Title: Masks and Recompense
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: PG-ish?
Length: ~1,950 words
Notes: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan established relationship. Set during episode 17. Tons of thanks to trobadora for beta. <3 <3 <3
Summary: Shen Wei explains a Dixing custom; Zhao Yunlan makes amends.


“Unnng.” Yunlan collapsed, breathless and blissed out, on the sweaty heap that was Shen Wei and took stock. They were halfway across the floor. Their ardour and Shen Wei’s supernatural athleticism must have propelled them off the bed while Yunlan was too preoccupied to notice. Shen Wei was still wearing his shirt—for a very loose definition of “wearing”—and his watch, and Yunlan’s briefs were caught around his ankle. He let himself slide sideways to the floor and kicked them off, then raised himself up again to extract one of Shen Wei’s loafers, which was digging into his ribs. He tossed it out of the way, flopped back down and kissed Shen Wei’s hip.

Shen Wei shuffled down so they were face to face. He looked properly relaxed for once, his expression sleepy and infinitely fond.

“You okay? You didn’t sprain anything?” teased Yunlan, then cleared his throat. He was hoarse from groaning. It was a good thing his lover was his neighbour—fewer complaints about the noise.

“I’m quite all right, but I’m afraid we broke the bed,” said Shen Wei.

Yunlan laughed and stretched luxuriously. “It’s just that the headboard’s come loose. Nothing a couple of bolts won’t fix. And damn, it was worth it.”

“So you’ve fully recovered from your trip to Dixing, then?” It was a mild enough enquiry, but Yunlan recognised the concern lurking in the subtext.

He waved it aside. “It was an enlightening experience. Next time maybe I’ll take a guided tour and learn about the local customs. Though I get the feeling Dixing doesn’t have much of a tourism industry.”

“Alas. What do you want to know?”

Yunlan reached out with his foot, hooked a pillow from the tilting bed and stuffed it under their heads. “Well, I mean, I heard there’s no schools or hospitals, no concept of time. So how do things work? Are there factories? Where do people’s clothes come from, and their food? And oh yeah, what’s the deal with the masks?”

Shen Wei’s eyebrows twitched up. “The masks?”

“Yeah. I mean, it looked like a masquerade ball in that bar, but no one was dancing or even flirting. If you’re just going to drink, why wear a mask?”

“It’s an ancient tradition in Dixing culture,” said Shen Wei. “Are you sure you’re comfortable down here? We could…” He gestured to the bed.

“As long as I’ve got you within arm’s reach, I’m great.” Yunlan ran his hand across Shen Wei’s chest, under his open shirt, careful not to disturb the mysterious jade pendant Shen Wei held so dear. He let his eyes drift closed. “What tradition? Tell me.”

Shen Wei was silent.

Yunlan smiled. “I should learn about the culture I’m marrying into, right? Come on, Professor, give me some extra tuition. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Shen Wei huffed a laugh through his nose, and his voice went far away. “Our forefathers came from the stars. It took them many years to reach Haixing, multiple generations. People were born on the spaceship, and people died. Of course, there was no place to bury the dead, so we began memorialising our loved ones in—”

“Masks.” Yunlan felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. He forced his tired eyes open. Shen Wei was staring at the ceiling, his face expressionless.

“Yes. We carry our dead with us. We wear them. That way we can be with them again, eat with them, drink with them. In times past, only certain wealthy families could afford the practice, but it’s grown more common lately. Even flimsy plastic masks can carry much sentiment.”

“So your mask, does that signify someone you lost? Your parents?”

Shen Wei fell silent. The chasm that sometimes opened between them, even now, yawned wide.

Yunlan hastened to bridge the distance. “Never mind, never mind. What else? Do people ever wear masks for the living? Say, for someone who’s moved away, someone they can’t be with for some reason?”

A muscle in Shen Wei’s jaw tightened. “It’s a terrible insult to wear a mask for a living person. It’s like wishing them dead. You’d have to truly hate someone…”

Yunlan felt as if he’d taken an innocent right-hand turn and somehow driven off a cliff. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this.”

Shen Wei blinked and visibly came back to himself. He turned his gaze on Yunlan, and his eyes grew warm again. “It’s all right. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Yeah.” Yunlan had to find out what he’d done. “Who can wear a mask? Does it have to be a relative?”

“A relative or a very dear friend.” Shen Wei paused to kiss Yunlan’s lips, as if to illustrate. “It’s taboo to wear another family’s mask, especially a stranger’s. Historically, there have been cases of violence and even attempted murder caused by that kind of transgression.”

“Oh. Damn.” The guilt in Yunlan’s stomach intensified.

“What?”

“Ah, uh, it seems I fucked up.” Yunlan grimaced and explained about stealing the mask from the vomiting man outside the Dixing bar. Mortally offending an innocent Dixing citizen could do real damage to Human–Dixing relations. There was no saying who else that person would tell, how far the story would spread, or whether Yunlan’s position as Lord Guardian would become known. And just as importantly, Yunlan considered himself a decent guy: if he was going to upset someone, he wanted it to be deliberate and for good reason. “I didn’t know. How do I make it right?”

“You can’t, but the chances of your encountering him again are slight, especially if you stay away from Dixing. You know there are many reasons it’s dangerous for you to go there.” Shen Wei actually looked relieved, as if Yunlan’s faux pas were one more argument he could use to stop Yunlan taking risks.

It was cute, but Yunlan couldn’t help disagreeing. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I have to try to make amends. I didn’t mean to take liberties with this guy’s dead relative. I mean, if someone pissed on my mother’s grave even without realising, I’d want them to apologise, at the least.”

Shen Wei pushed him off and sat up, his expression more the stern Black-Cloaked Envoy than Yunlan’s lover. “Zhao Yunlan, I won’t take you to Dixing for a personal matter. It’s not only yourself that you endanger.”

“Okay, I get it.” Yunlan dragged him back down and patted him soothingly. “I promise. There are other ways. I mean, I can’t send an apology by Human courier, but they don’t call you the Envoy for nothing, right?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m currently occupying three quite demanding roles. I have many responsibilities, and there are limited hours in the day.” Now he just sounded exasperated.

Yunlan buried a grin in Shen Wei’s shoulder, his heart swelling with affection. “But you’d do it for me, wouldn’t you, just this teeny favour? One delivery?”

Shen Wei sighed.

“Xiao Wei,” said Yunlan. “Do this for me, and I’ll owe you.”

“You’re impossible.” Shen Wei got to his feet, naked and beautiful, and for a split second Yunlan thought he’d pushed things too far, that Shen Wei was leaving. Regret burned through him like molten lava. He opened his mouth to beg pardon, to beg him to stay, but then Shen Wei reached down and helped him up. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll convey your apology, for all the good it will do you.”

“You’re the best,” said Yunlan, fervently. “The greatest. The apple of my eye, the bird’s nest in my soup. And my apology is going to be awesome.” He turned to the lopsided bed and stopped. “We’re going to need something to prop that up.”


*


“I’m here on behalf of the man who stole and wore your memorial mask yesterday, to deliver his apology.” Shen Wei had been to the bar to retrieve the mask, only to learn its owner had already claimed it. Now he was here, in full official garb, at the man’s humble dwelling.

The man bowed, his hands trembling. He was refusing to meet the Envoy’s eye and probably horribly hung over. It was uncomfortable for both of them. Zhao Yunlan had no idea what he’d asked.

Best to get it over with. “I understand your anger; you have every right to be offended. That man was ignorant and careless of our customs. I have since enlightened him, and he was appalled at his mistake. He sends sincere regrets, both to you and your loved one. In his culture, one leaves offerings of flowers and food for the dead, and so he has sent you these to pass on to your loved one, as a gesture of his respect.”

The Envoy motioned to Wu Tian’en to proffer the two cartons of goods Zhao Yunlan had sent. One was stuffed with fruit, alcohol and a silk robe, and the upper, unlidded carton was crowded with bright flowers. The Envoy could easily have carried them himself, but he had his dignity to maintain.

The man accepted the boxes with little curiosity.

“I hope this will satisfy you,” said the Envoy, pointedly. “His remorse is sincere. He would have come to make things right in person, if I had allowed it.”

The man’s expression lightened somewhat. “Who is he, that man?”

“I won’t reveal his identity.” Shen Wei and Yunlan had argued that point at some length: Zhao Yunlan was of the opinion that an anonymous apology was no apology at all, whereas Shen Wei saw no reason to risk starting another war. “I will say this: if you can let your resentment go and forgive him, you will earn my gratitude, and that may be worth something in the days to come.”

The man chewed his lip for a moment. “All right.”

“One more thing.” The Envoy delved into his robes and produced a thermos flask. “This is congee. It should ease your discomfort after last night, since you ended up drinking alone instead of with your loved one.”

The man looked from the cartons to the thermos and back. “Isn’t he laying it on too thick? Does he think forgiveness can be bought? Where will it end—a golden dragon?”

“You misunderstand,” said the Envoy. “With respect, and taking my share of responsibility for bringing an uninformed person into the city without sufficient care, the congee is from me.”

The man’s eyes widened and he practically snatched the thermos from the Envoy’s hand. “Sir Envoy, I accept your apology.”

Shen Wei let out a silent breath and gave the man the slightest of bows. This was probably going to add to the annoying rumours, but there was no point walking only halfway down a road. He was already calculating how he could impress on Yunlan this favour’s magnitude, and whether when Shen Wei called for its repayment, it would be enough that just for once Zhao Yunlan would heed his warnings and steer clear of unnecessary dangers instead of running to face them head on. “Now I must excuse myself. I have much to do.”

The Envoy turned away. For the first time in a long time, his mask felt out of place on his face. When he’d fashioned it, he’d believed Ye Zun to be dead, and by the time he discovered he was wrong, it was too late: the mask had become a part of his role. I didn’t know, brother. Ignorance was no excuse, but perhaps, in the end, a day would come when he could make recompense there, too.


END