Title: Catastrophe
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: G
Length: ~5000 words
Notes: Da Qing & Zhao Yunlan bodyswap; Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan pre-relationship; set during episode 11, when they get back from the mountains. Many thanks to trobadora for beta! No warnings apply.
Additional prompts: Zhao Yunlan & DQ, bodyswap for smallfandomfest; suitcase for FFW bingo; very cheating use of lunabee34’s prompt: Zhu Hong, “I will never wear that. Ever.”
Summary: In which Da Qing and Zhao Yunlan swap bodies, and Zhao Yunlan naturally takes the opportunity to spy on Shen Wei. (Let’s call it recon.)


1.

It started so stupidly that afterwards Da Qing pretended he couldn’t remember what had happened. Everyone knew he forgot things, and he wasn’t above taking advantage of that.

They arrived back from the mountains just before dawn.

“Get a secure case ready for the Mountain-River Awl,” Lao Zhao told Lin Jing as they pulled up outside SID headquarters. He’d been in a strange mood for the whole drive, staring fixedly at the road ahead and not responding when anyone talked to him, and he still seemed distracted.

Lin Jing, who’d been asleep in the back, scrubbed his hands over his face, and he and Lao Chu climbed out of the car, shouldered their gear and trooped inside, while Xiao Guo tried to lug both of Zhu Hong’s unwieldy suitcases up the front steps on his own.

Sang Zan was looking around in amazement at the buildings and the cobbled road under the streetlights. He’d already spent most of the trip wide-eyed about the concepts of motorised transport and pre-packaged snacks.

Da Qing used his natural cat reflexes to avoid having to carry anything heavy. He was ready for some dried fish and a nap, but first he needed to make sure Lao Zhao was all right.

Xiao Guo came outside for another load, peered into the back of the borrowed car and emerged with his arms full of deflated plastic sex doll, its limbs dangling loosely to Xiao Guo’s knees. “Wang-jie, should I keep this in case you need to leave the station in the daytime again?”

Zhu Hong glared at him, placing herself bodily between the doll and Wang Zheng, but Wang Zheng answered for herself: “I will never wear that again. Ever. If I see it, I’ll stick it full of pins.”

“You can stash it in the lab. There’s plenty of storage space there,” suggested Lin Jing from the doorway. “Boss, the case is ready for the new Hallow.”

Lao Zhao had been leaning against the front of the jeep, staring into the middle distance, ignoring the bustle and thoughtfully sucking on a lollipop, but he stirred at that, picked up his rucksack and went inside. Da Qing followed close behind. Maybe Lao Zhao was still recovering from the effects of the drug Wang Zheng had used, or maybe his cold was getting worse.

The lab smelled as if someone had forgotten to take out the trash. Da Qing wrinkled his nose, looking around for the source of the stink while Lao Zhao put the Longevity Dial back on its stand and covered it with the glass globe. Then Lao Zhao moved onto the new stand, his bag gaping open, and in an attempt to move things along and return to the fresher air of the main room, Da Qing reached helpfully for the Mountain-River Awl just as Lao Zhao’s fingers closed around it too.

It vibrated. The world swirled. “What the fuck?” said Lao Zhao from inside Da Qing’s head.

Da Qing yelled and leapt back, but the floor was twisting into a frightening number of dimensions, there was a ripping sensation as he was torn out of himself, and then he was suddenly taller, with an ache in his belly and a sweet taste in his mouth, blinking at the room from a new angle and, more specifically, at someone who looked exactly like him. He spat out a lollipop. “What just happened?”

“What the hell?” The other him looked down at the denim overalls, then up at him-him. Other-him was still holding the Awl, which glowed malevolently. “Damn Cat, is that you?”

“Lao Zhao?” His voice sounded wrong. He felt dizzy and grabbed onto the nearest solid object, which happened to be Lin Jing’s head.

Lin Jing, who was checking his email, squawked. “Boss? What are you doing?”

“It’s me,” said Da Qing. “Da Qing.”

“Here!” Lao Zhao surged forward with the Hallow, grabbed Da Qing’s hand and wrapped it around the Awl so their fingers tangled. His forehead furrowed with effort. Nothing happened. “Come on, come on… Fuck! How do we reverse it?”

Lin Jing stood up, looking from one to the other. “How did you do it in the first place? Wait, did you swap bodies? That’s theoretically impossible.”

“I didn’t do it, the Hallow did.” Lao Zhao shook the Awl and scowled at it. “Unless it was Damn Cat’s idea.”

“Not me,” said Da Qing. “Why on earth would I want to be human?”

As if the words were a trigger, other-him collapsed in a burst of black energy, shrinking down into cat form. The Hallow clattered to the floor.

“Boss?” said Lin Jing.

Lao Zhao meowed.

Which would have been a damn sight more helpful if Da Qing still spoke Cat.



2.

Zhao Yunlan did not need this. His head was already a mess from the coalescing conviction that Professor Shen of Dragon City University, who he was more than half in love with, was moonlighting as the quasi-mythic and wholly untouchable Black-Cloaked Envoy. Or was the Black-Cloaked Envoy moonlighting as Shen Wei? Regardless, Zhao Yunlan did not need to be trapped inside the body of a Yashou, especially when he had no idea how to talk like this nor how to shift back into bipedal form.

“Think about hands,” Da Qing was telling him urgently with Zhao Yunlan’s face, from Zhao Yunlan’s precious body, which Zhao Yunlan wanted back, thank you very much. “Think taller.”

Zhao Yunlan tried. He thought about opposable thumbs and clothes and shoes and getting back into his own body and, always in the background, Shen Wei. They could call the Envoy for help, except that he couldn’t suggest that because he couldn’t talk to his deputy, and anyway, there was a ninety-five percent chance that the Black-Cloaked Envoy was up in the mountains, still deep in an alcohol-soaked slumber.

“Wow, this is fascinating. How does it feel?” Lin Jing asked Da Qing, sounding like this were an exciting scientific phenomenon and not a major catastrophe.

Zhao Yunlan growled at him, literally, and wished he could tell Wang Zheng to deduct next month’s bonus, since this month’s had already been forfeited on the journey to the mountains.

Then Lin Jing went one worse and yawned, which set Da Qing off, and Zhao Yunlan felt his feline mouth stretching improbably wide as he yawned, too. He had been up all night, first watching over the unconscious Shen Wei, and then driving back to the city. What are the chances we can sleep this off? he wanted to ask Lin Jing, but he couldn’t fucking speak.

He padded over and swatted Lin Jing’s leg instead.

“We should get a few hours’ sleep,” said Lin Jing as if he hadn’t spent half the car journey with his eyes closed. “Maybe it will wear off on its own? And it’s dangerous to mess around with experimental science when you’re sleep deprived. Anything could happen!”

“Anything’s already happened!” said Da Qing, but he shrugged Zhao Yunlan’s shoulders and led the way out into the main room, where everyone else was still milling around tiredly or, in the case of Wang Zheng, giving Sang Zan a guided tour.

Zhao Yunlan caught up and walked at Da Qing’s side. The furniture loomed around him, and there was a vivid smellscape of bodies and old brick, cleaning products and occasional hints of food. He went over and sprang onto the back of the couch to get some height, but miscalculated how much force was needed and overbalanced, sprawling onto the leather cushions of the seat.

“Is the deputy all right?” asked Xiao Guo.

“That’s the chief,” said Da Qing. “I’m Da Qing. The Awl made us swap bodies.”

“What?” There was a shocked silence, then an outcry with everyone talking at once.

Zhao Yunlan sat up, shook himself, and fought the urge to lick his own hind leg. Ugh! Instead he carefully stepped onto the back of the couch, from which vantage point he glared at his team who’d gathered around and were staring back at him as one – or nearly.

“But why are you a cat instead of in human form?” asked Zhu Hong, who unlike the others, was apparently taking the bodyswap aspect in stride. Perhaps Yashou had a different perspective on these things.

“I don’t know,” Zhao Yunlan tried to say, but all he managed was a meow.

“He doesn’t know how to change shape or talk.” Da Qing shook his head. “Humans.”

Zhu Hong cocked her head. “Think about stretching out your fingers as far as they’ll go.”

Zhao Yunlan tried, but that just reminded him of the first half of the night, sitting vigil at Shen Wei’s bedside, curling his hands into fists to keep from tracing the lines of Shen Wei’s face. If it had just been Shen Wei, he might have succumbed to the temptation, but even he didn’t have the brass to take such liberties with the Ambassador of Dixing.

Zhu Hong was still trying to talk him through transforming, but he was as groggy as if Wang Zheng had drugged him again, and it was impossible to focus. Especially since the others were all still making a fuss.

“Quiet, the lot of you!” shouted Da Qing.

Lin Jing sniggered.

“What?”

“You sound just like him.”

“Well, I’m the deputy and I’m in the chief’s body, so as long as Lao Zhao can’t speak, I’m in charge. Everyone except Lin Jing, go home and wash yourselves or sleep or chase some mice, but keep your phones on. See you back here this afternoon. Wang Zheng, you and Sang Zan keep an eye on things. We’re going to grab a couple of hours’ shut-eye, and if it hasn’t worn off by then, Lin Jing is going to fix this.”

“What if he can’t?” asked Zhu Hong.

“Good question,” said Lin Jing. “What then?”

Da Qing looked determined. “Then we call in someone who can.”

Zhao Yunlan put his head on his paws and sighed.



3.

Da Qing’s stomach ached but he wasn’t hungry. He sat down with Lao Zhao on the couch, propped his feet on the edge of the table and let his head fall back tiredly.

Lao Zhao’s fur was bristling with frustration, and even in cat form, he seemed distracted. He should be pleased they’d retrieved the new Hallow and brought Wang Zheng back safely. This bodyswap thing was just a temporary complication, the kind of inconvenience he’d usually brush off with a laugh and a clever plan. Had something else happened in the mountains that was bothering him?

Da Qing would have stroked him to calm them both down, but though he couldn’t speak Cat anymore, he could read body language, and he didn’t want to get scratched even if his own claws were the ones doing the scratching.

Finally, Lao Zhao huffed and curled into a tight ball with the end of his tail covering his face. Da Qing stood up on his excessively long legs and went into the back room to visit Lao Li.

“Chief Zhao!” Lao Li looked up from his breakfast. “What can I do for you?”

“No, it’s me, Da Qing,” said Da Qing, flopping into a chair next to him. “Lao Zhao and I swapped bodies.”

Lao Li put down his chopsticks. “Are you all right?” He reached out and gave Da Qing’s hair a stroke, like he would have if Da Qing had been properly himself. “Do you want some dried fish?”

“In a minute.” Da Qing grabbed Lao Li’s hand as it started to fall away and directed it back to his head, demanding more strokes. It didn’t feel as good as usual – and the fish, when he had some, wasn’t as delicious – but it was still comforting. It reminded him of who he was.

After breakfast, he napped for a few hours on a newspaper that lay open on the table in the main room, until Lao Zhao walked across his chest. It hadn’t worn off on its own.

Through mutual agreement they returned to the lab, which marked the start of a frustrating afternoon of Lin Jing running tests on them, trying various configurations of the Hallows, and electrocuting them multiple times until Lao Zhao lost patience and bit him.

“Hey! Watch it!” Lin Jing snatched his hand back and inspected it.

Da Qing sighed. “I’ll get Wang Zheng to reinstate your bonus for this month.”

Lao Zhao looked unimpressed, but Da Qing shrugged at him. If he didn’t want to pay out, he should have kept Da Qing’s teeth to himself.

Lin Jing was still rubbing his hand as he glanced at the tablet on his desk. “Well, we’ve tried all the possible solutions I came up with. I mean, I could try reversing the polarities on the flux capacitor, but that could lead to some serious rifts in the space-time contin—”

Lao Zhao jumped from the experimentation bed to the floor and then up onto the edge of the desk—he seemed to have figured out jumping now, if not talking—and picked his way over to the tablet. Lin Jing scooted back to give him space. Lao Zhao patted the screen with his paw to display the keyboard and started laboriously typing.

Da Qing, stay. Keep watch.

“Where are you going?” asked Da Qing, alarmed. “You can’t just wander the city alone like that – there are dogs!”

I’ll be fine. It stinks in here. Lao Zhao blinked at Da Qing.

Da Qing hesitated, but he understood the need to prowl in times of stress. “You’re just going home, right?”

“If we come up with another theory, we have to be able to find you,” added Lin Jing.

Lao Zhao waved a paw in a Lao-Zhao-ish and distinctly unfeline way and, without further comment, made for the door.



4.

Despite having the unique opportunity to get a cat’s-eye view of the city, Zhao Yunlan went straight home. His fur felt frazzled from the electric shocks – the attempted cures had been worse than the ailment – and he couldn’t shake a creeping depression that had nothing to do with being in the wrong body and everything to do with Shen Wei being the Envoy and thus out of reach. Maybe it was just as he’d always said: he wasn’t fated to have love in his life.

Anyway, that wasn’t the point. If there was one advantage to his current predicament, it was that he had the perfect cover to do some recon. If Shen Wei was simply Professor Shen, he wouldn’t suspect a thing, but if Zhao Yunlan’s suspicions were right and the Black-Cloaked Envoy was living across the hall from him in a down-market one-bedroom, then his recognising Zhao Yunlan in this form would be some kind of proof.

He’d considered asking Da Qing to summon the Envoy at a set time, so Zhao Yunlan could see the message come through with his own eyes, but he had no guarantee of finding the professor – if he was even back from the mountains by now – and anyway, there was still that five percent of doubt. If he was wrong, he needed to be present at the SID when the Envoy arrived to help.

Besides, he wanted Shen Wei to tell him the truth himself. To want to tell him.

The streetlights had come on by the time he got home, but the crack under Shen Wei’s door was dark. Which was the moment Zhao Yunlan realised he had no way of getting into his own apartment either: he didn’t have his keys, and even if he had, he couldn’t reach the lock or work the door handle. He could go outside and try Da Qing’s usual entrance, the window, but navigating an unfamiliar tree-climb in the dark, even with his improved night vision, would just mean he was stuck inside the apartment instead of locked outside it, if or when Shen Wei arrived home.

Zhao Yunlan scratched his neck so vigorously Da Qing’s bells jingled and, feeling like an idiot, tucked his paws under him and dozed in the hallway.

He was woken by Shen Wei saying, “Oh, Da Qing, I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Zhao Yunlan cracked his eyes open. Was it the nap that had soothed his temper and lightened his mood, or was it Shen Wei’s being back in the city, with a bulging grocery bag in one hand, regarding him with that small smile? Either way, he felt decidedly less terrible, even if the smile wasn’t strictly meant for him. He unfolded his paws and stretched out his front legs then his back ones, as Shen Wei got out his keys.

“Come in.” Shen Wei held the door for him and shut it once they were both inside. He dropped his keys and travel bag on the armchair, took off his jacket – not Zhao Yunlan’s, but a different one – and rolled up the plaid sleeves of his t-shirt. “What do you feel like today – steamed bass or stewed eel?”

Both sounded amazing, especially since Zhao Yunlan hadn’t eaten all day. He meowed piteously and followed Shen Wei and his grocery bag into the kitchen.

Shen Wei set a bar stool by the counter and looked at him expectantly, so Zhao Yunlan jumped up. It was a good vantage point: he could observe Shen Wei in a pseudo-covert, nonthreatening way, and he was a safe distance from the stove so he wouldn’t get oil in his fur.

Shen Wei didn’t talk much while he was preparing the meal, but his actions were plenty eloquent, every move practised and efficient. He wielded a kitchen knife with the same precision and confidence that the Envoy wielded his blade. Zhao Yunlan couldn’t look away. His paws itched to knead those forearms.

And then Shen Wei started the actual cooking part, and by the third time he’d stuck his tongue out to taste the sauce, then licked his lips, Zhao Yunlan had to look away or he would have fallen off his stool. A few strands of Shen Wei’s hair were falling onto his forehead, too, as he leaned forward to inhale the aroma, using his senses to adjust the flavour, adding a pinch of salt here, spices or weijing there.

Zhao Yunlan’s five percent uncertainty stretched into fifteen. Surely this Shen Wei with that mouth couldn’t be Dixing’s implacable arbiter of justice. Or had he been reading the cool and aloof Black-Cloaked Envoy all wrong? Was the mask really a mask?

Was the Envoy just pretending not to recognise Zhao Yunlan now to lull him into dropping his suspicion, and if so, why?

Finally, when Zhao Yunlan was about thirty seconds from dying of hunger, Shen Wei turned off the heat and ladled the food into serving dishes.

He looked at Zhao Yunlan. “Aren’t you going to change for dinner?”

Zhao Yunlan wanted to, desperately, if only so he could eat with chopsticks like a civilised person, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He blinked twice for no.

“Very well.” Shen Wei gave him a flat plate, rather than a bowl, and heaped it full of food. “Be careful, it’s still hot.”

It smelt incredible. Zhao Yunlan barely managed to wait for Shen Wei to sit across from him before he started wolfing it down, heedless of its temperature.

Shen Wei ate at a more measured pace. He was still quiet, but when it came to Shen Wei, there was always something to decipher, and once the worst of Zhao Yunlan’s hunger pangs were assuaged, he started paying attention.

What he saw was that beneath Shen Wei’s politely controlled veneer, he was troubled. He kept getting halfway through a mouthful of food, zoning out and forgetting to swallow. He picked up his cup of water and put it down again without drinking. He cleared his throat twice, as if about to say something, but both times faltered. Maybe his disquiet was the reason he hadn’t noticed Zhao Yunlan wasn’t Da Qing. But what was on his mind?

If it were anything to do with Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei couldn’t talk about it to Da Qing, who made no secret of his loyalties. But surely the mighty Black-Cloaked Envoy wouldn’t be worried about Zhao Yunlan anyway. Hell, even Professor Shen must have more important things on his mind than the disreputable chief of the SID. Perhaps Shen Wei was simply frustrated that the research trip had been a bust.

When they’d finished eating, Shen Wei stashed the leftovers in the fridge, and they retired to the living room. Zhao Yunlan jumped onto the couch and tucked his paws away.

To his surprise, Shen Wei sat beside him. “Well? Don't you have anything to tell me?”

He sounded resigned and unhappy, and Zhao Yunlan responded without thinking, nosing Shen Wei’s hand in an attempt to provide some small comfort. Apparently that was all the prompting it took for Shen Wei to pet Zhao Yunlan. He began with a scratch behind the ears that set Zhao Yunlan’s nerves tingling, and then administered a series of long, firm strokes from the top of Zhao Yunlan’s head to his tail.

Zhao Yunlan’s blood began to thrum as if a switch had been thrown; his muscles turned to jelly. An involuntary rumble started in his throat, followed by a sensation like full-body pins and needles, except exquisitely pleasurable. He arched into Shen Wei’s touch, seeking more, and was rewarded with a slight smile and a redoubling of Shen Wei’s efforts.

It took Zhao Yunlan’s last shreds of self-control not to roll onto his back and invite Shen Wei to stroke his tummy too. As it was, he had to press his face to Shen Wei’s jeans-clad thigh to keep from embarrassing himself by crawling onto his lap or something equally shameless.

Being a cat had a lot more going for it than he’d previously known!

Well before Zhao Yunlan had had enough, Shen Wei’s efforts slowed and then stopped. He withdrew his hand and folded it with his other in his lap.

Zhao Yunlan swallowed a meow of protest and jumped down on paws that still felt like jelly. But he was here under false pretences, taking food and attention that were meant for Da Qing – he couldn’t outstay his welcome on top of that. He padded to the door and waited.

Shen Wei followed, but rather than immediately letting him out, he crouched down on one knee. “Da Qing, I hope our arrangement still stands.”

What arrangement? A suspicion filled Zhao Yunlan’s mind, partly dispelling the warm glow of the stroking. He looked away, at the door, and meowed.

Shen Wei sighed, stood up and let him out.



5.

Da Qing missed purring. It really was a superior way to de-stress.

He was eating noodles in Lao Zhao’s office and checking the chief’s schedule for the rest of the week. Obviously they couldn’t tell the Department of Supervision about the switch: the Department would inform the Xingdu Bureau, and Zhao Xinci would send in a replacement chief in a heartbeat, or take on the position himself. But keeping it secret meant Da Qing covering for Lao Zhao at his weekly briefings, and the thought made him want to crawl into a small, dark, preferably warm space and stay there.

“Where have you been?” he hissed, when his own whiskery face finally appeared in the doorway.

Lao Zhao blinked at him accusingly.

Da Qing felt defensive without knowing why, and that was the final straw. “Lin Jing’s out of ideas. Wang Zheng and the others have been scouring the library and haven’t found anything relevant. I’m calling the Black-Cloaked Envoy before it gets too late.”

Even Dixingren had to sleep, and Da Qing did not want to ask a favour from a cranky Envoy who’d been woken from dreams of… whatever Envoys dreamed about.

Da Qing half-expected Lao Zhao to object to the plan, but he jumped onto the desk and sat on a stationery invoice, as neatly as a natural-born cat, and nosed at the pot that held the Dixing incense.

“Okay.” Da Qing stopped. “Not here.”

Lao Zhao might be able to buddy up to Ambassador Black, but Da Qing had a healthy respect for super-powerful beings from the underworld who might not acknowledge his well-established position at the top of the food chain. There was safety in numbers. He gathered the special burner, a cone of the incense and a box of matches and went through to the main room.

Lao Zhao trotted past him to lead the way.

The Black-Cloaked Envoy arrived only seconds after the incense was lit. He stepped out of his portal, which vanished with a cool draught and a sound like a dying person’s final breath.

Da Qing steeled himself. “Lord Envoy—”

The Envoy’s mouth turned down in a subtle but alarming fashion. “Zhao-xiong?”

“Not quite,” said Da Qing, hastily. “We had a slight accident with the Mountain-River Awl.”

The Envoy blinked. “What kind of accident?”

Lao Zhao jumped onto the table and meowed, and the Envoy stared at him. Da Qing could only see the side of his hood from where he was standing, but he saw when the Envoy froze in place. “Do you mean to tell me—?”

“Chief Zhao and I swapped bodies, and he doesn’t know how to talk like that, so there’s no point asking him anything.”

The Black-Cloaked Envoy’s gaze fell upon Da Qing once more. “You’re Da Qing?”

“Yes.” Da Qing nodded fervently. “And human bodies are stupid. Can you switch us back? We’ve tried everything else we can think of.”

“Please?” said Wang Zheng. “The deputy is even worse at paperwork than Chief Zhao!”

“Please,” echoed Xiao Guo and Zhu Hong.

Lin Jing shoved his hands in his pockets, obviously chagrined at his failure to solve the problem himself. “The Hallows are ineffable!” he grumbled.

“I—” The Envoy seemed thrown. He cast another sideways glance at Lao Zhao, where he lay on the table in an insouciant cat sprawl. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Oh, good,” said Da Qing in relief. “I was afraid I was going to have to debrief with Minister Gao tomorrow morning.”

The Envoy was still giving a strong impression of frowning, but he stepped up to the table and held out his hands. Energy fizzed and flickered in his palms. “Approach,” he said to Da Qing, without looking around.

So Da Qing did.



6.

The second the portal closed behind the Envoy, Zhao Yunlan grabbed Da Qing by the shoulder strap of his denim overalls, dragged him into his office and shut the door with some force. “You’re a double agent!”

“What?” Da Qing stared at him. “No, I’m not! Did being a Yashou drive you mad?”

“What about your ‘arrangement’ with Shen Wei?” Zhao Yunlan sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms.

“You told me to get to know him! You said I should nose around and see what I could find out!”

“That was weeks ago! How long has this been going on?” Zhao Yunlan felt like an idiot. How had he not known that his best friend and his crush were conspiring behind his back? “What, so he feeds you fancy treats, and you tell him all the SID's guarded secrets?”

When the Black-Cloaked Envoy had stepped out of the portal, with him had come a faint but mouth-watering odour of stewed eel – one Zhao Yunlan had only recognised because of his enhanced feline senses. And the moment the Black-Cloaked Envoy heard about the switch, his eyes had widened behind his mask, staring at Zhao Yunlan with a look both reproachful and abashed.

It wasn’t about percentages and probabilities anymore. Even using someone else’s gut, Zhao Yunlan had known on a gut level that it was true: Shen Wei was the Envoy; the Envoy was Shen Wei.

At which point, the earlier events of the evening had taken on a whole different slant. He was not jealous of his cat, even if Da Qing and Shen Wei did have a lot in common – like being ancient, for starters. He refused to stoop to jealousy. But he could be professionally concerned. He should be. I hope our arrangement still stands, Shen Wei had said. And: Don’t you have anything to tell me?

Da Qing walked up to Zhao Yunlan and smacked him hard on the arm. “He doesn't ask about the SID, you idiot. He asks about you.”

“What?” Zhao Yunlan rubbed his shoulder while he tried to make sense of that.

Da Qing perched on the desk next to him. “Whether you're eating, whether you're sleeping all right, whether you've sustained any injuries…”

“He's not my grandmother. None of that's any of his business,” said Zhao Yunlan, through a sudden cloud of confusion and happiness, and some residual wisps of suspicion.

“That’s not what he seems to think.” Da Qing rolled his eyes. “He’s as obsessed with you as you are with him.”

“And it never occurred to you to mention this to me?” Zhao Yunlan licked his lips and tried to take the offensive. “Where's your loyalty?”

A flicker of guilt crossed Da Qing’s face. “I didn't see the harm in it. His snacks are really good.”

Zhao Yunlan couldn’t argue. And Shen Wei gave really good strokes, but he refused to admit to knowing that too. He swallowed. Maybe it didn’t matter if Professor Shen and the Black-Cloaked Envoy were one and the same, if they were both Shen Wei.

Without thinking, he reached across the desk to his lollipop drawer, then paused and eyed Da Qing suspiciously once more. “What did you put in my stomach? It feels terrible.”

Da Qing shook his head. “Your whole body feels terrible. I don’t know how you stand it. You should take better care of yourself.” He elbowed Zhao Yunlan and added slyly, “Or find someone else to take care of you.”

Zhao Yunlan swatted him, but without much heat. It was mostly just for form’s sake. The cat had a point.

Da Qing laughed and hooked an arm around his neck, hanging on in a way that said, I’m glad I’m me and you’re you again. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll take you out for xu tan.”


END