Chapter Text
“How can I trust you?”
Zhao Yunlan spreads his hands in a shrug. That is an excellent question, given that he doesn’t know what Shen Wei believes Zhao Yunlan has done, or what might happen if Shen Wei trusted him. It’s an excellent question and it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does to hear those words. Shen Wei doesn’t know what he’s saying right now, that’s all—and that means it’s up to Zhao Yunlan to be the one to come up with the next bit of their plan. Or any bit of any plan. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to. So—the trust issue, is that just with me in particular? Have any bad memories of anyone else?”
Either the flippant tone or the words confuse Shen Wei. “Anyone… else?” There is such a look of longing in Shen Wei’s face for a moment that Zhao Yunlan starts hoping that maybe he’s already beginning to unscramble himself, despite the constant pain of the chains.
“You know. The SID?”
“No. Why? What have you done to them?” Shen Wei looks legitimately upset, as if he’s expecting to hear that Zhao Yunlan’s fired his entire squad. Or put them in front of a firing squad.
There’s not much Zhao Yunlan can say to that, so he turns around. “Lao Chu! Get up here!”
Chu Shuzhi startles and looks up from Xiao Guo’s still body, by the stubborn set of his shoulders ready to protest the interruption. Whatever he sees in Zhao Yunlan’s face makes him change his mind in an instant, and come bounding up the stairs. “Lord Black Cloak,” he says, his tone more familiar than his form of address. “Chief. How can I help?”
Shen Wei exhales sharply. “Chu Shuzhi.” There is a bit of warmth in his voice—though maybe Zhao Yunlan only hears it because he has been listening so hard for it.
“Yes. He'll help get you down.” Zhao Yunlan says.
“Beware,” Shen Wei says quickly. “Ye Zun’s wards are strong.”
Zhao Yunlan nods to Lao Chu, who wastes no time setting his threads to the task of tearing down the chains. The attack costs him dearly—his eyes bulge, and within moments he has dropped to one knee. Zhao Yunlan watches in alarm—as does Shen Wei, who cries out another warning, but Lao Chu persists. The chains are writhing under the assault, like living things in pain. Living, dark-energy things.
In less time than it takes him to complete that thought, Zhao Yunlan has pulled his revolver out and fired. He aims at a link high above Shen Wei’s head. Ordinary physics don’t quite apply to his shots, but that doesn’t mean he wants to risk hitting Shen Wei with some kind of energy ricochet. The chain rattles and draws taut, wringing a terrible moan of pain from Shen Wei, but Lao Chu gives a shout of encouragement. “Again!”
It’s going to hurt Shen Wei. But like chest compressions for a dying man, the permanent alternative is worse than the temporary damage. Zhao Yunlan takes a deep breath, and fires again and again, eyes focused on his target and not on Shen Wei thrashing in his peripheral vision. Lao Chu hones in on the weakened links, and with a heroic effort his threads finally manage to tear one of them apart.
The chains release a final, terrible burst of un-light that knocks Zhao Yunlan on his ass and Lao Chu to both knees. Like a negative thunderbolt, the darkness discharges with a loud crack. The pillar still stands, but the chains are all shattered.
Without their support, Shen Wei staggers forward, and Zhao Yunlan moves to catch him. It’s nothing more than instinct, and his brain informs him that he’s fucked up a mere fraction of a second before Shen Wei hits him with a bolt of dark energy.
It’s so weak it registers as the equivalent of a slap rather than the full-blown bullet to the chest Zhao Yunlan knows it can be, so the shock of it is worse than the pain. He freezes for a moment, completely unable to process. Did Shen Wei just—that blast was self-defense, right? It wasn’t meant to actually harm him… was it? Smiling shakily, Zhao Yunlan lets himself sink back onto the cold ground, hands raised. “Okay, okay. Sorry, I wasn’t going to...” He wasn’t going to what? Help Shen Wei stay on his feet? Keep Shen Wei from bashing his beautiful face on the stone pillar? What has Ye Zun done?
Shen Wei is bracing himself against the pillar with one hand, but has the other spread wide in a gesture Zhao Yunlan knows only too well—and it’s still aimed at him. Lao Chu looks between them, naked astonishment on his face. “What was that about?” he says, expressing Zhao Yunlan’s thoughts perfectly.
“He—he isn’t who you think,” Shen Wei says weakly. Zhao Yunlan—hands still placatingly tilted palms up—signals to Lao Chu to go over there and help Shen Wei keep on his feet. Chu Shuzhi raises his eyebrows, but hurries over to offer Shen Wei a steadying arm under the elbow, which Shen Wei accepts without comment—and without triggering any dark energy blast, Zhao Yunlan can’t help but notice.
“Yeah,” Zhao Yunlan drawls. “Either that, or that bastard did something to Shen Wei in the three days he was stuck down here, and now he’s… confused. You pick.”
Shen Wei stiffens at the words, but Lao Chu nods, even as his stance goes bristly and battle-ready. “Ye Zun,” he growls. Zhao Yunlan wishes he hadn’t said that name, because it doesn’t feel like it’s safe—not here, not now, not in front of Shen Wei as he is. So he rises, drawing Shen Wei’s attention away from Chu Shuzhi.
“Don’t,” Shen Wei says again, and Zhao Yunlan doesn’t know if he wishes he knew what it is Shen Wei fears, or if he simply wishes he could make it stop. There are dark sparks dancing across Shen Wei’s palm, and his pale face is contorted with emotions.
Zhao Yunlan licks his lips. “I’m not—I won’t do anything. I promise.”
“Promise? What would I care for your promise now, after you already…” Shen Wei’s voice cracks, and Lao Chu has to sling an arm around that slim waist to steady him. “After you…”
“Yeah, okay,” Zhao Yunlan interrupts, seeing how hard Shen Wei is having to struggle for consciousness. “You’ll have to tell me about it—” if Shen Wei were to give him something to work with, maybe Zhao Yunlan could start untangling this terrible knot of Ye Zun’s— “But we can’t stay here. Xiao Guo is hurt, and Lao Chu alone can’t get us back.”
At that, Shen Wei looks at Lao Chu, alarmed. “Xiao Guo is here?”
“Changcheng got shot,” Lao Chu reports gruffly. “He’s unconscious. We… he helped me get us here. We need to take him back, get him to a hospital—”
Shen Wei nods. “Yes. Yes of course.” His fingers curl, the energy he had gathered dissipating harmlessly. “I’m sorry—can you bring him here?”
“I’ll get him,” Zhao Yunlan says. “Lao Chu, stay.” He darts down the stairs, the back of his neck starting to prickle the moment he takes his eyes off Shen Wei. He scoops Xiao Guo up into his arms, slings the limp body in the world’s most awkward bridal carry. The manner in which he staggers up the stairs isn’t dignified, but at least he gets them both up in one piece.
Lao Chu’s eyes are fixed on Xiao Guo’s face, and Shen Wei seems nearly as concerned when taking in the state of the young man. “Please move as fast as you can,” he says. “I’m not sure how long this will hold.” Then he closes his eyes and raises his hand, and there’s a way out.
Zhao Yunlan goes first, because Xiao Guo is in the most immediate need of attention. There is a moment of terrible disorientation, time stretching like a rubber band, half-glimpsed scenes piling up in the corner of his mind—and then Zhao Yunlan is standing in the middle of the SID office. He can’t fall over, not with his injured colleague in his arms, so instead he sinks gracelessly to the floor. Cradling Xiao Guo he stares up at the point in the air where Shen Wei should be appearing, blind to the commotion his arrival has stirred up as he waits and waits and—there.
Like Zhao Yunlan’s did, Shen Wei’s legs fold under him the moment he and Lao Chu are both through. Chu Shuzhi keeps him from falling over on Zhao Yunlan, eases him more gently to the floor. Zhao Yunlan tightens his arms around Xiao Guo, to keep them reaching for Shen Wei. Shen Wei, who is so close Zhao Yunlan could kiss him.
And had Zhao Yunlan somehow forgotten why attempting that would be a bad idea, the terrible look in Shen Wei’s face would have told him everything he needed to know. “You,” Shen Wei breathes, his voice unlike anything Zhao Yunlan has heard before. “You can twist the others with your words, but I will never forgive you.” Behind all that emotion, Shen Wei’s eyes are going glassy, but he is stubbornly clinging to consciousness just to let Zhao Yunlan get more of a taste of Ye Zun’s handiwork. “I won’t forget, this time. I remember…” The fierce whisper trails off, and Shen Wei’s chin sinks toward his chest.
Zhao Yunlan is just about ready to breathe again when Shen Wei twitches his head back up enough to glare at Zhao Yunlan and say, very clearly, “Murderer.” Then he’s out like a light, and Chu Shuzhi eases him onto his back.
There are agitated voices all around them, gentle hands propping Zhao Yunlan up and strong arms taking Xiao Guo from his grasp. For a moment, it is all one confused jumble, random impressions that hold no particular meaning. He can’t process any new information, because he’s still trying to make sense of Shen Wei’s words—of that look in Shen Wei’s eyes—but there is no sense to be made. It’s all just wrong, so wrong…
Then Zhao Yunlan gets a grip. If there’s something wrong with Shen Wei, it’s his job to make it right. Haixing needs its Dixing Envoy, the SID needs their consultant, and Zhao Yunlan needs Shen Wei. (Oh, how he needs Shen Wei.) Sitting around moping on the floor isn’t going to fix anything, and so he gets up.
Tries getting up, at least.
His first attempt isn’t very successful, but Da Qing is there—might have been there for a while—and by slinging an arm around his deputy’s shoulders Zhao Yunlan finally manages to to rise. Da Qing is bombarding him with questions, asking about Xiao Guo and Shen Wei and himself, and Zhao Yunlan frowns and shushes him so he can focus on what’s going on.
Shen Wei and Guo Changcheng are both laid out on the floor, their worried SID teammates arranging makeshift pillows and checking out the injuries and generally fussing attentively. Lao Chu is stroking Xiao Guo’s hair. Zhao Yunlan can see the spirits, and Da Qing, and Lao Li. Zhu Hong and Lin Jing are missing—but that’s because he arranged for them to meet up at the hospital before. The headcount complete, Zhao Yunlan relaxes somewhat. “Has anyone called an ambulance?” he asks.
“Yes.” Wang Zheng nods. “They will be here soon.”
“Good work. Xiao Guo needs a hospital.”
“I’m going with him,” Lao Chu says before Zhao Yunlan can suggest it.
“Yes. Tell Zhu Hong and Lin Jing to get back here immediately.” With everything else going on, Wang Xiangyang is unlikely to be in immediate danger.
“And Professor Shen?” Wang Zheng asks cautiously.
“Staying here. In the lab. Sang Zan, can you take him?”
“C-carry?” Sang Zan looks a bit overwhelmed at being entrusted with this responsibility, but it’s not like Zhao Yunlan himself could do anything but drop Shen Wei on his head at this point, which would probably not earn him any trust back.
“Now, please.” Before the EMTs show up and get in their heads that the pale, unconscious man on the floor should also be seen by qualified medical professionals.
“Lao Zhao. What happened?” Da Qing has reached the end of his patience.
Zhao Yunlan sighs, wishing he could offer everyone something more cheerful than bad news and worse news. “Ye Zun,” he summarizes. “He’s free of the pillar. Taking power—the guards we met were all on his side.” Zhao Yunlan looks down, wishes that was the end of it. If all they had to deal with was a megalomaniac dark lord, that would be no less than they expected, and possibly even no more than they could handle. But it’s not, so he sets his jaw and continues.
“He captured Shen Wei.” Tortured him, bound him and hurt him while Zhao Yunlan was wasting his time waiting for Shen Wei to come back. The words are growing thick in his throat, and he blinks, angry. “I think he used Shen Wei’s energy to break the seal.” Not the former Master of the Merit Brush at all then, but Shen Wei himself, going to keep all of Dixing safe and walking straight into Ye Zun’s trap. “And he—”
Da Qing’s arm tightens around his chief’s shoulder, and Zhao Yunlan forces out a hollow laugh. “You heard him, didn’t you? Ye Zun got to him, got into his mind somehow. So Shen Wei is—” Shen Wei is flinching from Zhao Yunlan’s touch, when he’s not attacking him outright. “He’s a bit confused right now.”
“Oh,” Da Qing says, and the others all mirror his horrified expression.
“It’s okay. He still trusts you. It’s just—it’s just me.”
Da Qing stares at him, but before Zhao Yunlan can tell him it’s all going to be okay, Wang Zheng interrupts. “Chief Zhao. The ambulance is outside.”
They scramble to clear out for the EMTs. Zhao Yunlan forces Da Qing to help him into the lab rather than remain and get roped into a checkup or something. There he steals Lin Jing’s chair and wheels it to the examination table, where Sang Zan has carefully arranged Shen Wei on his back with his arms by his sides before heading back to the others. At least here Shen Wei’s expression is the blank of true unconsciousness, rather than whatever was happening to him back at the pillar.
“What’s the situation up here?” Zhao Yunlan asks the hovering Da Qing, still staring at Shen Wei.
“There isn’t one,” is the reassuring answer. “Not yet anyway. Are you sure you’re okay?”
The quick change of subject doesn’t in any way trick Zhao Yunlan into answering. “I need Lin Jing in here as soon as he gets back. And—” Zhao Yunlan frowns, looks around. “What time is it? Has everyone slept?”
Da Qing shrugs. “Late morning sometime. And I was asleep. Don’t know about anyone else.”
“Damn cat,” Zhao Yunlan says mildly. “What kind of deputy are you?”
“One who knows the importance of proper sleep,” Da Qing shoots back. “Lao Zhao. You look awful.”
Zhao Yunlan scoffs. “This is your idea of sucking up to your boss?”
Da Qing puts a hand on Zhao Yunlan’s shoulder. “You can’t help him if you work yourself so hard you collapse,” he says softly.
Zhao Yunlan wants to bat the hand away, but it feels like too much effort. Da Qing isn’t wrong—Zhao Yunlan is exhausted, far more than from any previous visit to Dixing. Far more than he should be, given that he managed to go the entire trip without being stabbed or beaten. But sleep is out of the question. The others don’t know Shen Wei like he does—might not pick up on any other signs of tampering, might not see any openings in Ye Zun’s brainwashing.
Patting his pockets, Zhao Yunlan finds nothing but crinkly candy wrappers. “I need a lollipop,” he says to Da Qing, who looks skeptical. “Come on. Fetch.”
Da Qing hisses at him, but at Zhao Yunlan’s swat he scampers off in the direction of the chief’s office. In the silence left behind Zhao Yunlan can hear the hum of Lin Jing’s gizmos and gadgets, and feel the slight pull of the three Hallows in their observation spheres. Shen Wei would kill him for going straight to the Longevity Sundial without trying anything else first—but then it’s not entirely unlikely that Shen Wei is already trying to kill him, as hard as that is for Zhao Yunlan to conceive of. So maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Just a quick experiment, to see what might happen—surely that would be fully scientific.
Zhao Yunlan is staring at the quiescent artefact, trying to work out the best way of lifting it out without having to stand up when Da Qing shoves a lollipop in his face. “It’s still wrapped!” he protests when Da Qing aims it at his mouth, snatching it away.
“It’ll last longer that way,” Da Qing sniffs. “You’re running out.”
“Then go buy me more,” Zhao Yunlan scowls, peeling the wrapper off and stuffing the sweet in his mouth.
“Why were you staring at the Hallows?” Da Qing asks, instead of volunteering for the important task of restocking his chief’s supplies. “You can’t be thinking of trying to use them.”
Zhao Yunlan makes a face at him, sucking in a frustrated breath around the lollipop.
“Well—don’t!” Da Qing snaps. “How many times has your professor warned you?”
Clearly not enough. Zhao Yunlan can’t help a quick fantasy from playing out—maybe if he goes to do the thing Shen Wei hates him to do, then Shen Wei will snap out of it just to scold him. It would be worth it. And he could make up for it later. Thoroughly. “Don’t worry,” he tells Da Qing. “I was just—”
“Was he touching the Hallows?” Lin Jing asks, showing up in the doorway out of breath.
“I was not! Why does everyone think I’m going to do that?”
“Because you keep doing it,” Zhu Hong says pointedly, looking perfectly composed even though she must have rushed to keep up with Lin Jing’s long strides. “And then Professor Shen gives us all disappointed looks for not babysitting you well enough.”
Lin Jing gestures at Zhu Hong. “Yeah. That.”
“You can’t babysit me. I’m your boss.”
Zhu Hong raises an eyebrow, as if to say that she knows that, but who is Zhao Yunlan’s boss? Lin Jing smirks. And Zhao Yunlan almost smiles, but right now there is only one thing that really matters. “Lao Chu filled you in?” he asks.
Lin Jing nods, and makes his way over to the examination table. “I need to run some tests,” he says. “If you could—it would be easier if Professor Shen weren’t wearing so many clothes?”
Zhao Yunlan’s mouth quirks in a humorless smile. “I promise you, I won’t get jealous if you undress him. Just keep it professional, alright?”
Lin Jing runs a hand through his hair. “Ah. Well. I was hoping you would—”
“No.” Zhao Yunlan twists his hands together. “No, you do it.” If Shen Wei doesn’t want Zhao Yunlan touching him right now, Zhao Yunlan is not going to touch him. No matter how badly he wants to. It’s not Shen Wei’s fault he is like this—Zhao Yunlan, however, hasn’t had his brain scrambled by a magic pillar, and so has to be responsible for all of his own actions.
So he watches attentively as Lin Jing awkwardly lifts Shen Wei’s glasses off, and even more awkwardly starts working on the suit jacket. He’s still fighting with a sleeve when Zhu Hong takes pity on him, and together the two get Shen Wei’s shirt unbuttoned, leaving him in the black undershirt Zhao Yunlan is usually the only one to see. It reveals dark bruises around both wrists, scabbed with dried blood, and a similar dark pattern of damaged skin starts at each shoulder—marks left by the chains crossed over his torso. Zhu Hong hisses in sympathy, and goes off to get a first aid kit. Lin Jing does his best to wipe dried blood off of Shen Wei’s face before attaching his instruments to the limp body. And Zhao Yunlan is left staring, taking an inventory of everything wrong with this picture.
Shen Wei doesn’t bruise—shouldn’t bruise. What would leave marks on another human definitely doesn’t on Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan is very aware. But looking at him now, you wouldn’t know it. And this isn’t the first time an injury that should have disappeared instantly has been left on Shen Wei.
If only Shen Wei had trusted him with the truth of that development, they might have more to go on, but no. Zhao Yunlan is left to stew in his own ignorance and guilt. Beside the bruises, there’s the dark circles under Shen Wei’s eyes, the stark pallor of his skin, and—something else. Not just seeing him stripped like this, but there’s something off with what’s in front of Zhao Yunlan, whose head is so fuzzy he can’t quite make out what it is. So he leans in, and stares harder.
It comes to him almost like a cartoon lightbulb. The yellow jade pendant. It should be around Shen Wei’s neck—is always around Shen Wei’s neck. But it’s missing. Zhao Yunlan gets Lin Jing to check for him, but there’s no sign of it under Shen Wei’s low collar, or in his pockets.
While Zhu Hong starts rubbing ointment on Shen Wei’s bruises and wrapping his wrists in bandages, Zhao Yunlan considers the missing necklace. He doesn’t remember seeing it dropped anywhere around the pillar. And when he first got there, he touched Shen Wei’s neck. Shen Wei’s bare neck. He didn’t think of it then, but there was no sign of the pendant. Which means—what? Either that Shen Wei lost it in a struggle, or… Or Ye Zun took it. For some reason. It seems like a petty sort of theft for the magnitude of villain Ye Zun aspires to be, but it’s the most likely explanation.
Does it mean anything? Zhao Yunlan stares down at his hands, trying not to think about how good it would be to talk this over with Shen Wei, get his input and insights and get somewhere with this whole thing.
He might spend quite a while not thinking about that, because suddenly Lin Jing is waving a hand in front of his face. “Boss?”
Zhao Yunlan snaps his head up, and spits out the lollipop stick he’s been chewing on. “Yeah?”
“I think—I think he’s waking up.” Lin Jing nods to Shen Wei.
Zhao Yunlan pushes out of the chair, and stands frozen. He shouldn’t rush closer, but he doesn’t want to retreat any further away, either. So he simply stays, fists by his sides, and watches as Shen Wei’s brows twitch. The tendons in the exposed neck tense, and Shen Wei swallows. Then his lips move, forming a word—he mumbles it so quietly Zhao Yunlan can’t quite make it out at first, but in that moment between sleep and waking Shen Wei repeats it once, twice. And one final time, which Zhao Yunlan hears quite clearly.
“Kunlun.”
That name again, from the ancient text Shen Wei hadn’t wanted Zhao Yunlan to hear. And spoken with such aching tenderness that Zhao Yunlan feels a stab of jealousy he is completely defenseless against. That’s how Shen Wei should be speaking his name. But when Shen Wei’s eyes open, the first thing he does is push himself upright and tear Lin Jing’s sensors off, watching Zhao Yunlan warily.
“Professor Shen,” Lin Jing says with a nervous smile. “It’s so good to see you up. How are you feeling?”
“Lin Jing,” Shen Wei acknowledges him, but not the question. “Zhu Hong.”
Zhu Hong inclines her head. “How are the bandages?” she asks.
Shen Wei looks down at his wrists, surprised. “Oh. They’re fine,” he says, and puts on a polite smile. “Thank you.”
“Do you need anything else?” Zhu Hong asks, after a brief pause. She shoots Zhao Yunlan a glare, like she’s doing some kind of taxing task for him instead of just making small talk. Zhao Yunlan doesn’t respond. He’s standing there, silent, waiting.
“If you have my clothes…?”
Lin Jing and Zhu Hong both take off, jostling each other in their haste to get out of Zhao Yunlan’s line of sight.
Shen Wei’s eyes grow cold as they fix on him, and Zhao Yunlan nods to himself. It really was too much to hope for a reboot to undo whatever Ye Zun has done to Shen Wei. Since it can hardly make the situation worse, he decides to open with a random burning question on his mind. “So,” he says. “Who’s Kunlun?”
It is as if the words are a spell, to summon everything the Black-Cloaked Envoy is in Shen Wei’s stead. Though Shen Wei barely moves, his entire demeanor shifts into something unearthly in its threatening fury. His expression goes blank, as if hidden behind his mask, but for the first time ever Zhao Yunlan understands why even Dixing’s most battle-hardened cower under that gaze. It is a terrible thing to look upon someone you love and be afraid.
By sheer stubborn reflex, Zhao Yunlan smiles. “Okay. I get it.” He spreads his hands, palms out. “That’s fine, you don’t have to tell me.”
“You just thought to taunt me, then?” Shen Wei speaks at last, tonelessly.
“I—no?” Zhao Yunlan frowns.
“Then what? Ye Zun gave you a name, and now you’re satisfying your own curiosity?”
What the fuck? Zhao Yunlan gives a disbelieving shake of his head. “What? No—you did. You said it, just a moment ago. ‘Kunlun’.”
For just an instant, Shen Wei’s expression twists into something so ravaged with grief that Zhao Yunlan’s breath stops—and then all the emotion is gone, like a stone swallowed by a still pond. “You will not speak that name again.” It is not a request. Zhao Yunlan’s palms are clammy, and his heart feels like it’s being wrapped in barbed wire.
“I won’t,” Zhao Yunlan promises. Anything Shen Wei wants, he’ll give. Even now, even when doing so doesn’t make Shen Wei’s eyes light up—barely gets him a reluctant fraction of a nod in acknowledgement.
“And I know you probably won’t believe this, but the only thing Ye Zun has ever given me is a bad case of vision loss.” It feels important to at least try to remind Shen Wei of the way things really are, of everything they’ve been through together, rather than whatever damned things Ye Zun has filled his mind with.
Shen Wei’s lips curl, as if he’s bitten into something rancid. “And that paid off handsomely for you, didn’t it?”
Zhao Yunlan tries very hard to keep from throwing his head back in frustration, even as a few more of those barbs pierce his heart. It’s true—that all ended up hurting Shen Wei more than Zhao Yunlan, in the end. And of course those are the memories that Ye Zun would have left Shen Wei with. He should have realized, shouldn’t have said anything. He exhales, manages to meet Shen Wei’s accusing gaze without letting the spark of remembered anger show. “No. I told you. It cost me more than it was worth.”
Behind Zhao Yunlan, Zhu Hong and Lin Jing are trying to become one with the walls. Zhao Yunlan sympathises, but he can’t stand to hear what new accusations Shen Wei might make against him, and motions for them. “You two. How long are you going to keep Shen Wei from dressing, huh?”
Zhu Hong hastily shoves the glasses she has been fiddling with on top of the poorly folded clothes Lin Jing is holding, allowing her to stay far back from the scene. Lin Jing shoots her a subdued glare, and puts on a smile for Zhao Yunlan. “Sorry, Chief. Here you go.”
“They’re not mine, Lin Jing,” Zhao Yunlan says pointedly as Lin Jing tries to offer him the bundle. Lin Jing glances over at Shen Wei, who slumps a little on the table, that dreadful energy beginning to drain from him.
“Thank you, Lin Jing,” Shen Wei says after the scientist carefully sets the clothes down next to him and takes a few steps back. The glasses soften his expression, and with the shirt back on Zhao Yunlan can stop noticing the missing pendant. “How is Xiao Guo?”
“Stable,” Lin Jing says, and Zhao Yunlan very gratefully lets go of that particular concern weighing on him. “They’ve got him in surgery, but apparently they’re not too worried.”
“The doctors are not too worried,” Zhu Hong interjects. “Lao Chu, on the other hand…”
Shen Wei smiles, a pale but friendly smile, and looks up from buttoning his cuffs over the bandages. “Yes, I can imagine,” he says, with the camaraderie he’s been tentatively developing with the other members of the SID.
At that smile Lin Jing looks like a drowning man that’s been handed an entire life raft fully stocked with fresh water and supplies. “Yes! But honestly, the worst thing is going to be the paperwork. All those forms, and not a single one of them even has a Dixing option…” he babbles on, and Shen Wei nods and continues dressing.
Zhao Yunlan is watching them, wondering what will happen when Shen Wei gets that last button done. Will he leave? Zhao Yunlan knows he can’t stop Shen Wei—literally, there is no way for him to keep Shen Wei from going anywhere, but also if Zhao Yunlan did that would just confirm his new role as a villain in Shen Wei’s life. Maybe if he begs—maybe if he has everyone else beg—then Shen Wei will stay. At least for a while. Because they need that, need Shen Wei at their side as they figure out how to stop Ye Zun, how to keep their city safe.
“Zhu Hong, Lin Jing—get everyone together,” Zhao Yunlan snaps before Shen Wei has finished adjusting his suit jacket. Several heads are better than one, after all. “And get some lunch ordered for us.” Because no matter how badly things are going, they still need to eat, and it’s not like Shen Wei is going to cook for Zhao Yunlan any time soon.