Chapter Text
He's procrastinating. Delaying the inevitable. The inaction chafes at him, but the alternative seems even worse.
The office is empty, and the silence is judging him.
The official letter stares at him from the letter tray on his desk, the only piece of correspondence left unopened. He's even gone through the finance report first, voluntarily, when usually Luo Que has to hound him about it for at least two weeks (one to get him to read it and another to get him to sign off on it). The seal of the inaptly named Department of Sentinel Affairs adorns the top right of the envelope, and in the middle of it is his name– nothing but his name, which means they delivered it to his door personally. This time they are determined to make sure he received it. He probably has Luo Que to thank for the fact that they're not in his office waiting for him to open the damn letter like they don't already all know what it is.
A summons, politely worded like it is an invitation, but a summons is what it is. Any sentinel who refuses contact with the Department will be listed as Rogue, a technicality that is only one step up from 'criminal' for the fact that rogues are allowed to walk the streets with some semblance of freedom. Refusing is unwise, and it is only Foye's legacy that saved him the last time he refused such an invitation. But in this modern day and age there are few enough who remember Foye even in the Jiumen, and that name will not protect Zhang Rishan this time.
An invitation he cannot refuse, when he reads it. So, he has not read it yet. Behind his eyes a familiar headache is building.
Zhang Rishan has never wanted a guide. After seeing what happened to Foye, to Erye, to so many of the others, how could he? The Jiumen business is an unkind one, and close connections are a liability. It is safer for everyone involved that Zhang Rishan works alone.
The few who know his reputation (the Jiumen, some few at the Department) have given him the leeway that he has had so far. Because sentinel Zhang Rishan has had guides before. Plural. And even given his unusual age, there were too many of them. Most sentinel-guide pairs bond for life, and though Zhang Rishan's profession, such as it is, is not a safe one, his track record is bad. Losing a guide is enough to get you earmarked as dangerous and bumped down the list. However, the list is not so long, and Zhang Rishan's life is not so short that they wouldn't eventually get to him again. Losing more than one guide, and then not forming a bond with the two subsequent ones assigned is unheard of. There are enough sentinels waiting for what Zhang Rishan considers an 'assignment' that they bumped him to the bottom of the priority list once more. Now it is apparently his turn again.
Zhang Rishan makes a point not to be late. That would be rude to the poor sod who has been assigned to him as guide. He also makes a point of not arriving even a single minute earlier than he has to. Two men in suits are waiting for him in the foyer of the Department, which despite its singular name is more of a collection of interconnected buildings than a single thing. Two people for an escort seems excessive, as well as foolish. The pair of them wouldn't be able to stop him if he tried, and he wouldn't be here in the first place if he hadn't already made up his mind.
They escort him to the 'cozy' part of the buildings. It's a wing designed to feel vaguely homely and safe, and less like a government facility. They seem to have missed the memo that no amount of rugs, sitting nooks, and chintzy paraphernalia can make the too-wide corridor stop smelling like industrial cleaning agents. The smell is strong enough that surely even people without sentinel-senses should be able to notice it.
"We're here, Sentinel Zhang," one of the pair says. They have not introduced themselves, and Zhang Rishan has not asked. It is in their own best interest that Zhang Rishan not be able to remember them, lest his hostile feelings towards the situation and this day as a whole gain a direction. They have stopped at a nondescript door, painted the same creamy colour as the wall. It wasn't hidden, not from a sentinel and not from a normal person, but it is made in such a way that the mind wants to gloss over its existence in favour of the not-quite-homely corridor.
They open the door for him, and usher him into a cold room. The room is dark, though not dark enough to make a sentinel pause. One wall is more window than wall, and looks into a faux-stylish sitting room. A one-way mirror, then. Instinctively Zhang Rishan scans both rooms, registering threats (none imminent, one sentinel and guide pair, and two tech assistants in this room; one skinny kid in the sitting room, glaring at the mirror), exits (one in the sitting room, two in the mirror room: one behind him and one on the far side of the small observation room), noting the recording that is registering on the screens below the mirror. For the sitting room or this one, he wonders, before discarding the question. It hardly matters, they're sending him in there soon enough.
"Sentinel Zhang, thank you for joining us today," the Sentinel drawls. He doesn't introduce himself, but unfortunately this man needs no introduction. Minister Li has recently been assigned this job, more on the merits of his guide Yuan than his own interpersonal skills. It's not a good sign, because it means Zhang Rishan's case has attracted attention higher up than normal sentinel-guide pairs would.
"I received your invitation," Zhang Rishan answers, as blandly neutral as he can. They will not be receiving any polite pleasantries from him today. A small noise that sounds almost like a snort but cannot be one registers in the mics from the sitting room, a brief spike in the recording that runs across the screens.
Minister Li waits several more moments for more, and is disappointed. Zhang Rishan only waits for the minister to finally catch on that he may be able to make Zhang Rishan come here, but he will not be giving an inch more ground than that. The minister finally cottons on, but instead of the expected frown he smiles. "Very well– we are both busy men Sentinel Zhang. You know why you're here. I know you don't want to be here. So here is what is going to happen: you are going to go in there and you are going to work with this guide, or we are going to invite you every day for a new meeting with a new guide until you give in. What do you think?"
Zhang Rishan has several things he thinks, though he refrains from saying them to the ministers face. He forcefully commands his thoughts to be calm, reigning in feelings that want to run, that want him to run away from this glaringly obvious trap.
"I wonder what this poor guide has done to deserve the dubious honour of being assigned to the one sentinel who doesn't want a bond," Zhang Rishan reflects. It is a valid question: the kid is young though Zhang Rishan has never been good at guessing ages. Still, to be saddled with the biggest problem case the Department has at his age would be an unenviable fate. Yet it seems the minister does not expect him to refuse the deal and set in motion that hellish plan of endless first meetings, so they must intend for this kid to be his guide…
Before minister Li can answer, the kid speaks from the sitting room, through the mirror he cannot see through: "What 'this poor guide' has done is much the same as your own crime, sentinel. I'm not interested."
Zhang Rishan raises an eyebrow at the minister, before turning to one of the techies: "You left the mics on." The statement is more of a test than a question: the young lady's response is telling enough. She shakes her head, and glances at the minister as if to prove her innocence.
"They didn't," the guide in the setting room announces.
"His hearing is… unusual," the minister announces to the room–both rooms, really– as if that explains everything.
"My hearing is better than most sentinels'," the guide snaps, and something in his anger tells Zhang Rishan that that skill is at least partially responsible for the fact that the kid has been assigned to him. The anger also makes his lips want to curl into a smile, but he doesn't let them. However much he appreciates the kid's fiery attitude, he cannot let the minister think he is in any way on board with his scheme.
Minister Li seems to be building up some kind of smug speech from the way he is puffing up his chest, and Zhang Rishan has heard enough of those to last him all of his lifetime and more. "Did you need to discuss anything else, minister? Otherwise I shall go next door to meet this guide–" he catches himself before he can say 'my' guide. As loathsome as the minister's plan sounds, this is not a choice he should be allowed to make on his own. "-- and I will consider which part of your plan I shall agree with."
A small, irritated
tsk
registers on the mics in response. He does not give minister Li a chance to respond, and turns on his heel to walk out. As he turns away he sees Guide Yuan rest a hand on the minister's elbow: a small, calming touch to make sure he doesn't snap the way he so clearly wants to. As much as he dislikes minister Li, the two are clearly a well-matched pair. Zhang Rishan feels a faint pang of something in his chest, and ignores it. It is in no one's interest for Zhang Rishan to form a bond: he would live too long (
has
lived too long already), and lives with too much danger. It would not be right to tie someone else to his life in such a permanent way.
It feels like there is more air in the corridor than in that cold spying room, and Zhang Rishan allows himself the briefest of moments to breathe. His escort is still waiting in the corridor, so he pretends to straighten his perfectly straight tie, tug on his cuffs as though they were not already in the right place, smooths a hand across his already perfect hair. Then he steels himself for the more difficult of these two meetings, and enters the sitting room.