Title: The nights we stole and made our own
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~5800 words
Notes: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. First time. Spoilers up to ep 40 (I think?). Also for the prompts Exploration (FFW bingo) and Time Travel (crack bingo). Truckloads of thanks to trobadora for generous and awesome beta and making me work so hard. No warnings apply.
Summary: In which Shen Wei throws himself at Kunlun, and there is talk of the Timeline and of war. Set in 8000BCE, give or take.



Contrary to what his soldiers probably believe, Shen Wei, the Black Cloaked Envoy and general of the Dixing wing of the alliance army, is not uninterested in sex. He’s just never wanted to have it with a specific person before.

When he touches himself, as he sometimes does in the dark of night, when the sky is star-studded velvet and sleep won’t come to his restless body, or when he’s sure he’ll never be clean of the blood of his comrades and his enemies alike, and he needs something good, some proof of his own still-beating heart—then it’s his own hand he feels. There’s no imagined face or figure working him toward release. He doesn’t need anyone else.

Sex is like the beat of a drum, like hurtling down a grassy hillside or the crackle of a campfire. The body’s response is instinctual, and for some it’s a social act by definition. For Shen Wei, the Envoy—like his body, like his own face—it’s intensely private.

That changes when Kunlun arrives. Alone in his tent after that first night—and it was nearly daybreak by the time they bade each other goodnight; now the sky is starting to ruffle with the delicate pinks and greys of pigeon feathers—Shen Wei finds himself energised. He reaches down, and he still has the taste of Kunlun’s candy on his lips, and the pleasurable swirl of their conversation coursing through his veins, so for once, the hand that touches him is—at least in his imagination—not his own.

It’s a revelation in the intensity of physical feeling, and even more so in the spectrum of emotions that shines through him. His strokes are sensual and urgent by turns as he pictures the affection and admiration he’d seen in Kunlun’s eyes when they were talking, the warmth of his ready smile, and transfers those expressions to this more intimate setting.

Afterwards, he closes his eyes and imagines Kunlun next to him, naked, and the numerous ways they could please each other. And then he’s hard again. It takes a long time to fall asleep.


*


Shen Wei may be inexperienced, but it’s not as though he’s led a sheltered life. He’s well aware some of his soldiers have wives or female lovers, while others find comfort and companionship with each other. What he doesn’t know is how to start.

Kunlun has already said that he might have to leave without warning. Shen Wei can’t waste a single day. But when his men flirt, it usually involves drinking together, and Shen Wei can’t hold his alcohol, so that avenue is closed to him. He needs advice.

“A gift of fish is traditional,” says Da Qing, with great confidence, when Shen Wei consults him later that morning. “Fish or a dead mouse.”

“Fish.” Shen Wei suspects Da Qing is making fun of him, but with Yashou it can be hard to tell.

“Or you could serenade him by the light of the moon…”

Shen Wei is not going to serenade Kunlun—that would only elicit laughter, not romance. But a gift of food isn’t a bad idea, once he adapts it for a Human recipient instead of a member of the Cat tribe. He already knows Kunlun likes sweet things.


*


The council meeting lasts until mid-afternoon. Kunlun doesn’t contribute any new information, which is strange given his character and the rumours of his feats, but perhaps Lord Ma Gui doesn’t give him the opportunity. Kunlun also doesn’t mention his army; but he continues to joke as if he can foresee the future, and he continues to bestow smiles on Shen Wei and treat him as special even though Shen Wei’s wearing his mask again.

He’s a good man, wise and kind-hearted. His face and figure are more than agreeable. Shen Wei wants him terribly.

By late afternoon, they’ve strategized all they can. Lady Fu You and Lord Ma Gui declare they have reports to read and work to do with maps, so Shen Wei invites Kunlun to take a tour of his camp. He introduces him to the wounded soldiers, and Kunlun has a friendly word for each of them. The soldiers are glad to meet such a renowned figure and greet him warmly. When the two men who were at Shen Wei’s side the previous day learn it was Kunlun who came to their aid, they pledge their indebtedness.

Kunlun laughs and reassures them. “We’re fighting to the same end. I’m just relieved you weren’t all more badly hurt.”

Shen Wei sits at Kunlun’s side while they eat around the campfire, and later, when the conversation has died down as Shen Wei’s men drift off to their beds, he takes Kunlun to his tent.

Inside, he takes off his mask and watches Kunlun move around, examining Shen Wei’s possessions. The shiny spiral Shen Wei had found at Kunlun’s feet the night before is still folded away in his belt pouch, but Kunlun takes unwarranted interest in everything else. Shen Wei sheds his armour and stands, waiting for Kunlun’s attention to circle back to him.

Kunlun doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, is exhibiting such patience that Shen Wei swallows a sigh and decides to appease a different curiosity. “Lord Kunlun, what do you know about the Timeline?”

Kunlun looks up quickly from leafing through Shen Wei’s journal. “What do you mean?”

Shen Wei falters under his gaze, annoyed by his own ignorance. Kunlun talks easily about the distant future, and he’s not unique in that regard; Shen Wei has, more than once, overheard snatches of heated debate between Lord Ma Gui and Lady Fu You about whether one course of action or another will disrupt the Timeline, as if they are privy to the fated outcome of events. Shen Wei seems to be the only one not versed in these matters, and no one has been willing to enlighten him.

“What I mean is,” he says, feeling his way as he goes, “do you believe history is fixed into the future as well as in the past? And if it is, why is it necessary to protect it?”

“I believe one person’s future is another person’s past. Shen Wei, would you change your own past, if you could?”

“Yes.” Even if it meant he never joined the alliance, never met Kunlun, he would go back and save his brother. He’d have to.

“Every person in this world has regrets. That’s why the Timeline needs protecting.” Kunlun puts down the journal and smiles. “Look at you, so brilliant and curious. No wonder you— but perhaps there are things it’s better not to know in advance.”

“Such as?” asked Shen Wei.

Kunlun won’t be drawn, but he does come closer. Shen Wei’s gaze fixes on his lips, framed by his short moustache and beard, and he remembers his original goal. He picks up a bowl of berries he’d secured earlier from the camp cook and offers them as a gift.

Kunlun laughs in surprise and throws a handful in his mouth.

“Are they good?” asks Shen Wei.

Kunlun nods, still smiling. “Try some.”

“I want to.” Shen Wei puts down the bowl, grips Kunlun’s shoulders and, heart racing, leans in and tastes the sweet juice on Kunlun’s tongue.

Kunlun stills, neither surging into the kiss as Shen Wei had hoped, nor pulling away. His eyes fall closed, and his breathing shallows, but he seems careful only to follow Shen Wei’s lead, nothing more.

Shen Wei doesn’t want careful. He wants Kunlun’s desperation to match his own, and that desire is only intensified by the knowledge that it won’t. It can’t. It’s obvious that, as much as Kunlun likes him, the man has had other lovers. His body is too loose and satisfied for it to be otherwise. Shen Wei isn’t jealous, exactly, but he’s compelled to grab his chance with both hands.

He pushes the fur from Kunlun’s shoulders, starts to unlace his jerkin, and after a brief hesitation, Kunlun peels Shen Wei’s loose black robes to the waist. It’s warm enough, even this high in the mountains, that the night air feels good on his skin, and wherever Kunlun touches him, a bright heat gathers, like a natural counterpart to the icy prickle of Dixing energy.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Kunlun.”

Kunlun’s eyes are hazy when he blinks them open. “Hm?”

There are so many things he wants to say. Lie with me. Don’t leave. Stay by my side. Instead, he asks a question. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-four. Why?”

Thirty-four. Less than ten years older than Shen Wei. The age matches his appearance, but Shen Wei had assumed the renowned Kunlun would be older.

Thirty-four, and they’re meeting only now. “Have you done this many times before?”

Kunlun drops his hands to his sides, hooks his thumbs into his belt and bites his lip, suddenly serious. “There’s something I have to tell you, before we go any further. Something you should know. All those great deeds you’ve heard of in my name—they were done by someone else.”

This explains much: why Kunlun didn’t speak out at the council meeting, why he is here alone. “Then who are you?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. It’s to protect—”

“To protect the Timeline,” Shen Wei guesses. “Is it so important, what I do and don’t know?”

“It is to me.” Kunlun takes half a step back, giving Shen Wei room to choose. “If it helps, Ma Gui and Fu You know my situation.”

Shen Wei follows after him, undeterred. The leaders of the alliance don’t confide in him, but he has learned to trust their judgement, and they obviously have faith in Kunlun. “It was you who saved my life and the lives of my fellow soldiers.”

“Yes.” Laughter sparks in Kunlun’s eyes, and he raises his hand to smooth a thumb along Shen Wei’s jaw. “Hei Pao Shi, believe me when I say you are one of the two great loves of my life.”

Who’s the other? demands Shen Wei silently, but there’s no point asking. He can see Kunlun won’t tell him.

Kunlun seems to read the question on his face anyway, says, “Shh, don’t think about that now. Focus.” He slides his fingers into Shen Wei’s hair, kisses his mouth, and yes, this is what Shen Wei wants: hunger, depth. Laughter darkening into honeyed lust.

Shen Wei unfastens Kunlun’s belt, but when he pushes off his jerkin, Kunlun’s hair gets caught and goes too, falling to the ground in a tangle, leaving Kunlun strangely shorn as he’d been when Shen Wei first saw him. “Oh!”

Kunlun looks startled, then laughs and runs a careless hand through his short locks, making them stick up in all directions. “All part of my disguise.”

Shen Wei is warm with desire and received confidences. He combs his fingers through Kunlun’s hair, arranging it to his own liking, then bends to press his face to the exposed curve of Kunlun’s neck. After so long wearing the mask, it’s surprising it doesn’t feel stranger to be without it. Kunlun’s beard is rough against his ear, the brush of fabric soft against his bare chest, and then Kunlun’s lips move along the crest of Shen Wei’s shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses that cool quickly in the night air. Shen Wei shivers, feeling himself harden and ache. His heart is pounding. The scent of Kunlun’s skin fills his nostrils, makes his mouth water.

He steps back and unties the waistband of his underthings, lets his robes fall away, lets Kunlun see him, head to foot. Kunlun’s gaze is appreciative until he sees the scar from yesterday’s battle and his brow lowers. It’s still pink, but it will have faded completely by tomorrow. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt,” says Shen Wei, lying a little. “Now you.”

Kunlun has difficulty with some of his fastenings, especially his wrist guards, and Shen Wei understands these are not his accustomed clothes. When he casts off his boots, shift and trousers, he’s left in a single black garment, shiny and obscenely form-fitting from his narrow hips to his mid-thighs, unlike anything Shen Wei has seen before. The garment does nothing to hide Kunlun’s arousal, and when he peels off that last piece of cloth, his erection juts out, thick and veined and beautiful.

Shen Wei is not prone to self-doubt, but even so, he’s never been this sure about anything before: he wants this. Wants it so much, words fail him. He pushes Kunlun down onto the furs and blankets that cover his cot and lies beside him, pressing against him from chest to knee, their cocks trapped between them, their heads side by side. Shen Wei’s cheeks are burning, his palms sweaty, he pulls Kunlun closer, as close as he can, wanting every inch of him, sinking into the feel of his body, and then Kunlun gets up on one elbow and kisses Shen Wei’s mouth, a lush kiss that fills Shen Wei up, sets every nerve alight.

Kunlun’s hand tightens on his waist as though he feels it too. He moans softly into Shen Wei’s mouth, and Shen Wei swallows the sound, hoping to keep it forever, make it part of himself. It’s exciting and powerful and right to bring Kunlun to the point of moaning. He slides his leg between Kunlun’s thighs and rocks forward, seeking and giving and gasping at the lightning bursts of pleasure that shoot through him.

“Ah, xiao Wei.” Kunlun sounds feverish, and the cot creaks, and Shen Wei reaches out one hand and draws up an energy barrier so their cries won’t carry beyond the walls of the tent. He wants to make Kunlun shout.

He twists Kunlun’s short hair around his fingers and tugs him down, no longer being careful, and Kunlun stops holding back too, digs his fingernails into Shen Wei’s back, leaving scratches that, alas, won’t survive Shen Wei’s self-healing. Shen Wei is floating, expanding, light as golden sunlit air, while somehow at the same time tight and heavy and throbbing. The contradictions make it hard to breathe. This is so different from being alone, calmly working his own erection, it’s hard to fathom.

And this, how they’re weaving their bodies together, isn’t even one of the ways he’d thought of this morning. They haven’t tried any of the daring places he wanted to put his mouth or wanted Kunlun to put his. And yet, when they kiss again, hard, bruising—and achingly desperate, because this might be their one chance; for all Shen Wei knows, Kunlun will leave tomorrow—it’s perfect, and he can’t hold it in anymore.

He spills between them in long drawn-out shudders. Kunlun pulls back to watch him, smoothes his hair off his face, and there’s no laughter in his eyes at all now, just a world of tenderness and affection and something else that seems almost sad.

Shen Wei takes a moment to catch his breath, and then decides his plans need not be entirely forfeited. He reaches down beside the bed and finds the abandoned bowl of berries, slips a couple between Kunlun’s lips. Kunlun grins, and Shen Wei pushes him onto his back and sits up, taking his turn to look.

Kunlun’s body is lean and strong, his stomach flat, dipping below the bottom of his ribcage, and his skin largely free of scars, a fact that would have been notable if he really had been the Kunlun of legend. His erection lies against his belly in a thick smear of Shen Wei’s come.

Shen Wei licks his lips and glances up to meet Kunlun’s eye.

“Anything you want,” says Kunlun. The laughter is back, but it doesn’t mask his sincerity.

Shen Wei kisses his lips, his neck, explores his collar bone and across to tease at one nipple, and then down his body. He nuzzles the hollow by Kunlun’s hipbone, then shifts to a better position, pulls his hair out of the way and bends to taste himself on Kunlun’s skin. The smell of sex and Human masculinity is intoxicating—the taste even more so, salty and bittersweet. Finally, Shen Wei licks a slow careful stripe up Kunlun’s cock and laps at its head, exactly how he’d licked Kunlun’s candy the night before. It’s undeniably intimate; it makes the barrier Shen Wei created in the tent feel like a cocoon, containing a world for just the two of them. No war here, or death; no partings. He licks again.

Kunlun’s stomach tenses in response, but otherwise he seems relaxed, unhurried. This won’t do. Shen Wei rubs his hand through the smear of come and takes Kunlun in a firm grip. With his other hand, remembering how good it felt when Kunlun used his fingernails on him, Shen Wei scrapes down the inside of Kunlun’s thigh.

That wins him a gasp. Kunlun hooks his arm behind his head so he can watch. He’s biting his lip.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

Shen Wei nods. It pricks at his pride a little, but he might as well benefit from Kunlun’s experience, since he has none of his own, and he still wants to make Kunlun lose control.

“This, what you’re doing, is good. Licking is good. Sucking is even better.”

Sucking. The word strikes a gong at the base of Shen Wei’s spine, shimmers through his body. He bends and tries again, takes the head of Kunlun’s cock into his mouth until his lips meet his fingers, and he sucks. He can taste him now, his flavour different from Shen Wei’s own, and yes, Kunlun’s cock twitches in Shen Wei’s grip, and his body goes taut, tension thrumming through his thighs.

Shen Wei grows hard again too, loving everything about this—being together; revelling in the pleasures of the flesh; learning. And Kunlun lying back, letting Shen Wei do whatever he wants. Perhaps if he—

With his free hand, he strokes further back and slides a fingertip inside Kunlun. They’re slick enough with sweat and come and spit that it only drags a little, and there’s no complaint in it when Kunlun arches his back and cries out. “Ahhh!”

Shen Wei moves his hand on Kunlun’s cock and pushes in deeper, to the knuckle, and sucks. His own heartbeat is loud in his ears, so when Kunlun speaks he doesn’t hear, and then abruptly Kunlun cries out again and pulses in his mouth. Shen Wei only just manages not to pull away in surprise or choke. He doesn’t do either of those, though. He receives Kunlun’s come and swallows it, and then crawls back up the bed into his arms.

Kunlun’s hand finds Shen Wei’s renewed erection—“What’s this?”—and strokes him gently, and Shen Wei’s eyes drift shut, sleepily aroused, his excitement building again.


*


They’re woken some hours later by the crash of thunder and rain pelting against the roof and side of tent. Shen Wei had let the barrier lapse when they fell asleep, and the rumble seems to shake the ground. After a long moment, blinding flashes follow. It’s dark, but it could well be morning. There’s no way to tell.

Shen Wei disentangles himself from Kunlun to go and check on the camp, sets a protective barrier over the tent where the most severely wounded are resting, and then goes back inside, strips off his rain-soaked clothes and crawls back into Kunlun’s arms. His bed is made for one, but it doesn’t feel too small. They lie entwined for hours, listening to the storm, dozing, touching, talking.

Shen Wei measures Kunlun’s hand against his: the skin is smoother, almost no callouses, and the fingers are blunt compared to his own, but their span is about the same.

Kunlun grins at him, then yawns. His other hand, which has been lazily stroking Shen Wei’s side, crosses Shen Wei’s fading scar and stops there. “Something I’m curious about.”

“What is it?”

“Your army is made up of Dixingren. You have powers, Hei Pao Shi, and most of your men must have them too. When you go into battle, why do you fight like Humans? Why swords instead of dark energy?” He sounds genuinely interested, not frightened as many Humans are when they speak of Dixing powers.

Perhaps that’s because he doesn’t fully grasp Shen Wei’s potential for destruction. Shen Wei prevaricates. “We Dixingren can’t use our powers in Haixing too often. It drains our energy.”

“Wouldn’t it be worth it, to win the war?”

Shen Wei listens to the sound of a violent, rain-heavy squall, then tells the truth as dispassionately as he can. “In the old days—”

Kunlun laughs outright.

“What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“In the old days, we did use our powers to fight. The casualties were very high.” Shen Wei focuses on the line of Kunlun’s lips so he won’t envision the blood-soaked fields, the charred and broken bodies, the screaming. “That’s one of the reasons we joined the alliance. Lord Ma Gui and Lady Fu You helped us establish an agreement with the Rebels. Now when we fight, we use iron and steel.”

“I see.” Kunlun nods. “We have such agreements where I come from, too. Weapons that aren’t to be used. It’s always hard to be sure your enemies will abide by them.”

“Yes.” Shen Wei takes Kunlun’s hand and places it on his own neck, and Kunlun takes this as the invitation it is and kisses him readily. Shen Wei is encouraged to continue. “You see, my power is learning. When I see someone use Dixing energy for a purpose, I learn how to do it too. So if a Rebel uses their power as a weapon on the battlefield, they’re giving me that weapon to use. I can turn it back on them and their brothers.”

Kunlun nods thoughtfully. “I can see how that would provide a disincentive. And you? You alone can use your powers without anyone else gaining an advantage.”

“That wouldn’t be honourable.”

Kunlun must understand that. He nods. “You’re right.”

“Besides, I’ve seen where it leads.”

“It takes wisdom to learn from the past.” Kunlun kisses him, driving away the terrible memories, and makes his way down Shen Wei’s body with his hands and mouth, insistently bringing Shen Wei back to the sensual delights of here and now.


*


The storm passes in the early afternoon, and they dress—reluctantly, on Shen Wei’s part—and go in search of food. They’re still eating when Da Qing comes to find them. “You’re wanted for another council meeting.”

“We’ll be there shortly,” says Kunlun.

Da Qing eyes the way they’re sitting, close with their legs pressed together, and grins at Shen Wei. “I see your fishing was successful.”

The council meeting is tedious. Shen Wei has always been interested in battle strategy and trying to discern patterns in the Rebels’ attacks and movements, but right now he wants only to be alone with Kunlun, to strip him out of his clothes and press against him, savouring every moment. He can’t stop watching Kunlun’s hands, anticipating his touch. His desire feels endless, unquenchable, and makes it hard to sit still.

Perhaps Kunlun feels the same. When Lord Ma Gui mentions that someone should patrol the area, Kunlun immediately volunteers them both, and so it’s decided. Shen Wei hopes there will be opportunity to pause in their work and embrace, at the very least.

Except the next day, when they’re setting out, Da Qing appears and says he’ll come too.

“It’s not necessary,” says Shen Wei. “It’s just a patrol.”

Kunlun slings his arm across Shen Wei’s shoulder. “Ah, let the Cat come. The exercise will do him good.”

Shen Wei has no choice but to agree. Nonetheless, the weather is clear, and they’re all in determinedly good humour, in defiance of the coming battle. And since Kunlun has mysteriously procured a picnic lunch, when they stop to eat, the food is good and plentiful. Kunlun teases Shen Wei into removing his mask again, and when Shen Wei complies, his approval is like the sunlight, warm on Shen Wei’s face.

They’re about to resume their trek around the perimeter when a figure crests the hill. It’s a travelling peddler, whose clothing and wares are soaked through, and he’s hobbling along slowly, favouring his left foot.

“Grandfather, what happened?” asks Kunlun.

“The streams are swollen from yesterday’s rain.” The peddler flaps his outer clothing vigorously, sending out a brief shower of droplets. “When I was crossing just now, I slipped and wrenched my ankle.”

Kunlun tuts sympathetically and encourages the man to sit down. With his friendly smile and a few casual questions, he elicits a good portion of the old man’s life story: his name is Chen Xi, and he was a village merchant. His family was killed in a Rebel raid some years ago, while he was away trading; he returned late one night to find the whole settlement in ashes, everyone dead or gone, and has been travelling the land since, scraping together a living. It’s a common enough history, but Kunlun reacts with sympathy.

Even so, the old man is suspicious, perhaps thinking them thieves. For once, Shen Wei is glad not to be wearing his mask.

“On our honour, we mean you no harm,” he promises. “In fact, perhaps we can help.” He has acquired some healing powers over the years.

Before he can say as much, Kunlun speaks. “That’s right, lao Chen. You need a cold compress. Da Qing, come with me to the stream and we’ll come up with something. Shen Wei, you should start a fire to dry the man’s clothes.”

It’s an odd experience to receive orders rather than to give them, and even odder to be left alone with a stranger who doesn’t see him as the Envoy. Bemused, Shen Wei watches the others head over the rocky rise to the stream. Then he sets a small warm fire going on a bare patch of earth beside the path, more for comfort than anything else. The day isn’t cold, and the old man’s clothes will dry quickly enough.

The peddler Chen Xi is up again, sorting through his bags to see what has been ruined by the dunking. He limps around, spreading bright pieces of silk and leather goods by the fire so they’ll dry.

“Grandfather, let me look at your ankle,” says Shen Wei, but the man ignores him, too busy to respond, so Shen Wei offers him the last morsels of the picnic to distract him from his business.

Chen Xi’s eyes light up. He sits on the grassy hillside and eats fruit while Shen Wei crouches down to remove the man’s worn-out shoe and prod his ankle. It’s hot and puffy, but neither skin nor bone are broken. Shen Wei’s seen much worse. He holds his hand over the joint and summons healing energy, drawing the heat from the wound and knitting torn sinew back together. By the time he’s done, he’s broken into a sweat, but the man’s ankle is as good as new.

Chen Xi frowns. “You’re from Dixing.”

“Yes.” Shen Wei sits back on his heels and wipes his brow, waiting for fear or judgement. This is the drawback of not presenting himself as the Envoy; unless they’re members of Ma Gui’s army, most Humans associate other Dixingren with the Rebels.

Chen Xi just says, “Thank you. If there’s anything you want from my wares, it’s yours.”

Shen Wei has no need of more possessions, and he can’t imagine what Chen Xi might have that would be of use to a soldier, but he looks out of politeness. There are trinkets and eating utensils made of wood and metal, charms and damp bundles of herbs, clay beads, and of course the leather and silk, but it’s a polished piece of jade threaded on a leather thong that catches his eye. It reminds him of Kunlun’s candy. When Shen Wei picks it up for a closer look, Chen Xi shakes his head. “Ah, my most valuable piece. Why am I not surprised?”

“Let me pay you for it,” Shen Wei offers at once, but Chen Xi laughs.

“No, no, I said you could have anything. It’s yours.”

Shen Wei thanks him and tucks it into his robes just as the others return with a sodden piece of cloth. He’ll give it to Kunlun next time they’re alone, as a keepsake of their time together. He can already imagine Kunlun’s response to the gift, the embrace that will follow. The thought makes his heart quicken.

But the chance to give it never arrives. As soon as they return to the alliance headquarters, Lord Ma Gui informs them that the Rebels are moving the Hallows. An informant has sent news of the route, and they must leave at once.

The time for self-indulgence is over. The longer the Rebels have the Hallows, the more chance they have to use them for ill. Shen Wei re-assumes his responsibilities as general, and he, Kunlun and Da Qing set off with not much more than their weapons and the clothes on their backs. When they return victorious with the Hallows, Shen Wei will give Kunlun the jade then.


*


It takes two days to reach the woodlands the Rebels will pass through, and the journey gives him too much time to think. They’ll be badly outnumbered in the fight, and Shen Wei has already lost so many men; he knows there’s no guarantee any of them will make it out alive.

Kunlun and Da Qing seem to have an easy understanding, and Shen Wei feels serious and distant by comparison, perhaps exacerbated by his decision to wear his mask for the mission.

It feels foreign on his face now. His body feels different, too, or perhaps it’s his awareness that has changed. His previous state of quiet self-sufficiency, which served him well his whole life, has cracked like a clay pot, and what was held inside is spilling out. There’s no cure for this, he’s sure of it. No reasoning it away, even if he wanted to. The world is brighter, bolder, more alive. Shen Wei is more alive. He barely recognises himself. He wants.

But despite this awakening, there’s no one but Kunlun he can conceive of letting close. His body wants to be seen only by Kunlun’s eyes, held only in Kunlun’s arms. This is his new fundamental, and it brings trepidation as well as joy. Does Kunlun feel the same? How much time do they have left?

At last their trek leads them from bright sunlit slopes to the dappled shade of the woods. They choose the best place to carry out their ambush and spend the night waiting nearby, off the trail with no campfire.

Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, Kunlun produces one of his candies and carelessly sticks it in his mouth to make a bulge in his cheek. Shen Wei’s mouth waters, and it’s not for want of the strange sticky-sweetness, but he doesn’t say anything. He can’t. They’re not alone.

Kunlun and Da Qing tease each other comfortably, but when Kunlun tries to include him, Shen Wei just smiles and nods. With all Kunlun’s talk of leaving and other loves, there’s too much imbalance between them to be easy.

But after an hour or so of idle conversation, Kunlun says, “Listen to me, Cat. I told you this mission is too dangerous. If you go back to Ma Gui and Fu You now, one day I’ll feed you more dried fish than even you can eat.”

Da Qing snorts. “You just want to be alone with the Envoy so you can paw each other.”

“That, too.” Kunlun pretends to scowl at him. “Three’s a crowd, haven’t you heard that? Why are you still here?”

“More fish than I can eat, you say?” Da Qing licks his lips thoughtfully.

“On my mother’s honour.” Kunlun watches Da Qing vanish into the shadowy night, then turns his warm gaze on Shen Wei. “That mask again. What will it take for you to show me your face tonight?”

Shen Wei hesitates. They’re on duty. The Rebels could pass through at any time.

“Xiao Wei? What’s wrong?”

The soft endearment tugs at his heart, melts his cool reserve. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing that you’re not prepared to give,” says Kunlun, and Shen Wei can’t tell if that’s a promise or a prophesy. He’s still a little out of sorts, but he moves to sit at Kunlun’s side, takes off his mask and plucks the empty candy stalk from Kunlun’s mouth and then kisses him, almost as an act of defiance. Kunlun responds freely, shifts to straddle Shen Wei’s lap in a silent but heated embrace, and the frustration and foreboding that have dogged Shen Wei since they left the alliance headquarters recede.

Sex is something one can do on one’s own, even if that’s been proven a poor second best; kissing can only be done with another. For as long as Kunlun is with him, they’ll make as many good memories as they can. And after, if they both survive, wherever Kunlun goes, when the war is over and he’s no longer needed here, Shen Wei will follow. He’ll find him, no matter how long it takes.


*


“My mission is complete,” says Kunlun. “It’s time to go back now.”

The words are a club to the chest, leaving Shen Wei physically winded. Before he regains his breath, Da Qing runs up and says everything that Shen Wei feels.

“Remember,” Kunlun tells Da Qing in reply, “love from the heart is the key to becoming a great person or a great Cat.”

Still kneeling by the Hallows, Shen Wei watches Da Qing take a gift from his clothing. Something on a chain. He sees Kunlun’s fond smile as he fastens the chain around Da Qing’s neck. “These bells, you keep them.” And Kunlun promises Da Qing they will meet again.

Shen Wei received his own such promise that first night, but he wants it anew, needs reassurance nothing has changed since then, that the Timeline is intact. And he wants to give the jade to Kunlun—who is the only one he’s ever wanted, who loves him, who has seen him and touched him and knows him like no other. Who has changed Shen Wei forever, with the alchemy of their coupling. Shen Wei needs to give him a token, so Kunlun will never forget and, when they meet again, will welcome him gladly. They can take up right where they left off.

But before his turn comes, before he gets the chance, the air fills with running footsteps like drumbeats. The Rebels have found them. And then it’s too late.

The shock of seeing his brother. The Hallows flying into the air. A hole in the sky. And the Timeline swallows Kunlun whole.


END