Title - Known
Fandom - Word of Honor
Length - 1667
Summary - A teeny scene expansion. Lao Wen has a bath.
Rating - PG



KNOWN

Wen Ke Xing limped around protecting screens, to find A-Shu swirling water in the large tub. A pleasantly herbal steam filled in the air, and Ke Xing paused to inhale. He would never admit it out loud, but he really did need to pause for breath after even those few steps. Their encounter with Ye Bai Yi left him feeling as though his insides had been placed in a large bag, shaken for hours, and then poured back into his body, in no particular order. And, whereas his arms seemed to have been inexplicably filled with lead, his legs felt hollow, and kept threatening to fold beneath him.

He eyed the contents of the tub with some trepidation, however. The water was a particularly murky shade of pea green, with the corpses of several long deceased flowers drifting on the surface. “That looks like a swamp.”

A-Shu finished sprinkling the dessicated remains of some unidentifiable plant and straightened, tugging at his sling. “Just get in.”

Wen Ke Xing leaned closer, placing a supporting hand upon the rim of the tub and hoping it looked casual. “A-Shu, are you trying to dye me green?”

Zhou Zi Shu's sigh was accompanied by the now familiar eye roll and Wen Ke Xing grinned, ignoring the way it tugged at the large bruise on his cheek. That grin died instantly when Zhou Zi Shu gave a characteristic lift of his chin, offering the sugar-sweet reply, “Lao Wen, if I want to do that, I just need to smile at that pretty girl who runs the steamed bun stall in town.”

Dark eyes glittered sharply. “What pretty girl?”

Zhou Zi Shu did not even make a token attempt to hide his smirk. “Never mind. She's engaged, anyway...Strip.”

The final demand was so unexpected that Wen Ke Xing froze, and Zi Shu was already tugging, one handed, at his victim's sash before his mind fully processed the request. He leapt back, coming up smartly against the side of the tub, and yelping as the rim dug into his already protesting kidneys. At least, it was where his kidneys should have been. After that fight, who knew where they were now; possibly rolling around in his chest, or perhaps accounting for the extra weight in his arms. He had long harboured the hope to, one day, stand naked before A-Shu, but this was a bit sudden. It would be nice to have a little time to prepare; soft candlelight, fine wine, good food...no bruises, broken ribs, or free-floating kidneys. He cleared his throat, letting his mouth take over from his brain. “A-Shu, this is so sudden.”

This elicited yet another eye roll from his attacker. “The herbs will work better if you're not fully clothed. Anyway, I can confirm that the water won't turn your skin green, but I'm not so sure what it will do to silk.” Zhou Zi Shu shook his head. “What is it with you and expensive clothes?”

Ke Xing stroked ruefully at the now sadly battered pink silk of his outer robe. He missed A-Xiang's laundering skills already. She would have restored it to pristine beauty within a couple of hours. It was not that he could not do it himself he mused, working slowly and carefully to ease out of it and the many layers beneath but, damn it, a king should not have to. “Why can't you just give me a pill or some medicine? That water really does look disgusting.”

“It may look disgusting, but it will work more efficiently than any oral medicine.” Zhou Zi Shu stepped back, apparently deciding to supervise from a proprietorial distance, although tiny puckers above his arched brows clearly showing his concern at just how long it was taking Ke Xing to disrobe. Outwardly, there were only a couple of bruises, but in the end Lao Wen had been Ye Bai Yi's main target and the immortal did not pull punches, whether verbal or physical. Ke Xing was still amazed, confused, and at the same time very relieved, that Zi Shu had managed to persuade their opponent to relent at all. Even now, he could still feel the draught of Ye Bai Yi's sword as it had swept, a scant inch past his adams apple.

Ke Xing shed his undershirt, turning to lay it upon a nearby stool, and looked up in time to see Zhou Zi Shu blink. Ke Xing had been practising marshal arts from childhood, so his spare body was pure muscle, and the appraising look that Zi Shu threw his way was surprisingly gratifying.

Ke Xing had been treated to a glimpse of Zhou Zi Shu's compactly muscled upper torso in the past but knew that, in comparison, he displayed to the outer world the long, lean, body of a scholar; an image aided by his love of expensive, elegant clothes, and his preference for carrying a fan, rather than a sword. He watched Zi Shu's eyes heat in a way that would have raised a blush in Ke Xing, had his body the energy to spare. Now Zi Shu stepped closer, but only to run a light and professional hand over the ridges and plains of Ke Xing's torso.

His subject held a breath. Even with his current level of pain, Ke Xing's suddenly overly sensitive skin noted that the hand was strong and warm, the sword calluses on the palm deliciously rough. Before he could become too distracted, Ke Xing resorted to a defensive flirt-mode. “A-Shu, I would have stripped earlier if I'd known you were this interested. You didn't have to go to the trouble of offering me a bath.”

“Oh, shut up.” The comment was, by now, an almost automatic response, helping to diffuse Ke Xing's embarrassment.

Although there were only one or two outward bruises, Ke Xing looked down as Zhou Zi Shu's practiced hand easily traced the disrupted inner pathways around damaged meridians. One, in particular, that Ke Xing knew felt unstable, was tapped firmly to either side, blocking the flow of qi until it had time to heal. Ke Xing grunted, body bowing in pained reaction, and Zi Shu stepped in to catch him, soft hiss the only sign of discomfort at the jostling of his own broken arm. Ke Xing would have expected a stronger reaction, but then pain, both gnawing and at times acute, had probably been Zhou Zi Shu's constant companion for a couple of years now. The pain of a simple broken arm would only serve to mask the old.

Zi Shu's reaction was no surprise. “It serves you right for messing with an immortal. You never learn.” He eased back, hands skating across Ke Xing's ribs as the other regained control of his knees.

Wen Ke Xing locked knees that were trembling with more than exhaustion, and found himself reluctant to let go of Zhou Zi Shu's waist. He had seen at least a part of that compactly muscled torso semi naked, and now the image dropped into his mind a little too readily. He adopted his best, puppy-dog eyes, nodding at the sling around Zhou Zi Shu's neck. “A-Shu! There were three of us in that fight and, as I remember, you started it.”

His companion chose to ignore the comment, making one last visual assessment and nodding, before turning to leave. “You can manage in the tub on your own. I'll fetch you some clean clothes.” Ke Xing's was unfastening his trousers when A-Shu turned back. Embarrassment made his fingers fumble and the waistband slid from his grasp, dropping his trousers to the floor to entangle his feet. He caught a glimpse of Zi Shu's pursed lips before Ke Xing spun away. He heard footsteps retreat behind the newly restored silk screens followed by the calm injunction, “And don't get out of that bath until I tell you to.”

Alone, Wen Ke Xing eased his battered body into the tub and exhaled a relieved sigh. Despite the colour, the warm water did feel very good; melting away his pain, even as its clean, slightly astringent, smell cleared his befuddled head.

He was now naked, in all senses of the term; flinging away the last mask, only to discover that A-Shu had seen through and accepted the real face beneath long ago. A-Shu had abandoned his own physical mask with little more than a shrug, but Lao Wen (and when had he started to think of himself as Lao Wen instead of the slightly deranged Wen Ke Xing?) had clung to his inner one until the bitter end. Now he felt both free and terrified.

How had the extravagantly loving, soft hearted, Zhu Zi Shu survived for as long as he had, as the leader of what became a group of political assassins? How many times had his heart been broken? It was small wonder that by the time Ke Xing found him, A-Shu had chosen the path of lonely wanderer, under a self-inflicted death sentence. Yet, even then, A-Shu had been the first to openly declare his love. Ke Xing clenched his jaw as he remembered that river-bank confession; felt the ghost of a finger stabbing his shoulder in emphasis. “I know you!” And A-Shu truly had known him even then; perhaps better than Ke Xing knew himself. Wen Ke Xing often boasted that he was a good judge of people, but he now considered himself a rank amateur beside Zhu Zi Shu. How many times had Ke Xing hurt him already, and how much love had it taken to forgive? More than Lao Wen had experienced in his entire lifetime, and certainly more than Wen Ke Xing deserved.

Love had allowed A-Shu to accept the real Lao Wen, but what of others? Did Chen Ling have enough love to accept him, once he learned that his adopted uncle was responsible for his family's death? That was an awful lot of love to expect from a person still so young...

END