Work Text:
Winter has settled over the capital and buried it under a thick blanket of snow. The lakes in Taohua garden and beyond have frozen over and if the capital is freezing, the north and northwest are colder still - even the northern Man tribes will not seek battle where frost, not weapons, would slay more.
Gu Yun returned to the capital before the onset of the snowfalls. It would not be impossible for him to travel northwest again, but a brush with a cold and Chang Geng had put his foot down and demanded for him to stay. Or rather, the sneaky brat made the emperor do the work.
“My brother tells me you plan to return to the border within the month?” Li Feng inquires, having kept Gu Yun behind after court concluded.
Gu Yun inclines his head. “Yes, it is as your Highness heard.” Even if there are no battles to fight in winter, there are always arrangements to oversee, eventualities to plan for. Though he cannot deny the exhaustion which has crept into his bones and at times makes his vision blur despite the medicine.
“Will you not stay for the new year?” Li Feng asks. “A celebration will go far to lift the spirits, as my little brother reminded me.”
Gu Yun hides a smile. Chang Geng will have figured out how to pay for it, despite the war having drained the treasury. He bows his head and agrees with the hidden request, then pays his respects to leave.
As he makes his way toward the end of the hall - empty now except for a few palace servants - a rustle behind him announces Li Feng rising, too.
“Uncle,” the Emperor calls out, and Gu Yun stops. Li Feng watches him with an expression Gu Yun cannot place. “Take a few weeks off and rest for a while. This country depends on you when the time comes, take care of your health.”
Surprise nearly floors Gu Yun, yet he adapts and hides his face in a deep courtesy. “This subject is undeserving of your Highness’s concern.” Did Li Feng get poisoned? Was he replaced by a double?
“Uncle is not obliged to adhere to formality,” the Long An Emperor mutters. For a moment he seems about to cross the distance and lift Gu Yun to his feet himself. Instead he says “Everything shall be seen to, uncle should rest,” and sweeps from the hall without a further glance. Gu Yun puzzles about it all the way back to his estate. The prospect of staying in the capital - and relaxing - struck him too sudden to immediately make sense of it.
He shares his bewilderment with Chang Geng once he returns from his duties after sunset. The young man’s lips twist in a wry smile. “Sometimes my brother does talk sense,” he says as he reaches out a hand to stroke Gu Yun’s cheek. “You look pale, Zixi.”
Gu Yun stiffens under the caress, then brushes the hand away - not brusquely, but with a gentle squeeze. “You’d think the Emperor had more pressing concerns to worry about.”
“It’s not that he doesn’t do the worrying,” Chang Geng comments, and they both know the issue lies with Li Feng’s skewered priorities. They snort, the air growing lighter, and Chang Geng wraps a hand around Gu Yun’s waist.
“At least this means I get to make you a bowl of longevity noodles for your birthday,” he says. “It will be a big one. You have lost weight.”
Gu Yun rolls his eyes, but there is no heat behind it. “If you’re the type to like full figures, I’m afraid all the noodles in the world will not help.”
And they won’t, but they both now Chang Geng cares little for shapely women. Clad only in a thin dark robe so old it is barely appropriate for court, the slender lines of Gu Yun’s body stand out. At times Chang Geng thinks he could cover the entire span with both his hands - and while he knows that is not the case, he has felt the sharp outlines of those bones when wrapping his hands around Gu Yun’s hips at night.
That night, after a drawn-out dinner where Chang Geng coaxes Gu Yun into eating more than usual, they retire early. Chang Geng trails kisses down Gu Yun’s chest, slowly working his way down, mapping every inch of scarred skin. Gu Yun’s frustration at the first reverent whisper of “Yifu” against his ear vanishes swiftly as skilled hands seek out all sensitive spots.
Before long, he stops thinking and it is already late morning when he awakes. Chang Geng left early, though he did leave behind breakfast and a reminder to rest - and Gu Yun cheerfully decides to follow. Who is he to refuse an order coming from both the Emperor and his brother?
They settle into that easy rhythm over the next days. Chang Geng attempts to return early, Gu Yun tries to relax, and they both fail more often than not. The country is not yet safe, central questions of government remain unanswered. For every wooden bird reaching Chang Geng’s office, a message comes to Gu Yun.
Eventually the effect of Gu Yun’s medicine starts to run out. Although initially content to let it be, the messages for the Marquis of Order soon pile up. Gu Yun sends the old butler to brew a jar of medicine - only for the old man to return with his head bowed. The cabinet has been locked.
“If the Marquis desires, this servant can go out and purchase more,” the butler offers.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gu Yun returns because he’s not going to make an old man brave the icy weather on his behalf. Not when this is a bone to pick with the brat he raised.
Chang Geng frowns when he returns to find Gu Yun bowed over a letter that night, Liuli glass on his face. Gu Yun doesn’t look up, even when Chang Geng approaches.
“Zixi…” Chang Geng begins. He rests his hands on Gu Yun’s shoulders, but the man twists away.
“Don’t be like that,” Chang Geng beseeches. “Even the Emperor told you to rest.”
Gu Yun’s head comes up with a glare. “And who put him up to that, I wonder?” he mocks. “Did he also order you to lock away my medicine?”
Chang Geng doesn’t deny it, guilty as charged. He sits down next to his Yifu, carefully reaching out to cover those pale hands with his own.
“Miss Chen recommended you take as little as possible,” he points out. “It is poison, and will only cause further damage in the future.”
‘What future?’ Gu Yun wants to spit, but reins himself in. His mood may be bleak, but he knows better than to provoke Chang Geng. He says nothing, keeping his head turned away.
Chang Geng nestles his face into the crook of Gu Yun’s neck; breathes a kiss against chilled skin. He understands there are no words to relieve the burden from his Yifu’s shoulders, to break the chain that comes with the name Gu. But he can selfishly wraps his arms around that man and whisper “for me?”.
An exasperated sigh, and Chang Geng feels the tension evaporating from Gu Yun’s shoulders. A hand comes up to tug at a loose strand of Chang Geng’s hair. “When did you grow into such a spoilt brat?”
As Gu Yun turns his face toward him, Chang Geng leans forward to capture his lips in a kiss.
Gu Yun’a vacation lasts barely into the new year. Then a messenger from the palace arrives, asking Marshall Gu to accompany the Emperor on a visit to Ling Shu Institute. In truth, Li Feng did mean well - Gu Yun has an interest in state of the art weaponry, and the Palace Guard will be in charge of security for the outing. But a word from the Emperor is never that simple, and when Chang Geng arrives that night Gu Yun has already taken his medicine.
“At least take a warmer cloak,” Chang Geng implores as they both get ready to leave the next morning. The sun hasn’t yet risen, pre-dawn light reflects of ever growing amounts of snow in the estate’s courtyard.
“Nonsense,” Gu Yun slaps the hand aside with a grin. “I’m not one of the young master types.” He is almost cheerful - having spent the last days cooped up left him feeling antsy. Or would have, if Chang Geng hadn’t found creative ways to get rid off excess energy. He still hopes the collar of his robe is high enough to hide one particular mark.
“Zixi…” Chang Geng sighs, and then admits defeat. “At least let me do your hair.”
As it is a leisure outing, Gu Yun forgoes all armor and weapons, donning a simple dark robe. Next to Chang Geng’s delicate brocade robes they look rather plain - though the ribbon Chang Geng ties into Gu Yun’s hair matches the brocade.
“Brat,” Gu Yun comments, but makes no move to remove the item. As they won’t meet at court, the coincidence will remain unnoticed. Even so it isn’t rare for a certain popular fabric to reappear in various instances across court.
Chang Geng presses a swift kiss to Gu Yun‘s cheek before straightening up - dressed, but unwilling to let go.
“We will see each other later,” Gu Yun reminds him, and with a wry smile Chang Geng finally withdraws. They exchange one long look, then part ways.
It’s supposed to be a quiet outing. Only a handful of ministers, all bundled up against the cold, accompany the Emperor to a seemingly abandoned courtyard in order to assess Ling Shu Institute‘s latest inventions. With the ban on private mechanics lifted, the institute presents several creative innovations, Gu Yun considers about a quarter of them useful, and another third of that quarter implementable - which, to be fair, is not bad.
He’s in a fairly good mood as their small group departs back toward the palace. Of course, that is when things go wrong.
Gu Yun notices the movement from the corner of his eye. A flash of metal, a roar - and then his body reacts on instinct. Screams rise up, but by the time the Palace Guard have gathered their wits, Gu Yun has already shouldered Li Feng out of the arrow’s path. His hand reaches for a wind slasher which isn’t there, and he has a split second to curse himself for forgoing all weapons.
Then a second arrow slams into his thigh, and his vision flickers. He drops to his knees, bites his lips against the flash of pain. The smell of blood fills his nose; he doesn’t need to look down to see the wound to know it’s bad.
Terrible decision to not only forgo weapons, but also armor, he thinks, and his lips curl.
“Marshal Gu!”
“Grandmarshall!”
“Uncle!” He thinks that may actually be Li Feng shouting. But the Emperor shouldn’t-
“Protect the Emperor!” The Palace Guard Commander shouts, and at last the young master’s Army manages to shield Li Feng from further harm. Gu Yun must have heard wrong; the din of drawn weapons and shouting barely audible over the rush of his own blood.
His vision darkens, but he sees one of the more competent guards pursue the assassin. A small fry, Gu Yun thinks while his vision darkens. Didn’t look like a conspiracy, more like an ordinary citizen driven to despair.
There has been more of them lately. And as long as the country is not at peace, more poor souls will find themselves without hope.
“Marshall, are you alright?” Somebody puts a hand on Gu Yun’s shoulder. A flash of pain races through him.
“Just a flesh wound,” he wants to say. But the moment he opens his mouth he finds his tongue heavy and sluggish. An odd sound escapes his lips; then the world grows black.
There are moments when everything stops and Chang Geng’s mind grows blank. Even the constant presence of the bone of impurity vanishes, leaving him staring at the palace messenger.
Then he rises. “Where are they now?”
“Your Highness, the Emperor ordered everyone to return to the palace,” the messenger repeats. “The royal physician has been informed.”
Everything in Chang Geng longs to counter the order; demand for Miss Chen. But he swallows down the impulse. She is far away; the royal physician not utterly incompetent.
Ling Shu Institute is not far, the group will be arriving any moment. Chang Geng leaves his office without glancing back, not even remembering to take his cloak against the bitter cold. The moment he steps outside, the freezing air wraps around him, yet he doesn’t feel it. There is a small commotion at the end of the vast, snow-covered courtyard, and he hastens over.
Li Feng has already stepped out of the palanquin; he watches the proceedings with an unhappy twist to his lips.
“Your Majesty,” Chang Geng respectfully greets.
“A-Min,” Li Feng replies, before other ministers who spotted him draw closer. Several remind him not to stay out for long, to adhere to protocol. Already, several curious gazes stray their way, and Chang Geng understands the incident may better be kept on the low.
“Your Majesty, allow me to handle this matter,” Chang Geng asks, opting to be blunt. There may be a fallout to this, but Li Feng’s paranoia has been assuaged by Gu Yun taking an arrow for him.
Li Feng nods distractedly, allowing the officials to draw him away. Chang Geng balls his fists as he watches the imperial doctors move Gu Yun from the palanquin. The Marquis’ leg has been wrapped, but blood soaked through the bandages, and his face is ashen as he lies on a stretcher. Dark hair fans out underneath his head, and the sight of the familiar bright ribbon within sends a spike of pain through Chang Geng’s chest.
Hadn’t Gu Yun promised he’d be alright? Hadn’t Chang Geng done his utmost to keep him safe? Has it all been for nought?
“Your highness,” one of the doctors approaches Chang Geng and draws him from his spiralling thoughts. “Please rest assured - this is not a dangerous injury. The Marquis only passed out; shall I send for you once he awakens?”
Chang Geng purses his lips, but allows logic to overcome emotion. There are too many eyes watching for any displays of affection, too many ploys to be taken into consideration. He can’t reach for one of those pale hands on the stretcher to return some warmth to it, can’t even follow after the stretcher as he desires.
“Very well,” he agrees, and turns to handle the rest of the outing gone awry.
Gu Yun awakes to the scent of medicine and a familiar ceiling. For a moment he struggles to recall the time - the years he lived in the palace have long past. Instead he recalls the attack on the Emperor, and a familiar spike of pain travels up his leg.
He grits his teeth and wriggles his toes - relieved to find them moving without issue. His test draws the attention of a figure sitting at his bedside. In the dim light of the room, Gu Yun hadn’t noticed his silent guardin.
“Yifu,” Chang Geng breathes, a hand stretching out and then settling carefully on the bed cover instead of Gu Yun’s cheek.
Gu Yun tries to sit up, but is stopped swiftly. Chang Geng’s hand lingers a little longer than strictly necessary. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”
“No, it…” Gu Yun finds his voice hoarse; the sentence remaining incomplete.
“I will call for tea,” Chang Geng assures. And then “I told you to wear another layer.”
Gu Yun ignores both pain and propriety to box him. It’s not very hard. “How long have you sat here?” he demands in return. “You look terrible. At least go home and change clothes.”
Chang Geng blinks at him, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. “But I…”
“Nonsense,” Gu Yun returns. Then he softens his voice. “Really. You go home and catch some sleep - don’t think I can’t see your face. I’ll be fine, it’s not a serious injury.”
It’s the smile accompanying his words which convinces Chang Geng. Loathe as he is to leave, within the palace they cannot invite rumors.
To express his gratitude, Li Feng gifts Gu Yun a new set of robes, including a fur-lined cloak. The Marquis of Order, meanwhile, inadvertently scares both Shen Yi and Chang Geng when he during their visit commented “this feels familiar.”
Due to his limited mobility, he has ended laid up in the palace for several days. Both Shen Yi and Chang Geng know of the time he spent there as a young child, heading and vision nearly gone, alone and with a heavy burden on his shoulders. It had nearly taken his life then - but now he cheerfully complains about all the visiting officials and how he hasn’t “received as many well-wishes for recovering the Northwest.”
Something else curdles in Chang Geng’s stomach. He doesn’t like seeing his Zixi in robes provided by his brother, or getting swamped by so many dishonest visitors. Wasn’t he supposed to rest?
Chang Geng suppresses the rolling desire firmly and after five days, the royal physician allows Gu Yun to return to his own estate; although the entire endeavour takes a mixture of manipulation, tact, and coaxing. Specifically Grand Marshall Gu would rather continue to languish in his childhood rooms than damage his pride by hobbling - or worse, being carried - to a carriage.
“It’s not that far,” Gu Yun declares stubbornly. “I can walk.”
“You’re not supposed to put any stress on the injury,” Chang Geng reminds him. Seated at the bedside, he currently is the obstacle stopping Gu Yun from standing up to prove his point.
“Ach, that doesn’t apply to those of us who practice martial arts,” Gu Yun counters, waving a hand. “The royal physician hasn’t ever seen a battlefield.”
Chang Geng remains just as hard headed. “This isn’t a battlefield either,” he declares. “You would do well to heed his advice.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll just stay here,” Gu Yun huffs, crossing his arms before his chest. Chang Geng raises an eyebrow - they both know the moment Chang Geng leaves, Gu Yun will make his way out of the palace.
“Zi…” Chang Geng begins, but a nudge from Gu Yun stops him. A rare serious look flashed through Gu Yun’s eyes, and Chang Geng wordlessly concurs. For all they are alone, they are still in the palace.
“At night,” Gu Yun offers with a sigh. “Send the carriage late, and we’ll handle everything then.”
Of course, Chang Geng ought to have known better than to trust Gu Yun fully. By the time the carriage arrives, the Grand Marshall already sits outside the hall, leisurely leaning against one ornamental banister. A layer of fresh snow glitters on his hair and on the new robes.
Chang Geng frowns as he sees him but says nothing, only when the carriage has left the walls of the palace he exhales. “Zixi,” he murmurs, reaching out to grasp a strand of Gu Yun’s hair. Reverently, Chang Geng presses it to his lips, only now allowing himself the relief of knowing Gu Yun safe and recovering.
“... it was not a major injury,” Gu Yun says, not protesting the treatment.
A grieved smile crosses Chang Geng’s face. “And yet one too many,” he says, moving his hand up to caress Gu Yun’s cold and pale cheek. “I worry, Zixi. My heart cannot take it.”
“Is it the bone?” Gu Yun abruptly straightens, fearing inadvertently triggering the curse lying over Chang Geng.
Chang Geng cannot deny that the bone of impurity has twisted his nightmares; but the pain in his heart stems from another source. “No,” he assuages. “As long as Yifu is by my side, it does not bother me.”
Doubt remains on Gu Yun’s face, but Chang Geng leans across to kiss him. Only when the driver knocks at the door, letting them know they arrived, they break apart.
In revenge for Gu Yun’s earlier rebellion, Chang Geng does not wait for him to get his feet under him. He wraps on arm around Gu Yun’s waist, the other underneath his knees, and swings him into the air. A noise of protest escapes from Gu Yun, but Chang Geng resolutely ignores it as he carries him from the carriage.
All Gu Yun can do at this point is pretend to be asleep.
When did the brat grow so bold? Where did the shy Chang Geng from a tiny northern town go?
To Chang Geng, feeling the warm weight of Gu Yun against his chest, finally allows his heart to settle. He does not want to let go, not even when they reach the bed chamber. If he could keep Gu Yun in his arms forever, the hunger in his chest might be just sated.
As Chang Geng stops moving, Gu Yun opens an eye to peek at him, and finds his gaze returned with almost alarming intensity. “Are you ...” he begins, worry overcoming his indignation.
“I’m fine,” Chang Geng grits out, “I’m fine, it’s just… You…”
“Sit down first,” Gu Yun instructs, wondering if it is another attack of the bone of impurity plaguing the boy. The pain in his eyes is obvious; the way Chang Geng’s smooth words have evaporated speaks of torture. And Gu Yun’s own feet swing helplessly in the air.
Chang Geng complies, folding onto the edge of the bed like a cardboard tower, but he keeps Gu Yun on his lap, draws him tightly against his chest. “I can’t lose you, Zixi,” he murmurs.
Gu Yun’s hardened heart skips a beat. He … he has always toyed with these emotions, kept things easy in light of his duty. Now he finds in the depth of his soul he wants the same.
“I can’t,” Chang Geng repeats, and Gu Yun remains silent. His position, at one point, will take his life. Heroes don’t retire, and he made his peace with burying his bones at a distant border a long time ago.
“... I’m still here,” he says instead. It’s a miserable compromise, he knows that. But all he can promise is whatever time he has left.
Chang Geng sighs, leaning back to study Gu Yun’s face. Something sweeps into his expression that Gu Yun cannot point, but the issue is set aside. Instead, Chang Geng turns to carefully helping Gu Yun undress - he even refuses a playful advance, focusing on treating the healing wound instead.
For Gu Yun, the topic thereby has laid to rest. It is an ominous star over them, but neither can change it. Gu Yun will do his utmost, Chang Geng will do the same, and they will see how far their combined power carries them. As he recovers, Gu Yun indulges Chang Geng; he does not take the medication and instead allows the prince to handle all and every matter.
Chang Geng delights in it. He forbids all visitors, makes sure Gu Yun wears proper winter clothing, and even commandeers a tailor to cut a new brocade robe for Gu Yun to wear to court. The one given to Gu Yun by Li Feng is splendid, but Chang Geng prefers seeing Gu Yun in clothes chosen by him. With diminished eyesight, Gu Yun doesn’t immediately notice, nor does he protest the lack of visiting officials.
Only Shen Yi - exempt from the ban - masterfully hits both issues on the head. Coughing pointedly, the other general lowers his voice.
“Zixi, you know I’m not… not saying anything, but this…” He gestures wildly.
Gu Yun mock frowns at him. “You want to become a chicken farmer?”
Shen Yi rolls his eyes. Rather than continuing the charade, and reaches for Gu Yun’s hand and writes. “The cloak you’re wearing is Yan Wang’s. People may start talking.”
“Who’d even see,” Gu Yun counters, but his mind starts turning. The air has grown milder, New Year and his birthday both came and went. Perhaps he has secluded himself for too long.
“Is he… forcing you to stay?” Shen Yi traces next and Gu Yun draws his hand back fast enough to shock him. Shen Yi immediately hastens to apologise, ducking a flying teacup, while Gu Yun fumes. The daring! Who’d force Gu Yun, Grand Marshall of the Great Liang and wielder of the Black Tiger Emblem, to do anything he does not want to?
But Chang Geng’s possessive streak is undeniable. Not only holding onto Gu Yun as he wanders about half-blind, but holding him down on the bed, even tying his hands with a piece of silk. Blood rushes to Gu Yun’s face, and if he responds with more vigour to Chang Geng that night, well.
With some embarrassment the great general has to admit to himself that he enjoys it. But it’s not a one way relationship - he won’t go back on his word. As long as he lives, he will care for Chang Geng, come what may.
And with that in his mind, he presses a kiss to Chang Geng’s sleeping face the next morning before asking for his medicine.