Chapter Text
Zhang Rishan stands by the porch, the winter wind merciless as it blows from the east. It brings a frigid sense of anxiousness through his bones. His shoulders are squared and tense as he watches the tree branches creak and curve at the weight of snow. Zhang Rishan hears the loud sound of footsteps, each one heavier than the next, it resounds against the thick wooden floorboards and pillars. The snow covered branches finally breaks, making a heavy sound as it fall.
“Your Highness!” One of them cries before kneeling before Zhang Rishan.
The line of guards follow suit, bending in one knee and saluting to him.
Zhang Rishan doesn’t dare ask for the reason for their haste.
“Your Highness!” They cry in unison before the first one lowers his head.
“It’s His Highness.”
Zhang Rishan slowly turns to them, his expression unreadable. “Has my brother returned?”
There is a deafening silence for a long time. After a second, the soldier murmurs. “I am afraid, His Highness cannot.”
Zhang Rishan’s eyes widen. His heart’s beating grows fast, without a second thought he begins to run towards the main hall. He ignores the call of his servants and the soldiers. With his sleeves billowing behind him he rushes. He doesn’t wait for anyone to announce his arrival nor open doors, he pushed them with ease, rushing from room to room, hallway to another until finally he arrives at the main hall.
Heaving he takes in the sight before him. A line of soldiers bows before the throne, their armors painted in blood, soot and cuts. The air is heavy and howl of the wind resounds with the faint sound of sobs. Zhang Rishan walks up to the throne, his legs feeling weak and he stumbles twice. He nearly crawls up to the raised platform. He reaches, tugging the Empress’s robes. He finally looks up, his eyes red and moist with tears, his rose colored lips trembling. Next to him the Emperor holds him, his eyes has never been as sorrowful as now.
The Empress reaches out to him, touching his cheek.
Zhang Rishan’s eyes shifts from his face to the bundle in his arms. Zhang Rishan’s breathe stutters. Shards of what once is a sword rest in that bundle. Black and gold shine under the pale glow of the indoor light, blood and soy clings to them stubbornly. And the hilt. Zhang Rishan reaches out to touch them, hoping once he does he would wake up from the dream.
Cold. Zhang Rishan jolts as he feels the metal against his skin. He looks back at his mother, eyes wide and unblinking.
Zhang Qiling is dead.
.
.
.
.
***
5 years later
Wang Pangzi’s eyes were used to spot enemies and spies. That was his work. A young lad raised by soldiers and generals, he inevitably landed a job among the nobles, soon in the King's palace. He led a troop, and after an injury in a battle he settled as a spotter for spies until the inevitable arrival of the King’s only grandson.
Wang Pangzi jumps down from his horse and leisurely walks towards the bustling market and through the crowd. Without a hesitation he walks up to a stall and pulls the ear of the cowering customer wearing a poor disguise.
“Aw! Aw! Pangzi!” Wu Xie cries as Wang Pangzi pulls him in a corner.
Wang Pangzi let’s him go and slaps the young man’s arm. “Are you insane? Your grandfather is old, do you want to kill him, huh?”
Wu Xie is the grandson of the King of Wushanju, Wu Laoguo. Wushanju has been led by the Wu family for seven generations. Wu Xie’s father is the First Prince of the Kingdom making him his heir.
However, it is as if luck has frowned upon the Wu Laoguo. He has three sons, all of whom were uninterested in taking the throne. The eldest, Wu Xie's father, although handled some political affairs, it obviously clear by retreating in the countryside that he doesn’t feel particularly fond of taking after his father’s duties. The second eldest helped the most in ruling, but had more aspirations in trade than ruling. The youngest had a heart reserved only for adventure.
And Wu Xie. Wu Xie who had grown up in a countryside raised solely by his parents without any servants or royal tutors, know nothing of prince-ly conduct. In fact, he has made at least three tutors cry and tell the King it is truly hopeless to teach him to conduct himself like a prince.
One could say, outwardly Wushanju is thriving but internally there is a problem brewing.
“Shh!” Wu Xie hushes him. “Don’t speak that evil into the world! Grandfather is strong.”
“Well, not if you keep giving him a heart attack like this.” Wang Pangzi says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Shouldn’t you be visiting Duke Jiang with your uncle?”
Wu Xie chews on his lips. “Duke Jiang just wants to talk about war. It’s boring.”
Wang Pangzi looks around. “And walking around town is more entertaining.”
“Yes.”
Wang Pangzi looks at him unimpressed.
“What?” Wu Xie asks. “It’s really more entertaining and insightful.”
“Your uncle thought you were kidnapped.”
Wu Xie finally looks actually guilty. Cheeks red in shame as he fiddles with the hem of his clothes. Seeing the genuine remorse, Wang Pangzi sighs. Even after twenty years, Wu Xie still hasn’t been able to fully embrace the idea of him possibly becoming the next in line for the throne. He loved his life as a free and young man. The world is vast and Wu Xie is willing to know more of it.
However, as he grows, expectations of his family’s subjects grow for him.
“Come on,” Wang Pangzi says as he pulls Wu Xie with him, “You should at least explain to your uncle. I’ll help you write a letter, how about that?”
Hearing this, Wu Xie’s eyes brighten and he nods.
Wang Pangzi is about to cross the street to where his obedient and loyal horse is standing and waiting for him when a loud call disperses the busy crowd. Wang Pangzi takes a step back as he hears the sound of carriages and horse hooves against the dirt. A traveling merchant with his goods and some of his men is passing by. During late spring to early autumn, these merchants are usual sights in Wushanju.
“Give way! Passing through!” The carriage driver calls out.
The carriage creaks with the weight of the sacks of produce in it. Following the carriage of sacks of produce is another carriage. Without having to look into details, Wang Pangzi can easily guess it is where the merchant is riding in. Following that carriage is are two men riding a horse, and a man in rags walking with them.
“Foreigners?” Wu Xie whispers to Wang Pangzi.
Wang Pangzi nods.
Wu Xie purses his lips at the look of the slave walking with the group. His clothes are tattered and old, course and dirty. His feet are bare, his wrist bound with course ropes and his hair is matted, unkempt and untied.
Finally, the caravan passes through and the streets resume their business as usual.
“Come on,” Wang Pangzi calls. “If we’re quick you can stop by that tea house you’ve been raving about.”
Distracted, Wu Xie nods happily and lets Wang Pangzi whisk him away.
***
It is nearly sunset when Wu Xie finishes his meal at the tea house. Wang Pangzi is by the counter speaking with the tea house staff to get some food for the road. Wu Xie sighs thinking of the scolding he’ll receive once he arrives back home. Truly, he feels guilty. He knows his uncles wanted him to learn but speaking with people who had opposing morals always made Wu Xie feel squeamish. It is like expecting a fish to understand the problems of a cow.
The wars are important, he knows this. His mother came from a long line of strong female generals and his third uncle is a general as well. Wushanju’s freedom didn’t sprout from the ground with the help of the sun and rain, it was nourished with battle cries and blood. But it is a past Wu Xie would like to remain there. Now that peace has been achieved, what was the need to conquer more? To defend, he understands but to become an aggressor? How would they be any different from the men whom his ancestors had fought to gain freedom from?
Wu Xie would have to think of a way to speak with his uncle regarding the matter, perhaps if he explains it better he would agree. Wu Xie looks over the balcony from their seat. The colorful streets are slowly being painted with the warm glow of sunset and lantern. Wu Xie would never get tired of—
“Hey! Take that elsewhere!”
The sound of something breaking makes Wu Xie shift his gaze. Squinting and leaning over to the balcony to see clearer, he sees where the sound has come from. In front of the tea house, by the steps there’s a figure crouched on the steps and another man standing in front of the first.
“I almost tripped in your stupid bowl!” Wu Xie frowns as the man continues to make ruckus. Fights and misunderstandings are not a rare occurrence, especially in a bustling market and town. Wu Xie isn’t surprised but still somewhat worried for the meek man being scolded.
The man crouching on the ground doesn't seem to mind the scolding as he scrambles to get the bowl that is now tilted on the floor scattering whatever is in it. Displeased with being ignore the other yells a curse before finally kicking the bowl and shattering it on the ground.
Wu Xie stands up in shock. He understands being angry but kicking someone’s belonging and destroying them is drawing the line. Unable to hold himself back, Wu Xie rushes down to the front door. He opens it and to his shock he sees the crouching man crawling on the dirt, gathering what’s left of the contents of the broken bowl in the palm of his hands and shoving them to his mouth.
“No!” Wu Xie cries as he holds the man’s hand, “Don’t eat it!”
“Ha! Serves him right!” The man cries before kicking some pieces of the broken bowl. “You should go elsewhere! You make me sick!”
Wu Xie looks up at the man, offended in behalf of the poor person eating from the ground. “He wasn’t doing anything! You’re the one who knocked out his food and you had the gal to speak like that? He should be asking for compensation!”
“Compensation?” The man spits on the ground next to the other’s hand. “I’m not paying for a rat!”
“You!” Wu Xie steps forward ready to give the man a piece of his mind when he feels a soft tug on his clothes. When he looks down the man shakes his head.
“Ha, well, at least the pest knows his place.”
Before Wu Xie could scold the man for his language, the man has already turned his back and is walking away. Tucking the anger in his heart, Wu Xie turns to the aggrieved man. He crouches down, gently peeling the hands off the hem of his clothes. The man jolts, bowing his head in apology for some reason.
“Don’t eat those,” Wu Xie says.
The man nods, head still hanging low.
Wu Xie feels bad looking at the broken bowl. The contents could hardly be called food, he had seen street dogs and cats eat a better looking mixture. Without hesitation he runs back inside the tea house.
Luckily, just as Wu Xie walks up to the counter the staff has just set a small box of mooncakes. Wang Pangzi hands the payment to the staff just as Wu Xie swoops in and takes the box for himself.
“Hey!” Wang Pangzi calls out.
“Can we just get another one, please! I’ll pay you later!”
Wu Xie could practically hear Wang Pangzi rolling his eyes but he pays it no mind. He rushes back out of the tea house and he finds the man there. Sitting with his knees pulled to his chest. As if sensing his arrival, the person lifts his head a bit.
“Sorry,” Wu Xie says as he crouch next to him. He opens the box and shows the four pieces of freshly made mooncakes. “Here, these are good! You can have all of them.”
The man doesn’t move, as if he doesn’t know what to do. So, Wu Xie helps him. He reached out, taking his hand and setting one mooncake in the palm of his hand.
“Here, try it.” Wu Xie encourages.
The hands that hold the mooncake trembles but slowly it moves and Wu Xie could faintly see underneath the curtain of matted hair that the man is beginning to eat. Small bites grow big and then bigger. Soon there’s none. Wu Xie offers another one. And another one.
By the fourth, the hand pauses midway. And for the first time, the lowered head lifts up, meeting Wu Xie’s gaze. Despite the dirt and bruises covering his face, Wu Xie could see an outline of a handsome young man no older than himself. Wu Xie could only wonder what had happened for this person to be led in this kind of life.
“Yours.”
Wu Xie blinks as he hears a faint voice. It is said so softly that he barely even noticed the man spoke.
“Mine?” Wu Xie asks in confusion.
The man nods before lightly pushing Wu Xie’s extended hand to himself. “Yours. Eat.”
Wu Xie blinks as he slowly come to understand. Wu Xie couldn’t help but feel an ache in his heart. Despite being obviously famished, the man had the heart to think of sharing his food to someone else.
Wu Xie shakes his head. He carefully wraps the mooncake in its paper cover. Before putting it back on the man’s hands. “It’s yours. You can save it for later if you want.”
The man looks at him for a long time, as if trying to understand something complex, something new.
“Wu Xie!” Wang Pangzi calls out. “Wu Xie what have you been…”
Wu Xie stands up when he sees Wang Pangzi standing by the door looking at him and the stranger. Walking closer Wang Pangzi looks at the rest of the sight, broken bowls and food on the floor.
“What happened?” Wang Pangzi asks.
“Someone bullied him.” Wu Xie says with a frown. “They kicked his food.”
Wang Pangzi makes a face of disdain. “Those assholes.” He says.
“I gave him the mooncakes.” Wu Xie says. “Don’t be mad, okay?”
Wang Pangzi lightly slaps his shoulder. “If you had said that earlier I would have given him more.”
Wu Xie chuckles lightly before turning to the man. “I’m sorry, but we have to go now.”
The man nods, clutching the mooncake to his chest like a treasured item.
“Here,” Wang Pangzi says. “Give him my token, I'll just get another one.”
Wu Xie takes the wooden token before handing it to the man. “Here, take this. If you encounter any trouble you can find us with this. Show them this and they’ll know you’re with us.”
The man looks at it for a moment before quietly nodding.
“Well, we’re running out of time. But if trouble finds you, just show any patrolling guards that and they’ll come help you find us.” Wang Pangzi says.
Wu Xie takes one last look at the man before letting Wang Pangzi whisk him away. He doesn’t know why, but he feels as if that wouldn’t be the last time they’ll see each other.
***
“Come on,” The merchant says, kicking up the dirt from where A-Kun has finished stacking a couple of sacks of grains.
A-Kun looks up at the merchant. He looks around making sure he isn’t being made fun of once more and as soon as he notices there’s truly nothing else to do he nods. It is a few hours past midnight. The town that was busy and bustling with life had settled.
One of the merchant’s men walks up to him and hands him a roll of bamboo mat.
A-Kun accepts it but looks back the man expectantly. Everyone already had their evening meal, even the horses. A-Kun, on the other hand, hasn’t.
“Food?” He asks.
The man laughs, “Food? There’s none.”
A-Kun looks at his bamboo mat. They’ve been traveling for two weeks, and he could count in his hands the times he received anything to eat from them.
“What? Do you have a complaint?” The man says, “Didn’t Master already gave you a bowl of congee? Aren’t you being greedy? Even the dogs don’t complain whether they have a bone or a scrap, and yet you do.”
A-Kun steps back. He doesn’t want trouble. He really doesn’t.
“Go watch sleep! There should be some space in the stables.”
A-Kun nods. He immediately makes himself scarce, he walks in the stables where the merchant’s horses had been resting. The animals has settled in for the night, when A-Kun arrives they pay him no attention. He settles his bamboo mat in a corner and sits down. The stables has a roof, some walls and the hay is warm when piled up together.
It is generally a better condition than sleeping in the wilderness or in the desert with no roof. Towns are still more comfortable than the outback.
A-Kun’s musing is interrupted by a growl from the pits of his abdomen. It is so loud some goats that has been sharing the stables wake up. A-Kun grimaces. He has a few bites upon arriving at the town but after three days of just having some water and dried berries, it is just not as filling as he thought. Besides, his meal had been cut down to an even more meager portion after it was knocked over by the stranger in the streets.
Speaking of, A-Kun couldn’t help but be reminded of the beautiful man who had come to his aide. He really couldn’t forget such a face. Soft supple and unblemished cheeks. That kind and warm smile not quite the blaze of the desert sun but more like a welcomed summer sun.
When A-akin dugs into his rough robes he pulled out the carefully covered mooncake. His mouth waters and his stomach growls at the sight of food, but he swallows it down and clutches the mooncake delicately.
He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. It might be the last thing he has to to recall that man. He’d keep until it has rotten. He’ll keep still even when you couldn’t even tell it is food.
It has been the first kindness he has gotten since he can remember.
A-Kun flutters his eyes closed and he brings himself to sleep with the image of the beautiful man.