Title: Midnight Train(wreck) to Recovery
Fandom: Guardian, Chu Shuzhi/Zhao Yunlan
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 5700 words
Tags and notes: Non-romantic sex, Not Hate Sex Though, Stress Release, Sort of emotional Hurt/Comfort?, One-Night Stand, Episode related, Episode 4, After the face-stealer case. I started this for last amnesty, for One Night Only. This round’s prompt was too perfect not to finish it. (Also, I started it in Korean, but that petered out.)
Acknowledgements: Much much thanks to mergatrude for beta!
Summary: Until this moment, he’d never once thought of Zhao Yunlan as fuckable, but now—suddenly he couldn’t breathe.



After the explosion, after Hei Pao Shi had taken the bodies away, Chu Shuzhi kept his expression calm but inside he was furious. His job was to catch criminals and make sure no one got hurt, and he’d failed three times today: Zhu Hong and Da Qing had been kidnapped, the culprits had died, and that young Haixing idiot had died too.

He felt like hell. Right here, right now, if a dangerous criminal suddenly appeared, Chu Shuzhi would have welcomed the opportunity for hand-to-hand violence. But as always, he had to hide his feelings, had to be strong and silent. That was the job, too.

Because even though he’d failed this time, he was still Hei Pao Shi’s secret representative, and when Hei Pao Shi was elsewhere, there was no one but Chu Shuzhi with the power to protect Dragon City.

Zhao Yunlan’s mood was also far from good, that much was obvious. He’d even been rude to Hei Pao Shi, not with words but with his tone. Chu Shuzhi would have gladly died for Hei Pao Shi, but he got why Zhao Yunlan had been like that.

Now, Zhao Yunlan snapped, “Take yourselves back to the SID. If anyone’s hurt, treat them.”

Without another word, he turned and stalked off into the night.

Everyone watched his retreating back. “Will he be all right?” asked Xiao Guo.

Zhu Hong had woken. She wasn’t happy, was shivering probably from delayed shock, but she accepted Zhao Yunlan’s orders and her voice was sharp. “Not your problem. Let’s go.”

Chu Shuzhi took the wheel. He drove Xiao Guo to a hospital to have his sore head checked out, then ferried everyone back to the SID to recover.

Of course “recovery” meant breaking out the beer and snacks and huddling round the table bickering. Watching from his desk, Chu Shuzhi amassed his own cluster of empty beer bottles, but the others’ chatter wasn’t enough distraction to stop him counting up his own mistakes. He should have been more careful. The others were young and inexperienced; Chu Shuzhi should have looked after them better. Should have realised there were two Dixing criminals, not just one.

On top of that, he kept flashing back to the sickening moment when Zhang Danni had blocked his dark energy power, the sudden helplessness, and numbness in his limbs. Finally he couldn’t bear it. He pushed to his feet.

Zhu Hong looked up at the scrape of his chair legs, then surveyed the room, blinking slowly. “Where’s Lao Zhao?”

“In his office.” Da Qing waved his phone. “I got a message.”

“Shouldn’t someone check on him?” asked Xiao Guo.

“He’s seething,” said Da Qing. “Better to leave him alone till he cools off.”

Xiao Guo looked unconvinced. “He was so upset. Are you sure he’ll be all right?”

No one replied or even moved. Chu Shuzhi sighed, fed up with the lot of them. “I’ll go.”

Everyone looked at him.

“What? I’m going.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode past them. Zhao Yunlan could curse and scold him, and maybe that would make Chu Shuzhi stop being so mad at himself. Maybe this horrible empty feeling would go away.


*


The door was shut. Chu Shuzhi knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

Zhao Yunlan had his boots crossed on his desk. He was slouched back in his seat, still wearing his jacket, smoking and nursing a wine bottle, staring at nothing. The air was thick and especially irritating after the last month’s absence of tobacco smoke. The lollipops were stupid, but at least they didn’t stink.

Zhao Yunlan raised his head and scowled. “What?”

Chu Shuzhi didn’t say anything, just waited.

Zhao Yunlan swigged from the wine bottle, grimaced as he swallowed, then took a drag on his cigarette. “Who’s idea was it to use Zhu Hong as bait?”

He sounded drunk, but Chu Shuzhi was pretty drunk too. “Her own. Zhu Hong made the plan herself. I could have put a stop to it, but I didn’t. People were dying. The SID had to do something.”

“It was too dangerous! Zhu Hong’s an office worker, not a field agent. You—”

“She wanted to do it,” interrupted Chu Shuzhi stubbornly. Don’t just argue. Yell at me. Throw things.

And Zhao Yunlan did glare. “If Xiao Guo wanted to jump off a cliff, would you help him?”

“If he had a good reason.”

Zhao Yunlan leaned forward to grind out his cigarette on the metal base of his lamp and flick the butt into a battered ashtray that was placed just out of reach. “Great. You’re so cool, you should be chief.”

“You weren’t here.” Chu Shuzhi meant it as an explanation, but it came out accusing. A kid had died. It was his own fault, but there was plenty of blame to go around.

Zhao Yunlan slammed down his bottle, badly hiding a flinch. “Right, it happened on my watch, because my team are insubordinate idiots. That’s my fault, too.” He stood up, dug his SID ID from his pocket, and strode towards the door. “I’m done. I’m going to tell Minister Gao I don’t deserve—”

“Stop.” Chu Shuzhi’s anger welled up and found a new target. “If you quit, what about the rest of us? What about them?” He pointed back through the door to the main room. “Do you think they’ll last a week under anyone else?”

He didn’t even know why he cared, except that over the last few weeks Zhao Yunlan had seemed competent. They’d worked well together. Chu Shuzhi had thought Zhao Yunlan might even be starting to respect him, and that suspicion had planted tiny seeds: the possibility of enjoying his work, the idea that maybe he even belonged here with this ridiculous collection of people. And now Zhao Yunlan was prepared to throw that away over one fucked-up case.

He stepped into Zhao Yunlan’s path, blocking the doorway. “No.”

He didn’t want to have to get used to another chief. He wasn’t going to let Zhao Yunlan leave.

Zhao Yunlan dropped his ID and tried to shove Chu Shuzhi aside in a miasma of bitter tobacco and booze fumes, but Chu Shuzhi held his ground.

Zhao Yunlan rocked back half a step, hands clenched, as tense as a rumbling volcano. “Move!”

Chu Shuzhi didn’t bother answering. If Zhao Yunlan was dead set on quitting, he could do it tomorrow when he was sober.

“Maybe you’re sick of working here, too?” snapped Zhao Yunlan.

The threat hung between them, but Chu Shuzhi couldn’t think about it. The idea of quitting and slinking away with his tail between his legs was a false siren song. He didn’t have that luxury. He could only put his failures behind him and try to do better next time. Another spurt of anger rose up—he’d never felt trapped at the SID before, but seeing Zhao Yunlan willing to throw it all away made him want to hit something. “Coward.”

Like lightning, Zhao Yunlan pulled his fist back to strike, but he checked himself in time, turning it into a rude pointing gesture. “You—you’re pushing your damn luck.”

“Why? Do you have pride all of a sudden? If you don’t deserve to be chief, you don’t deserve respect either.”

“I don’t deserve—” Zhao Yunlan poked him in the chest, eyes burning, restless like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. “You saw what happened to Lin Yusen. After that, you’re right. Respect, esteem—I’ve lost any right.” He wasn’t talking about Chu Shuzhi, was wallowing in some internal misery which Chu Shuzhi neither understood nor had any intention of asking about.

“Shape up. Pull yourself together. You owe the team that much.”

“Chu Shuzhi!” growled Zhao Yunlan, and tried to shove him aside again. He was using more and more of his strength in earnest, was more and more frustrated.

Chu Shuzhi refused to budge. “Idiot!”

Zhao Yunlan punched him in the jaw, snapping his head back. Yes. The pain was victory, a sharp flash of relief in the stormy dark. He shook it off, caught Zhao Yunlan’s turbulent expression, eyes wide and shocked at himself and—froze. Until this moment, he’d never once thought of Zhao Yunlan as fuckable, but now—suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His overcoat felt suffocating.

If Zhao Yunlan had apologised, it might have defused the situation and set Chu Shuzhi straight, but he too was in a fighting mood, and he clearly thought he’d won an advantage. He blundered right into Chu Shuzhi’s space, his body radiating heat and fury. “Move!”

He wasn’t Chu Shuzhi’s type. He wasn’t anything Chu Shuzhi wanted, except that he was here, unleashed, and the way he cloaked his failure in anger and violence was a mirror reaching into Chu Shuzhi’s soul and drawing out—a wild recognition, a need to feel, to find reprieve from the endless fog of isolation. When had anyone last really touched him?

“What?” Zhao Yunlan was still glaring.

Chu Shuzhi held his gaze. “Nothing.”

It was a lie and a challenge, and Zhao Yunlan recognised it at once, which answered one question. He huffed in incredulity, shook his head, but it wasn’t a no, and this time when he shoved Chu Shuzhi, putting real muscle behind it, and Chu Shuzhi solidly resisted—this time, his hands didn’t fall away again. They clenched in Chu Shuzhi’s scarf. “Crazy bastard.”

“Asshole,” countered Chu Shuzhi, or maybe he was agreeing. The edges were blurring. “Hit me again.”

Zhao Yunlan snatched his hands back. “That’s not even—what kind of a fuck-up do you think I am?”

He was right, of course. Whatever they did now, fighting or fucking, it risked destroying everything, but whatever, Chu Shuzhi wanted the walls to crash down. He didn’t move. This was the stupidest thing he could think of doing, and right now, he didn’t give a single damn. His anger seethed like an excess of dark energy, and it had to go somewhere before he exploded.

“I’m your boss. I can’t—”

Chu Shuzhi caught his sleeve. “Aren’t you quitting tomorrow?”

Which was both the wrong and right thing to say. The events of the evening must have been temporarily set aside, because Zhao Yunlan’s mouth twisted at the reminder, and when Chu Shuzhi tugged on his sleeve pointedly, he swore.

“I don’t even like you,” muttered Zhao Yunlan.

“So we have that much in common.”

They were both lying now, or at best, it was complicated. Chu Shuzhi didn’t care. The important thing was that Zhao Yunlan hadn’t used you’re Dixingren as an objection. Beyond that, Chu Shuzhi didn’t expect anything from whatever this was, he just needed it or he didn’t know what he’d do.

If he’d punched Zhao Yunlan with his self-control fraying like this, he might have done real damage, so he took him by the shoulders and gave him a sharp shake, not hard enough to injure, but maybe enough to infuriate him past his qualms.

Zhao Yunlan yanked himself free, chest heaving, and Chu Shuzhi watched him stumble back, catch his balance and shift his weight, all in one fluid physical movement. He felt a pang of want—and a flash of doubt on Zhao Yunlan’s behalf.

“Unless you want to go and find someone else,” he said, meaning Professor Shen. If Zhao Yunlan had something real, it definitely wasn’t worth screwing that up for this damn mess.

Zhao Yunlan looked away, the cords of his neck standing out like an invitation. Chu Shuzhi wanted to bite him there. Wanted to be bitten.

“It’s not like that.” Zhao Yunlan looked back, glaring at Chu Shuzhi again, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m not fit for polite company.”

To a different ear, the bitterness in those words might have demanded reassurance or rational discussion, but Chu Shuzhi was in no mood to play counsellor. He’d given Zhao Yunlan an out, and if he wasn’t going to take it, if there was no prior commitment—

He shrugged as insolently as he could. “What’s polite?”

“You want to fight? Is that what you’re saying?” Zhao Yunlan said, giving Chu Shuzhi an out, too, despite his lashing out.

“Let off steam one way or the other.” Chu Shuzhi tilted his chin. If he focused, voices from the main room were audible through the glass walls of the office. Xiao Guo and Zhu Hong and the others. All of them were painfully young and untouched by life, but here with Zhao Yunlan was a different world—one of responsibility and pain. “Hit me again. Now.”

It was the closest he could come to asking. It came out sharp and desperate, and he didn’t even care.

Maybe it was his desperation that tipped the balance.

Zhao Yunlan surged forward and kissed him, hard and angry, pulled away panting. “This is the stupidest fucking idea.”

He wasn’t wrong. Chu Shuzhi resisted the urge to lick the taste of cigarettes from lips. “And?”

“And fuck.” Zhao Yunlan’s hands were balled tight, the knuckles straining. His gaze dropped to Chu Shuzhi’s shoulders, throat, then flicked back up, the mosquito whine of his indecision cut off by a harsh, blown-out breath. “Fuck it.”

Which meant yes, yes, let’s do it. Lava-hot anticipation rolled through Chu Shuzhi, and then Zhao Yunlan was back, devouring his mouth. Without pulling away, Chu Shuzhi shrugged out of his coat and scarf and let them fall to the floor, then focused on the nicotine-bitter mouth on his, the body against him, the rush of urgency, exasperation and selfish need. He didn’t even care what Zhao Yunlan wanted to do to him. Let it be degrading, Chu Shuzhi would take anything so long as it kept his thoughts at bay for a minute or two.

Zhao Yunlan growled and smacked his fist against Chu Shuzhi’s chest. “You’re a fucking iceberg. Would you just—”

He dove in again, and he was wrong about everything. Chu Shuzhi was the opposite of an iceberg, burning up inside, but if he cracked, there was no telling what he’d do. He just needed distraction, to vent his frustration so he could carry on.

And it was working. Guilt and shame were still prickling his conscience, but the rage was boiling off, transmuting into physical connection. He gripped Zhao Yunlan’s hips and dragged him hard up against him, making Zhao Yunlan gasp. He gripped Chu Shuzhi’s bare biceps, nails digging in.

“We should—I mean—are you gonna—” Zhao Yunlan’s hips hitched, restless. “Fuck, would you just—”

Chu Shuzhi thunked his head back against the glass door with a rattle of blinds. He was supporting Zhao Yunlan’s weight easily—the man was as light as a bird—but the fervour of his embrace more than compensated. “What?”

It was a genuine question. What was there to talk about?

“Fuck me,” answered Zhao Yunlan, low and flat. He met Chu Shuzhi’s gaze head on. “Yeah?”

Huh. Not what Chu Shuzhi had been expecting. Not what he’d been looking for, either, but—for all Zhao Yunlan’s fury and aggression, he was showing his need. There was trust in that—maybe not a lot, but enough to matter. Chu Shuzhi’s roiling emotions twisted into a new shape. Fellowship? His edges no longer felt razor dangerous.

He pivoted them so it was Zhao Yunlan with his back against the door. “All right.”

Zhao Yunlan growled, but it wasn’t an objection, couldn’t have been, because now he was wrapping his legs around Chu Shuzhi’s waist, tugging at his tank top.

And then someone shrieked with laughter in the main room, and Zhao Yunlan froze and swore and visibly reconsidered his life choices.

If he ditched Chu Shuzhi now, in the middle of this, Chu Shuzhi was going to lose his mind. Throwing up an energy membrane to muffle the sound and prevent interruptions, Chu Shuzhi pushed in, trapping him against the blinds, and nipped his neck hard, a warning.

Zhao Yunlan shuddered, refocusing, but he said, “Not here.”

It was Chu Shuzhi’s turn to growl. He dispelled the membrane. “Where then?”

Zhao Yunlan unwound his legs and shoved him back. He grabbed the coat and scarf from the floor and bundled them into Chu Shuzhi’s arms, and swiped up his SID ID to stuff into his back pocket. Without looking at Chu Shuzhi, he cracked the door silently and slipped out, hanging a left down the hall past the shower.

Chu Shuzhi followed without a word, matching his stealth.

He rarely came down here, didn’t know where half these doors led, but Zhao Yunlan moved with purpose, taking him to a door with a lock and an EXIT sign overhead. Once through, Zhao Yunlan flipped on a dirty overhead fluorescent to reveal a storage room filled with old office desks and broken, lopsided chairs, stacks of cardboard boxes, and a clutter of gadgets and machinery that looked like Lin Jing’s castoffs. The floor was oil-stained concrete, there was no window, and the outer wall was just a large iron roller door.

Zhao Yunlan spread his hands, his expression serious, signalling another out, a chance for Chu Shuzhi to change his mind. And the location made it very clear what this was—unadorned and spur-of-the-moment, nothing that meant anything.

Chu Shuzhi snorted, dropped his coat and scarf on a drunken chair and crowded Zhao Yunlan’s body against a substantial wooden desk half-covered with a drop-cloth. Zhao Yunlan was still tense, looked as ready to fight as fuck, but he let himself be corralled, and the length of his body was like a magnet. Chu Shuzhi pushed up against him, already ready. Except. “Lube?”

A tremor coursed through Zhao Yunlan’s body, but he shrugged, feigning unconcern. “Who needs it.”

Chu Shuzhi glared. Rough and careless was one thing, but he’d already passed his quota of idiotic mistakes for the evening.

Zhao Yunlan rolled his eyes. “Any ideas?”

As a matter of fact, Chu Shuzhi did have an idea. If you’d asked most people, they’d have assumed the SID was a wholesome if not professional lube-free zone, barring the oil Lao Li used to grill fish—especially if Zhao Yunlan had none—but Chu Shuzhi had once caught a glimpse inside Lin Jing’s locker in the lab. He adjusted himself so he could walk without wincing and considered putting his coat back on, but the others in the main room wouldn’t come this way any time soon. No one would notice. “One minute.”

Zhao Yunlan’s hands bunched back into fists, but he didn’t argue.

Chu Shuzhi snuck back through the door, along the corridor and into the lab. In the main room, Xiao Guo asked a question, easily identified by his baffled rising tone, and Da Qing and Lin Jing spoke over each other to no doubt make up outrageous lies in answer. Something twinged in Chu Shuzhi’s gut, but Zhao Yunlan’s not fit for polite company slithered through him, cementing his resolve. Fuck it.

The small tube of lube was where he’d seen it that time, next to a couple of pairs of clean socks and a toothbrush. There were no condoms, but he was prepared to waive that concern and take a risk on his own behalf. He wouldn’t be passing anything the other way.

When he arrived back in the storage room, Zhao Yunlan had taken off his jacket and pushed the drop-cloth the rest of the way off the polished fine-grained wood of the desk. Something in his expression gave Chu Shuzhi pause. “What?”

“Nothing.” Zhao Yunlan laughed without humour and half-turned, lounging on the edge of the desk in exaggerated provocation, his anger still there, hard and brittle, but shuttered from Chu Shuzhi now. “Did you find it?”

“Yeah.”

Zhao Yunlan unfastened his belt, then his jeans, the belt buckle jingling in the quiet. He hooked his thumbs in his underpants’ waistband and stuck his chin out. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, stop wasting time.”

Chu Shuzhi had switched into efficient practical mode to steal Lin Jing’s lube, but now his breath shuddered, urgency reawakening. This whole thing was a mistake, it would only complicate things later—and he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He hated himself and Haixing in equal measure right now, but Zhao Yunlan felt more like an accomplice than a target. They were working together towards the shared goal of self-destruction.

He stripped his tank over his head, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to feel the wreckage on his skin. For a flash it was too exposed, the fluorescent light brutal, but Zhao Yunlan reached for him, his hands landing on Chu Shuzhi’s bare shoulders, and in the margin of their bodies, Chu Shuzhi lost himself again, let the chaos and resurging need take over. He fitted his mouth over Zhao Yunlan’s, lights popping behind his eyelids at the strong clutch of hands on his shoulders and back and, there, low on his waist, fuck, fuck. He undid his trousers one-handed, supporting Zhao Yunlan’s weight with his other arm, and it was like they’d done this dance before, they barely had to negotiate timing or positions. Zhao Yunlan bit Chu Shuzhi’s jaw, then squirmed around and dropped his jeans and underwear and braced himself on the desk.

In his haste, Chu Shuzhi nearly dropped the lube, but his reflexes weren’t completely shot, despite the drink and the distraction of the moment, and he managed to squirt some on his fingers and smear it down Zhao Yunlan’s crack to his hole.

Zhao Yunlan swore and pushed back and swore some more. He was tight and hot, and Chu Shuzhi’s cock throbbed impatiently. “Fucking, come on,” muttered Zhao Yunlan. “Fuck, you’re such a withholding bastard, would you—” shoving back onto Chu Shuzhi’s fingers like he couldn’t wait anymore, and Chu Shuzhi couldn’t either. He took another handful of lube and smeared it on himself and dug his other hand into Zhao Yunlan’s hair to hold him the fuck still, because Chu Shuzhi was riding a knife’s edge, and if he didn’t get a second to concentrate, this was going to be over before it started.

With a growl, Zhao Yunlan arched his back and stilled. He was waiting, breathing hard, tension thrumming in the air like electricity. Which was what Chu Shuzhi had wanted, but it was also the kind of revelation he really didn’t need about his boss. He shut that line of thinking right down, focused on the fact of bodies, of imminent release. He pressed his cockhead against the still-taut ring of Zhao Yunlan’s hole.

“I’m fucking ready,” hissed Zhao Yunlan when he paused. Zhao Yunlan reached back to grab Chu Shuzhi’s hip and yanked, and then Chu Shuzhi was halfway inside him, in this burning hot tight crazed Haixingren who immediately started working himself further onto Chu Shuzhi’s cock.

Every nerve in Chu Shuzhi’s body fired, overwhelming, but there was a swell of warmth, too, of bizarre unlooked-for fondness and exasperation, everything forgotten but their bodies tangled together and the companionship of chasing the same goal. Zhao Yunlan was still wearing his t-shirt, and Chu Shuzhi slid one hand around his waist and up under the soft-worn cotton to splay across his too-thin chest, pulling him upright to stop him from rushing this so much. For a second, he resisted, started to complain, but then Chu Shuzhi clamped him close, holding him up with his strength and started fucking him in earnest, and Zhao Yunlan shuddered and softened and turned to putty in his arms. He had one hand on the desk, still, as if he didn’t quite trust Chu Shuzhi to keep their balance, but the other was on Chu Shuzhi’s hip, not to direct him but apparently just to feel him there.

Chu Shuzhi supported his weight and kept driving in, the rest of his life lightyears away, common sense and duty cast aside. Right now there was only this—this rhythm, this flush of sweat across his chest, this pressure pulling together because fuck, this was what had been missing from his damn life. With the tiny shred of coherence he had left, he regretted not shucking the rest of his clothes, too, to get a full-body experience.

Zhao Yunlan shifted his weight, or his balance or something, and Chu Shuzhi automatically compensated, only belatedly realising Zhao Yunlan had started jerking himself off hard and fast. Chu Shuzhi sped up to match, making him bite back a shout. Culmination was building like storm clouds in Chu Shuzhi’s arms and in his body, but he wasn’t ready for this to end. Not ready to deal with whatever would come after.

Zhao Yunlan’s breathing dragged at the air, and his strokes stuttered, losing their rhythm. His ass clenched around Chu Shuzhi’s cock, and he stiffened as he came. After a long tight moment, his head fell back against Chu Shuzhi’s shoulder, and his body went lax.

Chu Shuzhi slowed to a halt, frustrated because that had all been over way too fast, and he still needed. “It’s a good thing you’re not trying to impress me.”

“Pretty sure that boat has sailed. Take your time. I’m—it’s good.” He was mumbling but coherent.

Chu Shuzhi took him at his word, loosened his hold and lowered him to the desk, where Zhao Yunlan obligingly braced himself on his elbows. His hips felt fragile in Chu Shuzhi’s grasp, so Chu Shuzhi didn’t hammer in quite as hard as he’d have liked, couldn’t really let fly, but it was still a steady firm motion, stropping Chu Shuzhi’s arousal to a razor’s edge, tightening his balls till he was breathless and ready. His blood was racing, his focus absolute, high on selfishness. The building could have fallen down, and he’d have let it.

And at last, at last the pressure wouldn’t be denied. This whole situation was souring around the edges now that its completion was imminent, but he didn’t look, didn’t care, too late to worry about that anyway. He just planted one hand on the small of Zhao Yunlan’s back and let go, spilling in Zhao Yunlan’s ass with a low, dark-hot swell of physical pleasure.

He half-expected, afterwards, that his self-loathing would rush back in and swamp any good sensations, but it didn’t. He felt sated and strangely peaceful. The events of earlier that evening were distant now. Stupid mistakes, but who hadn’t made a mistake or two in their time. They were all just doing their best. He looked down at Zhao Yunlan sprawled on the desk and hoped he’d found his own serenity. Wondered about kissing him again, just for the pleasure of kissing, but that moment had passed. He pulled out instead, wiped himself on his hand and his hand on the nearest edge of the drop cloth, then dragged up his underwear and trousers.

Zhao Yunlan sighed, loud in the silence. His jeans had fallen to his ankles, and after a moment, he pushed himself upright, re-clothed and tidied himself up. “Lollipop?”

Chu Shuzhi blinked at him—surely if anything this called for a drink, or even a cigarette—but actually, he could use something solid in his mouth. He accepted the offered candy, unwrapped it and tasted it cautiously. It exploded on his tongue, obnoxiously tangy and sweet, and he whipped it out and stared at it. “This is horrible. How can you eat these things?”

After a moment, he put it back.

Zhao Yunlan leant on the side of the desk and smirked around his own candy’s plastic stalk. “Any regrets?”

Chu Shuzhi shrugged and didn’t return the question. What was done was done. It didn’t have to mean anything, and damn, he really did feel better.

“You’re pretty good at that,” added Zhao Yunlan. “You should find yourself a regular dance partner.”

Chu Shuzhi snorted. Haixing wasn’t exactly full of likely prospects for a displaced Dixingren, especially one who was required to keep a low profile, but that wasn’t the point. Zhao Yunlan was saying find someone else. Chu Shuzhi didn’t say the same or mention Professor Shen. It was none of his business. Instead, he nudged Zhao Yunlan’s thigh with his knee. “You’re not quitting.”

Zhao Yunlan pushed his lollipop from one cheek to the other. “How can I? Someone has to keep this damn rabble in line.”

“Good.” A knot of tension in Chu Shuzhi’s chest relaxed. He crunched down on the candy, turning it to sweet rubble in his mouth, and took a step back. He should put his tank top back on, gather his composure and leave. The prospect of his empty narrow bed was unappetising but necessary if he wanted to be able to function tomorrow. At least he’d be able to sleep now. His body was his own again, and his professional mistakes were in the past.

“Wait.” Zhao Yunlan looked up. He seemed tired, but it was a lazy tired now, like he too had put things in perspective. If Chu Shuzhi was any judge, his small smile was genuine. “Just, you know—this desk. It was the SID chief’s desk before I arrived.”

Chu Shuzhi quirked an eyebrow. He knew a reproach when he heard one, and this wasn’t that, so disrespecting the previous chiefs clearly wasn’t a problem. And from what Chu Shuzhi had heard of the previous SID, they hadn’t been worthy of respect anyway. He nodded.

Zhao Yunlan took a deep breath, reinflating himself, pushed to his feet and clapped Chu Shuzhi on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go and make sure Zhu Hong and the others haven’t cooked up any more hairbrained schemes. You want a beer? I could use a beer.”

“It’s late. I’m going home.”

“Come on, humour me.” It was a request, not an order. Zhao Yunlan plucked Chu Shuzhi’s top from the floor, shook it free of dust and handed it over, casual and collegial, and while Chu Shuzhi was pulling it on, Zhao Yunlan checked his own jeans for stains.

Chu Shuzhi huffed. “One beer.”

He was thirsty after his exertions. He put his lollipop stick in his pocket.

Zhao Yunlan started for the door. “That’s right. After all, someone has to make sure Lin Jing and Zhu Hong aren’t filling Xiao Guo’s head with their nonsense.”

Chu Shuzhi pulled on his coat and looped his scarf around his neck, bundling himself back up. It felt less like armour than it usually did. More like, well, clothes. His tradition of standing back and observing was disrupted, at least for tonight.

Zhao Yunlan stopped with his hand on the doorknob and met his eye, a silent offer of fellowship and understanding, and Chu Shuzhi accepted it, felt its warmth in his chest for just a moment, then rolled his eyes.

Zhao Yunlan laughed, and they went back into the SID proper—where Deputy Da Qing was standing in the doorway of Zhao Yunlan’s office, peering inside. He heard their approach. “Lao Zhao! Where have you been?”

“Just dealing with some urgent business.” Zhao Yunlan moved ahead, blocking Chu Shuzhi from view. “Damn Cat, is there any beer left? You’d better have saved me one—and one for Lao Chu, too. It’s been a long night.”

Da Qing audibly sniffed the air, and Zhao Yunlan bundled him towards the main room with a muttered, “Not a word.”

“What?” There was an audible smirk in Da Qing’s voice. “I just came to make sure you hadn’t killed each other.”

Zhao Yunlan ruffled the cat’s hair. “Worry about your own damn skin, would you?”

The others were still arrayed around the table in various stages of collapse, and Da Qing jumped onto the table and assessed the debris. “There are three beers left. The third must be mine, by virtue of rank and seniority.”

“What’s this? You’ve eaten all the food?” Zhao Yunlan lightly kicked Xiao Guo out of the chief’s customary seat in the corner of the couch, flopped down and took out his phone.

“We were just saying we might call it a night,” said Lin Jing.

“What’s that? Nonsense. I’m ordering another round of snacks. You all have to keep up your strength so you can withstand your punishment tomorrow. I want self-criticisms from everyone one of you for tonight’s fiasco, no less than twenty pages each.” But there was no edge in his voice, not even real reproach.

Da Qing eyed Chu Shuzhi curiously, had clearly deduced how he’d wrought this miraculous change in Zhao Yunlan’s mood, and Chu Shuzhi gave a noncommittal shrug in reply. The chief and the deputy were close; it was up to Zhao Yunlan how much more he wanted to reveal.

For his part, Chu Shuzhi took his beer back to his desk and dropped into his desk chair where he could observe the others from a safe distance.

“Hey now, none of that.” Zhao Yunlan frowned over his shoulder. “These are team drinks—that means we drink as a team.”

Chu Shuzhi blinked at him. Xiao Guo was beckoning, too. Suddenly it seemed easy to skooch his chair over to the gathering, into the circle of the team, while Zhu Hong pointed out Zhao Yunlan’s sentiment would have more weight if they were all drinking.

“Chu-ge, what happened to your face?” Xiao Guo was peering at him.

Chu Shuzhi fingered the tender patch on his jaw where Zhao Yunlan’s punch had landed. He’d forgotten about that. “It’s nothing.” He could feel Zhao Yunlan listening. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Xiao Guo’s mouth assumed a stubborn cast. “I have some arnica from my aunt in my bag.” He scuttled over to his desk.

Chu Shuzhi propped his feet on the table and leaned back, testing the limits of his swivel chair. Being here among the others felt good, actually. Everyone was in focus, their strengths as well as their vulnerabilities. They’d all survived to fight another day, that was what mattered. Chu Shuzhi savoured his beer and silently promised himself to make sure they always would.



END