurs, almost inaudible over the roar around them. “Are they in there?”

“No,” Liu Sang says. “No, we’re out here.”

“Fo-ye,” Zhang Rishan says. His toes nudge against the edge, and a wave crashes against them. Liu Sang shields his face with his arms, salt crusting on his skin. “Ba-ye. Are they in there?” His eyes drop, half-lidded, like he’s in a dream. He reaches out. “I should go with them.”

“Don’t!” Liu Sang says. The wind picks up. It feels like there’s an invisible wall in front of him, one that he might just be able to push through if he tries hard enough, but it’s solid, and Zhang Rishan is so far away. “Zhang Rishan!”

“I should go,” he says, and steps.

Liu Sang screams, his voice tearing through the wall, smashing it to pieces, echoing in the circled storm. Zhang Rishan stumbles back, just slightly, and that’s enough for Liu Sang to lunge forward, to wrap his arms around Zhang Rishan’s waist, and bury his face in the small of his back.

“Don’t go,” he begs, and it might be his imagination, but the winds seem quieter than they did a moment ago. “Please.”

Zhang Rishan is just breathing, very quietly. Then, tentatively, one of his hands comes up to cover Liu Sang’s, holding tight to him.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll stay.”

Liu Sang opens his eyes with a gasp, and for a moment, he’s not sure which way is up, where he is, what’s going on. His body feels like it’s falling, because it is; he’s tipping over in an undignified sprawl, but there’s someone waiting to catch him. His brain supplies Sanshu.

“Oh, thank god,” Su Baiyin says in Yincanguian. “Thank god.”

Liu Sang blinks back into focus. His head is pounding unsteadily in his ears, and he feels slightly nauseous, but he pushes himself up to a sitting position anyway.

Su Baiyin has one hand on his leg and one hand cupped on Zhang Rishan’s cheek. The black is slowly dissipating, fading back into smooth skin. Zhang Rishan’s eyes are closed, hair limp and forehead damp with sweat, and Liu Sang almost thinks we lost him before he catches sight of Zhang Rishan’s chest, rising and falling as he breathes. His shirt is still soaked in blood, ruined beyond repair, but his eyelids flicker, sliding open just a crack. Su Baiyin presses her palm to his face and he gives her a languid blink before he finds Liu Sang.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and then his eyes fall shut again.

It’s as if the room lets out a sigh, because whatever had happened had worked, and Zhang Rishan is still with them, and Liu Sang had not let him go.

“Good job,” Su Baiyin says. Her fingers squeeze his ankle, and he reaches down almost blindly to take her hand, because his ears are still ringing and he wants some other proof that she’s there. “You saved him.”

“Huh,” Liu Sang says, and then the floor rushes up to meet him, cold and dark and hard, but Su Baiyin’s hand is still in his.

He comes to pressed up against something warm, radiating heat into his skin, which is very nice. Liu Sang likes that.

He blinks, prison falling into focus. At some point, someone has tucked him into Zhang Rishan’s side, huddled up against the blankets. Zhang Rishan is still sleeping, his breathing slow and steady, and Liu Sang closes his eyes again, listening to the steady lub-dub of his heartbeat, rising and falling like waves on the ocean. It’s comforting, knowing that he didn’t fail.

There’s a shuffling from across the room, and he squints to see Su Baiyin, Wu Sanxing, and Jiang Zisuan sitting in a loose half-circle, though it’s more like Su Baiyin and Wu Sanxing are sitting together, and trying to include Jiang Zisuan, who is trying not to be a part of it. They’re obviously in the middle of some sort of conversation, which is very interesting to watch, given that Su Baiyin can only speak a language that the other two don’t understand, Wu Sanxing can’t open his mouth, and Jiang Zisuan doesn’t seem inclined to speak to either of them. They’re managing, somehow, using a series of elaborate gestures, Su Baiyin making encouraging whistling noises and Wu Sanxing grunting and humming aggressively while Jiang Zisuan mostly just stares at the both of them.

Liu Sang winces, a little bit. His head still hurts, but he does feel a little bad about keeping Wu Sanxing from speaking, so he musters up his strength in order to say, “You can talk, again.”

“—so we don’t get shot immediate—hey!” Wu Sanxing exclaims as his mouth unglues and his voice comes flooding out, loud in the small space. “Oh, thank god, I was starting to get really annoyed with that.”

“Sorry,” Liu Sang mutters. It takes some courage to pry himself away from Zhang Rishan, and he kind of wants to cry when he does, cause he was very warm. “That was mean.”

Wu Sanxing shrugs, but it seems a little too light-hearted for Liu Sang to take it seriously. “I might have deserved it. Besides, you’re lucky. Tons of people wish they could make me shut up.”

“How do you feel?” Su Baiyin asks. “You wore yourself out.”

“Okay,” Liu Sang says. His limbs feel sort of shaky, and his brain is stabbing into the backs of his eyes, but he’s not dizzy anymore, and the nausea is gone. “Is Zhang Rishan alright?”

“He’s fine,” Su Baiyin says. “He woke up for a bit before you. Said that it’ll take him a while to recover fully.”

“Now we have a translator!” Wu Sanxing says. “No offense to Su Baiyin, but our gestures are not compatible, and Jiang Zisuan was not doing a good job of filling in the gaps.”

Jiang Zisuan glares at him from where he’s sitting up against the wall. “Fuck you.” He looks wrecked, worn out and hollow, but some of him has been pulled together enough to stay upright, at least, and Liu Sang thinks that Jiang Zisuan is very brave. He doesn’t know what he’d do if it had been Su Baiyin. He shudders a little, thinking about it.

Wu Sanxing clicks his tongue. “Language, ZiZi.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jiang Zisuan says. “And I don’t fucking care.”

“He’s a kid,” Wu Sanxing says. “You can’t teach him words like that.”

“Fuck,” Liu Sang says, mostly out of curiosity. It’s just a word.

Wu Sanxing gasps. “See?! He’s been corrupted.”

“We’re making a plan,” Su Baiyin interrupts them. “How we’re going to escape.”

“What did she say?” Wu Sanxing asks.

“She said you’re making a plan,” Liu Sang translates, coming over to sit cross-legged next to Su Baiyin, filling in their circle.

“Yes!” Wu Sanxing says. “It’s mostly dependent on Zhang Rishan, right now, so we’ll have to wait for him to wake up to finalize it, but it’s a good plan.”

“It’s a decent plan,” Su Baiyin says.

“What?”

“She agrees with you,” Liu Sang says, and Su Baiyin trills a laugh.

Wu Sanxing narrows his eyes at Liu Sang in mock suspicion, but smirks at him anyway. “We’re going to pretend that he’s dead.”

Liu Sang frowns. “What?”

“That’s why it’s only a decent plan,” Su Baiyin says.

“M’not dead,” Zhang Rishan mumbles, and they all turn to look at him. He’s made no indication of moving, but at least his eyes are open.

“I did say ‘pretend,’” Wu Sanxing points out.

“Who let him talk again?” Zhang Rishan demands, though the effect is muddled by his face splitting into a wide yawn.

Wu Sanxing rolls his eyes. “Just let us run this by you before you pass out again. So! It’s illegal for ships to eject bodies into space; galactic law requires that they’re dropped planetside, and Mao Xincheng’s got a… lot of bodies to deal with. Which means he’s going to have to make a stop, and soon, cause they aren’t getting any deader.”

“What does this have to do with escaping?” Zhang Rishan asks.

“I’m getting there,” Wu Sanxing says. “They’ll have to stop somewhere, but since they’ve committed both mutiny and murder, they won’t be going anywhere official to register the deaths, so it’ll all be under the radar. Which means that if one of the bodies happens to be… not quite as dead as the others, they’ll be able to escape easily and come and rescue us from the outside, without having to go through all the bureaucracy that comes with returning from the dead, cause let me tell you, that’s not an easy situation to explain.”

“Do you have a lot of experience faking your death?” Jiang Zisuan snarks.

“Enough,” Wu Sanxing says vaguely. “That’s beside the point. If we can get one of us off, we’ll have someone on the outside, and you having died will be pretty believable. You already look the part.” Su Baiyin growls at Wu Sanxing, just a little. “What?! He does. You can’t look at him and tell me that a normal person would survive losing that much blood. They’ll think he’s dead, trust me. These guys aren’t going to be looking that closely.”

“He’ll still be breathing,” Jiang Zisuan points out. He’s peeled himself away from the wall just slightly. “That won’t be easy to hide.”

“He can just hold really still.”

“We can fix that,” Su Baiyin says. She’s avoiding looking at either Liu Sang or Zhang Rishan, so Liu Sang knows that he’s not going to like this part of the plan. “We can Compel your vitals down until you’re off the ship. Suppress them enough that they’ll go unnoticed.”

“Have you ever done that before?” Liu Sang asks, because he didn’t think Compulsion was good enough to trick someone’s body into playing dead.

“Yes,” Su Baiyin says, still not looking at them. “Once.” She meets Liu Sang’s eyes, and she seems older than she has any right to be. “After the first time, I promised that I wouldn’t let any other innocent people die by my voice. I figured out a trick, instead.”

“Oh,” Liu Sang says.  

“I trust you,” Zhang Rishan says. “You’re right, it might be the best chance we have. If nothing else, I can call for backup.”

“Here,” Wu Sanxing says suddenly, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat and pulling out a small, plastic identification card. “They’re my blood credentials.”

“What?” Su Baiyin asks.

“What?” Liu Sang translates.

Wu Sanxing rolls his eyes. “The Nine Bloodlines are sticklers for genetics. When you turn twenty-one, they make you register with their databases and prove that you’re full-blooded human, but they’re also into this whole honor and mystery aesthetic, so they don’t actually put your name or photo to your blood sample, just give you this card that says you’re in the database. It’s stupid, but it’ll get you help from any of the Bloodlines, or their affiliates. You just have to show them the card and tell them this stupid ‘traditional phrase’ thing, which is ‘the bodies of mountains rest well in the sea.’”

“What does that mean?” Liu Sang wonders.

“I don’t know,” Wu Sanxing says. “I think it’s an old Earth saying or something. They make you say it whenever you go into an archive or whatever. To prove that you’re ‘one of them.’”

“That doesn’t sound like a very secure system,” Zhang Rishan says doubtfully, but he takes the card.

“Oh, it’s not,” Wu Sanxing agrees. “You can find that out so easily. Anyway, that’s step one.”

“That’s just the first step?!” Zhang Rishan exclaims.

“Obviously,” Wu Sanxing says. “We’re not going to make you do all the work.”

“Okay,” Zhang Rishan says. He blinks rapidly a few times, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’m still thinking about this part,” Wu Sanxing admits. “And we were trying to talk through it before you two rejoined us, but the language barrier was causing some problems. But anyway, after we do the body drop, Mao Xincheng is going to go for Yincangui. And he has a direction, but he doesn’t know where it is, exactly. Which means he’s coming for us.”

“This doesn’t sound like a good plan,” Zhang Rishan mutters, but Liu Sang can hear that his annoyance is based in worry.

“That’s where we’ll get the upper hand, ShanShan,” Wu Sanxing says. “The basta—I mean, the idiot, right, he made the mistake of getting rid of Su Baiyin’s voice, so she can’t tell him, and she wouldn’t anyway. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s smart enough to know that much. And I doubt he’ll go for the kid. No offense, Haizi. I know that you’re a badass, but like I said, Mao Xincheng’s an idiot. So I’m the most likely target, especially because I have a reputation for being an opportunist.”

“That’s not exactly a positive attribute,” Su Baiyin says.

“Huh?” When Liu Sang relays her comment, Wu Sanxing grins. “Normally, no. But in this case, it’s perfect, cause he’ll believe me when I say that I’m on his side. All he’s gotta do is promise me an out and some share of whatever we’re going to Yincangui to find, and of course I’ll take him up on the offer.”

“You’re not really going to, though,” Zhang Rishan says, his expression hardening in warning. “Or lead them to Yincangui.”

Wu Sanxing flaps his hands. “No, no. Obviously not. It’s an act. I’ll steer them in the opposite direction, get them all mixed up, and then it’s time for step three!”

“There’s more?” Su Baiyin asks, and Liu Sang has to agree, because this plan is getting more and more complicated by the minute, and not necessarily in a good way.

“The grand finale!” Wu Sanxing exclaims. “I get Zisuan out, he retakes the ship, we kick Mao Xincheng’s ass, Zhang Rishan comes in with backup, we kick Mao Xincheng’s ass again, everything’s fine!”

“The ship controls were biologically coded to my sister,” Jiang Zisuan explains softly. “Wu Sanxing thinks that if I can get ahold of them, I should be able to take the ship back, even if Mao Xincheng is the first-officer-turned-shouling.”

“Might take a bit of finagling, but biological computerization is super easy to override if you know what you’re doing,” Wu Sanxing says, wiggling his fingers. “It’s like no one ever expected someone to cut a person’s thumb off in order to access security systems.” He stops. “Not… not that I’ve ever done that. I’m just saying. It would be easy to do.”

“What if I can’t get backup?” Zhang Rishan asks. “Or what if Mao Xincheng doesn’t take the bait?”

“Then we’ll figure something else out,” Wu Sanxing says with a shrug.

“I’ll be able to find you,” Su Baiyin says. “You have the bracelet. I’ll be able to find you.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that we’ll be able to find Zhang Rishan because of the bracelet,” Liu Sang says.

“It’s a transmitter,” Zhang Rishan explains, holding his wrist up, Fo-ye’s silver cuff encircling the gentle ridge of bone there. “It’s how Baiyin and I communicated before. It links to a specific frequency radio.”

“We don’t have the radio anymore,” Su Baiyin admits, a bit sheepishly. “But I know the frequency. I’ll be able to find it again.”

“Then all we have to worry about is outpacing Mao Xincheng,” Wu Sanxing says. “Figure out how to keep him from reading minds, or whatever he does.”

“It’s not magic,” Jiang Zisuan says. “Mao Xincheng’s species manipulates time, but only just. He’s living a second ahead of everyone else, so he knows the second before someone makes a move what’s going to happen, and he’s fast at reacting. It’s why A-Ning hired him. He’s very good in a fight, but that’s about it. He’s not omniscient. We just have to be fast.”

“Is that why he sounds so weird?” Liu Sang blurts, because it’s been bothering him since he met Mao Xincheng, how strangely he beats out of time with the rest of the world.

“Probably,” Jiang Zisuan admits. “I can’t hear it, but probably.”

“There we go!” Wu Sanxing exclaims. “See? A good plan.”

“‘Good’ may be relative,” Zhang Rishan says.

Wu Sanxing sighs. “A little optimism, ShanShan. Would it kill you?”

It’s miraculous, really, how things go wrong.

They’ve been left alone up until now, though Liu Sang isn’t sure exactly how long it’s been. Unlike Yincangui, everything sounds the same all the time, and there’s really no way to distinguish differences. Everything just blends into one long day, an unceasing wakefulness that makes his stomach flip and his eyes ache.

He’s hungry, and sore, and tired. Not thirsty, because they’ve managed to ration the water, but it’s going to run out soon. They’re about to have one less person who needs to drink, though, so that might stretch their supply a little longer.

Zhang Rishan’s recovered enough from his regeneration process, his skin now unblemished and whole, though he’s still bloody and strangely pale. He hasn’t even made an attempt at cleaning up, because the more dead he looks, the more convincing it’ll be.

“Are you sure?” he asks Su Baiyin for the seventh time in the past hour.

“Rishan,” Su Baiyin says firmly. “I’m sure. This is our best option.”

“Okay,” Zhang Rishan says. He sits down on the floor, in the closest corner to the door, folding his hands neatly on his lap, perhaps to hide how they’re shaking.

“Okay,” Su Baiyin echoes. She sits cross-legged in front of him, taking his hands and gazing firmly, sweetly, into his eyes. “You’ll find us. Don’t worry.”

Zhang Rishan doesn’t look sure, but he nods hesitantly, and for some reason, his eyes find their way over to Wu Sanxing, who is sitting next to Liu Sang.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Wu Sanxing says, like Zhang Rishan has asked him aloud. “Until you come back. I promise.”

“See you soon,” Su Baiyin says, and presses her forehead against Zhang Rishan’s. Liu Sang doesn’t hear the frequency, but Zhang Rishan goes suddenly limp, tipping gently to the side, his body held up by the wall he’s leaning against.

“There,” Su Baiyin says, but her word is cut off as she chokes, harshly, and blood jumps from her lips, dripping down her chin.

“Bai-yi!” Liu Sang cries as she falls against Zhang Rishan’s still form, too weak to keep herself upright. She’s getting more blood on his shirt, not that it really matters, considering the state of it. “Bai-yi, don’t.”

“Are you okay?” Wu Sanxing demands. He shifts her so that she’s not leaning on Zhang Rishan anymore, helping her lie on her side as she coughs again. Zhang Rishan looks lonely, somehow, without her there.

“I’m—” Su Baiyin shivers so violently that her breath vibrates in her whistle, sending it trembling. “I don’t know how much I have left in me.”

“Then stop,” Liu Sang says in Yincanguian. “Please stop. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Is she okay?” Wu Sanxing asks, his voice sounding frantic, because this definitely wasn’t part of the plan.

“I don’t know,” Liu Sang says in Galactic, and his voice breaks on the last syllable. “I don’t know. She can’t do it anymore. She can’t.”

“Hey,” Wu Sanxing says, putting an arm around Liu Sang’s shoulders, and he’s so upset that he forgets to be angry about it. “We’ll be fine. We’ll modify the plan. It’s okay. Does your Bai-yi look scared?”

Liu Sang clenches his teeth, and looks. Su Baiyin is sick and tired and pale, but her eyes are still focused on him, unwavering, and her face is smooth. She’s not afraid, not of this.

“No,” Liu Sang mutters. He presses the heel of his palm to his eyes, scrubbing away tears. “She’s not scared.”

“Of course not,” Wu Sanxing says. “She’s very brave. And strong. You think you can be brave and strong, too?”

Liu Sang doesn’t want to. He wants to go home.

He nods anyway.  

“Step one,” Wu Sanxing mutters. “Ready to act, Haizi?”

Liu Sang nods, because his acting job is fairly easy. He just has to look scared and small, which he’s already feeling. He moves over to the far corner, huddling as tightly as he can into the space.  

Jiang Zisuan is sitting listlessly against the opposite wall, but his fingers are tapping out a pattern on the floor beneath him. He meets Liu Sang’s gaze and one eye twitches just slightly, like he’s letting Liu Sang know that he’s on his side.

Wu Sanxing bangs on the door. “Hey! Hey! Is anyone out there?”

It takes a few minutes of unrelenting knocking, but eventually a disgruntled voice comes through the door. “What do you want?”

“Finally,” Wu Sanxing says. “Get Mao-ye down here, why don’t you? One of his prisoners copped it.”

“Seriously?” the voice says. “Shit. Which one?”

“Which one do you think?”

“Yeah, okay,” the voice says, and Liu Sang hears them wander off down the hall.

Wu Sanxing exhales, coming over to sit next to Su Baiyin, almost in front of her, like a shield. They wait quietly for a bit, before footsteps are heard coming down the corridor, and then the door opens, revealing Mao Xincheng and several other crew members.

Mao Xincheng frowns at them. “Who is it?” His eyes catch on Zhang Rishan’s form, folded into the corner. “Oh. Him.” He nudges him with the toe of his boot, and Liu Sang has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling. “Well. Take him. Put him with the rest. We’re getting rid of them this afternoon, anyway.” He nods to the crewmembers, who take Zhang Rishan by the arms and drag him from the room. His toes scrap on the ground and his hair is falling into his face, and Liu Sang thinks, very softly, goodbye.

Mao Xincheng studies them. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s sick,” Wu Sanxing says, and there’s a bite to his words, like he’s daring Mao Xincheng to get closer. “Probably got an infection from the gift you gave her.”

Mao Xincheng looks unperturbed. “Fine.” He signals to the mercenaries waiting in the corridor with two fingers. “Bring them.”

Liu Sang yelps as his arms are grabbed by two of the men. He tries to dig in his heels, to fight them, but he’s far too light. There are three others taking Jiang Zisuan, who doesn’t seem to be having much luck struggling either.

“Leave them alone!” Wu Sanxing shouts. “Take me instead, I’ll tell you where you want to go!”

“That’s not what I’m looking for,” Mao Xincheng says, right before he kicks Wu Sanxing in the chest, sending him sprawling. “I’ll let you know when your assistance becomes necessary.”

“Bai-yi!” Liu Sang shrieks. He squirms, trying to break free, but someone just wraps their arm around his waist and lifts him off the floor entirely.

“Haizi!” Su Baiyin cries. She’s pushed herself up onto an elbow, but she’s not fast enough. Wu Sanxing wheezes on the floor beside her. “Haizi!”

“Don’t worry,” Mao Xincheng says. “He won’t suffer the same fate.”

Liu Sang has no idea what that fate is, but he doesn’t want to wait around to find out. “Let go!” he shouts, Compelling, which turns out to be a bad idea because the mercenary does let go, which means that Liu Sang falls directly onto his stomach, air leaving his body in a rush.

He gasps, limbs splayed, and a boot presses into his back.

“So you can do it too,” Mao Xincheng says. Liu Sang tries to twist his head to see the expression on the man’s face, but he’s just pressed more deeply into the floor. “Excellent.” He reaches down, drags Liu Sang to his feet. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Jiang Zisuan is snarling in silent rage. “Fuck you,” he spits at Mao Xincheng. “You think threatening a kid is funny?”

Mao Xincheng gives him an unimpressed stare. “I’d be quiet if I were you,” he says. “Your sister isn’t here to protect you anymore.”

Jiang Zisuan screams at him, wordlessly.

Mao Xincheng rolls his eyes. “We don’t have time for this.”

He yanks Liu Sang down the hall, the men following him with Jiang Zisuan. They bring them to yet another storage bay, though this one is brightly lit, and a little bigger than their prison.

Mao Xincheng still has Liu Sang by his shirt collar, and he escorts Jiang Zisuan in with a quick jerk of his head. “Leave.”

If the other mercenaries are annoyed by being ordered around, they don’t show it, just file back out of the bay and close the door behind them, leaving Liu Sang and Jiang Zisuan alone with Mao Xincheng.

Mao Xincheng folds his arms over his chest, looking Liu Sang up and down with an appraising eye. He doesn’t even acknowledge that Jiang Zisuan is there, other than to keep him in his peripherals so the young man can’t attack him.

“You can make people do what you want,” he says eventually.

Liu Sang just glares at him. He’s not giving this man anything if he can help it. Su Baiyin would keep silent. Zhang Rishan would keep silent. Liu Sang is going to be silent too.

Mao Xincheng gives him a few moments, and when Liu Sang doesn’t answer, he sighs, mockingly. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this the hard way, but it looks as though you’re stubborn.” Swiftly, he unholsters his gun, pointing it at Jiang Zisuan without even looking at him. “Answer the question.”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says quickly. Jiang Zisuan is staring down the barrel of the weapon, defiant, but Liu Sang can hear his heartbeat jump and his breath quicken. “I can.”

“That’s something your people can do?”

“I—” Liu Sang swallows hard, flinching as Mao Xincheng tightens on the trigger. “Yes. It’s called Compulsion. We can all do it.”

“Hmm,” Mao Xincheng hums. “Good.” He gestures toward Jiang Zisuan, who flinches at the movement of the blaster. “Tell him to obey me.”

“What?” Liu Sang whispers.

“I don’t want to kill him,” Mao Xincheng says, which Liu Sang really, really doubts is true, considering that he’s killed a lot of people so far. “But he is, quite frankly, useless to me, unless he’s part of the crew again. But I can’t trust him, not like this.” In a few quick steps, he’s got one arm wrapped around Jiang Zisuan’s neck, blaster pressed into his temple. “I don’t want to kill him, but I will if I have to.”

“Don’t!” Liu Sang exclaims. “Don’t. I… I’ll…”

“Compel him to obey me,” Mao Xincheng repeats. “Make it so that if he doesn’t, he has to punish himself.” He taps the tip of the gun against Jiang Zisuan’s head, smiling when Jiang Zisuan twitches. “Do it, or I’ll shoot him.”

Liu Sang feels his throat close up. “No, please—”

“Do it,” Mao Xincheng orders.

Liu Sang’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest. “I—”

“Now!”

“Haizi,” Jiang Zisuan says, more of a whisper, his lips barely parting, but Liu Sang can hear him anyway. “Just do it.” Liu Sang stares at him in disbelief, and Jiang Zisuan’s eyes are fractured and broken and scared, but he meets his gazes, dips his chin just slightly. “Just do it.”

“I won’t wait any longer,” Mao Xincheng says, and tightens his finger on the trigger.

“Jiang Zisuan!” Liu Sang exclaims, and Compulsion rises in his voice almost too easily, like it was sitting underneath his tongue, waiting for him to call upon it. “Obey Mao Xincheng. Do whatever he says. If you don’t, t-then… then…”

“‘Then deliver your own punishment,’” Mao Xincheng hisses at him.

“Then deliver your own punishment,” Liu Sang repeats. The power rushing out of him is still intoxicating, still hot and bright, but as he watches the tension flee Jiang Zisuan’s body, as the Compulsion takes hold, he finds himself miserable and sick, nausea rolling in his stomach and head starting to take on the familiar ache that comes with his power.

Jiang Zisuan’s jaw goes slack, his head tilting slightly to the side before he brings it upright again, face horribly blank. He makes a little humming noise, slumping forward a little, malleable and loose.

Mao Xincheng cautiously loosens his hold on Jiang Zisuan, drawing the blaster back.

“Okay,” Liu Sang hiccups. “Okay, I did it. Don’t hurt him anymore.”  

“We have to test it,” Mao Xincheng says. “See if you did it correctly.” He flips the blaster around in his hand, handle pointing to Jiang Zisuan. “Take it. Don’t shoot me.”

Jiang Zisuan does, fingers shaking as they close around the weapon. He stares at it in his hand, like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Now,” Mao Xincheng says, “Kill the boy.”

Liu Sang screams. “No!”

Jiang Zisuan looks just as sick as Liu Sang feels, his lungs heaving. The gun in his hand shakes dreadfully, wavering as he lifts it to point at Liu Sang, the barrel quivering so violently that it’s almost as if he isn’t aiming it at all.

Liu Sang gapes at him. His face is wet, and he can see the tears mirrored in Jiang Zisuan’s eyes.

“Kill him,” Mao Xincheng says, his focus entirely on the expression on Jiang Zisuan’s face.

“No,” Jiang Zisuan chokes. The gun trembles. “No, I don’t… Don’t make me… I…” He grits his teeth, other hand coming up to encircle the first, trying to keep the weapon steady. He looks as though he’s in pain, face painted a sickly shade of white, blotches of red high on his face.

Liu Sang stares at him and sobs. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want Jiang Zisuan to do this, but he can’t find the words to tell him not to.

“No!” Jiang Zisuan says suddenly, with more force than Liu Sang had expected, and then he’s flipping the gun on himself, placing it below his jaw and pulling the trigger before Liu Sang has a chance to stop him.

Liu Sang screams again, ducking his head to his knees and covering his ears with his hands, but he doesn’t hear the sound of a blaster shot. He doesn’t hear anything, except Jiang Zisuan’s ragged breathing continuing to heave itself out of his lungs, which doesn’t happen when you’re dead, so Liu Sang looks up, trembling, and Jiang Zisuan is still there, gun still underneath his chin, finger still pressing down on the trigger, but nothing has happened.

Mao Xincheng laughs. It’s not a nice one, too light and floaty, but in a sort of coughing way, like the sound is unnatural coming from his throat.

“Unbelievable,” he says, “It’s true.”

Liu Sang falls to his hands and knees. He gags, but he hasn’t eaten in more than a day, and there’s too little water in his system to expel any, so he just heaves, back convulsing under the weight of his horror.

Jiang Zisuan is on his knees as well, tears streaming from behind his closed eyelids. He looks as if he could be praying. The empty blaster is still held loosely in his fingers.

“Well,” Mao Xincheng says, “Good.” Jiang Zisuan doesn’t even have a chance to open his eyes again before Mao Xincheng is clubbing him on the back of the head, and Jiang Zisuan falls to the floor, unconscious. He’s still crying, even in his sleep.

“Good work,” Mao Xincheng says. “I’ll take you back now.”

Liu Sang can’t feel his feet as Mao Xincheng forces him to stand. He feels completely out of joint with the rest of his body. He’s floating somewhere near the top of his head, where the pressure is less, where he’s just barely seeing through his own eyes and the sounds around him are less overwhelming. If he just stays up there, maybe it’ll help.

It seems like he blinks, and then they’re back at the storage bay door, and Mao Xincheng is keying it open and shoving Liu Sang inside.

Bai-yi is still lying where Liu Sang had left her, though she no longer appears to be awake. Wu Sanxing is sitting against one of the walls, but he scrambles forward when Liu Sang appears.

“Haizi!” he exclaims as the door slides shut behind Liu Sang. “What happened? Where’s Zisuan?”

Liu Sang feels his fingers quiver. His whole body is shaking. He looks at Wu Sanxing, who’s eyes are big and wide and concerned, upset and worried and the kindest things Liu Sang can think of.

He whimpers. “I didn’t want to.”

Wu Sanxing’s eyebrows go together. “What?”

There’s so much pressure inside his head, so much behind his eyes, and he wants to throw up, wants to expel everything from inside him and start over again, but there’s only water, only tears, and those are flowing freely now. He sobs, pressing his fists into his eyes, feeling untethered, unhinged, unmoored. He wants Bai-yi. He wants home.

“Hey,” Wu Sanxing says, so gently, so much more gently than Liu Sang deserves. “Haizi, don’t cry.”

Liu Sang can’t help it, then. He falls forward, and Wu Sanxing is there to catch him, wraps him up in his arms, doesn’t mind that Liu Sang is crying onto his shirt, getting it wet and messy.

“Sanshu,” he chokes out, and Wu Sanxing squeezes him a little tighter, the weight around his body a sort of comfort. “Sanshu.”

“Shh,” Sanshu says, “Shh, Haizi. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He runs his hand over the back of Liu Sang’s head, smoothing his hair down.

Liu Sang fists his hands against Sanshu’s chest, trying to burrow as deeply as he can into the dark. Sanshu’s voice murmurs in his ear, a little repeating phrase, two low notes, two high notes, and another low note. It’s Yincanguian. “Your name is the key.”

Liu Sang sniffles and draws his face away, blinking rapidly to try and stop his eyes from watering. “How do you know that?”

Sanshu stops humming. “Your Bai-yi was singing it, earlier,” he says, and Liu Sang frowns, because why would Bai-yi be saying weird things like that, and especially to Sanshu. “Does it mean something?”

“No,” Liu Sang mutters. “It’s just… just a song.”

“Okay,” Sanshu says. “How do you feel?”

Liu Sang swallows. His throat feels swollen and his head aches from both Compulsion and crying, leaving him wrung out and tired. “I’m okay.”

“Alright,” Sanshu says and leaves it at that, which Liu Sang appreciates. He doesn’t want to tell Sanshu what he’s done, not right now. “Do you want to try and sleep? You can keep your Bai-yi company. I think she’s lonely with Zhang Rishan gone. I’m nowhere close to being a replacement.”

Liu Sang nods, even though he doesn’t actually think he’ll be able to sleep, not with the image of Jiang Zisuan’s face imprinted on the back of his eyelids. “Sanshu?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave,” Liu Sang whispers.

Sanshu moves strands of hair away from his face, smoothing over his forehead. “I won’t leave you behind, Haizi. I promise.”

Liu Sang nods. He wipes his sleeve across his face and crawls away from Sanshu, even though it seems undignified, but he’s exhausted.

Su Baiyin is lying on her side, throat still spotted with blood, but Zhang Rishan’s first-aid work has held up. There’s one blanket underneath her and one over the top, trying to keep her warm. She’s sweating, and there’s a little pained line in between her eyebrows. Liu Sang runs his thumb over it, trying to smooth it out for her, but it stays firmly in place.

He crawls underneath her arm, limp as it is, worming his way up so that his head is tucked underneath her chin, hand dangling over him. If he doesn’t think about it too hard, it feels like she’s hugging him.

He doesn’t sleep, though. He stares straight ahead, eyes fixed on a point on the floor that seems to be a little darker than the rest of the cool metal. He stares, and he drifts, but it’s not sleep. He’s going back to the top of his head, and he can see Sanshu pacing the floor in front of him, he can feel Su Baiyin breathing softly on his neck, but he’s not really there, in the room. He’s not really anywhere.

He wonders if Jiang Zisuan is okay. He wonders if he could float over to him, wonders if he could help him again, if he could break the Compulsion without Mao Xincheng finding out, without Jiang Zisuan having to hurt himself. He wonders why no one had ever told him how hard it was going to be. He wonders if this makes him a bad person.

His head hurts. He’s filled with fog, a ceaseless cavern that his consciousness ripples in and out of, and he’s so small, infinitesimally, floating there in space, where there’s no sound, and he’s alone, alone.

He blinks and Sanshu is gone.

He blinks and Su Baiyin is there.

He blinks and Sanshu is bending down near his head, and he’s offering him water, and Liu Sang’s fingers take the bottle, but he doesn’t remember drinking, he doesn’t remember how water tastes, he’s smaller than all of that.

He blinks and Sanshu is leaning against the wall, blood crusting around his nose, head tipped back and shoulders slumped and he blinks and he’s standing at the door, watching and waiting because someone had left through it and they’re coming back, they should be coming back, and he blinks and he’s suddenly growing too big, too fast, he’s filling up the space inside of him and pressing himself into a well of gravity, a blank page that he’s spilling ink on, water flowing up and over the top of a jar, there’s light and fog and somewhere, someone is singing.

He blinks and he’s wrapped in Sanshu’s arms again, and he looks down and sees Su Baiyin’s head resting on Sanshu’s thigh, and he feels empty and cold and his head is pillowed against Sanshu’s chest which vibrates with lovely words, and he manages to screw his head on enough to make out what they are.

“… he doesn’t like it when we have to go into tombs,” Sanshu says, his voice a low rumble. “I think that he likes the adventure, but not being underground. He’s too much of a runner, my Xiao Xie. He doesn’t like being trapped. He’d outrace the stars if he could.”

“Sanshu?” Liu Sang whispers.

“Are you back with me?” Sanshu asks. “You here, Haizi?” He whistles, Your name is the key. He whistles, Liu Sang.

“Are we still here?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Sanshu tells him. “I’m sorry.”

Liu Sang frowns. He plucks at a loose thread on Sanshu’s sleeve. He thinks he can hear it vibrate in the silence. He tries to remember how to speak Galactic.

“What happened?” he croaks eventually. “I don’t… I don’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Sanshu reassures him. “You’ve been in and out a little bit. But it’s alright. I’ve been watching you. No one did anything. Su Baiyin is still here. I’m still here.”

“Is she…?”

Sanshu sighs. “I’m not going to lie to you, okay? She’s… she’s not doing too well, Haizi. I don’t know what’s wrong, but she’s pretty sick.”

Liu Sang whimpers. It’s a painful noise and he hates that it’s coming from him, but he doesn’t know how else to express how much that hurts. “Is she going to die?”

Sanshu is quiet for a long moment, so long that Liu Sang almost asks again.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I hope not.”

“Can I do anything?” Liu Sang whispers.

“Maybe talk to her,” Sanshu says. “I think she’d like it if you talked to her.”

“Okay,” Liu Sang murmurs. He extracts himself from Sanshu’s hold, moving over to lie down next to Su Baiyin, facing her, looking at her eyelashes brushing her cheeks, listening to the breath passing through her lips. There’s blood dried on her chin, on her upper lip.

“Bai-yi,” he whispers. “Are you listening?” He doesn’t get an answer, not that he’s expecting one, so he continues anyway. “Do you remember the ocean? You never went with me, but you liked it, I know you did. I brought you jars of water from the beach sometimes. You put them in the windows. They made streaks of light on the floor.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “And I’m scared. I want to go home. I’m sorry. I know you wanted to leave, but… it’s really strange out here, Bai-yi. And… and I need you to wake up, please. Just for a minute. Just for me.”

He waits, but Bai-yi doesn’t stir. She lays, still and quiet, eyes closed.

“I love you,” Liu Sang says. It feels like a goodbye.

The door slides open behind him, and he can hear Mao Xincheng’s odd, off-tempo frequency there.

“Back again?” Sanshu asks, voice full of false bravado. “I would have thought you were tired of it by now.”

“You’re the one with three broken fingers,” Mao Xincheng says and Liu Sang sits up to stare, wide-eyed, at Sanshu’s hand, which he is holding very stiffly, three of the fingers swollen. There’s tears in his clothing, a split across his cheekbone, and Liu Sang doesn’t know how he missed this.

“He’s awake?” Mao Xincheng says.

“Don’t touch him,” Sanshu snarls, putting himself in front of Liu Sang.

Mao Xincheng rolls his eyes. “He’s far more useful than you are. We’ll bring him with us for this session, I think.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sanshu says, not even bothering to remember not to swear.

“Jiang Zisuan,” Mao Xincheng says, and the young man steps into the room, looking even more miserable than when Liu Sang had seen him last.

He comes over to Liu Sang and grabs his arm. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Liu Sang blurts.

Jiang Zisuan closes his eyes, looking pained. “Don’t.”

Liu Sang swallows, and behind him, Su Baiyin says, “They’re trapped, aren’t they?”

Liu Sang turns to look at her. Her eyes are open, half-lidded, and she doesn’t seem to be staring at anything in particular, but her whistle is between her teeth, the notes weak and near-silent, but she’s still talking.

Mao Xincheng pushes past Sanshu and crouches next to Su Baiyin. “What did she say?”

“They’re trapped,” Liu Sang says.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask her, ‘Where are you from?’” Mao Xincheng orders. Liu Sang hesitates, and he barks, “Now!”

“Where are you from?” Liu Sang asks.

“The Return…” Su Baiyin mumbles, and Liu Sang relays it.

“Does that have a planetary designation?” Mao Xincheng demands.

“They Return, they are Returned…” Su Baiyin says, and suddenly, her eyes fix on Liu Sang, like she’s trying to hold him in place.

“Are you from Yincangui?” Mao Xincheng hisses.

“I told you already,” Sanshu says, “I was wrong. Yincangui doesn’t exist.”

“Are you from Yincangui?” Mao Xincheng says, ignoring Sanshu.

“Haizi,” Su Baiyin says, and Liu Sang almost starts at the nickname. “Haizi, make sure they are trapped.”

“What?” Liu Sang asks, frantically, because he can see Su Baiyin getting further away again, the whistle falling loose from her lips. “Make sure who are trapped?”

“Haizi,” she says, and then her gaze floats off, the naming whistle around her neck dropping to dangle toward the floor.

Mao Xincheng reaches out, runs his fingers over it, and Liu Sang sees red.

“That’s her name!” he shouts. “Don’t touch it!” He throws himself forward, or tries to, but he’s forgotten that Jiang Zisuan is holding onto his arm, so he just gives himself whiplash.

Mao Xincheng shakes his head. “You were quieter before,” he says. “You’ll have to learn the rules, won’t you? How to behave on my ship.”

“I don’t want to behave,” Liu Sang spits, hoping that Mao Xincheng doesn’t notice his hands shaking.

“I think we’ll be able to change that,” Mao Xincheng says. “Let’s go.”

“Sorry,” Jiang Zisuan whispers, and then he’s being pulled out of the prison, along with Sanshu. Liu Sang tries to fight him, but whatever Mao Xincheng has ordered him to do is strong, and Liu Sang can’t break free.

They’re taken back to the room where he’d Compelled Jiang Zisuan. It looks relatively the same, except for a few bright red streaks on the shiny metal, which Sanshu scoffs at.

“You didn’t even clean up after last time?” he asks. “Sloppy, Mao-ye.”

“What’s the point,” Mao Xincheng says, “If we’re only going to do the same thing again today? Unless, of course, you would like to tell me the coordinates for Yincangui right now.”

“I told you,” Sanshu says, “It was a lie. I’m a liar. It’s what I do.”

“And I told you, I don’t believe that,” Mao Xincheng responds. “I don’t care about the kid, Wu Sanxing. I’ll cut you to pieces in front of him if that’s what it takes.”

“Haizi, close your eyes,” Sanshu says. Liu Sang doesn’t.

Mao Xincheng responds with a kick to Sanshu’s ribs. His boots are steel-toed. Liu Sang hears something fracture, and Sanshu grunts heavily.

“What are the coordinates?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Mao Xincheng punches him in the face. “Tell me.”

“Leave money in a vacuum,” Sanshu breathes through the blood in his mouth, “And it’ll turn to song.”

Mao Xincheng inhales heavily through his nose, grabbing Sanshu by the shirt collar. “Wu Sanxing, I—”

He’s interrupted by the door opening.

“Mao-ye,” a crew member says, sticking their head inside.

“What is it?” Mao Xincheng growls.

“There’s…” The man trails off, gives Sanshu a nervous look, then continues. “It’s a Jiumen ship. The Nine Bloodlines are on our doorstep.”

“What?!” Mao Xincheng exclaims, his eyes wide. “They wouldn’t come for her!”

Sanshu lets his head tip back, laughing. “They didn’t come for her,” he says breathlessly, “They came for me.”

Mao Xincheng seethes. “What are you talking about?”

Sanshu doesn’t answer him, instead looking over his shoulder to grin at Liu Sang. “We knew Zhang Rishan would be okay, didn’t we, Haizi?”

Liu Sang feels something small spark in his chest, a bit like hope.

“We threw him off the ship,” Mao Xincheng says slowly.

“For future reference,” Sanshu says, “It’s a good idea to check whether or not your prisoners are actually dead before you let them go.”

Mao Xincheng’s face creases in hatred, and he punches Sanshu again, once, twice, and then throws him to the ground. Sanshu groans into the floor. Liu Sang tries to turn invisible.

“Outrun them,” Mao Xincheng orders.

The crewmember looks nervous. “We can’t outrun a Jiumen ship.”

“Do it, or you’ll be the next one in here,” Mao Xincheng says, and the man flees. Mao Xincheng paces the floor a couple of steps. Liu Sang can hear his frequency pulsing against the edges of his ears, like Mao Xincheng is going to rip through reality.

Finally, he turns to Sanshu. “I can’t kill you, can I?”

“Nope,” Sanshu says, huffing a breathy laugh. “They’ll search this ship until they find me. And then you’ll be in trouble.”

“Not if they can’t find you,” Mao Xincheng says.

Sanshu rolls over exhaustedly, like it’s taking all of his strength to do so. “Ejecting me into space is still killing me, Mao-ye.”

Mao Xincheng counts on his fingers. “We dropped the bodies a little over two days ago. The closest Jiumen outpost would be the one on Saynr…” He pauses. “Have you ever been to Saynr, Wu Sanxing?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Sanshu mumbles, and Liu Sang desperately wants to tell him to be quiet, because Mao Xincheng is starting to look like there’s a plan falling together in his head.

“So they’ve never seen you,” Mao Xincheng says. “And the Nine Bloodlines recognize each other with a specific phrase. So if you don’t know the phrase, you can’t claim your heritage, can you?”

Sanshu just laughs again. “How are you going to keep me from knowing a phrase that’s been told to me since the day I was born?”  

Mao Xincheng turns to Liu Sang and says, “Erase his memory.”

Liu Sang’s mouth falls open. “What?”

Mao Xincheng’s eyes close for a moment as he grits his teeth in frustration. “I’m tired of repeating myself every time I ask you to do something. Erase his memory, or I’ll shoot him through the head.” As if to prove his statement, he pulls his blaster from its holster and drags Sanshu up by his collar, pressing his head to the side with the tip of the gun.

“Y-you can’t,” Liu Sang stammers. “You said you wouldn’t kill him.”

“I would figure something out,” Mao Xincheng says. “Unlike last time, this blaster isn’t empty. Erase his memory, or I will kill him.”

“Don’t believe him, Haizi,” Sanshu spits out. “He’s too much of a coward.”

Mao Xincheng looks at Sanshu very pointedly, then draws the gun back just slightly and fires. The blast skims Sanshu’s cheek, parting the skin there and sending blood trawling down his cheek as it shoots into the wall next to Liu Sang, who jumps away from it.

“Do you think I’m serious now?” he asks. “I won’t ask again.”

Sanshu pants, trying to keep the stream of blood out of his mouth. “Fucker.”

“I will cut your tongue out,” Mao Xincheng says. “Would that be preferable?”

“Stop,” Liu Sang begs. “I-I—”

“That only happens if you do what I tell you,” Mao Xincheng says. “Now. His memory or his life?”

Liu Sang hates this. He hates it. He wonders if he would be quick enough to compel Mao Xincheng. Maybe. Compulsion seems easier to bring up, these days, like it would just take a flick of his register and everything would be fine.

He gathers it in his mouth, and another shot shaves across the fine hairs on his scalp, heat burning his left ear.

Mao Xincheng puts the blaster back against Sanshu’s temple. His voice has dropped dangerously low, menacing. “Don’t even attempt it.”

Liu Sang feels his lip tremble. He’s so tired.

“Haizi,” Sanshu says. “Look at me.”

Liu Sang doesn’t want to, but he raises his eyes to Sanshu, who is smiling encouragingly at him, even through the blood on his face.

“You can do it,” he says. “It’ll be quick. Easy as pound cake, huh?”

Liu Sang doesn’t want to cry again, but he can taste salt on his lips anyway. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Sanshu tells him softly. He whistles. “Liu Sang. Brave, brave boy. Your name is the key. You can do it.” He nods. “You can do it.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” Liu Sang says, tongue stumbling over the syllables, desperate to fall into his native language. “You said—”

“I was never very good at keeping promises,” Sanshu tells him. One of his eyes is blackened, but it still glints, mischievous and clever. “You’ll have to forgive me for that.”

Liu Sang nods, stutteringly. His hands shake and he winds them into the hem of his shirt.

“Come here,” Sanshu whispers. “It’s going to be okay.”

Slowly, Liu Sang steps forward. It seems like the distance between them is insurmountable. It seems like the distance between them is too short. He stops, just in front of Sanshu.

“Now,” Mao Xincheng growls.

Sanshu smiles.

Liu Sang opens his mouth, threads a link of psychic energy between them. This will be complicated. This will probably hurt.

He says, his voice thick, “Forget, Sanshu. Forget everything. Leave. Don’t e-ever come back. Don’t try to find Yincangui. Don’t try to find us. Forget everything.”

He watches as slowly, terrifyingly, Sanshu’s eyes fade, pupils swallowing up the iris, his smile disappearing, and right before it does, right before Liu Sang snaps the thread and pulls his power back, he lunges forward, wraps his arms around Sanshu, and whispers, “Except Wu Xie. Never forget Wu Xie.”

And then the string breaks, and Sanshu’s gone.

He doesn’t know how he gets back into their prison.

It seems like one moment he’s looking at Sanshu, watching him fade before his eyes, and the next he’s standing in the middle of the storage bay, his face wet, his entire body trembling, his head pounding so hard that he thinks he might fall over. So he does. It seems easier, to just let his body go.

Su Baiyin makes a concerned-sounding noise, and oh, he didn’t know that she was awake. That she had seen, but he’s lying in the middle of the floor, there’s not enough light to see by, and he doesn’t feel like moving.

“Haizi,” Su Baiyin says, and coughs. There’s a dark patch on the blanket next to her head.

“Bai-yi,” Liu Sang murmurs. “They’re all gone.”

“Haizi.” Su Baiyin reaches a trembling hand out, stretching her arm as far as it can go, but it still falls short of Liu Sang.

He’s lying on his side, so the tears run off of the bridge of his nose. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Su Baiyin says. “I’m so, so sorry, I—” She coughs again. There’s dark liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I wish I could have helped.”

He inches his own hand forward, and it takes so much. So much. A sort of hammer chips away at his skull. “Can you make it stop?”

Su Baiyin nods, jerkily, draggin her face against the rough blanket. “I’m going to make it stop,” she says, and her whole body shakes as she laboriously drags herself off of the makeshift bed onto the cold floor, seconds ticking by as she breathes, as she moves, until finally she’s taking Liu Sang’s face in her hands as they mirror each other. He closes his eyes. Her hands are cold.

“Listen to me very carefully, Haizi,” Su Baiyin says. “This is going to be very hard.”

“It’s already hard,” Liu Sang mutters.

Su Baiyin smooths her thumbs over his cheeks, and when she speaks again, her notes are stronger than they’ve been in days, gold underlaying the words. “I need you to lock your memories up. Pack them all into a jar, like ocean water. Put it on a windowsill, safe, somewhere. Put everything inside, Haizi. Keep them trapped, until you go back to Yincangui. If you go back, someday, then you can find them again. Remember only that your name is the key.”

Liu Sang’s eyes open again, because this isn’t what he meant when he said fix it. “What—”

Su Baiyin’s breath rattles in her throat. He thinks that he can see blood coming out of her ears, blood on her lips. “Don’t talk about what you can do. If you figure it out on your own, don’t speak of it to anyone. You’re in so much danger already. Keep them locked away, until you Return. Keep yourself safe. Keep it all inside.”

“No,” Liu Sang whispers. “No, Bai-yi.” He knows it’s too late, somewhere inside him. He already feels so far away. Like he’s floating.

“I love you,” Su Baiyin says, her lips trembling into a smile, and through his blurred vision, he thinks he can see her eyes light up even as her teeth sit bloodstained. “My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

Liu Sang gasps, gasps as his mind crumples, as it all turns to white light, as the tether of his consciousness trembles, frays, and then, like a breath, dissolves, the essence of him floating away on a heartbeat, on a murmured prayer.

He falls out of his head, his eyes closing against his will. Su Baiyin’s face is pale. She might be saying something, but he can’t hear her. There’s ocean waves in his ears, the smell of fresh linen, a patch of sunlight running rings around his feet.

Somewhere, someone is singing.

He wakes up cold.

He’s lying on his side, on the floor, and there’s a strange pressure in his head. He pries himself up, pressing a hand to his forehead, and something falls to the floor with a muted thump, so he looks down.

There’s someone lying next to him, her position an echo of his. Her hair is tangled in a braid, messy as it lies pooled around her skull. She’s pale. Cold. Stiff. She’s gazing at something far away, eyes just barely open, and there are streaks of red painted on her cheeks.

He stares for a moment. He wonders what she’s doing here. He wonders if he looks like her. He finds that he doesn’t know.

He stands, solemnly, and walks over to the wall, as far away as he can get from the cold body in the center of the room. He sits down again and watches. Nothing changes. The woman lies there. He doesn’t know.

A door opens, somewhere, and a man steps in. He’s only about half the height of the doorway, not terribly imposing. His hair is carefully trimmed, beard carefully shaped. He stops, blinks. He sounds strange, like he’s humming.

The man looks toward him. “Is she really dead?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know.

The man sighs, and bends down, placing his fingers against her neck, then holds them under her nose. “Damn,” he says, and reaches down. He pulls a cord out from under her head, holds the necklace in his hand. Examines it.

He watches the man. Maybe he’ll be able to tell him something.

The man straightens up. Frowns. “What’s wrong with you?”

He says, “I don’t know.”

The man squints at him. “This had better not be some kind of trick.”

“Who is that?” he asks.

The man’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Do you?”

The man stares for a minute, then two. “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” he says, because that’s the truth, and he thinks that he probably shouldn’t lie.

The man nods. He glances at the object he took from the person on the floor. “Well. Come on, then.”

He gets up. He follows.

There are years after that, years of learning, of trial and error, of cleaning up blood and bruises in his own cabin after Mao Xincheng (that’s the man’s name. It’s one of the things he learns) pushes him hard in a training session. Years of running, of pounding headaches, of space enclosing, encircling, always too tight and simultaneously not tight enough to make him feel secure. There are planets and people and he has to talk, so much, he always has to talk. He blows into a whistle around his neck. Liu Sang, it sings, Liu Sang. He hums notes when he’s working. Low, low, high, high, low. There’s a phrase running in his head. Your name is the key.

There are years of learning rules, years of walking thin-edged wires, tiptoeing around the other people on his ship, especially the pilot with close shorn hair and pain overflowing in his expressions. He grows his own hair long. Finds he needs glasses. His eyesight isn’t good, but his ears are. They’re so, so good. He can hear the universe sing, loud and low and long, notes that tumble through the stars just for him.

There are years of mystery, years of digging through a notebook of numbers, years of interrogating anyone they come across who might be able to solve it. Mao Xincheng sends out groups to find someone, someone named Wu Xie, and Liu Sang doesn’t know why, but that name jumps in his head, like it’s saying pay attention! Pay attention! I’m right here!

And then.

And then he’s waking up in Wu Xie’s arms on Yincangui, an entire life’s worth of memories unleashed into his head, and he remembers them. He remembers Sanshu. Zhang Rishan. He remembers Su Baiyin, and, oh, how could he ever have forgotten Su Baiyin.

Wu Xie is shaking him as though he’s trying to unshatter his skull, like he’s trying to make Liu Sang fly back together when he’s lying on the surface of his planet, here and whole and newly-made.

“He talked about you,” he gasps. Wu Xie’s face looks like his uncle’s, if a little kinder. A little younger. A little more. “Sanshu.”

“What?” Wu Xie says. “You… you knew Sanshu?”

“What’s he saying, Tianzhen?” Pangzi demands from above them.

“That’s impossible,” Wu Xie says. “Sanshu’s been missing for fifteen years. He went missing looking for this place.”

“He found it,” Liu Sang says. “He found me.”

“Do you know where he is?” Wu Xie asks, and the note of hope in his voice is too much. Liu Sang doesn’t deserve that faith. Not after… not after years. Not after those years.

So he struggles to sit up, pulling away from Wu Xie’s hold. “I—”

“Wu Xie,” Zhang Qiling says, and Liu Sang has to squint at the Kylin, held captive in a beam of bright sun. “We have a problem.”

The roar of a ship’s engine overtakes his voice, and they all look up, just in time to see one of Mao Xincheng’s chaser ships touch down next to the Wushanju.

“Oh, fuck,” Pangzi says, already shifting his feet into a fighting stance. “Tianzhen, get up.”

Wu Xie stands immediately, offers a hand to Liu Sang, who refuses to take it. He can feel the other crew members at his back, Wu Xie at his side, and when Mao Xincheng steps out of the ship, Jiang Zisuan behind him, and Liu Sang’s breath goes still in his throat, someone presses their shoulder to his, and he keeps standing. He keeps standing. He’s not going to fall again. He’s eleven and twenty-six and sad and scared and whole all at the same time, and there’s so much noise in his head, in his ears, but he’s not going to fall again.

The crew of the Wushanju face Mao Xincheng across the clearing.

Yincangui holds its breath.

Chapter Text

Ten years ago, Xiao-ge died in his arms.

He thinks Pangzi has forgotten the details, probably due to a combination of heavy drinking in the days afterward and the distinct lack of desire to keep those memories, but Wu Xie remembers. The shot was meant for him, and Xiao-ge had stepped in front of him, and it would’ve gotten Wu Xie in the shoulder, but Xiao-ge is just slightly taller than he is, so it got him in the chest. It was like there was a microphone attached to him, so Wu Xie could hear everything; the dull zip of the blaster shot piercing Xiao-ge’s skin; the little gasp that the impact forced out of his lungs; the tiny, confused sound of pain that left Wu Xie reeling, stumbling, wanting so badly to fix it and knowing straight into the bottom of his soul that there was no way he could.

Xiao-ge, though. Xiao-ge is beautiful and brave and he stayed standing. He stayed standing even when Wu Xie thought he was going to fall, and he dragged him away from the mob of treasure hunters that they were facing, Pangzi laying cover fire behind them, into a cave at their back. When they got inside, Pangzi desperately shooting into the roof of the cave to bring rubble down around the entrance, to block them from their pursuers, Xiao-ge stayed standing. He stayed standing until they were trapped, in the dark, the only light filtering in from small gaps in between the rocks, and then Xiao-ge fell, a silent, graceful thing, like a blade of river grass snapping under the force of the wind.

Wu Xie caught him, lowered him to the ground, pressed his hand against the hole in his chest.

“Xiao-ge,” he said. “Xiao-ge.”

Pangzi was there, falling to his knees on the other side of Xiao-ge, his big hands trembling. “What happened?”

“That was meant for me,” Wu Xie said, which wasn’t an answer to Pangzi’s question, necessarily, but also wasn’t not an answer. “Why did you—”

Xiao-ge laughed at him. It was something new, a sound that he had just discovered he could make. Wu Xie had hardly seen him laugh in almost the entirety of the two years they had known each other, but the last few months had been full of it. He would have wondered what had changed, if he hadn’t already known.

“I’m not letting you go,” Xiao-ge said, his laugh ending on a choke. Something was creeping up the sides of his neck, black lines that Wu Xie was intimately familiar with, now. He’d kissed those marks into being, hot under his teeth and lips, because they were temperature-induced and Wu Xie had gotten very good at raising the heat, but now he wants to press them away, back into Xiao-ge’s blood, deep, deep into his heart. “I can’t—”

“Shh,” Pangzi said, interrupting. “Don’t try and talk, you’re just wasting energy.”

“I have to tell you,” Xiao-ge said, not listening. “There’s something, and it happens—but I-I’m not supposed to be alone, I’m—”

“You’re not alone,” Wu Xie murmured, brushing  the hair away from his face, frowning when black begins to trickle out of his hairline. “We’re right here.”

“No.” Xiao-ge coughed, and blood came up. “No, it’s… I’m not dying…”

“Of course you aren’t,” Pangzi said soothingly. “Tianzhen would never… would never let that happen.”

Wu Xie wanted to punch him, just a little bit, because that’s what was happening.

The darkness had crept into Xiao-ge’s eyes, swallowing up his cheeks, and it looked terrifying, like black tar eating away at his flesh. Xiao-ge gasped, said, “Oh, what the fuck,” and then went under, black goo bubbling up into his mouth and Wu Xie tried to dig it out from between his lips, but there was just more, more pouring out of him, black coating every inch of visible skin, and Xiao-ge was burning hot, lit aflame by Wu Xie’s sins, and then—

And then he wasn’t. The ink was sucked back into his bloodstream like a riptide, pulled under his hairline and clothes and leaving smooth, unblemished skin in its place.

Wu Xie and Pangzi exchanged a look, and then Wu Xie stuck his fingers into Xiao-ge’s shirt, feeling around underneath the fabric, but the hole wasn’t there anymore, just smooth skin and muscle underneath the slick wetness of leftover blood.

“He’s…” Wu Xie turned to look at Xiao-ge’s face, which was slack and still and appeared particularly dead, but he could feel his heart beating underneath his fingers. “He’s alive?”

“What the fuck?” Pangzi asked, then backtracked. “I mean, thank god, but what the fuck?”

“Xiao-ge,” Wu Xie said, pushing his shoulders gently, fighting the urge to kiss him awake like some sort of fairytale. “Xiao-ge.”

Xiao-ge, like always, listened. His eyes flickered open, fixing on Wu Xie, seeking him out.

“Xiao-ge,” Wu Xie said. “Fuck. What happened? What was that?” When Xiao-ge didn’t answer, just continued staring at him like he’s still half-asleep, that’s when Wu Xie started to get really worried. “Xiao-ge.”

Xiao-ge frowned, and his eyes were different. Quicker than Wu Xie expected, considering Xiao-ge had just recently been dying, he pulled himself from Wu Xie’s arms, light and lithe and lethal, launched to the opposite wall of cave, sharp eyes and glaring teeth, canines exposed and bared.

“Whoa!” Pangzi yelped. “Xiao-ge, what the fuck?”

“Who is that?” Xiao-ge said. He wavered on his feet, pressing a hand to the stone to keep himself upright.

Wu Xie stayed kneeling on the cave floor, mostly too shocked to move, but Pangzi stepped toward Xiao-ge, hands held out placatingly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and warm, the one he uses when one of them wakes up during the night, choking on screams. “Xiao-ge—”

Xiao-ge attacked, lunging forward with his fingers crunched like claws—an attempt to scare, because Xiao-ge, cat-like as he is, doesn’t actually have claws—but he unbalanced himself and with a small whine, passed out into Pangzi’s waiting arms.

Pangzi gathered him up, held him tight to his chest.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wu Xie whispered.

“I don’t know,” Pangzi said, and if Pangzi didn’t know, then there really wasn’t an answer, because Pangzi knew everything that Wu Xie didn’t. It’s how they worked. Wu Xie would know, or Xiao-ge would know, or Pangzi would know. But here, they’re all in the dark.

Pangzi blasted them back out of the cave once they had made sure the coast was clear, and they took turns lugging Xiao-ge’s unconscious form across the surface of the planet, back to the Wushanju. Pangzi helped him get Xiao-ge into their room; there was a brief argument over whether or not that was better than the infirmary, but Xiao-ge hadn’t known what his name was, and while that could be residual shock and confusion over apparently fucking regenerating, there was an open pit growing in Wu Xie’s stomach, and he wanted Xiao-ge to be where they lived, where home was.

But, because Wu Xie’s luck is the most abysmal in the universe, Xiao-ge hadn’t gotten better. He had woken up, eventually, and instead of anger, his face was awfully blank as he asked, “Who are you?” Because he didn’t know Wu Xie. He didn’t know Pangzi. He didn’t know Wu Xie.

“How you holding up?” Pangzi asked, one night.

Wu Xie stared at the neck of the bottle held loosely in his fingers and snorted. He was pretty fucking bad, actually.

Pangzi seemed to understand that, because he just sat down in the seat next to Wu Xie. They were in the cockpit, looking out into the stars. Xiao-ge was somewhere, probably in the cargo hold. He’d taken to spending most of his time there, because it was wide and open and he could perch in the rafters and keep an eye on the door. It was behavior that he’d had when they first pulled him off of that damned planet he’d been marooned on, but he’d gotten over that a long time ago.

Only now, it seemed like they were going to have to go through everything all over again, because Xiao-ge’s biology decided that the best of course of action when saving his life was to make him forget every-fucking-thing.

“Not good, then,” Pangzi said. He shrugged, reached into the side pocket of his jacked, pulled out a flask. “Here, I’ve got the good stuff.”

Wu Xie didn’t bother to respond, because Pangzi probably already knew anything he was going to say. He took the container, flipped the lid off, swallowed a burning mouthful.

“If it makes a difference,” Pangzi said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Wu Xie said. “You didn’t kill him.”

“He’s not dead,” Pangzi murmured hesitantly.

“Might as well be,” Wu Xie muttered darkly, and normally he wouldn’t have said anything like that, because, Jesus, Xiao-ge being alive after taking a shot to the heart was nothing short of a miracle, but miracles aren’t supposed to hurt this damn bad. “Pangzi, he’s… he doesn’t remember.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Pangzi asked.

Wu Xie shook his head. “What would I tell him? ‘Hey, I know you don’t know me from your mother, but actually we were close enough to be fucking. Also I fucking love you?’ That would go over great, I’m sure.”

Pangzi said. “I’d maybe word it a little different.”

“I’m not telling him,” Wu Xie said, punctuating the sentence with another gulp from the flask, and shit, Pangzi did bring out the good stuff. “I’m not… if it happens again, I don’t want to… he’s confused enough as it is. He doesn’t need all my shit on top of everything.”

“Maybe it would help,” Pangzi suggested.

“Who?” Wu Xie asked. “Me? I’m not the one who lost my entire sense of self, Pangzi.”

“Okay,” Pangzi said, “But you still lost something pretty damn important.”

“I’m not telling him,” Wu Xie said. “I’m not going to make him think that he owes me for something he doesn’t even remember.”

Pangzi sighed. “He won’t think that.”

“Right,” Wu Xie said, “Because I’m not telling him.”

“Tianzhen, if I have to watch you idiots pine after each other for another entire year, I’m going to actually go insane.”

“You won’t have to,” Wu Xie said. He took a final swig, recapped the bottle. “It won’t be mutual.”

As it turned out, Wu Xie was partially right, because Pangzi didn’t have to watch them pine after each other for an entire year. More like eight. Or nine. Possibly ten, because Xiao-ge had kept the ultimate note of devotion in his voice when he said Wu Xie’s name. Some things don’t change.

But Wu Xie never said anything about it. Maybe, in one of the infinite universes that unravel from decisions, he did, and it changed everything, but in this universe, he didn’t. He doesn’t. He stayed silent and let Xiao-ge find his way back to him, even though it took all of his limited strength to avoid blurting out the truth when he saw Xiao-ge curled loosely against a window, or watching him from the armchair in their room, or standing in a sunbeam with his eyes closed. Eventually, he got less careful, and sometimes he’ll say something or take Xiao-ge’s hand or look at him and think, Now, now, I could tell him now.

He never does.

Wu Xie isn’t that brave.

If Xiao-ge wants to come back to him, he’ll come back. Wu Xie will be patient. He’ll be as patient as he can.

Because if nothing else, he’s going to find Yincangui. Someday. And it will fix everything. It will bring back everything that he’s lost.

He just has to be patient.

Then it turns out that Yincangui is a crock of shit.

Which, honestly, par for the fucking course. Wu Xie’s life is make up of shit crocks. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised anymore. There are six good things in his life, and they all live with him, so he’s not sure why he thought this one would be any different from the rest of the universe.

He’s trying not to be too bitter about it, because Liu Sang is having an infinitely worse time than Wu Xie is having, and Wu Xie may be incredibly self-motivated, but he is conscientious enough to recognize when his problems should not be the main focus of a situation. The rest of the crew have formed a half-circle around them, a sort of shield, keeping Liu Sang away from a man who has so obviously hurt him. Wu Xie moves to the center, in between Pangzi and Xiao-ge, takes the point. He’s the shouling, after all.  

But—

“Jiang Zisuan?” he blurts out, and the man standing behind Mao Xincheng starts, badly. “What the hell? Why are you… what… where’s A-Ning?”

Jiang Zisuan flinches, and Wu Xie wants to stuff the words back into his mouth.

Mao Xincheng laughs. It’s an ugly sound without substance. “I forgot you knew each other. When we discovered that Haizi didn’t know the location anymore, we attempted to contact you, but Jiang Zisuan didn’t know your hailing frequency. It took us longer than I would have liked to find you, Shouling Wu.”

Wu Xie grinds his teeth. “This isn’t a partnership anymore. You made sure of that.”

“You sound so much like your uncle,” Mao Xincheng muses, and Wu Xie wants to bite him. “Jiang Zisuan,” he says instead, settling on trying to even the odds a little bit. “You don’t have to stay with him. Come on, come with us.” He pitches his voice low, gently, non-threatening.

Jiang Zisuan glares at him. “You don’t know anything, do you?” he asks. “You never did.”

Wu Xie blinks. “What?”

“I didn’t know your hailing frequency, but you knew ours,” Jiang Zisuan mutters. “You could have found us. You could have helped us, but you didn’t even care. Instead, you left us with this bast—” His sentence cuts off as he grips the bandage around his arm, grinding his fingers into it, specks of blood appearing against the white.

Behind Wu Xie, Liu Sang makes a pained little noise. Wu Xie ignores him; he’ll figure that out later.

“Regardless,” Mao Xincheng says, unperturbed by whatever is happening around him. “You led us here, Shouling Wu. So I have to thank you for that. Unfortunately, you won’t remember my thanks.” He snaps his fingers. “Haizi. Wipe their memories and send them back.”

Wu Xie tilts his chin just slightly, angling himself toward Liu Sang without taking his eyes off of Mao Xincheng. “You don’t have to do it.”

Mao Xincheng rolls his eyes. “He knows the rules. Of course he has to do it.”

“You don’t own him,” Li Cu spits, and while Wu Xie loves him for his quick tongue, he really wishes that Li Cu would shut up right now.

Mao Xincheng looks at Li Cu with a mild interest. “You have one too?” he asks. “Teenagers are difficult, aren’t they?”

“He’s nothing like you,” Liu Sang says suddenly, his voice shaky. Wu Xie feels a hand on his arm, and Liu Sang is freeing himself from their circle of safety, placing himself in front of them, facing Mao Xincheng directly. “And I’m not going to Compel them.”

Mao Xincheng doesn’t look surprised by this, just bored. “Haizi, we’ve talked about this. You—”

He ducks to the side, suddenly, right as a shot blazes into the air where he had been standing a second earlier. Wu Xie blinks, and Kan Jian lowers his weapon. God, Wu Xie fucking loves his crew.

“I’m a good shot,” he says, “I won’t miss again.”

Mao Xincheng throws his head back, laughing loudly. It bounces off of the statues that emerge from the mountainside. “Haizi, you really haven’t shared anything with them, have you? Your loyalty to me really is unwavering.”

Liu Sang flinches. “He’s too fast,” he mutters. “You won’t be able to shoot him.”

“Exactly,” Mao Xincheng says. His mouth turns into a straight, small line. “I don’t have time for this, Haizi. Are you going to do your job, or not?”

Liu Sang clenches his fists. “Fuck you,” he says. “I remember everything. I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Pity,” Mao Xincheng says. “Jiang Zisuan. Kill the Shouling.”

Wu Xie has just enough time to think oh shit before he hears the sound of a blaster firing. He would close his eyes, but he doesn’t have enough time before something else is blocking his vision, dark and lean and—no.

He catches Xiao-ge.

“No,” Wu Xie says, his vision tunneling until he’s just looking at Xiao-ge’s face, pale and blood-spattered, his mouth moving like he’s trying to say something, but Wu Xie can’t hear it. He falls to his knees, cradling Xiao-ge, holding him together, and he thinks he can hear rockfall somewhere, Mao Xincheng’s laughter coming from somewhere else.

“Xiao-ge,” Pangzi says, his voice cracking. “Shit. Not again.”

Xiao-ge is heavy in his arms, but also feels so light, too light, like he’s going to splinter and fly away. It’s bad, this time, it’s worse; the black lines under his skin are moving fast, too fast, writhing and tearing and pulling against his bloodstream. His eyes are locked on Wu Xie’s, and Wu Xie wants to look away, because he can’t lose him again, he can’t. He never told him, he never told him.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t. Xiao-ge.”

Xiao-ge coughs. Black belches up from his throat.  

“Seems to be a pattern with them, doesn’t it?” Mao Xincheng says, and Wu Xie would kill him, but he’s too busy trying to keep Xiao-ge with him, even though his eyes are filling up at the pupils, black inching across the irises. Fuck, did it hurt this much last time?

“Fuck you,” Pangzi snarls, because he’s always there to do what Wu Xie can’t.

Mao Xincheng ignores him. “Haizi. Now. Or do I shoot the kid next?”

That makes Wu Xie look up. Even Xiao-ge, who is trembling and feverish, makes an aborted gesture toward Li Cu, who Kan Jian and Wang Meng have pushed behind them.

“Your Kylin can’t make another miraculous save,” Mao Xincheng says. He pulls his own gun from the holster at his waist. “It’s your choice, Haizi. You can Compel them, or I can kill them. Either way, they aren’t leaving here intact.”

“Stop,” Liu Sang begs. His eyes stutter to Xiao-ge and back to Mao Xincheng. “Just… let me help him. Please. Then I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll come back with you. I’ll Compel them. I’ll let you into Yincangui.”

“You’ve already let me into Yincangui,” Mao Xincheng says slowly, like Liu Sang is stupid.

“No,” Liu Sang says. “There’s a lock on the tunnel. I’m the only one who can open it. So let me help him, or you’re never getting in.”

Mao Xincheng stares at him a moment, then shrugs, flipping his gun in his hand so it’s no longer pointing at them. “Fine. Jiang Zisuan, keep your gun trained on the big one.”

Pangzi growls at him.

Liu Sang waits a moment to be sure that Mao Xincheng isn’t going to suddenly shoot him in the back, and then he’s dropping next to Xiao-ge and Wu Xie, his lips pressed together, eyes huge.

“I know how to save him,” he whispers. “I can do it. I remember now.”

Wu Xie gapes at him. “What?”

“He just needs a tether,” Liu Sang says urgently. “I can do it. I promise.”

Wu Xie looks down at Xiao-ge. His skin is almost entirely dark.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Liu Sang nods, and grabs Xiao-ge’s hand. He inhales deeply, and closes his eyes.

Xiao-ge’s lungs heave.

Wu Xie folds over him, pressing his lips to Xiao-ge’s ear. “I love you,” he whispers, because that’s all he has left to say.

Xiao-ge’s heart stops.

Wu Xie watches, standing sentinel over Xiao-ge’s swirling black form. Liu Sang’s face is pinched, sweat beading on his forehead, veins leaping out of his neck. His lips are pursed, little whistled notes floating softly on the current of his breath. Xiao-ge shakes, and Liu Sang’s fingers squeeze, digging into the muscle of his palm like he’s trying to keep both of them from spiraling into the sky.

“Fuck,” Pangzi’s whispering. “Fuck.” He’s clutching Wu Xie’s shoulder,

Suddenly, Liu Sang gasps, and then collapses forward, over Xiao-ge’s chest, like he’s trying to fall into Wu Xie’s lap himself. “He’ll be fine,” he pants. “Don’t worry, Wu Xie. I’m going to fix it.”

“What?” Wu Xie asks.

“Are you done?” Mao Xincheng says.

“I’m going to fix it,” Liu Sang repeats, and then, quicker than Wu Xie expected him to move, he snatches Wu Xie’s blaster from where it’s been digging into his hip and whirls around, aiming it at Mao Xincheng’s heart.

Mao Xincheng sighs. “Haizi.”

“Don’t call me that,” Liu Sang says, slowly getting to his feet, gun still trained on Mao Xincheng. Xiao-ge’s blood is on his shirt. “You don’t get to call me that. That’s hers.”

Mao Xincheng looks surprised. “You remember, then?”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says, biting off the word, a slight whistle on the s sound. “I remember all of it.”

“Since when?”

“Since I got here,” Liu Sang tells him. “She made sure that I would know if I ever came back. She was protecting me.” He tightens his finger on the trigger. “And I remember what you did. What you made me do, I…”

“You did it, Haizi,” Mao Xincheng says. “That was you.”

“You didn’t give me a choice!” Liu Sang cries. “I had to.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Mao Xincheng hisses. “You’re more powerful than anyone else in the universe, Haizi. You don’t think that, if you really wanted to, you could have Compelled me? If you had really wanted to.”

Liu Sang’s grip on his weapon falters, and Wu Xie wants to shout at him not to listen. Mao Xincheng is a liar.

“Right,” Mao Xincheng says. “Because you know that you never had to obey me. Not really. You chose this, Haizi. You’re just as bad as I am.”

“You’re right,” Liu Sang says. “I don’t have to obey you. No one has to obey you.”

“Do you really want that?” Mao Xincheng asks. “You know you’re dangerous, Haizi. Look at everything you’ve done. You destroyed your family. You delivered your home planet to me. You’ve lost everything. I’m the only one you have left.”

“No,” Liu Sang says. “Not anymore.”

And then, in very quick succession, three things happen:

1. Liu Sang pulls the trigger of his blaster.
2. Mao Xincheng steps out of the range of fire, like he did before, moving a quick step to the right.
3. A neat hole appears over his heart, as if by magic, the echo of a second shot vibrating through the air.

Mao Xincheng gapes, gazing down at the wound in his torso.

“You…” he says, and then his legs give out, and he falls into the blue grass, eyes open.

“Fuck you,” Jiang Zisuan says as he reholsters his smoking gun. “I said I would break more than your fingers, didn’t I?”

Mao Xincheng doesn’t answer him, because he is, in fact, dead.

Liu Sang drops the gun he’s holding, his hands shaking. “Oh, god,” he says, and then he’s surrounded by Xiao Bai and Li Cu and Kan Jian, crowding him just enough to keep him on his feet.

Wu Xie sits in the grass, Pangzi at his side, Xiao-ge in his arms, and thinks, a little hysterically, What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Pangzi asks, because they’ve always been on the same wavelength. “What just happened?”

Jiang Zisuan approaches Mao Xincheng’s body, reaching down to yank something from his neck. He approaches Liu Sang, ignoring how Kan Jian and Xiao Bai and Li Cu go tense around him.

“Here,” he says, “I think this belongs to you.”

Liu Sang takes the whistle from him. It’s lighter in color than his, bright wood with simple carvings dancing around the holes in the sides. He presses his lips together, then hangs it around his neck, dangling next to his own.  

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Jiang Zisuan sighs. “Me too.” He looks at Wu Xie, at Xiao-ge. “Is he… okay?”

Wu Xie swallows, glances down at Xiao-ge. He’s still unconscious, but his breathing is even, and the inky color of his blood is lightening, pulling back, leaving him whole again. A part of Wu Xie wants him to stay asleep, so that he doesn’t have to find out if whatever Liu Sang did worked, because if it didn’t, Wu Xie’s not sure what he’ll do.

“He will be,” he finally settles on.

“We need to leave,” Liu Sang says. He pulls away from the little huddle around him. “I don’t want them to find out we’re here.”

“Wait,” Li Cu says, “We’re not going into Yincangui?”

Liu Sang bites his lip, shakes his head. “It’s not worth it,” he says. “There isn’t anything in there for us.”

“What about…” Li Cu glances at Wu Xie.

“I don’t know where he is,” Liu Sang says, “But Sanshu’s definitely not on Yincangui.” He sighs heavily. “It’s a… long story.”

“But—” Pangzi says.

“Please,” Liu Sang mutters, looking tired and young and sad. “Just trust me on this one.”

Pangzi’s eyebrows knit. “Okay,” he says softly. “On this one, Jinx.”

Jiang Zisuan nods to Liu Sang, gestures toward his own ship. “Are you coming?”

“No!” Kan Jian exclaims. “You can’t make him go back, are you crazy?”

“He wants to stay with us,” Xiao Bai says firmly.

“Don’t you?” Li Cu asks.

Liu Sang blinks, looking strangely off-kilter, like this is the first time he’s had the choice as to where he wants to be, which, Wu Xie supposes that it is. “Um.”

“I’ll bring him back,” Jiang Zisuan says, looking a little annoyed that people think he’s apparently evil, though, in their defense, he did crash into their ship. “He just needs to put everything right again.”

“Oh,” Liu Sang says, “Yeah. I should… do that.” He nods, a little hesitant at first, then more firm. “I’ll do that.”

“You don’t have to,” Li Cu insists. “How do you know he’ll bring you back?”

“I’ll go with him,” Wang Meng says quietly. Everyone turns to look at him and he frowns, antennae flattening just a little. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Li Cu says.

Wang Meng rolls his eyes. “I don’t. Doesn’t mean I want them to keep him.”

Liu Sang looks strangely touched. Jiang Zisuan looks as though he’s regretting every single life choice that lead to this moment.

“I don’t care who comes,” he says. “I just need Liu Sang to get rid of the Compulsion on the rest of the crew before they come barreling out here to provide backup like they were ordered to do.”

“Oh,” Kan Jian says, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Okay,” Liu Sang says, “I’ll be back… then. Um. Okay.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Pangzi says, the tone of his voice making it very clear that if Liu Sang is not back, they will be coming after him.

Liu Sang nods jerkily, and then follows after Jiang Zisuan, who is already stomping back toward his ship, clearly done with whatever conversation they were having. Wang Meng smiles confidently at Li Cu and runs off after them. He says something to Jiang Zisuan, who grimaces and looks down at Wang Meng’s hands.

Xiao-ge stirs, shivering a little in the wind.

“Let’s go,” Pangzi says, taking Xiao-ge as Wu Xie gets back to his feet. “I never want to see this fucking planet ever again.”

They wait in orbit.

Pangzi brought Xiao-ge to the infirmary, where Wu Xie has been since. Xiao-ge still hasn’t woken up, at all, and it’s starting to drive Wu Xie a little nuts. The first time, Xiao-ge had been up immediately. He’d also been attacking them, but he’d been awake. Now, he’s just still and pale, blood drying on his clothes.

There’s the sound of the main door opening, the seal engaging, footsteps in the hallway, and then Wang Meng is appearing in the doorway, followed by Jiang Zisuan, who has an unconscious Liu Sang draped over his shoulders.

Wu Xie blinks at them. “What?”

“He exhausted himself,” Jiang Zisuan explains. “The Kylin thing is hard to do. The first time he did it, years ago, he was out for almost an hour. And then he decided to undo years of Compulsion and wipe everyone’s knowledge of Yincangui, so I don’t know what he expected.” He grunts as he deposits Liu Sang on the bed next to Xiao-ge, and Wang Meng immediately begins fussing, which Wu Xie has to hide a smile at, because he’s glad that Wang Meng likes Liu Sang again.

Jiang Zisuan straightens up, folding his arms over his chest. “How is he?”

Wu Xie shrugs. “I don’t know yet. He’s alive.”

Jiang Zisuan says, “That sometimes doesn’t mean much.”

“Yeah,” Wu Xie agrees.

They look at each other for a bit, the silence awkward between them, because Jiang Zisuan had been right, technically. Wu Xie could have tried harder to find him. He had, briefly, when Sanshu first went missing, but when he didn’t receive an answer, he’d given up. He hadn’t been particularly close to the Jiang siblings; they really were just business acquaintances, but still. He could have tried again, but then there was Pangzi and Xiao-ge and the rest of them, and Wu Xie had kind of forgotten anyone else.

“Um,” Wang Meng says. “I’m going to…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just scurries out of the med bay as fast as the awkwardness can push him.

“I’m surprised,” Wu Xie says finally. “I didn’t think you’d bring him back.”

Jiang Zisuan looks at him darkly. “I’m not Mao Xincheng.”

“No,” Wu Xie agrees. “But we’re opportunists, aren’t we? Or. You were before.”

“Before,” Jiang Zisuan says. “Being an opportunist got my sister killed.”

“She is dead?” Wu Xie asks. “A-Ning?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Zisuan mutters. “She didn’t deserve it.”

“None of you deserved it,” Wu Xie says. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Jiang Zisuan doesn’t say anything.

“Do you know where—”

“Where Wu Sanxing is?” Jiang Zisuan interrupts. “No. We wouldn’t have come after you if we had.” He glances at Liu Sang. “Mao Xincheng made him erase Wu Sanxing’s memories, then jettisoned him off when Jiumen ships came after us. I have no idea where he is now, or if he remembers anything at all. After Liu Sang also developed amnesia, Mao Xincheng realized that Wu Sanxing would be the only one to know where Yincangui was, so we tried to find him again, but that didn’t work. You were the next best option, because you had his notes.”

“So what?” Wu Xie asks. “You’ve just been… hunting me down for years? Circling the universe hoping that you’d stumble on Yincangui?”

Jiang Zisuan nods. “Sort of. Mao Xincheng made some deal with a military corporation. Said that he knew where to find the ultimate method of population control before he figured out that we had no direct answer as to Yincangui’s location. He had fifteen years to deliver, and he never did. Around year ten, he got desperate, and that’s when he put out the monetary reward for you. If we hadn’t eventually had you tracked down, I don’t know what he would have done.”

“Where’d he get all the money, if he didn’t fulfill his contract?”

Jiang Zisuan snorts. “Stealing, mostly. He’d send in Liu Sang, wipe out a couple bank accounts, wipe people’s memories. We’ve… caused a lot of trouble.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Wu Xie asks.

Jiang Zisuan snorts. “Oh, fuck you. You think I didn’t try? He had my brain in the palm of his hand, and he’d never let Liu Sang in a room with any of us without him being there. There was no way to get him to unlock the Compulsion unless he remembered it himself, and that clearly wasn’t happening. We were all prisoners aboard that ship. Don’t act like we had a choice.” He jerks his head to Liu Sang. “And don’t you give him any shit for it, either. He did what he had to do. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Wu Xie says softly.

“Didn’t really matter,” Jiang Zisuan says shortly. “It happened. It was a big fucking mess. I would have saved him if I could.”

“I know,” Wu Xie says. “I’m sorry.”

Jiang Zisuan shoves his hands into his pockets. “Fine.” He gazes down at Liu Sang, and his eyes soften almost imperceptibly. “Tell him, when he wakes up, that we don’t hold it against him, okay? I said as much, back on our ship, but I don’t know if it stuck.”

“Where are you going?” Wu Xie asks.

“Away from here,” Jiang Zisuan says. “I’ve got a ship, a crew. We’re all pretty good at what we do. We’ll find work, somewhere. This time on our own terms.”

“Right,” Wu Xie says. “Well. Good luck.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Zisuan mutters. “You too.”

“Jiang Zisuan.”

“What?” the man says, stopping in the doorway.

“If you need help,” Wu Xie tells him, “You can call me. I’ll be there, this time.”

Jiang Zisuan hunches his shoulders. His gaze is unreadable, but Wu Xie thinks he sees a glimpse of the person he knew fifteen years ago underneath.

“Okay,” he says. “Sure.”

And then he’s gone, ducking out of the infirmary. Wu Xie hears the air seal engage once again, and then the main door closing behind him, moments before Pangzi comes in.

“He left?” Pangzi asks, looking over his shoulder before catching sight of Liu Sang on the bed. “What the fuck did he do to him?”

“Said he was just exhausted,” Wu Xie mutters.

“You trust him?”

“Yeah,” Wu Xie replies. He finds Xiao-ge’s hand again, rubs his thumb over the knuckles, rough and battle-hard. “I knew him a long time ago.”

Pangzi sighs, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Wu Xie. “You okay?”

Wu Xie laughs. The sound is hollow, even to him. “What part of this is okay? Xiao-ge died. Again. I haven’t found Sanshu, and it turns out that everything was a lie, the entire time. We failed.”

“Maybe,” Pangzi says. “But Xiao-ge might be fine. We might have a lead on your Sanshu now. And we got him.” He gives Wu Xie his best look, the one that says Okay, Tianzhen, let’s keep going. The one that says, We’re all still here. The one that says, You did good. “I’d say that’s the best outcome we could hope for, all things considered.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Wu Xie says miserably. “Not for Xiao-ge, or Liu Sang, or Jiang Zisuan. What’s the point, if I can’t even help the people who put their trust in me?”

“Tianzhen,” Pangzi says, “You help just by being there.” He nudges Wu Xie with his elbow, and Wu Xie lays his head on Pangzi’s shoulder. “Sometimes you just have to be there while they find their way. Sometimes you just have to stay.”

“When did you get to be smart?” Wu Xie grumbles.

“I’ve always been smart,” Pangzi says. “You’re the one who won’t hold still long enough for me tell you all of my great ideas.”

“Maybe you should keep up with me.”

Pangzi snorts. “I’ve spent so many years chasing your ass around the universe. It’s going to pay off eventually.”

“Mm,” Wu Xie says. “Pangzi?”

“Yeah?”

“… Nothing.”

“Okay,” Pangzi says, and then, because he always, always knows: “I love you too, Tianzhen.”

Xiao-ge shifts on the bed, his fingers twitching in Wu Xie’s grasp. Wu Xie and Pangzi stand up, leaning over Xiao-ge as though that’s going to bring him back around faster.

“Xiao-ge,” Wu Xie breathes. “Are you…?”

“Wu Xie,” Xiao-ge says, his eyelashes brushing prettily against his cheeks. “Pangzi. I thought…”

“Fuck” Pangzi says, his voice thick. He sits down heavily, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck, Xiao-ge, we thought you were gone again.”

“Sorry,” Xiao-ge murmurs, a hint of his usual smirk playing on his lips. “I tried my best, but I guess I stuck around this time.”

Wu Xie can’t help it, then.

He kisses him.

Liu Sang wakes up, fully, a week later.

Wu Xie would like to say that he was a very good shouling during that time and made sure all of their ship things were taken care of and planned out their next adventure, since they weren’t getting rich from this one, but he actually spent most of it kissing Xiao-ge. It’s way better than he remembers it being. Xiao-ge is warm skin and firm muscle, and Wu Xie can make dark lines paint themselves across his body without a sort of bludgeoning dread manifesting in his stomach. It’s beautiful, he thinks, getting to press Xiao-ge against his desk and the pilot’s seat in the cockpit and in the back corner of the cargo hold and behind the large flowering plant in the greenhouse and—

“Stop!” Li Cu shrieks, when he finds them together in the tiny pocket of space next to the entrance bay. “Fucking god, Wu Xie. Keep it contained.”

“Mm,” Wu Xie says into Xiao-ge’s mouth. “No.”

“I hate you,” Li Cu announces. “I’m moving out.”

“No, you’re not,” Wu Xie says. “You’d miss me too much.”

“I would not.”

“Did you need something?” Xiao-ge asks. It’s as soft as his voice ever is, but the way his body is tensed underneath Wu Xie’s indicates that he’s rather miffed about this interruption, which makes Wu Xie giggle.

Li Cu looks disgusted. “Ew. Yes, actually. I thought you’d want to know that Liu Sang’s awake, but by all means, go on violating every spare corner of the ship.”

“He’s up?” Wu Xie asks. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I tried,” Li Cu exclaims, “But you were too busy sucking Xiao-ge’s face off!”

Wu Xie sticks his fingers in Li Cu’s hair, messing it up. Xiao-ge’s already disappearing into the infirmary. “Thanks, Ya Li.”

Li Cu looks at him grumpily, but he doesn’t keep Wu Xie from destroying his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Go talk to him, already.”

Wu Xie plants a kiss on the top of his head, because what the hell, he’s happy and he loves his kid and he wants him to know it. “You’re the best.”

“Are you just going to start kissing everyone now?” Li Cu demands, but he’s smiling underneath it.

“Just the people I love,” Wu Xie calls over his shoulder, following Xiao-ge.

When he enters the infirmary, the Kylin is already standing next to the bed. For his part, Liu Sang is sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets, worn and rumpled, but the color is back in his face and he’s redone his ponytail and put on his glasses, so he looks leagues better than he had been.

“You allowed me to keep them,” Xiao-ge is saying. “Thank you.”

Liu Sang looks embarrassed. “It was nothing,” he says. “I’d already done it once. Zhang Rishan taught me.”

“Zhang Rishan?” Wu Xie asks.

Liu Sang jumps a little. “Yeah,” he says. “He was… uh, I don’t really know how to explain it. But I did the same thing for him, once.”

Wu Xie frowns. “… you don’t mean Zhang Rishan, Zhang Rishan? Like the Nine Bloodlines, Zhang Rishan? That Zhang Rishan?”

Liu Sang shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t know what that Zhang Rishan looks like.”

Wu Xie grabs the datapad he’s left in the infirmary, since apparently he spends enough time there, and pulls up one of the recent Bloodlines images that he has, because Ershu keeps sending him articles about them. “That one. At the end.”

Liu Sang looks at the screen and his eyes get big. “Yeah. That Zhang Rishan.” He frowns. “What’s he doing there?”

Wu Xie cackles. “Huo Daofu’s going to be so pissed off. He’s been trying to convince everyone that Zhang Rishan isn’t human for years. They all just say that he has the blood credentials and knows the passphrase. Oh my god. I can’t believe he was right. All his nonsense about Zhang Rishan never going out in the sun and not looking any older in fifteen years. Zhang Rishan just said he had a good skincare routine. Oh my god.”

“I’m not the last one?” Xiao-ge asks softly, and Wu Xie immediately sobers, because that is a pretty important revelation.

“No,” Liu Sang says. “I guess not. He’s definitely Kylin.”

Xiao-ge looks as though the wind has been knocked out of him.

“Go,” Wu Xie says to him. “Tell Pangzi to set a course for Jiumen. We’ll go find him.”

Xiao-ge nods, stutteringly, like he can’t quite figure out how to move, and leaves, some of his usual grace faltering.

Wu Xie’s a really big fan of these giant revelations they keep having. “We should talk,” he says, sitting in the empty chair next to Liu Sang.  

Liu Sang nods, exhaling heavily. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll leave.”

“Do you want to join the crew, officially?” Wu Xie asks, at the same time.

Liu Sang’s mouth falls open. “What?”

“It’s up to you,” Wu Xie says. He’d talked with the rest of the crew about it, went over his speech with Pangzi and Xiao-ge, but they’d all been adamant that Liu Sang knows that it is his choice, this time. That he knows that he is allowed to want, and allowed to act on it. “But we have the room, and we’re not a big crew. There’s always a need for an extra pair of hands, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not Compelling anyone,” Liu Sang says shortly, almost out of breath, like the words are rushing out of him faster than he can think about it. “I’m not doing that again.”

“That’s… that’s not why we want you to stay,” Wu Xie explains, wondering how he managed to fuck this up that quickly. “We want you to stay because we like you, Liu Sang. But it’s your choice. If you don’t want to, we’ll take you anywhere you want, drop you off, and you can go from there. Or you can stay.”

“I…” Liu Sang says, “I don’t… um.”

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Wu Xie tells him. “We’d really like it if you stayed. And that’s not to guilt you into doing it. Your choice. I mean that.”

Liu Sang swallows. “Where’s Jiang Zisuan?”

“He left,” Wu Xie says. “But he wanted me to tell you that they didn’t hold anything against you. If you want to go back with them, I’m sure—”

“No!” Liu Sang yelps. He winces, visibly calming himself down. “No. I don’t want to go there. Just…”

“Like I said,” Wu Xie says, “You can think about it. Or you can just stay for a little while. It’s not contractual. You’re free to stay, or free to go.”

Liu Sang is staring at him like he’s never seen Wu Xie before.

“You have a room,” Wu Xie says, patting Liu Sang on the knee. “Get some more rest, okay?”

Liu Sang doesn’t say anything. Wu Xie can feel his eyes following him as he leaves the infirmary.

Kan Jian and Xiao Bai are waiting in the hallway, nearly vibrating in excitement.

Wu Xie rolls his eyes at them. “Don’t pressure him, okay?”

Xiao Bai looks insulted. “We would never.”

Kan Jian looks seconds away from crying. “Shouling.”

“Go visit,” Wu Xie says, shooing them into the med bay. “Maybe he’ll believe you two more than me.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Wu Xie says.

“I’m not nervous,” Liu Sang snaps. Xiao-ge just raises an eyebrow, which for him is about the same thing.

They’re standing outside of Zhang Rishan’s office, after having muscled their way past his scary-looking assistant through a combination of Wu Xie's blood credentials, Xiao-ge’s sword, and Liu Sang’s puppy dog eyes.  Liu Sang is currently fidgeting so hard that Wu Xie wants to tie him down, and Xiao-ge keeps staring at the door like he’s going to melt it with his eyes alone.

“For the love of God,” Wu Xie says, and opens the door.

“Don’t!” Liu Sang squeaks, but Wu Xie is already inside.

The only person is there is a man sitting at a large desk, bent over a datapad, though he looks up when Wu Xie enters. He’s handsome, almost breathtakingly so, even though his eyes are hard and his mouth set in a firm line. He’s well-dressed, as most members of the Jiumen are, and Wu Xie would think that he was human due to the air of importance he gives off, which is something the Nine Bloodlines radiate all over the place. Usually it’s annoying, but Zhang Rishan wears his confidence like a perfume, making people want to see what’s underneath rather than being shoved away by the arrogance.

He looks up when Wu Xie enters, the expression on his face not changing in the slightest, and Wu Xie thinks, oh yeah, he’s definitely related to Xiao-ge.

“Can I help you?” he asks, voice soft, but Wu Xie can hear the threat underlying the words, like Zhang Rishan is letting him know that he will dismember him if Wu Xie wastes his time.

“Not me,” Wu Xie says, “Them.” He steps aside, giving Zhang Rishan a clear view of the doorway.

Xiao-ge is there first, and Zhang Rishan watches him, a furrow appearing between his eyes, but then he sees Liu Sang behind Xiao-ge, and stands up so quickly that he knocks his chair over.

Liu Sang has his hands in nervous fists, and his eyes keep moving around the room, like they’re not sure where to land. Zhang Rishan breathes heavily, gazing at him without blinking, like Liu Sang will disappear if he closes his eyes for even a second.

“Um,” Liu Sang says. “I don’t know if you remember, but—”

He’s cut off by Zhang Rishan whistling a note, smooth and clear, one that Wu Xie has heard before, when they were decoding the notebook. Liu Sang’s name, his Yincanguian name. Zhang Rishan whistles it again, coming around from behind the desk. He stops just a few feet from Liu Sang, says it one more time.

“Yeah,” Liu Sang says, his voice cracking. “That’s me.”

Zhang Rishan says. “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive,” Liu Sang repeats, and that seems to be enough, because Wu Xie catches just a glimpse of Zhang Rishan’s face breaking into a teary smile before he’s hugging Liu Sang desperately, like he’s trying to get the feel of him again.

“Thank god,” he says. “Haizi, thank god.”

Liu Sang sobs, fingers clutching the back of Zhang Rishan’s jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Zhang Rishan tells him, pulling away to grip Liu Sang’s shoulders tightly. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I left you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Liu Sang says.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” Zhang Rishan says. “I never stopped looking for you.”

Liu Sang smiles, and it’s the most real one Wu Xie’s ever seen him wear. “I’m here now. You found me.”

“No,” Zhang Rishan says. “You found me. And I’m so happy you did.” He takes his thumb, brushes away the tears on Liu Sang’s cheek. “Su Baiyin?”

Liu Sang shakes his head. “She… she’s been gone a long time.”

Zhang Rishan nods slowly, like that’s what he expected, but he’s still hurt by it. “She would be so proud of you, Haizi.”

Liu Sang’s smile wavers, but it’s still bright, bright. He steps back, takes the lighter-colored whistle from around his neck and holds it out to Zhang Rishan. “Here. She’d give it to you, if she could.”

Zhang Rishan takes the whistle delicately, holding it cupped in his palm for a moment before he taps it gently against the silver bracelet around his wrist and slips the cord around his neck, where the whistle nestles at the hollow of his throat, mirroring Liu Sang’s own.

Wu Xie takes Xiao-ge’s hand, and Xiao-ge squeezes his back, as one more thing in the universe returns to rights.

“Don't be nervous,” Liu Sang teases from his place at Wu Xie’s side.

“You shut up,” Wu Xie mutters, anxiously smoothing down his jacket. It’s his best one, the one with the least number of bloodstains. “I am your shouling.”

Liu Sang rolls his eyes. “Like that’s ever meant anything.”

Wu Xie doesn’t respond, because Liu Sang does have a point. Even though he’s now part of the crew, he doesn’t tend to respect Wu Xie anymore than he already did. Come to think of it, none of his crew respects him anymore than they did before joining. Huh. Maybe he should do something about that.

“The perimeters look safe,” Xiao Bai says in his earpiece. “It’s not a very big house. Also, the security system is pretty terrible. You won’t be setting off any alarms if you just go in through the front.”

“When have we ever gone through the front?” Pangzi asks. “I still say we should blast the back door in.”

“Yes!” Li Cu’s voice exclaims. “I like Pangzi’s idea!”

“How would that help?” Kan Jian demands.

“I don’t know why I brought any of you with me,” Wu Xie mutters into the comms. “Except Liu Sang. At least he’s here to actually do something useful.”

“It’s for backup,” Xiao Bai insists.

“Moral support,” Kan Jian adds.

“We’re nosy fuckers and want to hear you cry when you finally find him,” Pangzi chimes in, and Wu Xie snorts.

“Don’t worry.” Xiao-ge’s voice is soft, loving. Wu Xie’s heart latches onto it and calms. “We’re here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wu Xie says, a bit roughly. He switches off his voice channel before he can start crying at his crew’s voices. To Liu Sang, he says, “Ready?”

Liu Sang nods, and they get out of the shuttle.

They’ve landed outside a small, fenced-in house, with a garden in the front yard. It’s on a quiet planet. It’s a quiet house. Wu Xie can see small, fluffy animals pecking at the ground that look an awful lot like chickens, if chickens had horns.

There’s a woman on the front porch, sitting with a bundle of fabric in her lap, and a man bent over in the garden, scratching at the soil with some sort of sharp tool. Liu Sang calls to them as they approach the front gate.

“Hello!” he says. “Are you the Chens?”

The woman on the porch looks up, but Wu Xie doesn’t have the eyes for her. Instead, he stares at the man in the garden, who looks a little older than Wu Xie remembers, but still has his crooked grin and deep eyes, the ones that shone whenever Wu Xie did something particularly good or clever. He has the hands that turned the pages of books and wrote quick, detailed notes in a thin sort of chicken-scratch handwriting. He has the strong back and good bones of an adventurer, someone who has travelled across galaxies and come back with so many stories to tell, stories that always left Wu Xie gazing in wonderment at the black canvas of space.

The man’s smile fades just a bit when he sees them, and he takes a staggering step forward.

“Wu Xie?” he whispers. “You… you’re Wu Xie, aren’t you?”

Wu Xie feels his world swivel back into order, like a swiftly tilting planet.

“Hi, Sanshu,” he says. “I’m here.”

The End