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The destroyed building offers no answers as he circles the wreckage, wood pieces turned over with half-hearted effort, nudged aside with not much more than a cursory glance. No, there will be nothing of use to be found here, Zhou Zishu knows.
Still, the thought isn’t half as irritating as it should be– so what if they’ve missed the chance of striking down these Scorpions today? There’ll be others, he is sure. Besides, the day is warm and the grass is soft, and when Zhou Zishu looks across the debris, Wen Kexing is there, basking in the sun like a cat, already looking back.
His smile is still the brightest thing in the clearing, easy and earnest, and Zhou Zishu wonders how such light can be directed at him. It makes him want to hide, shy away before he catches on fire. He never wants Wen Kexing to smile like this at something else, never look at someone else.
“A-Xu,” he calls, voice carrying with the wind, “are you too disappointed there are no scorpions to clear out? I’ll find you someone else to fight. Surely, with this many people in the city, it won’t be too hard. A-Xu, what do you say?”
“What nonsense are you speaking now?” When have his words lost so much of their bite? Zhou Zishu hasn’t meant them to draw blood in a long while now, he thinks, and this time is no different– the offer is as ridiculous as the man himself and it warms his heart just like him as well. “Let’s go back to town. Lao Wen, let’s not look for trouble today.”
Let’s stay in the sun, he means, just this, and tomorrow, this again. There’s something idyllic in the way the high grass sways in the breeze, the light soaks in the earth. Peaceful. Wen Kexing smiles again. “Ah, my A-Xu is very wise,” he closes his fan, tapping it once against his chin, mockingly thoughtful, “making trouble this soon would only drive our pesky assassins further away.”
“Or,” he snorts, shaking his head as he makes his way to Wen Kexing’s side, leaning in as if disclosing a secret, “I just want more wine.”
His chest glows warm and light with Wen Kexing’s laughter ringing behind him, and Zhou Zishu walks away without looking back, knowing Wen Kexing will soon follow. How strange is it that he’s smiled more in the past week than he’s done in the past sixteen years? Perhaps, not strange at all. Knowing Wen Kexing now, Zhou Zishu realizes he’s been walking around with only half a heart– is it mercy, to have found the other half only now?
“A-Xu, wait for me! What’s with the hurry? The teahouse will still be there even if we take all afternoon!”
A hand tugs at his sleeve. Wen Kexing clings to it, not quite daring to reach for skin. “A-Xu,” he says only, and nothing else.
Mercy is too small a word, Zhou Zishu decides, not enough, ill-fitting. An undeserved grace. He does not shake Wen Kexing off.
“Are you not tired of staying in the sun yet?” He asks instead, smiling unabashedly.
“Are you not the one who suggested we sun tan?” Wen Kexing straightens but doesn’t move away from his space, sleeves brushing with every step. If Zhou Zishu wished, he wouldn’t need much more than a nudge to take his hand in his.
Above all else, he wants.
“I’m just following your words,” Wen Kexing continues, cheerful and unashamed, “don’t you know yet? A-Xu, whatever you say, wherever you go, I’ll follow.”
His heart aches fiercely in his ribcage, trapped like a bird under the nails, and how he can say such things so brazenly is another mystery that Zhou Zishu thinks he might never unravel. “Shameless,” he huffs, looking away from the piercing sincerity in his eyes before he did something stupid. It does nothing to hide the curve of his smile, he knows.
“Ah, but it’s true,” Wen Kexing grins a grin that means trouble, skipping a step ahead only to turn around back to Zhou Zishu, walking backward like a fool, “if A-Xu asks, I’ll bring him the moon from the skies, and if A-Xu wants, we’ll go beyond the known world. Let’s find a place no one has ever been to!”
Wen Kexing means it fully, he knows, even if it’s not strictly true– Zhou Zishu isn’t stupid, he knows something about the Five Lakes Alliance and that damned Glazed Armor has him shackled to these people in the worst ways. Still. Let’s stay in the sun. Zhou Zishu hmms pleasantly, dispelling his worries for another day like clouds in the wind. “Lao Wen,” he says, “the world is vast. Where would we find such a place?”
“How should I know? I’m just following A-Xu,” Wen Kexing shrugs, falling back into step with him easily, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if he’s been doing it for years. “But I imagine, we’ll just have to wander farther than anyone has dared before, it’ll probably take years.”
The look Wen Kexing gives him is heavy and loaded, and Zhou Zishu wants badly to answer, yes, yes, stay for years, stay for a lifetime, and then, let’s find each other even after death, but the nails choke the words in his throat. For him, a lifetime means nothing more than a couple of years, it is not fair to accept such a promise when Wen Kexing doesn’t know he’ll be chaining himself to a dead man walking.
He’ll tell him soon. Just not today, not when they’re in such a good mood. Let’s stay in the sun.
“Lao Wen,” he shakes his head, and if his next step drifts him closer to Wen Kexing, if his hand brushes Wen Kexing’s, there’s no one else to see. Here, it’s just them, and when Wen Kexing falters, looks up to him in surprise, and smiles even brighter, it’s just for Zhou Zishu, a secret he’ll hoard folded into his heart. “At this pace, there’ll be no more wine by the time we make it back to town.”
Wen Kexing stays mellow in his smile, Zhou Zishu’s non-answer forgiven and brushed aside with undeserved ease. “A-Xu,” he says, pausing, fingers snagging Zhou Zishu’s sleeve once again and forcing him to turn around as if Zhou Zishu isn’t already hopelessly tied to him, red string tugging at his heart. “A-Xu, say my name again.”
“What for?” Zhou Zishu rolls his eyes, does not confess he wants to say nothing else for however many days he has left.
“I like the way you say it,” he says, and his face is soft like that night by the water, and Wen Kexing is always saying things, but sometimes he means them more than others, more than the truth. Zhou Zishu loves him so much it hurts, sometimes, like looking too long at the sun.
“Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu yields, bold under his unwavering gaze, and takes the hand clinging to his sleeves, fingers wrapping around his wrist for a brief moment, tugging lightly before letting go. “Lao Wen, let’s go back. The sun shines just as bright wherever we go.”
This time, he doesn’t walk ahead. Instead, he waits for Wen Kexing to move, to walk up to his side. To speak plainly, to bare the truth raw in the light of day, is not in their nature, not when it comes to hidden things like the heart, not when there are so many complicated truths buried even deeper. But Wen Kexing smiles and tries to weave a flower in his hair just to make him scoff and threaten to push him into the little stream they pass by. Zhou Zishu holds his fan while Wen Kexing picks an orange from the tree.
All the while, they listen.