title: impetuous
fandom: Guardian
series: bold
words: ~5k
rating: teen (for this section, at least)
pairings: Da Qing & Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan
contents: AU: near-canon; AU: soulmarks; tattoos; plays very loosely with the canon timeline; spoilers through episode 6-ish.
note: follows headlong and reckless; will make a lot more sense if you’ve read them.


Chief Zhao of the SID has a reputation for hating Dixingren. Most days, that’s useful.

Today is definitely not one of those days.




Zhao Yunlan curses under his breath as he screeches into the parking garage at the SID. He’d entirely forgotten his meeting with Hei Pao Shi this afternoon. If his phone hadn’t sent him a reminder, he’d still be charging back and forth across his apartment like a confused bird banging its head on a window. As it is, he had to drive even more carelessly than usual to get here in time. Da Qing had taken one look at him and decided to find his own way back, muttering something about being more likely to arrive in one piece.

Zhao Yunlan slams the door of the jeep and runs headlong up the steps. He really, really doesn’t want to blow this. He’s finally making some headway with Hei Pao Shi, building a little trust between two people who, on paper at least, shouldn’t trust each other at all. Standing the man up, for a meeting Zhao Yunlan requested himself... wouldn’t help.

Hell, it would reek of the kind of deliberate disrespect that drove Hei Pao Shi away from working with the last Guardian.

It’s just his luck this is all happening today!

He can’t help thinking of the Envoy’s words to the girl who pretended to be Zhou Weiwei. I can’t let you stay here any more. He’d walked it back later, of course, but the fact that he’d said it at all, in front of the SID --

It was the wrong moment to jump in, but Zhao Yunlan had made sure to invite him back for a more private meeting. To talk about the Hallows, he’d said, but also, we should speak further.

Zhao Yunlan knows exactly how dicey it can be, talking with someone about breaking the rules. You have to lay the foundation first. Make sure they share your principles.

The truth is, Zhao Yunlan would've let her go. Zhou Weiwei had traded places willingly; she came to regret it later, but that’s not the Dixingren girl’s fault. She talked a big game about hurting people, but didn't actually hit anyone with all the things flying around. It was basically a lover’s spat, and could’ve been handled as such.

Zhao Yunlan would’ve had to arrange for her to leave town; maybe with the boyfriend, if he’d jumped that way. But it could’ve been swept under the rug, with the right paperwork. If it weren’t for Hei Pao Shi.

He’d had a good system, before the Envoy showed a personal interest in the SID again. Criminals were turned over; unfortunate Dixingren whose only crime was attracting too much attention went... elsewhere. Chief Zhao cultivated a reputation for bigotry, which made it so much easier to avoid accusations that he’d ever do exactly what he was doing. It worked.

It had finally occurred to him, in that mirror dimension, that Hei Pao Shi’s reputation for unbending propriety might provide the same kind of cover, for the same kind of mercy.

But that realization won't do him a bit of good if he pisses the man off.

Zhu Hong slaps at his shoulder as he rushes by, glaring. Of course she remembered the meeting, and she’s not even part of it.

He slides breathlessly into his office. Wang Zheng has everything set up the way he asked: a fresh pot of tea, ramen, two bowls. It’s supposed to be an ambush of sorts, but he doesn’t want it to look like one. Casual, but not offensively so. He thinks. He doesn’t expect it to work, but sometimes, being obvious is as good as being effective.

If it were anyone else, he’d invite them out for drinks and see what they’re willing to say with a ready excuse. But if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

He barely has time to settle behind his desk and take a couple of breaths to calm his racing heart, before the temperature drops and a portal opens right in front of him.

Zhao Yunlan straightens up, politely. “Hei Pao Shi.”

“Chief Zhao.”

The Envoy looks like a man who’s never broken a sweat in his entire life. He’s probably never run up three flights of stairs to barely make it into a meeting, either. Then again, the portals have to help.

Zhao Yunlan has enough sense to say exactly none of that. “Timely, as always, Hei Lao-ge. Have you eaten?”

“I have.”

Zhao Yunlan would be insulted by how quickly his invitation is turned down, if he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Ah.” But he can still play up his disappointment. “Tea, then?”

That gets him a pause, and an actual head-turn toward the tea tray. Not for the first time, Zhao Yunlan wishes he could see the man’s face. Between the mask and the robes, it’s hard to get any cues from him at all. He has no idea what part of this merited a gesture, or what it means.

“Have you not eaten?”

Reluctance? An unfamiliarity with human social customs? Lao-Chu assured him that Dixingren social habits weren’t so different, but maybe there’s some protocol around the Envoy that he doesn’t know.

“I skipped lunch,” Zhao Yunlan admits. “But I do that a lot, no harm done. Tea?”

This time he pours a cup and holds it out. Hei Pao Shi takes it slowly, and Zhao Yunlan is pretty sure that really is reluctance this time. Hm. Maybe the Envoy doesn’t eat in the mask?

“I will not be offended if you eat, Chief Zhao.”

“Nah.” He waves off the courtesy, and pours himself a cup of tea instead. “I can’t eat in front of you like that, Hei Lao-ge. It wouldn’t be friendly.”

And yes, the man’s fingers tighten on the cup. Zhao Yunlan can’t be sure what it means, but he has hopes. That Hei Pao Shi is also trying to build trust, from his own side of the broad river between them. That Zhao Yunlan’s attempts at connection are recognized, even if they can’t be accepted.

“Then we should keep this meeting brief.”

“Of course, your Lordship has places to be.” Zhao Yunlan sets his own tea down untouched, and isn’t surprised when the Envoy follows suit. He makes a mental note: next time, no food.

“A few days ago, the Longevity Dial showed me an image of the Mountain Awl.” Zhao Yunlan describes the image traced in golden light that was projected into the air. “Do you have any idea what that could mean?”

“Did you attempt to activate it again?”

“Me? No!” Zhao Yunlan has to fight not to grin. It’s good to know that Hei Pao Shi pays attention to him. “It was safe in its case at the time, I swear.”

“I’ve told you, it’s dangerous for a human to handle the Hallows,” the Envoy continues, as if Zhao Yunlan hadn’t just protested his innocence. “You could become infected with their dark energy.”

“I promise, I’ve taken your warnings to heart. No one is handling anything unnecessarily.” He can see the corner of the man’s mouth tighten -- yes, indeed, that sentence does hinge on the definition of necessity, thank you for noticing.

Zhao Yunlan clears his throat, and forces himself to stop staring at the Envoy’s mouth. “My people wondered if someone had activated the Awl, and the Dial responded in some kind of... sympathetic resonance, I think was the term?”

There’s another pause, and a thoughtful head-tilt. “I suppose that’s possible. The Hallows aren’t well understood.”

“Huh.” Zhao Yunlan wants to say something about how thoroughly unhelpful the sparse information on the Hallows has been so far -- ‘they aren’t well understood’ is such an understatement -- but trash-talking about holy objects is a poor way to build rapport. “I know you’ve been looking for clues to where the others went. Any new information?”

“Nothing substantial.”

“Even rumor could be useful, at this point.”

The Envoy turns away. “I’ll see if I can find information on why the Dial would activate on its own.”

“Ah.” And that’s the end of that part of the conversation, unless Zhao Yunlan wants to push it. He does; he’d love to know what Hei Pao Shi is working on. But he can put off his curiosity this time.

“Before you go, I wanted to ask about...” He waits for the Envoy to turn back to him. “The woman you deported recently? With the mirror powers.”

Hei Pao Shi freezes, the kind of stillness Zhao Yunlan can’t help but read as bracing himself. That isn’t what he wants, at all. This is supposed to be a bridge, not a battle.

“What did you want to know?”

“Ah?” Zhao Yunlan considers dropping it, and trying again later. But he has no idea when he’ll get another chance, since the Envoy looks like he’s already regretting his lapse this time. “Her name wasn’t on the paperwork you gave us?”

No movement at all. “She didn’t give her name.”

“Ah.” Zhao Yunlan scratches at the back of his neck, nervously. “Well. We’ll hold off filing ours with the Directorate until we have that, then. We’d just have to correct it later, and it’s not like there’s a need to hurry, is there?”

Zhao Yunlan hopes the Envoy is familiar enough with Directorate bureaucracy to know what he’s saying. No paperwork means the Directorate has no idea who she is, or what her power is. She could come back to Dragon City tomorrow, and no one would know she’s Dixingren. Officially, at least.

The silence stretches out interminably.

Finally, the Envoy tips his head, just enough for the hood to swing slightly. “Has Ji Xiaobai asked after her?”

Zhao Yunlan has to fight back a smile. Not at Ji Xiaobai, the man’s an idiot. But Hei Pao Shi didn’t outright deny the offer. Didn’t even lecture him about duty, not that Zhao Yunlan would’ve taken that as a refusal. Everyone knows Chief Zhao is lazy about paperwork, duty or not.

“Her fiancé?” Zhao Yunlan shrugs casually. “Not to me. But he’s realized his mistake, last I heard.”

“There was no engagement.” There’s a flare of real anger in that statement, though Hei Pao Shi turns away enough that Zhao Yunlan is pretty sure it’s not aimed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“The relationship began under false pretense. Deception negates the agreement.”

Huh. It’s clearly an important point, for the Envoy. Again, Zhao Yunlan doesn’t know why, but -- building trust involves making sure the other person shares your principles.

“Did she deceive him? Truly?” Zhao Yunlan goes on, before Hei Pao Shi can interrupt. “No, she didn’t tell him everything, but I believe she showed him her heart. Isn’t that the most important part?”

The Envoy had said, that day, that your heart is not determined by your heritage. Zhao Yunlan hopes he’s thinking of that, too.

“So you believe that a relationship can recover from deceit?”

The man’s voice gives no clue about his preferred answer. Zhao Yunlan almost rolls his eyes; Hei Pao Shi would make a very frustrating teacher.

It’s a good thing Zhao Yunlan isn’t trying to cheat on this quiz, anyway.

“It depends on the secret. In this case, she was hiding her nature from the world, not him, and for good reason.” He shrugs. “If she hadn’t trusted him enough to come clean yet... trust takes time.”

Hei Pao Shi turns to look at him then, full eye-contact and face-on with the mask. “You are far more philosophical than your reputation suggests,” he says slowly.

Zhao Yunlan wants to cheer, but settles for a wide grin. “Ah, Hei Lao-ge! We all have hidden depths, don’t we?”

Hei Pao Shi doesn’t answer directly. “I will leave you to your meal.”

Retreat. Okay, they’ve said too much, again, and the Envoy needs to think about how to go on. Zhao Yunlan can work with that.

“We should talk again soon,” he says, and waits as the Envoy nods politely and portals out of the office.

Zhao Yunlan takes his first deep breath of the afternoon and throws himself into his chair. Ignoring the food, he pulls a lollipop from the drawer and settles in.

He has a lot to think about, himself.

[***]

He still hasn’t come to any conclusions -- or touched the soup -- by the time Lin Jing barges in without knocking.

“Chief! I got what you wanted.” Lin Jing drops a stack of papers on his desk with a flourish.

“Does no one respect a closed door around here?”

Lin Jing doesn’t bother to acknowledge the question, which is answer enough about respect. “You should know, I had to call in favors for this.”

Zhao Yunlan glances down at the pages. Ah; the file they found at Shen Wei’s apartment.

“You had to call in favors to look up a file number?”

“No, that part was easy.” Lin Jing leans into the side of Zhao Yunlan’s desk. “It was printed the same day you met Professor Shen, by someone with a high enough security clearance to keep their name off the usual log.”

Zhao Yunlan frowns down at the pages. That’s... unexpected. Even he doesn’t have that kind of clearance, as the head of the SID. “Does Professor Shen work for the Directorate?”

“I don’t think so. But I wondered if he knows someone who does, so I did some digging.” Lin Jing shuffles the pages to show off his handiwork. “Look! His mentor, Professor Zhou. Works for the Directorate, and he has the kind of security clearance needed. That’s probably how Professor Shen got the file.”

Zhao Yunlan eyes Lin Jing askance. “Are you supposed to know that?”

Lin Jing gives an exaggeratedly injured sigh. “I told you, I called in a favor. Why don’t you ever believe me?” he whines.

Zhao Yunlan scoffs. Why does he work with such drama queens?

“It’s so admirable.” Lin Jing has gathered up the pages, straightening them gently.

“What?”

“Well, Professor Shen had to know it was safe to talk to you.” And Lin Jing sighs again, like a teenage girl with a crush. “But he wouldn’t tell us where he got his information, so as not to get his mentor in trouble. That’s a true scholar.”

Zhao Yunlan doesn’t question his sudden irritation. “Are you saying Professor Zhou can’t keep his mouth shut?”

But he does enjoy the look of unadulterated panic that crosses Lin Jing’s face as he realizes that yes, he is saying just that. “Uh, no?”

“And why would Professor Zhou know about Dixingren? Just because he’s a biologist?”

“Because Professor Shen does?” Lin Jing hugs the pages to himself and squirms under Zhao Yunlan’s scornful glare. “Where else would he find out?”

Zhao Yunlan takes pity on him and waves him off. Lin Jing slinks off with great speed, still clutching the file.

Shen Wei. Even the man’s name is infuriating at this point. Every time Zhao Yunlan answers one question, a dozen more appear.

All of Zhao Yunlan’s instincts say Shen Wei is Dixingren. He knows too much, too personally. His interest isn’t academic. But the SID has Shen Wei’s birth certificate, his school records, his credit reports. On paper, at least, the man is as human as Zhao Yunlan.

On paper.

He sends Chu Shuzhi out to bug the professor’s office, and Zhu Hong to interview some people Shen Wei supposedly went to school with. Paperwork can be faked, but no one fakes their undergraduate dorm monitor. He doesn’t really think a Dixingren could replace a research scientist with regular publications without the academic community noticing, but he has to do something to convince himself.

If Shen Wei is human, none of this makes any sense. It barely makes any sense if he’s Dixingren.

Zhao Yunlan had a half-formed theory that Shen Wei was targeting him for Directorate information. But if he has another source, that doesn’t seem worthwhile. Unless Professor Zhou is better at keeping his secrets than Lin Jing assumes.

He might want to know about the SID, something Professor Zhou can’t tell him. It would explain why he keeps pursuing Zhao Yunlan professionally, and not personally.

Could he be after the Hallows? It seems unlikely; he could’ve taken the Dial from Li Qian well before Zhao Yunlan arrived.

So why is he so determined to get involved with their cases?

Zhao Yunlan starts pacing back and forth across the office. He isn’t getting anywhere with this. He should go ahead and bring Shen Wei into the SID, then watch what he does. Give him what he wants, and see what he does with it.

What he wants.

Zhao Yunlan flashes back to that scene in the dream. Himself in that pool, all that empty skin -- except for his soulmark. That isn’t helping him focus, either.

He’d feel less exposed if Shen Wei had actually caught him naked in real life.

He’s asked the man out a dozen times; to coffee, to lunch, yes, not exactly the most overt of dating opportunities. He’d been turned down each time, the invitations brushed aside and ignored. He’d started to wonder if their chemistry was something only in his own mind, and then-- this.

Maybe the bracelet put it there. It clearly reads minds; it could project the viewer’s soulmark onto their fantasy partner with ridiculous ease. It’s a common enough kink among Yashouren, it could be a kind of default setting for a device like this. It would make more sense than Shen Wei somehow imagining him with that mark, and only that mark.

It occurs to Zhao Yunlan that this question, at least, he can get answered.

[***]

The afternoon sun is brilliant on the sidewalks of the tailors’ district on the south end of the city. Zhao Yunlan finds a place to park near a block of bustling garment shops, and makes his way around the back of a low brick building.

He ducks in through the loading dock, nodding at the men smoking outside. He goes in an unmarked door and up the dimly-lit stairs. No one wanders into Zhang Yiqing’s shop accidentally.

The door at the top of the stairs opens into a much brighter space, filled with golden sun and the green of dozens of hanging plants. The walls are covered in sketches and paintings, mostly of animals and landscapes in delicate colors. Heavy wooden screens separate the front area into a little waiting room.

Yunlan can hear the familiar buzzing of a tattoo gun, and finds himself relaxing as an automatic response.

There’s a pause to the noise, then an older woman sticks her head around the divider. Her dark hair is tucked up into a bun, strands escaping wildly.

Zhang Yiqing breaks into a wide, welcoming grin at the sight of him. “Zhao-ge! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Zhang-jie, so good to see you! You know I couldn’t stay away.”

“Have a seat, we'll be taking a break soon.” She waves a gloved hand vaguely; soon could be half an hour or more, depending on her client. “Are you hungry? You’re hungry. Eat the riceballs in the fridge.”

Yunlan obediently steals one of the riceballs and flops across a chair to wait.

He still remembers his first time here. He was eighteen, and filled with the kind of anger that didn’t have a source or an outlet. After his third black eye in a month, Da Qing dragged him up by the scruff of his neck. Said he needed something to hang on to. Yunlan hadn’t known a damned thing about soulmarks until that day, but he’d never regretted it.

It wasn’t just the soulmark. Being able to keep a permanent mark on his body, something he chose for himself, that belonged to him... he felt grounded, afterward. Like he could finally see himself when he looked in a mirror.

It wasn’t until years later that he’d found out that Zhang Yiqing was part of the black market. Many Yashouren in Dragon City were; it was far too hard to get by in a human city without access to the food and medicine they needed. Some amount of Dixing technology changed hands, too, smuggled up in the pockets of travelers with nothing else to trade.

As long as no one gets hurt, the SID overlooks it.

Yunlan knows Zhang Yiqing is aware of his reputation; she’d taken the step at one point to tell him he was the only non-Yashouren she’d tattooed. He doubts that’s true, unless Dixingren have some kind of universal aversion to body art. But he knows what she meant: don’t harass her customers.

He wouldn’t, anyway. She’d known who his father was, all those years ago, and she’d still taken Yunlan in. He owes her for that.

He isn’t sure how much time passes before the buzzing stops, and he hears the soft murmur of voices from the other side of the screen. A man wanders out of the back, his thick body shirtless and eyes vague with endorphins. He doesn’t try to hide the riot of colors down his back, and Yunlan doesn't stare. They nod at each other as the man grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

Yunlan takes the opportunity to slip behind the divider. Zhang Yiqing had just stripped the covers from the tattoo chair; Yunlan promptly lies down on it.

“So what brings you back here?” she asks, continuing to clean the area with practiced efficiency. The ink cups are already closed and bagged, the used needles boxed up and ready for the autoclave. Even just taking a break during a session, Zhang Yiqing leaves nothing to chance. “Ready for the next one?”

Yunlan hadn't been thinking about it until right that minute, but the idea blooms in his chest. “Yeah. I am. I don’t know what I want yet.”

“We can talk about it.” She looks at his shoulders. “Still don't want to come further down your arms?”

Yunlan shakes his head; he likes being able to roll up his sleeves. Which makes him think about Shen Wei's sleeves, and his sleeve garters. How much ink the professor could be hiding under all those layers.

“But that's not what I came here for.”

“No?”

Yunlan pulls out his phone and opens the photo of the bracelet from Shen Wei’s room.

“Do you know what this is?”

Zhang Yiqing eyes light with amusement, and Yunlan fights the urge to blush.

“Question is, do you?”

Yunlan can feel his face heat as he loses that fight, and Zhang Yiqing cackles at him.

“You do! Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Zhang-jie, don’t tease me like that.” Yunlan sits up, the better to flutter his eyelashes at her. “You know you’re the only one in my heart.”

“Flatterer!” Zhang Yiqing chuckles, unmoved by his attempt at deflection. “Now I know you want something.”

Yunlan shakes the phone at her. “I really do want to know about this.”

“It’s called a heixiu.”

Yunlan snickers at the euphemism, and Zhang Yiqing grins at him. “Enhances sex fantasies into something more like a really good dream. It reads your mind -- think about who and what you want in as much detail as you have, and it fills in the rest. The first gem sets it up for use, the middle gem plays back, and the third one clears the memory for a new run.”

Yunlan nods. That matches what he’d suspected. He must’ve touched the center stone, and seen the most recent... recording.

His cheeks are burning again.

“What if I set it up, and someone else used it?”

“What about it? You wanna show your lover what you want?” Zhang Yiqing snickers again.

“Zhang-jie!”

“Zhao-ge!” she mocks, still laughing at him. “People do that -- trade back and forth. It’s like sharing your porn collection.”

“Would it show them exactly what it showed me?”

Zhang Yiqing nods.

Yunlan wonders what that’s like for straight couples. It was strange enough to be immersed in someone else’s emotional reactions, but to have different physical ones, too --

That’s much easier to focus on than more relevant thoughts. That it wasn’t the machine, projecting his soulmark onto the other person. This was something Shen Wei had seen himself.

How could he know? Yunlan supposes some Dixingren might have a talent for soulmarks, but he can’t imagine how Shen Wei would find out.

“But you’ll need your lover’s help with it.”

Yunlan blinks, trying to figure out how much he’s missed. “What?”

“The heixiu needs dark energy to activate. It’ll work on anybody, don’t worry about that. But you won’t be able to surprise her with it.”

Yunlan laughs along with her, but his thoughts are stumbling down a different track. That can’t possibly be right. He doesn’t have dark energy, not even as much as Yashouren do. He’s human, and it worked for him.

But if it is true, it’s the best evidence yet that Shen Wei isn’t human. Or has some other source of dark energy.

The heixiu must’ve malfunctioned. No wonder Shen Wei felt safe leaving it lying around, if he assumed Yunlan wouldn’t be able to use it.

What if it didn’t malfunction? The Hallows activate for him, for reasons no one understands. Maybe other Dixing tech would, too.

“What if I want one?” The words fall out before he thinks about it.

“I know someone who can get you one.” She quotes him a price that makes his eyes pop.

“What?” she scoffs at his expression. “You think these things come cheap?”

Yunlan makes a show of patting his pockets. “I don’t carry that much cash.”

“Eh. I know you’re good for it. Bring it by when you come to talk about your next design.”

[***]

They arrange to have the heixiu couriered to the SID office. Yunlan would rather go straight home, but the idea of having it delivered there sets him on edge. Just because he hasn’t run into Shen Wei in the hallway yet, doesn’t mean he should push his luck.

He kind of wishes he had, though, when he sees the state of his office. He’s far from the neatest person, even at work, but he didn’t leave the files strewn across the floor like that. One of the lamps has been knocked over and dragged across the room, cord straggling behind it like the tail of a dead mouse.

Which makes sense, considering Da Qing is crouched on Yunlan’s desk, vindictive misery etched into the curve of his spine.

The cat has clawed up the apartment before, when Yunlan pisses him off enough, or frightens him by doing something truly stupid. But he’s never done this at the office. For all their lack of professionalism -- something Yunlan encourages regularly and with great enthusiasm -- this is completely out of character.

Yunlan briefly considers walking back out, as if he hadn’t seen anything. Emotions are sticky enough when it comes to humans, but Da Qing is even worse with them than Yunlan is.

But he sighs, and closes the door gently behind him. Walking over to the desk feels like treading across a minefield.

He sits next to Da Qing, ignoring the papers that wrinkle under him. “You tore up my office, cat.”

Da Qing twitches. “It’s your fault.”

“Mine?” Yunlan keeps his voice soft. “Never!”

Da Qing suddenly leans over to sniff at Yunlan’s jacket. “You went to Zhang Yiqing?”

“Um.” Yunlan tries to figure out where this conversation is going, and comes up blank. But if Da Qing wants to talk about something other than emotions, he’s more than happy to go along with it. “Yeah! I’ve been thinking about what I want next. There was that rabbit design we were looking at last time --”

But the cat is scrambling off the desk in a flurry of paper and tipped-over pens, table lamp rocking on the edge. “I don’t understand you!”

“Da Qing--”

“You like him!” Da Qing swipes the lamp onto the floor with a crash. “I know you like him, but you treat him like he’s done something wrong!”

Yunlan freezes, mind going blank as he tries to keep up. Emotions it is, then. “Oh. So we’re still talking about Professor Shen?”

Okay, that makes sense. Da Qing was upset this morning over whether or not to trust him, but Yunlan thought they’d settled that--

“You sent Zhu Hong to investigate him!”

--apparently, in the wrong direction.

“He’s a suspect,” Yunlan protests. It sounds weak, even to his own ears, and that pisses him off. Because it’s true. Every time he starts to trust Shen Wei, the man does something to prove that Yunlan doesn’t know him at all--

Da Qing scoffs loudly. “Of what? What exactly do you think he did? You can’t answer that, can you? You’re the one who decided to trust him. Why can’t you do that?”

“You were the one who found the file in his apartment!” Yunlan yells back.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t stupid. It’s clear he’s stupid.” Da Qing hunches into himself, sounding suddenly a lot more miserable than angry. “He keeps riling you up, and you keep letting him.”

“That’s not--”

“You like him. You know none of this--” Da Qing waves a hand at the office, the files, the SID entirely. “None of it matters, but you keep -- thinking like a human.”

He spits the word like it’s an insult, and Yunlan scoffs sharply. “I am human.”

“That’s not a good thing!” Da Qing yells, and they both freeze at the way it echoes up the well into the library.

“You’re fucking up,” Da Qing says, more softly. “And you don’t even see it.”

“Damn Cat--” Yunlan starts.

But Da Qing just brushes past him and runs out of the office.