Chapter Text
Under no circumstances is Zhang Qiling going to let the first person to trust him, the first person to try to understand him, the first person to worry about him, die. Not in this massive tree, not under a swarm of shibie, not ever.
The corpse eaters should leave Wu Xie be but he’s not positive the qilin’s blood has worked so quickly. He’s not about to take that chance, so he jumps, landing on one knee at Wu Xie’s feet. The sword makes it so much easier to fling the blood cut from his hand at the shibie, sending them skittering and tumbling back down the tree in a hurry. But not as fast as before.
It would be so easy, too easy, to lean all the way over and press his mouth to Wu Xie’s, but he doesn’t. Not with Ning and Pangzi in the branches above him, San-ye and Pan Zi somewhere above them. Instead he curls his hand under Wu Xie’s head, holding the younger still as he drags air back into his lungs and starts to cough. There is no time to wait for him to shake off the fall himself. Those honey colored eyes aren’t even open when he hauls him upright, tucking the other boy against his chest. And then Zhang Qiling climbs, sword in one hand, Wu Xie’s jacket gripped in the other.
“You carry him,” he orders Pangzi when the other is close enough to grip Wu Xie’s hand and pull him upright. He finds himself not only still gripping Wu Xie’s shoulder, but also using his leg to prop Wu Xie against the trunk so he can’t go toppling over again. “The blood’s function is getting weaker. Leave right now,” he orders, trying to push Wu Xie bodily towards Pangzi.
Wu Xie tries to tell them to go first, but neither he nor Pangzi are having it. Pangzi follows him as Wu Xie climbs, ready to catch him if he falls. But it’s Zhang Qiling who climbs with him, pulling and pushing Wu Xie who is barely able to lift his head, let alone find the safest hand and foot holds himself. “Wu Xie!” he snaps when the other’s eyes start to close again. They don't have the time to spare for Wu Xie to fall again, so he just boxes the other in against the trunk, sword held out behind him, as far from that pale skin as it can get. “Keep your eyes open.”
“I’m so tired, Xiaoge,” Wu Xie mumbles, and his head actually drops into the curve of his bare shoulder.
San-ye throwing the braided vine back down to them is for once actually good timing. It’s easy, even if it’s new, to let Wu Xie lean against his shoulder as he presses him against the trunk. Now he just has to figure out how he’s going to climb without dropping Wu Xie or his sword. He can do it, especially if San-ye and the others can drag the vine up with him, it’s just making sure Wu Xie doesn’t fall even if he can’t hold the vine. Manhandling Wu Xie’s arms around his neck and wrapping an arm around the other boy’s back is closer than he’s allowed anyone in his memory. If he has to guess, he won’t let anyone else this close.
“Wu Xie, hold onto me,” he pleads. He cannot lose this boy now.
As he climbs, he has to pace himself to the speed San-ye is able to drag the vine up, not that he actually needs the time to place his feet. When they break free of the canopy, Wu Xie groans and hides his face from the sunlight against his shoulder. As soon as Wu Xie is clear of the cliff, San-ye lets go of the vine, lunging forward to yank his nephew away. Wu Xie’s arms fall away - Zhang Qiling barely gets his hand under his head before San-ye is dropping him in the dirt to rush away.
As Pangzi helps San-ye douse the top of the great tree in gasoline and Pan Zi and Ning go find the camp, he leans over Wu Xie, desperate to imprint his face into his lacking memory. “Wu Xie,” he murmurs, but the other has already given into the unconsciousness. Picking up his sword, he has to go, now, while their backs are turned.
He stops on the ridge to look back down at the cliff top. Pangzi is lifting Wu Xie onto his back, probably to head back to the village. It’s the first time he’s ever looked back before he disappears.