Work Text:
Wen Kexing.
The inn that they stopped at was well appointed for being so rural. Zhang Chengling had scampered off to a nearby steam to play before Zhou Zishu could assign him another task. After his inner energy breakthrough, his training had been much more fruitful, and Zhou Zishu was happy to indulge him for the time being. Ye Bai Yi had disappeared, as was his custom. Zhou Zishu thought ignorance was the best policy when it came to that man.
That left himself and Wen Kexing alone at the inn. Determined to be productive, Zhou Zishu started a short note in anticipation of selling their horses and carriage before the trek into the mountains. However, he was able to write no more than a few words before Wen Kexing's loud intrusion into the room disrupted him. With a flourish, he draped himself on Zhou Zishu’s lap with his long fingers spanned the width of Zhou Zishu’s ribs in a manner that brought a flush to Zhou Zishu’s face. He set down his writing tools lest he smudge ink all over himself.
“Lao Wen,” he warned, trying halfheartedly to push the other man away. “We should sleep. We have a long trip ahead to the Pavilion without the indulgence of any more inns.”
Wen Kexing scoffed, burying his face into Zhou Zishu’s chest. “My a-Xu is so cruel. It is the lack of a soft bed that forces me to indulge now.” His lips tickled over Zhou Zishu’s skin as he spoke. “Soon we’ll be sleeping within hearing distance of that old Monster and I will no longer have a-Xu to myself.”
While Zhou Zishu didn’t disagree, he felt the need to be practical. Yet, as Wen Kexing’s fingers found their way under the folds of his robes and splayed over the soft skin of his stomach, his resolve faltered. “Lao Wen,” he tried again.
Looking up at him from his lounging position, Wen Kexing’s serious face showed his determination. “A deal then, to satisfy us both?”
Zhou Zishu raised an eyebrow. “A compromise?”
Wen Kexing hummed. The sound vibrated through Zhou Zishu’s body from where they were pressed together. “I want to spoil you but I am a vain creature only interested in my own happiness. Why can’t those two things go hand in hand?”
Zhou Zishu tugged at Wen Kexing’s hair. “Just spit it out,” he grumbled.
Beaming, Wen Kexing actually pulled away and slipped onto the floor leaving Zhou Zishu disheveled and chilled at the sudden lack of another warm body. Wen Kexing preened, his robes still perfectly done up. He drummed his fingers on the desk and looked pointedly at the fresh ink.
A confusing flurry of cold panic and hot delight set Zhou Zishu’s heart pounding at the implication.
“You…” He said, trailing off. “That’s only for…”
“The person who knows me best? The person I bare myself to? The one who recognizes me?” Wen Kexing’s voice remained light-hearted but his face softened into something less playful. “Yes, Zhou Zishu, it is for that person.”
Zhou Zishu shivered. He wanted to cover himself back up under Wen Kexing’s gaze. He ground his teeth. “I don’t see that this is fair trade, Lao Wen.”
Wen Kexing leaned in closer, his eyes intent on Zhou Zishu’s face. “a-Xu knows that this world is not fair. We either expect this cruelty of the gods or we suffer through envy at our own perceived powerlessness.”
Licking his lips, Zhou Zishu retorted, “Then I choose the location,” before he could think too deeply about his decision.
The cool tension across Wen Kexing’s shoulders snapped and his face brightened with a genuine smile. He looked almost shy for a moment as he nodded.
Zhou Zishu took hold of Wen Kexing’s hand and brought it back to his ribs, where the man had been touching him with reverence before. “Here,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.
Wen Kexing nodded. “Your robes,” he said quietly.
Working together, with Wen Kexing still kneeling on the ground, they pulled one of Zhou Zishu’s arms out of his sleeve and arrange the folds of his clothing to expose the side of torso as much as possible. Wen Kexing stayed silent throughout, which caused Zhou Zishu’s heart to beat faster in nervousness.
“The brush,” Zhou Zishu commented even though it wasn’t needed. It was too quiet under Wen Kexing’s attention. Why had the man chosen now, of all times, to cease in his endless mindless commentary?
Wen Kexing loaded up the brush with ink. It was still the correct consistency and clung properly without any hint of dripping.
Pausing, Wen Kexing surveyed Zhou Zishu’s body with the brush tip just suspended over his skin.
Zhou Zishu flushed. He almost commented that it would take - he was sure of it. But he knew that Wen Kexing was sure as well. They wouldn’t have gotten this far without that surety. Men like them didn’t take action without being absolutely sure of the outcome.
“I’m committing this sight to memory,” Wen Kexing said. “After this, there is no future in which we can be separated.” He blinked a few times, pursing his lips together.
Zhou Zishu reached out to run his fingers through Wen Kexing’s hair. “That was true before this mark. And would have been true without this mark.”
Wen Kexing drew in a harsh breath and looked up into Zhou Zishu’s face. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again quickly, ducking his head back to his task.
Wen Kexing pressed the brush against Zhou Zishu’s skin. It was cold, and Zhou Zishu shivered. He didn’t know whether to look at Wen Kexing’s face or the black lines of fate running across his ribs. His eyes settled on the pout of Wen’s Kexing’s mouth and the fine slope of his nose. The pink skin of his ears and the soft curve of his eyebrows were equally enticing. The tickling feel of the brush faded as Wen Kexing’s eyelids drooped in concentration.
“Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu murmured. Heat built in his core.
The movement of the brush paused as Wen Kexing pulled back. In the silence of the room, he set it to rest on the desk. His eyes lingered on Zhou ZIshu’s chest as they swept over the path the brush had just taken.
Of course, Wen Kexing would not have written his name in a set of neat and unobtrusive characters. The lines of ink spanned from Zhou Zishu’s hip all the way up to his clavicle. Each stroke was broad and sure; the handwriting was just on the side of artistic instead of academic. Zhou Zishu’s body looked more like a sign advertising wares than an ancient form of affection.
It was perfect.
“Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu mumbled again, urging Wen Kexing to look up. “Kiss me.”
Their eyes met for a moment before Wen Kexing leaned closer. Zhou Zishu watched him kiss the very beginning of the first radical delicate reverence. He pulled back with clean lips.
Zhou Zishu’s breath hitched in his chest. “Kiss me again.” His hands found Wen Kexing’s neck and curled around to bury themselves in his hair. Wen Kexing knotted his fists in Zhou Zishu’s robes, tugging him closer to the edge of the chair.
This time, Wen Kexing’s kiss was open and hot on the next dab of ink. He sucked in a breath before smearing a wet line up over the next radical. By the end of Wen , the kiss morphed into the drag of Wen Kexing’s tongue. By the end of Xing , his hands had slipped around Zhou Zishu’s waist, his thumbs digging into Zhou Zishu’s hips.
Zhou Zishu curled his fingers in the hair at the back of Wen Kexing’s neck and tugged his head back. Wen Kexing’s red mouth hung open as he gasped. “a-Xu,” he moaned, his pupils blown out.
Tenderly, Zhou Zishu pressed his thumb along the plump line of Wen Kexing’s lower lip. “No ink,” he commented. “None at all.”
Wen Kexing pressed the flat part of his tongue against Zhou Zishu’s thumb before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. Zhou Zishu pulled on his hair, and Wen Kexing released it with a breathless moan.
“a-Xu, you are too cruel,” he teased. “You haven't even admired the skill of my handiwork out loud and now you deny me so?”
“First I felt your handiwork with the brush and then with your tongue!” Zhou Zishu grumbled. “I know what the strokes look like.”
Wen Kexing’s smile turned salacious again. His thumbs dipped further below the cinched waist of Zhou Zishu’s robes. “Ah, I see how it is! You would be unable to control yourself if you lingered on the site for too long. My poor a-Xu is secretly besotted!”
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes to cover the reddening of his cheeks.
A knock on the door interrupted them.
“The food,” Zhou Zishu reminded Wen Kexing. Wen Kexing glared at the door.
An excited voice exclaimed about how hungry he was just outside the room as well.
“And our little disciple,” Wen Kexing said with a droll voice, although he stood up. He glanced back at Zhou Zishu and his face thawed. “Truly ours,” he said more softly.
Zhou Zishu.
Outside the shadow of the mountain, Zhang Chengling collapsed onto a large patch of grass in the bright sun. His forehead beaded with sweat as he rubbed his arms. He blinked rapidly in the light. “Poor Uncle Long,” he said with sympathy.
Zhou Zishu held a less idealized vision of the world than Zhang Chengling, but he felt the same sympathy for the old man. They were all truly indebted to him. If Zhou Zishu had a clearer consciousness, he might have felt regret about the role he played in Long Que’s ultimate death. But, he knew too much of the world to blame himself. He was responsible for enough just through his own actions; never-mind a past that was two or three people removed from him.
He sighed, sitting down on a large boulder to enjoy the sun and the sound of the water for a moment before turning to Wen Kexing.
“Lao Wen?” He questioned, eyeing Wen Kexing’s tense back. “I thought I wouldn’t live long. This is the best opportunity to revive the Four Seasons Manor. Take care of Chengling. My Master will be at peace and I will be relieved.” He laughed, suddenly overcome with a bubbling joy.
Chengling surged to his feet again. “What do you mean you wouldn’t live long?” His eyes grew wide as he stumbled closer to Zhou Zishu’s seat.
Wen Kexing spun around, his face contorted in anger. “Are you done with this crap?” He spat. Don’t sift your responsibility to me. If you want to revive the Four Seasons Manor, do it yourself!”
Zhou Zishu waved Zhang Chengling away and stood. “The character Yan divided is Kexing , isn’t it? I should have realized,” he said softly. I should have known.” He laughed out loud at the silliness of the situation.
“I thought you were the descendant of Senior Rong. You turned out to be my brother. When did you change your surname to Wen?”
“My surname is Wen,” Wen Kexing snapped back, although this time he wasn’t as angry. “What are you laughing at?”
“Master, Martial Uncle, what are you talking about?” Zhang Chengling interjected.
Zhou Zishu ignored him. He stepped up closer in Wen Kexing’s space. “All this time…” he wondered aloud. “It makes so much more sense now.”
Wen Kexing shrugged off Zhou Zishu’s hands. “What are you talking about?”
His smile softened. “Don’t you remember, Lao Wen? That day along the river when I became your senior? You wrote your name on my wrist that day but it didn’t stick. I was so disappointed.”
He stepped closer to Wen Kexing again, crowding him as their robes brushed together. Reaching up, he wrapped his arms around Wen Kexing’s shoulders and pulled him flush against his chest. Wen Kexing’s hair tickled his lips.
“The name Zhen Yan didn’t stick to my wrist. But we tried again anyway,” Zhou Zishu murmured into Wen Kexing’s neck. “We haven’t changed much, I see. Still so stubborn.”
Cupping the back of Wen Kexing’s neck, Zhou Zishu continued, “I wrote my name on your wrist. I remember trying so hard to make the strokes as perfect as possible. I didn’t understand then, but I knew that if there was any chance that you’d be wearing my name for the rest of my life, that it needed to be perfect.”
Wen Kexing stiffened under Zhou Zishu’s arms as he sucked in a harsh breath.
“We were called back to your parents before we could test it.”
Wen Kexing jerked in Zhou Zishu’s arms.
“I never tried with anyone else. But I never knew that I had found someone so young. “ Zhou Zishu tripped over his words as he started talking faster. “Lao Wen, back then, we had each other and now we have each other again. I don’t need to see proof. I already know-”
Wen Kexing struggled out of Zhou Zishu’s arms and stumbled back away from him, clutching at his sleeve. Instead of anger, Zhou Zishu saw fear on his pale face.
“Alight, I won’t ask any more. What happened all those years ago? The Zhen family…”
Zhou Zishu trailed off as Wen Kexing swayed on his feet and released his sleeve to grab at his head. “Are you alright?” He caught the other man with a hand on his chest as Wen Kexing wobbled.
Wen Kexing groaned, nearly doubling over. He pushed Zhou Zishu away again. Stumbling in his haste to put distance between them. Zhou Zishu pulled his hand back.
Without another word, Wen Kexing careened off down one of the paths leading from the valley, his robes a whirlwind of color.
“Marital Uncle!” Zhang Chengling exclaimed. He tried to rush past Zhou Zishu, but Zhou Zishu held him back.
“Chengling,” he warned. Wen Kexing disappeared around a bend in the path and out of sight.
“Master, he…”
Zhou Zishu understood Zhang Chengling’s concern. He patted the boy with some sympathy. “Wait until he comes back.”
Zhang Chengling squirmed and bit his lip, nervous despite Zhou Zishu’s assurances.
Zhou Zishu sighed. “Come. We’ll walk to the river and I’ll tell you a story.”
Wrinkling his nose, Zhang Chengling’s face turned skeptical.
“So insolent,” Zhou Zishu grumbled. “No, its a tale about two people who knew each other as much as any two people could. Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi. Wu Xi was from-”
“Is that a name?” Zhang Chengling interrupted. “I knew of a Wu Xi before. My father said that-”
Zhou Zishu stopped listening as Zhang Chengling began to prattle, his earlier mood forgotten. He urged the boy forward along a different path, gritting his teeth.
“Yes, it is a title,” He added, cutting off Zhang Chengling. “And that will be the whole story if you interrupt again.”
Nodding, Zhang Chengling picked his way through the rocks and underbrush. “Sorry, Master. I’m listening.”
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes behind his back, knowing the silence would end even more quickly than Wen Kexing could manage.
Pausing, Zhou Zishu looked back towards the path Wen Kexing had taken and smiled to himself. “It’s never too late,” he murmured.