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Wen Kexing doesn't discriminate because he cannot afford to. When he was much younger, this had meant allowing clients to use him in any way they pleased, for as long as they pleased. As long as he had a room for the night, or a meal, or a little money, it was always worth it. He's come a long way from that scared, skinny, sickly boy, of course. He has choices now, if he wants them. He can be a little picky about who he does and does not allow to take him to bed. 

But he also has a second mouth to feed and clothe and house, and Wen Kexing's priority has always been her. His little A-Xiang might think of herself as grown now, but she is still his little girl. He will still do whatever it takes to keep her safe and warm and housed. It's very, very important to Wen Kexing that she never knows any of the hardships he had grown up with. 

She's the same age now as Wen Kexing had been when he'd first started. Or, this is what she thinks is the truth, anyway. 

"How old were you the first time?" she had asked, one day, when she was old enough to grasp what it is that Wen Kexing does in order to keep them safe and warm. 

"Fourteen," Wen Kexing had lied, because that had seemed like an appropriate age, to him, at the time. It had seemed like it would be a long time before his A-Xiang would be that age. It had seemed like a very safe lie to tell. 

Now, of course, he realises his mistake. She thinks that because she is fourteen, she should start selling herself the way Wen Kexing does. There is no shame in it, for him, the ruined, broken, bloodied boy that he'd been when he'd come to the profession. Wen Kexing is even proud of it, in some ways; his ability to charm and manipulate, to give every customer exactly the fantasy that they require. These are skills of their own kind. They have served him well in life. He is not ashamed of what he has done to survive, what he will do, what he might yet do. He no longer even finds himself with regrets in that regard. 

He does have others, though, how could he not?

Primarily, that A-Xiang is under the impression that she should follow in his footsteps. There is no need for that. There has never been any need. Wen Kexing has taken great pains to make certain of it. She deserves better than that life; she always has. If Wen Kexing had his way, she would marry into a good family and settle down. If Wen Kexing had his way, she would not know quite so much of blood and violence as she does. 

This is one of the few things which Wen Kexing had had no choice but to teach her. He'd wanted to make certain that no one could ever, ever put their hands on her without coming away bloody for their troubles. He'd wanted to make certain that if, one day, she lost him, she was not without the skills to take care of herself. He'd taught her to read and write and cook; he’d taught her how to fight. He'd shown her where to slip a blade between a man's ribs, and how to break his wrist, and what poisons were good and which were best avoided. He’d shown her how best to use her size and speed to her advantage.

She'd learnt the hard way how to treat wounds. Sometimes they belonged to others, usually they were Wen Kexing's own. He'd grown stronger, of course, over time, and made certain he knew how to protect himself so that it became infrequent, before eventually stopping altogether. But in the interim, that was how she'd learnt. Wen Kexing had passed on the paltry amount of healer’s skills he'd picked up before his parents had died. They'd learned more of how to heal together, after that. 

Now, they have the same fight every night, and it is no different on this night. Wen Kexing scolds her until she's furious with him, and then he leaves her in their rooms at the teahouse, drapes himself in fine silks, beautifully embroidered teal with a red under robe, and heads out into the darkness. 

Of the choices he has now, Wen Kexing's favourite is his ability to pick between the two best inns in the area, both paid off to allow him to work there. So he picks the best, for the evening, and seats himself at a table, allowing one of the servers to bring him something to drink as he observes the patrons with a practiced eye. 

He is no mood for a drunk and so that limits his options a little. The argument is still too fresh, prickling beneath Wen Kexing's skin, for him to want to play nursemaid to a man who cannot get it up. There are advantages to that, sometimes, but not tonight. Tonight Wen Kexing thinks he might like to be fucked, properly fucked, if only to quiet the inside of his own head for a short while. He thinks he might allow himself to be held down for once.

He dismisses most of the patrons, drinks a while longer, thinks about getting up to try his luck at the other inn, and then pauses as some of the men from the Window of Heaven make their way inside. This is not unusual, in and of itself, and Wen Kexing only knows who they are because he makes it a point to know who everyone is. No, the unusual part is the man at the head of the group, who is easily one of the most captivating creatures Wen Kexing has ever set eyes on. 

He's seen plenty of beautiful men in his time, and slept with many of them, but this man is… simply breathtaking. 

Wen Kexing flicks open his fan and flutters it in front of his face, allowing himself a tiny smile for anticipating that it would, indeed, draw the man's gaze over to where he's sitting. Wen Kexing knows what the Window of Heaven do, after all. He can see just how alert the man is, tense beneath the deceptively casual posture he holds. 

He meets Wen Kexing's gaze and Wen Kexing shivers involuntarily, before shifting his fan so that the man can properly take in the sight of a smile that has charmed even the iciest of clients. Wen Kexing inclines his head. The man stares at him a moment, gaze calculating, and then looks away, dismissive. 

Beside him, two of his companions watch Wen Kexing with obvious interest. Wen Kexing gentles his smile and inclines his head at the seat opposite him. They both all but scramble to take up the offer, a quick, harsh discussion firing up between them, which makes the beautiful man frown and look back up at Wen Kexing. He says something to them, which makes them pause, before one of the men breaks off and heads over. 

He offers Wen Kexing a polite bow and Wen Kexing gestures to the waiting seat with his closed fan. "Please," he says, pleasantly. 

The man is quick to sit down and introduce himself and Wen Kexing almost misses his cue to respond, gaze half on the beautiful man as he watches them from across the room disapprovingly. 

"Wen. Wen Kexing," he says, after a beat, and then offers the man a drink, which is quickly accepted. 

From there, it doesn't exactly take long for Wen Kexing to have the man eating out of the palm of his hand, almost quite literally. He pours him several drinks, asks all of the right questions, and lets the man put a hand first on his arm, and then later, on his knee. At that point, it is a sure thing, but before Wen Kexing can suggest retiring to a bedroom, they're intercepted by the beautiful man. 

He holds Wen Kexing's gaze for several moments too long as he crosses over to them, his subordinate retracting his hand from Wen Kexing's knee. Wen Kexing simply smiles at him, indicating the other free seat with a tilt of his head, a coquettish kind of invitation that makes the man purse his lips. He sits, nevertheless. 

"Zhou Xu," the man says, as his subordinate introduces them. Wen Kexing is certain that it is an alias. 

"A pleasure," he tells Zhou Xu, filling both his cup, and then Zhou Xu’s subordinate's, before finally his own. 

Zhou Xu looks a little like he feels otherwise, but he lifts his cup in a toast. "The pleasure is all mine," he says, which makes Wen Kexing's eyebrows twitch with surprise. 

He lifts his own cup and drinks, subtly looking between the two men. Under other circumstances, they might want to share him, but Wen Kexing does not think that that is what is happening here. He is not entirely sure he knows what is happening, though. Zhou Xu does not seem like he wants to be at the table at all, reluctant in some way, disgusted or disapproving of Wen Kexing's profession, perhaps. Maybe he wishes to dissuade his subordinate, who has already paid for Wen Kexing to take him up to bed. 

Wen Kexing watches, bemused, as Zhou Xu slides twice the amount of money across the table to him. A glance at the subordinate tells him that he is just as surprised as Wen Kexing, perhaps more so; unsettled in some way, even. He opens his mouth to speak, but Wen Kexing beats him to it.

"I'm afraid both of you at once," he says, lowering his voice as he leans toward Zhou Xu, looking up at him through his lashes, "will cost you more than that."

He is intimately acquainted with how to fluster a man, and the teasing has the desired effect on the subordinate. Wen Kexing can feel his discomforted shifting, though his gaze remains locked on the man before him. But Zhou Xu, despite how disapproving he had looked before, does not seem in any way moved by Wen Kexing's words. There's no tightening of his lips, crease to his brow, tensing of his shoulders. He seems perfectly at ease, as much as a man like him is ever at ease.

He looks Wen Kexing in the eye and says, "How much more?"

Wen Kexing buys himself time by pouring them all another round of drinks. Does he want to take the both of them to bed? He could, easily. He would, he thinks, most likely sleep with Zhou Xu for free, given the opportunity. But two at once comes with its own challenges, its own risks. Wen Kexing sees in Zhou Xu the violence coiled like a snake waiting to strike at the soft belly of any man foolish enough to get too close. 

Wen Kexing knows better than to play with fire. He says, "Triple."

Zhou Xu says nothing, reaches into his purse and makes up the amount. Wen Kexing's mouth does not drop open, but the subordinate's does. 

"Lord Zhou," he starts nervously, and Zhou Xu waves him off. 

"I'm sure you can find other ways to occupy yourself for the night," he says, and it takes Wen Kexing a moment to catch up, a lurching missed-step feeling. 

Triple what he had been offered, but not, apparently, for the both of them. Just for Zhou Xu, then. He is a man who quite clearly does not need to pay for company. Wen Kexing squints at him. It is possible, of course, that he simply wants to enact violence on Wen Kexing, wants to allow the snake to bite and bite and bite. He wouldn't be the first man, and his beauty would do him no good in finding a willing partner on that front. He would have to pay for it, then, wouldn't he?

Wen Kexing is plenty capable of taking care of himself, but it would still be a risk. He's heard enough stories about what the Window of Heaven get up to, what the men are like. Men wrapped up in bloodshed and death are often incapable of leaving it at the bedside, Wen Kexing knows all too well. 

He watches the subordinate stand, and then offers him a soft smile. "My apologies," he says, as though it is his fault that Zhou Xu has staked a claim on him in such an underhanded manner. "Perhaps I could send for a friend?"

He agrees, and Wen Kexing flags down a server, passing the subordinate's money onto him alongside instructions for which of his colleagues to contact.

A moment later, and they are alone. 

Wen Kexing contemplates Zhou Xu, who looks back at him, gaze unreadable. He picks up the wine jug and refills their cups once more. 

"Would you like to retire?" he asks, watching the expanse of Zhou Xu's throat as he swallows his drink. Wen Kexing's own remains untouched as Zhou Xu puts his cup back down and meets Wen Kexing's gaze once again. 

"Yes," he says, before standing. He waits for Wen Kexing to follow suit, before leading the way upstairs in silence. 

Wen Kexing tucks his purse close to his body, fan loose between his fingers, and feels distinctly on edge. Zhou Xu had not shown any interest in the beginning, and now here they are, inside the most expensive room of the inn.

"A-Xu," Wen Kexing says playfully as he watches Zhou Xu slide the doors shut before turning to face him. "Are you trying to impress me?" 

Zhou Xu takes in his teasing grin and looks amused. "Would it be so easy?"

"Perhaps," Wen Kexing hedges, which makes Zhou Xu's lips twitch. A smile, minnow quick, flits across his face. 

"Hm," Zhou Xu says, before heading over to the table. Candles already lit and wine already on the table, Wen Kexing might believe he had planned this in advance. 

He stays by the door, watching. 

"And how would you have me?" he asks. 

Zhou Xu looks up at him, gaze dark, before setting out two cups. "At the table."

Wen Kexing laughs. It's a jangly, nervous thing. He doesn't know why Zhou Xu unsettles him so much. He's done this countless times before, and with men far less pleasing to the eye. It should be easy. It should be as familiar as his own face. 

Somehow, it isn't. 

He crosses over and sits gracefully at the end of the table beside Zhou Xu rather than across from him. Zhou Xu pours some wine into their cups. 

"Drink," he says, and so Wen Kexing does. 

He puts his cup down and studies the side of Zhou Xu’s face, limned in shadow. “And how else would you have me?” he asks, pitching his voice low and sultry. 

Zhou Xu pours himself another drink and says, dispassionately, “Like this is fine.”

Wen Kexing’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Like this?” he asks. The missed-step feeling lurches through him again.

“You have been hired before for conversation, have you not?” 

If Wen Kexing weren’t so busy being wrong-footed, he might have noticed the hint of teasing. As it is, he simply frowns at Zhou Xu for a moment. He is not a man who needs to pay for conversation, Wen Kexing knows. He does not seem inclined toward it, either. Wen Kexing knows that type of man and Zhou Xu is not him. 

“You want information, then?” he asks. 

He sees his mistake the moment Zhou Xu’s eyes narrow. “Why would I want information?” he asks. 

Wen Kexing allows himself an expansive shrug. Zhou Xu does not allow it to pass for an answer. Wen Kexing says, evenly, “You are far too beautiful to need to pay for simple conversation.”

This makes Zhou Xu’s mouth tighten, almost imperceptibly, if you were not paying close attention. Wen Kexing is always paying close attention. “Perhaps I prefer a captive audience,” he says. It’s almost dry. 

Wen Kexing laughs, head tilted back, missing the way that Zhou Xu watches him just as closely. “You could have that without paying for it,” he points out, smiling.

“What do you think I might want information on?”

Wen Kexing shrugs again. “Ah, who knows? There are many reasons,” he says, flippantly. “Perhaps you have a cheating husband.” He says this teasingly, then squints at Zhou Xu, leaning into his space and adding, “No, no, who would be foolish enough to cheat on you?”

Disappointingly, Zhou Xu is not at all flustered by him in any way. He seems completely unaffected, in fact, although he allows Wen Kexing to read the hint of amusement in his gaze. “Do married men often come to you seeking aid?” he asks. Wen Kexing thinks he might be being teased.

He grins. “Married women, most commonly,” he says. “But there is always an exception to the rule, hm?”

Zhou Xu pours them another drink each, waiting for Wen Kexing to lift his cup to his mouth before drinking from his own. “I am unmarried,” he says, holding Wen Kexing’s gaze.

Were he a younger man, he might find himself blushing from the sheer intensity of the way in which Zhou Xu is looking at him. But Wen Kexing is not so young, any more, and he has certainly flirted with enough beautiful men to know how to hold his own. 

He lets his grin widen into something almost lecherous. “How fortunate for all the men and women of the world that it is so,” he teases. 

Zhou Xu raises an eyebrow at him, and Wen Kexing interprets the question within. “It would be a great shame, would it not, to shackle a beauty such as yourself?”

Zhou Xu surprises him by laughing. Wen Kexing watches, enchanted, at the way it softens his beautiful mouth. The way he seems to be relaxing by increments may simply be an act, but Wen Kexing is okay with it. Zhou Xu has already paid for his time, after all, and if he does not wish to be open with Wen Kexing, that is entirely his prerogative. 

Wen Kexing takes his turn at refilling their cups, careful to pull his sleeve back so that it exposes his wrist. Zhou Xu’s gaze is drawn down toward it, of course, just as Wen Kexing had hoped. His eyes grow dark as he watches Wen Kexing pour. 

“You know,” Wen Kexing says conversationally. “It is terribly rude to steal a man’s conquest like that.”

Zhou Xu lifts his gaze to meet Wen Kexing’s, raises an eyebrow, and says, “Are you a conquest?”

For you, I could be, Wen Kexing doesn’t say. 

“I am whatever you wish me to be,” he murmurs, dropping his voice down into something sultry again as he leans in. Zhou Xu leans away. 

“For the night,” he says.

“For the night,” Wen Kexing agrees. He drinks, and then smiles, and teases, “Should you wish to lighten your purse further, however, this can continue for as long as you’d like.”

Zhou Xu looks amused. “How very generous of you,” he says, dryly. Wen Kexing knows he is being teased, this time. 

“I am a very generous man,” Wen Kexing tells him, smile widening.

“Hm,” Zhou Xu says, and indicates that Wen Kexing should pour them another round of drinks. Wen Kexing does so without hesitation. 

“You disagree?” he asks, teasingly.

“Not at all.”

“Then you disapprove?”

“Why should I disapprove?” Zhou Xu asks, knocking back his drink. 

“Many do.” 

“Including those who pay for your company?”

Wen Kexing sips from his own cup. “Sometimes, yes.”

Zhou Xu seems as though he doesn’t like that answer, but he doesn’t respond. He just looks at Wen Kexing consideringly for a long, drawn out moment. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Long enough,” Wen Kexing says vaguely. He doesn’t often get this question, but he’s had clients before who have thought they might be close to him in some way, who have tried in earnest to know him. Zhou Xu does not seem to be doing that, exactly, but Wen Kexing does not know what it is that he is doing, either. 

“That is not an answer,” Zhou Xu says. 

Wen Kexing shrugs. “And what is it that you do for a living?” he asks, pointedly. It shows his hand, but Wen Kexing sees no reason to hide it. 

“Something not so dissimilar to you,” Zhou Xu says, evenly, which catches Wen Kexing out. He wants to know how killing people for a living could ever be in the same realm as pleasuring them for a living. But if he asks, he will have to admit aloud, fully, that he knows exactly what Zhou Xu is, and that seems foolish. 

He tilts his head to one side, questioningly. “And what is that, exactly?” he asks. Wen Kexing knows how to widen his eyes just the right amount; perfectly believably curious, innocent, young. 

Zhou Xu watches this and then, amused, says, “Nothing I am inclined to talk about whilst trying to relax.”

Wen Kexing takes the bait and changes the subject as gracefully as he is able. They talk for a long time, after that, dancing around one another. Zhou Xu is well travelled and he seems to enjoy the poetry Wen Kexing recites for him. The conversation is relaxed and easy, so much so that it almost, almost lulls Wen Kexing into a false sense of security. 

If he were any younger or less experienced, it might. 

It would be so easy, after all, to believe that they were simply acquaintances on their way to becoming friends. Wen Kexing would like that, he realises. He likes how sharp and acerbic Zhou Xu is. He likes his keen insight and surprising wit. He likes how he gentles himself for Wen Kexing, sometimes, and how his eyes turn dark when he watches Wen Kexing’s hands or his mouth. 

Once it grows so late that the sky starts to lighten again, Zhou Xu invites Wen Kexing into his bed. They do not have sex, or touch in any way with intent. Zhou Xu simply lays down beside him, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist, which anchors Wen Kexing as he allows sleep to pull him under. 

When he wakes, some time in the afternoon, he finds himself alone.

*

Zhou Xu finds him again a week later. 

Wen Kexing makes his way into the inn after a sticky fumble in the alleyway beside it. He is not, usually, prone to these sorts of things anymore, but the sailor had been young and large and strong, holding him up against the wall with such ease that it had made something hot pool in Wen Kexing’s belly. So he’d allowed it, the hard thrusts up into him, both of his legs hooked around the man’s waist, his robes dirtied against the wall. 

He hadn’t come, because he never does, but it had felt good nonetheless, and the sailor had paid well for it. 

Wen Kexing had slipped inside the back way, intending to tidy himself up, still sticky between his legs, when one of the servers had waylaid him. “A Lord Zhou has had a bath drawn for you,” he’d said. “He asks you to join him in his rooms when you are ready.”

“Did he, now,” Wen Kexing had murmured, before allowing himself to be led to the waiting bath. He’d handed off his outer robe to see if it could be salvaged, before allowing himself to sink into the waiting water. It had been hot and luxurious, accompanied by the best oils and soaps the inn has to offer. 

After, the server had returned with Wen Kexing’s robe, almost pristine, before tending to his hair for him.

Wen Kexing slides open the doors to the same room they’d slept in together the last time, stepping inside and shutting them behind him. He hadn’t bothered to knock, but Zhou Xu looks up at him from the desk, unsurprised to see him. 

They stare at one another for a long, drawn out moment, before Wen Kexing breaks the silence. “Thank you for the bath,” he says, with a small bow. 

Zhou Xu waves him off. “Of course.”

“I do not usually accept gifts without knowing what it is that I am expected to offer in return,” Wen Kexing says. 

Zhou Xu gestures for him to take a seat at the table, before joining him there. “I expect nothing in return,” he says. 

“Nothing but my company?” Wen Kexing teases, smiling. 

“I assume the price remains the same?”

“And if it does not?” he teases again. 

Zhou Xu isn’t given the chance to answer as there’s a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of several servers laden down with food. They set it all out on the table, steaming and delicious, and then ask if Zhou Xu needs anything further. He surprises Wen Kexing by looking at him questioningly. 

Wen Kexing says, “No, thank you, everything looks perfect.”

Zhou Xu nods to the head server, and they dismiss themselves, leaving the two alone once more. Wen Kexing looks over the food in front of him. They eat well, these days, but this is still the kind of meal he cannot usually afford to indulge in. His stomach betrays him by clenching with sudden hunger, though fortunately it makes no sound. 

“Eat,” Zhou Xu says as he begins to serve himself. It is a command more than a request, from a man who is used to being obeyed. 

Wen Kexing sees no reason to deny him, and so he picks up his chopsticks. “I’m once again struck by the notion that you’re trying to impress me, A-Xu,” he teases. 

Zhou Xu’s gaze is amused when Wen Kexing looks up at him. “Would it be so easy?” he asks, a teasing echo of their conversation the last time around. 

Wen Kexing smiles, thrilling as Zhou Xu plays along. “Perhaps,” he says. 

“We will see,” Zhou Xu returns, before falling into silence as he eats. Over the course of the meal, he allows Wen Kexing to direct the conversation, to lean over every now and again and place something delicious in Zhou Xu’s bowl. Each time he does, Zhou Xu meets his gaze deliberately, before dutifully trying it. 

Wen Kexing thrills at this, too, as it fans the flames of the gentle heat still pooled in his stomach from his last encounter. Would he enjoy it just as much if Zhou Xu took him to bed? He thinks he might. He thinks he might enjoy it far more, in fact. 

But Zhou Xu does not take him to bed that night, except to sleep. Wen Kexing wakes in the morning once again alone, with an obscenely large tip left behind on the table. 

*

This continues for months. 

A-Xu comes back again and again, always to the same room in the same inn. Sometimes he comes back within the week, sometimes within the month, sometimes after a period of several months. When he will return is never predictable, but that he will eventually becomes something that Wen Kexing slowly starts to take for granted. 

When he can, A-Xu stays for several days at a time. They go out to the market, or to a nearby attraction. A-Xu takes him on a river cruise, or on a picnic, or sometimes simply for a walk. He never asks Wen Kexing to do more than sleep beside him at night, and he never really even indicates that he might want anything more than that. He is attracted to Wen Kexing, this much is obvious, but he doesn’t seem inclined to act on it. The opposite, if anything. 

Of course, the thing between them quickly becomes something dangerous. 

A-Xu is still made up of sharp edges, but he gentles himself around Wen Kexing whenever he sees him, now. When he orders for them, he always chooses the dishes he knows Wen Kexing prefers. In turn, Wen Kexing finds that when he places food in A-Xu’s bowl, which has become a habit, it is not the food that he thinks A-Xu will like, but rather the food he knows he likes best. He chooses the honeyed wine that A-Xu, with his surprising sweet tooth, favours. He leans in, and A-Xu doesn’t lean away. 

They fight, too. This has been perhaps the most surprising thing of all. A-Xu had looked at him one day, a bruise on his throat from a particularly rough client, and asked if he knew how to protect himself. Wen Kexing had bristled at this, at how concerned A-Xu’s gaze was. When he’d said that he could, of course, A-Xu had challenged him to prove it. 

When he had, A-Xu had eventually pinned him up against a wall, arm across his throat, and Wen Kexing had laughed, breathlessly, and said, “If you wanted to touch me, A-Xu, all you had to do was ask.”

A-Xu had surprised him, then, by pulling away as if burnt.

He’d surprised him further, later on, by insisting on Wen Kexing training with him. “If that’s how you wish to waste your money, zhuren,” Wen Kexing had teased. 

“It will not be a waste, Lao Wen,” A-Xu had said, gaze intense. Wen Kexing had had to turn away to hide the heat rising in his cheeks, to remind himself that A-Xu was nothing more than a client.

It’s perhaps unsurprising, then, that this is how it all comes to a head one day, nearly a year from their first meeting. They draw, more often than not, now. It has turned into a dance, a flirtation. 

Wen Kexing traps both of A-Xu’s wrists in his hands, a stalemate, and grins at him. “Ah, A-Xu,” he says teasingly. They’re both flushed, a little sweaty from the exertion, even stripped down from their outermost layers. 

A-Xu looks back at him, gaze dark and intense, and then suddenly yanks Wen Kexing forward with such strength that Wen Kexing stumbles right into his chest. Before he can try to right himself, to respond in any way, A-Xu’s mouth is on his, hot and insistent. Wen Kexing opens up to him immediately, letting out a surprised moan. 

Even with the way that their teeth clash, their faces not quite at the optimal angle, it is easily, without a shadow of a doubt, the best kiss that Wen Kexing has ever had. He lets go of A-Xu’s wrists to wrap his arms around his neck, letting out another small moan as A-Xu yanks on a fistful of his hair to move him where he wants him, holding him tightly, uncompromisingly, in place as soon as he’s done so. 

They kiss for so long, the hot, wet, slide of their mouths moving together, A-Xu’s insistent tongue twisting against Wen Kexing’s own, that he loses track of time altogether. Were it not for the need to breathe, in fact, Wen Kexing thinks that he might keep kissing A-Xu forever. He thinks that he would be infinitely happy to spend the rest of his life doing that. 

When they break, panting heavily, Wen Kexing finds A-Xu’s pupils blown wide, his plush, sometimes cruel, mouth red and kiss swollen and so enticing that Wen Kexing is forced to lean back in to press another kiss to it. 

“Lao Wen,” A-Xu says, voice surprisingly rough, a question in his gaze as he looks at Wen Kexing. He’s asking for permission, Wen Kexing realises, with a start. 

“Yes,” Wen Kexing says, immediately, quickly, and then lets A-Xu grab his hand, grip borderline too tight, before leading him inside. Wen Kexing almost trips over himself to follow, barely managing to force his jelly legs to obey him as they make their way up the stairs. How embarrassing that A-Xu makes him feel this way. How utterly unsurprising. 

Inside the room that Wen Kexing has come to think of as theirs, A-Xu shoves him up against the nearest wall and kisses him breathless all over again. A-Xu’s mouth is devouring, claiming, swallowing down every single one of the embarrassing little noises that Wen Kexing makes. His hands hold Wen Kexing tightly in place.

Wen Kexing has never particularly been a fan of being held down, not usually, and yet he finds now that he wants A-Xu to do nothing more. He wants it so badly he ends up writhing beneath A-Xu, forcing him to strengthen his hold on him. A-Xu obliges, moving his hot, wet mouth to Wen Kexing’s throat, trailing biting little kisses down to his collarbone. 

Wen Kexing’s hands spasm where they’re fisted in A-Xu’s robes as he sucks a hickey into the junction between Wen Kexing’s neck and shoulder. “A-Xu,” he breathes, though he isn’t really sure what it is that he’s asking for. More, perhaps. Again.

Wen Kexing is achingly hard, he realises kind of absently, so turned on that every brush of his trousers against his cock is actively painful. He’s never been so desperate before in his life. “A-Xu,” he says again, though it comes out as a moan this time, as he tilts his hips up to rub up against A-Xu. He’s met with an equal hardness, the stutter of A-Xu’s breath.

“Clothes,” A-Xu says, suddenly tearing away from him, leaving Wen Kexing briefly bereft as he lets go, until his brain catches up to the sight before him. He watches, mouth hanging open in a half pant, as A-Xu quickly starts to divest himself of his remaining robes, which pool on the floor around his feet. 

“Lao Wen,” A-Xu says, almost dangerously, certainly impatiently, gaze hot and dark as he looks at Wen Kexing and realises that he hasn’t started to undress. Wen Kexing startles at the jolt of arousal that look sends through him, hands fumbling with his robes, suddenly clumsy and uncoordinated in his hurry to undress. 

He somehow gets down to his trousers, and then pauses to look up at A-Xu again, to find him completely naked, watching Wen Kexing with his usual intensity. “A-Xu,” Wen Kexing says again, the only word he seems to know anymore, gaze following the line of lithe muscle all the way down to the curve of A-Xu’s cock. Like the rest of him, it’s beautiful. Wen Kexing’s mouth waters with the need to taste it. 

“Lao Wen,” A-Xu says, again, impatient still, but amused also, gentling himself, as he often does, as he crosses over to Wen Kexing to kiss him again. Wen Kexing bends down into it the way a flower follows the path of the sun. 

“Useless,” A-Xu teases as he hooks his fingers in Wen Kexing’s waistband, quickly pushing his trousers down. Wen Kexing’s breath catches at the drag of the fabric over his cock, followed by the rush of cool air, and then A-Xu’s hand wrapping around him. 

“You, ah, you make me useless,” Wen Kexing tells him petulantly, hips stuttering up to try to follow A-Xu’s teasing touch. He removes his hand altogether and Wen Kexing moans. “A-Xu, please,” he says, feeling himself pouting. 

“Tell me what you want, Lao Wen,” A-Xu replies, eyes fond, as he reaches back down to take Wen Kexing’s cock in hand once more. His touch is still too light, his gaze too soft, but it is his words that make Wen Kexing’s entire brain come to an abrupt halt. 

Tell me what you want. 

No one has ever asked Wen Kexing what he wants, before. That isn’t the point of this, after all. He has to give himself a hard mental shake, to remind himself that A-Xu is paying him for this. He’s paying for a fantasy. 

“I want whatever you want,” Wen Kexing says, and A-Xu takes his hand off of him again, making Wen Kexing whine. He’s so desperate for it. He’s never needed to be touched so badly before. Never wanted anybody the way that he wants A-Xu here, now. He thinks, hysterically, that if A-Xu doesn’t keep touching him, he might just disintegrate. 

A-Xu kisses him again, more softly this time, a slow, almost lazy slide of his lips against Wen Kexing’s own. “What do you want , Lao Wen,” he breathes hotly, lifting his mouth to Wen Kexing’s ear, making him shudder with it. 

“You,” Wen Kexing says, perhaps a little too honestly, but he cannot be blamed for it in the moment. A-Xu has effectively rendered him brainless. “You, A-Xu, I want you. Please. ”

A-Xu huffs out a laugh, kissing him again. “On the bed with you, then,” he says, almost kindly, and doesn’t let go of Wen Kexing as he pulls him over and onto the bed, arranging him on his back with his legs open. 

Wen Kexing knows how he looks. He knows how to look good, like this, sprawled out. But in the moment, with A-Xu’s hot gaze roaming over his body, he feels himself flushing with embarrassment. He feels, foolishly, as though A-Xu might be able to see through to the heart of him. If he does, he’ll find that Wen Kexing has allowed himself to do something very unwise indeed, traitorous heart beating too quickly in his chest. 

His throat constricts, and he swallows down every single one of his feelings, offering A-Xu his hand and smiling. “It’s cold on this bed without you, A-Xu,” he murmurs. It has the desired effect, A-Xu taking his hand and shifting onto the bed with speed, though he is graceful in his movements, coordinated in a way Wen Kexing can no longer seem to manage. 

He curves down to kiss Wen Kexing again, hair falling like a waterfall of ink over his shoulders. Wen Kexing lets himself thread his fingers through it, pulling A-Xu down on top of him until they’re lying on the bed with A-Xu pressed flush against him, bare chest to bare chest. This close, A-Xu can surely feel just how quickly Wen Kexing’s heart is beating. He can only hope that he chalks it up to arousal. 

“How would you have me?” Wen Kexing murmurs against A-Xu’s lips, running a hand down his side. His cock aches with the need to be touched, sensitive to every brush of A-Xu’s bare skin against it. He ignores it to the best of his ability, focusing on A-Xu’s dark eyes, all pupil; his beautiful swollen lips. 

“Lie back, Lao Wen,” A-Xu tells him, pressing a hand to his chest to get him to stay in place. Wen Kexing does as he’s told, settling more comfortably against the cushions and then letting out a soft noise of pleasure as A-Xu starts to work soft kisses down his neck. He continues further still, along Wen Kexing’s collarbone, the dip of his breastbone, then over to a nipple.

He kisses it, first, before sucking it into his mouth, making Wen Kexing arch up off the bed slightly with a sharp, surprised gasp. He’s never been so sensitive before. Never been so responsive to the person on top of him. A-Xu keeps one hand pressed against his chest to hold him down, swirling his tongue around Wen Kexing’s nipple maddeningly. 

“A-Xu, ah,” Wen Kexing mumbles, oversensitive already, grip tightening in A-Xu’s hair. A-Xu ignores him and continues until Wen Kexing feels like he might be about to go out of his mind. “A-Xu, A-Xu, please,” he begs, although what exactly he’s asking for he isn’t sure. Does he want him to stop? Does he want him to continue? He feels hot and squirmy and pleasurable in a way he has never once experienced with a client before now. He feels good .

A-Xu huffs out a laugh. “Shhh, Lao Wen,” he murmurs, before shocking a moan out of Wen Kexing by biting down. His back arches off the bed again, only stopped from completely lifting off by the hand A-Xu still has one his chest. 

“A-Xu!” Wen Kexing cries, pouting at him. “You - how could you savage me so?”

It’s performative, at best, given how hard his cock is, how much it’s leaking against his stomach. A-Xu looks up at him with his dark, devious eyes and then smirks, before leaning down to bite Wen Kexing’s other nipple. That earns him a cut-off moan and a slap to the shoulder. 

“ A-Xu! ”

A-Xu simply flicks his hair back over his shoulder to move it out of the way, before continuing down the rest of Wen Kexing’s body, kissing every inch of bare skin. He pauses again only once he reaches Wen Kexing’s cock, admiring it for a moment, before leaning down to give a little kitten lick to the tip. 

Wen Kexing gasps, softly, his cock leaking all over his stomach. He’s not usually this wet. “Please,” his mouth says, unbidden, and A-Xu glances up at him again, expression softening into something affectionate, before he leans down and licks a stripe along the underside of Wen Kexing’s cock. 

Wen Kexing inhales shakily, hand flexing in A-Xu’s hair, which is halfway to knotted around his fingers from the grip he has on it. A-Xu doesn’t seem to mind, or perhaps he simply enjoys it. He seems to be enjoying himself immensely, in fact, lowering his face once more, this time to lick up the precome gathering on Wen Kexing’s stomach, making the muscles of his abdomen jump.

“Shhh,” A-Xu murmurs again, soothing almost, before taking Wen Kexing in his mouth properly. It’s just the head, but even that is enough to make Wen Kexing reflexively arch up off the bed, which makes A-Xu laugh and retreat altogether. 

“Lao Wen,” he teases, mock reprimanding. “I thought you were seasoned at this.”

Wen Kexing scowls down at him. “Shut up,” he says. He doesn’t normally talk to clients like this, not unless they’ve indicated that they want him to, but it’s difficult not to slip into the easy pattern of their friendship. Difficult not to be honest, in this moment, when Wen Kexing feels like he’s been laid bare by the smallest of touches.

A-Xu laughs again. Wen Kexing has spent months learning how to make him relax into laughter; the upturned corners of his beautiful mouth as it softens into something lovely, something breathtaking. Wen Kexing’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight of it. 

“If you can’t stay still, Lao Wen, you cannot have my mouth on you.”

“Fine. I can be still,” Wen Kexing says quickly, embarrassment so mixed up in his arousal that he simply cannot untangle the two. It is, perhaps, the fault of A-Xu himself, for looking at Wen Kexing with such undisguised affection. Wen Kexing has only ever caught glimpses of that expression on his face before. It’s a frightening prospect, in truth, but Wen Kexing is also too preoccupied with the heat in his belly to focus on it too much in the moment. 

A-Xu presses a hand to Wen Kexing’s hip, before taking him in his mouth again. Wen Kexing’s breath stutters, tensing as he resists the urge to immediately buck up into the hot, wet heat again. He feels foolish with it, this need to have A-Xu’s mouth stretched around him. He’s never wanted anyone with such desperation before. He’s never been this needy before. 

A-Xu as almost undone him, and they’ve barely even begun. 

He tries his best to keep his eyes open, to savour the sight of A-Xu’s head bobbing up and down as he sucks at him, but it’s difficult. A-Xu is a quick study, wringing noises out of Wen Kexing that he didn’t know he could make, picking up on what he likes and doing it again and again and again. Eventually, Wen Kexing has to drop his head back against the cushions and close his eyes, fingers still tangled in A-Xu’s hair, struggling to catch his breath. 

Wen Kexing is no stranger to pleasure. Whenever he’s wanted to scratch that itch, he’s always been able to find a willing partner in one of his colleagues. He has an easy, no strings attached relationship with several of them, and the sex has always been very, very good. How could it not, with hands and mouths and cocks as skilled, as well used, as theirs? Until now, Wen Kexing had thought he was having the best sex he possibly could be. Until now, he’d thought no one could use their mouth better.

Something not so dissimilar to you A-Xu had said on the matter of his profession. If Wen Kexing were capable of more coherent thought, he might be inclined to wonder just how many men A-Xu has put his mouth on, like this. 

It isn’t long before he has to gently tug at A-Xu’s hair, struggling to open his eyes to look down at him again. “Ah, A-Xu… I won’t... I won’t last,” he says, words coming out so breathily that they sound foreign to his own ears. 

A-Xu pauses, glances up at him with a look that Wen Kexing reads as good , before redoubling his efforts. Wen Kexing lets out a groan, head dropping back again. He doesn’t even last another full minute before his back is arching up off the bed, spilling across A-Xu’s tongue without warning.

He whites out a little bit, coming so long and so hard that it feels like it lasts forever, leaves him wrung out and a little shaky as his grip finally loosens in A-Xu’s hair, entire body absolutely boneless. He feels rather than sees A-Xu move back up the bed, pressing up against his side and dropping a kiss on his shoulder, before tucking his head beneath Wen Kexing’s chin. Wen Kexing can feel the hardness of him, the way smugness rolls off of him in waves. 

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to catch his breath. “A-Xu,” he murmurs. 

“Shh,” A-Xu whispers, kissing his throat. He begins to move up against Wen Kexing’s side, a slow slide of his dick against Wen Kexing’s thigh. With immeasurable effort, Wen Kexing peels his eyes open and turns his head so that he can look down at him. 

“A-Xu, tell me how you want me,” he says, voice sounding wrecked, despite the fact that he isn’t the one who’d just had a cock down his throat.

“Like this,” A-Xu says, continuing to rut up against his side. “Just like this.”

As Wen Kexing reassembles his faculties, watching A-Xu undulate against him, he can’t help but realise how strange he feels. “You don’t want me to touch you?” he asks, softly. 

“Not this time, Lao Wen,” A-Xu murmurs, voice tight, edging himself for a little longer before finally shifting. He moves to straddle Wen Kexing’s legs, then leans down to kiss him, long and slow and deep. When he pulls away, he looks Wen Kexing in the eye, mouth so obscene that Wen Kexing’s cock twitches at the sight of it, and says, “I want to come on your face.”

His cock twitches again, valiantly trying to raise to the occasion. Wen Kexing feels it like a gut punch, the heady spike of arousal, and nods eagerly. “Yes, yes, please ,” he says, halfway to begging for something A-Xu has already promised him. 

A-Xu’s gaze turns soft, and he leans in to kiss him again, before shifting. It should be awkward as he moves up Wen Kexing’s body, but he’s graceful in this, too, and so devastatingly hot that Wen Kexing’s mouth waters at the sight. He watches A-Xu’s cock bounce and wants so desperately to have it in his mouth, to feel the weight of it, the slight curve, to taste the salt and sweat. 

“Next time, Lao Wen,” A-Xu says, seeming to read his mind as he settles against his chest. Wen Kexing lifts his hands to grip A-Xu’s thighs and looks up at him from under his lashes. He watches as A-Xu starts to stroke himself, slow at first, and then with more and more urgency. He won’t last much longer. 

Wen Kexing licks his lips. “Come for me, A-Xu,” he murmurs. “Come on my face, I want it, I want it, please, please .”

A-Xu inhales sharply, gaze intensely hungry as he looks down at Wen Kexing. His free hand shifts to Wen Kexing’s mouth, thumb pressing inside, and Wen Kexing opens up willingly, sucking on it, before sticking his tongue out. It’s enough to tip A-Xu over the edge, his thighs tensing beneath Wen Kexing’s hands before he lets out a moan and finishes all over Wen Kexing’s face. 

Wen Kexing catches as much as possible on his tongue, swallowing it down eagerly and then licking his lips as he smirks up at A-Xu. A-Xu looks back at him, gaze heavy-lidded and sated now, before shifting forward to press the tip of softening cock to Wen Kexing’s lips. He opens up for this just as easily, licking and sucking as much as he can reach, until A-Xu becomes over sensitive and pulls away to flop down on the bed beside Wen Kexing. 

He doesn’t say anything, just tucks his face back against Wen Kexing’s neck. Wen Kexing wraps an arm around him, smoothes out the tangled mass of his hair with his fingers as best he can without tugging on the knots. 

They lay like that for some time, just breathing together. Wen Kexing can feel A-Xu’s come drying, sticky and uncomfortable on his cheeks and chin, but he just lets it happen. Getting up to wash his face feels like too much effort, especially when it means leaving behind the warmth of the man curled into his side, even if only briefly. 

“Lao Wen,” A-Xu calls, sometime later, and Wen Kexing opens his eyes to find that he must have dozed off. He blinks up at A-Xu, who he realises has a cloth in his hand, which he uses to start wiping Wen Kexing’s face clean. It’s gentle and so painfully intimate, done with such care that Wen Kexing almost wants to flinch away from it.

The way A-Xu is looking at him is nothing short of terrifying.

“You don’t have to,” he mumbles, but it’s a token protest at best because he knows A-Xu too well to think that he could be persuaded from this particular task. 

A-Xu smiles at him, a softening of his beautiful mouth. “I want to,” he says gently, like maybe Wen Kexing is some skittish animal that he’s worried about frightening off. 

It’s painfully apt, because that is exactly how Wen Kexing feels, heart thud-thud-thudding against the inside of his ribcage like it might be trying to break free. He’s known how he feels about A-Xu for a while now. When there had been no sex involved, it had felt safe, like it didn’t matter. A-Xu continued to pay him for his time, even when Wen Kexing had insisted that he didn’t need to keep doing so.

He hadn’t pushed because he’d remembered A-Xu saying that perhaps he preferred a captive audience. But the thing is, Wen Kexing is only a captive audience insofar as that A-Xu could have him any way he wanted, would just need to ask for it, without it having anything to do with money. But A-Xu had insisted on continuing to pay him, jaw set in stubbornness, and Wen Kexing had carefully tucked his feelings away.

Now, he doesn’t quite know where he stands. For the first time in his life, the idea of being paid for sex makes him feel sick. The thought sends a wave of revulsion through him so strong that he feels sure A-Xu must be able to see it on his face, although he just continues to gently clean Wen Kexing up. 

When he’s done, he presses a soft kiss to the corner of Wen Kexing’s lips, before settling back down with his head tucked under Wen Kexing’s chin again. “Sleep, Lao Wen,” he says, softly, like it’s just that easy. 

“Mm,” Wen Kexing says, thinking that he’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night. How could he possibly sleep, now, after this, knowing how he feels? Not knowing how A-Xu feels. He seems relaxed, content in the way a purring cat might be; a warm, heavy weight against Wen Kexing’s chest. He’s breathing deeply, slowly, and Wen Kexing manages to pinpoint the exact moment that he drops off to sleep. 

He lets himself shift just enough to breathe in the scent of A-Xu’s hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. This, too, feels more intimate than almost anything else that has passed between them, and Wen Kexing feels guilty, almost, as though he’s stolen something from A-Xu by taking it while he’s asleep. 

But then, he thinks that if he voiced that opinion to A-Xu, he’d probably laugh at him, mouth a little cruel, and point out that he’d just had Wen Kexing’s cock in his mouth.

Maybe it is foolish, but he feels entirely foolish about A-Xu, about this whole situation. He feels like his skin is too tight, body too hot, every nerve ending set alight. He feels as though he’d probably simply float away, if A-Xu weren’t holding him down. 

Letting out a rattling breath, Wen Kexing tries to relax, blinks slowly up at the ceiling. He can let himself have this for one night, can’t he, some traitorous voice in the back of his head says. Just one night. 

One night. 

*

Wen Kexing blinks awake and finds himself alone in the bed. This is the part of their routine that Wen Kexing had been dreading, but here it is, just as he’d expected. It’s the middle of the night still, perhaps very early morning. Wen Kexing’s heart crawls up into his throat as he looks around for A-Xu’s clothes and finds that they are missing. 

Of course. He’d known it would be like this. Still, he tastes bile as he gets up. His clothes have been neatly laid out so as not to crease, although it’s a little late for that, probably. Wen Kexing pulls his layers on with numb fingers, pausing to look at the outermost layer, which he remembers distinctly having left outside during their practice session. 

He pulls this on, too, and then spends a few minutes combing the worst of the tangles out of his hair, making himself as presentable as possible, before slipping out of the room. If his heart weren’t fully in charge, he might have noticed the curious lack of a tip on the table, but Wen Kexing is too busy feeling sick to think about it. He doesn’t know, now, why he’d thought A-Xu might stay. He never stays. 

But somehow Wen Kexing had still thought that maybe - 

He’s always been a fool, any number of people could attest to as much.

He scrubs a hand over his face and heads out into the night, pausing when he catches sight of A-Xu standing on the veranda. He’s not wearing the casual clothes he had been earlier, but rather the uniform Wen Kexing thinks belongs to the Window of Heaven, hair tied up in the tight top knot. He’s leaning on the railing casually, but Wen Kexing can see how alert he is underneath that as he talks to somebody. One of his subordinates, Wen Kexing thinks, a pretty boy that he’s seen fairly often in passing. 

Wen Kexing stands and stares for several long moments, frozen to the spot. They’re speaking too softly for him to be able to hear what they’re saying, but he can see the grim line of A-Xu’s mouth as he talks, the way the boy follows his every word with an equally grim kind of determination. 

Part of him wants to interrupt, to make his presence known, but the animal part of him, skittish, frightened, wants to flee. Wen Kexing already knows which is going to win out as he slowly backs into the shadows, before turning to leave.

He gets halfway back to the teahouse before a hand lands on his arm. “Lao Wen,” A-Xu says from behind him. He sounds… Wen Kexing doesn’t know how he sounds. 

He stops and then turns, slowly, to find A-Xu’s dark eyes searching his face. Wen Kexing looks back at him for a long moment, uncharacteristically silent. Eventually, A-Xu says, “You left.”

You left first, Wen Kexing wants to say, but doesn’t. It sounds childish and petulant even inside his head, accusatory in a way that he has no right to be. He has no right to anything, he reminds himself. 

“Should I not have?” he says instead, tilting his head to one side slightly as he looks at A-Xu. It’s almost coquettish, certainly performative enough to make A-Xu’s mouth tighten into the beginnings of a scowl. 

“The room is already paid for, you could have stayed the night.” You usually stay the night, is heavily implied. 

Wen Kexing’s gaze flickers over A-Xu’s shoulder as his subordinate shifts in the shadows. He doesn’t approach, but he’s obviously waiting. “You have to go,” Wen Kexing says as he turns his gaze back to A-Xu’s. 

“Something came up.” Wen Kexing can hear the apology in it. 

“It’s fine,” he says, gives A-Xu a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, hopefully too hidden in the dark of night for him to notice. It’s not the first time this has happened, after all. It should be fine. Wen Kexing tells himself, firmly, that it is. 

“It might be a while before I can return.” This, too, feels like an apology. 

Wen Kexing swallows down every single one of his emotions and keeps his smile firmly in place as he shoos him off, playfully, the way he has done many times before in the past. “Go, go, I wouldn’t want you to be late on my account.” 

He deserves some sort of award for how steady his words are, how believably teasing his tone is.

A-Xu doesn’t immediately leave, studying his face for a long moment. He looks tense, unhappy. But then, he often looks this way when he’s called away to work. He reaches inside his robe for his purse, and Wen Kexing puts out a hand to stop him. 

“Not tonight, A-Xu,” he says, soft and borderline pleading. 

A-Xu looks at him for another long moment before nodding and tucking his purse away again. Wen Kexing feels his shoulders slump with relief, knows that A-Xu watches it happen with his sharp, perceptive gaze. He lingers, uncharacteristically, like he might say something else to Wen Kexing, before finally, finally turning on his heel and melting into the shadows. 

Wen Kexing watches him go, stands in the middle of the street until long after A-Xu has left, before finally dragging himself home.

*

He gets a missive from A-Xu a month and a half later. It comes in the hands of the pretty boy, who introduces himself as Han Ying. The letter is short and to the point: A-Xu has been injured and has a long recovery ahead of him. He wants Wen Kexing to join him. 

Wen Kexing looks up at Han Ying and demands, "How bad is he?" 

It comes out with a bite, worry rising like a tidal wave in Wen Kexing's chest. Han Ying doesn't flinch physically, but Wen Kexing sees the flinch in his eyes; he reads his own concern mirrored back at him. 

"I see," he says, before Han Ying can answer. Then, "What does he want me to go to him for? I can't leave A-Xiang here."

He doesn't expect Han Ying to have an answer to that, but the boy says, delicately, "Your sister?"

Wen Kexing squints at him. "Yes." That is a word for what she is to him, he supposes. It doesn't encompass the fact that she is his whole world, every good thing in his life wrapped up in a person. But it's succinct, at least, and the rest is none of Han Ying's business, besides. 

"He has had a room made up for her," Han Ying says. 

Wen Kexing stares at him for a moment. "A room? At the palace?" 

Han Ying shakes his head. "No, at Four Seasons Manor," he says.

"Four Seasons Manor," Wen Kexing echoes, flatly. He normally has more patience than this, but he's suddenly finding it difficult to be kind. 

He feels blindsided, filled up with worry at the thought of A-Xu being badly injured enough to send for him; confused about being sent for in the first place; completely unable to comprehend why he would have a room made up for A-Xiang, as though that were a given. Of course Wen Kexing would not leave without her, but the fact that A-Xu appears to have anticipated as much feels overwhelming. 

Han Ying looks as though he's working through what to say. Wen Kexing might normally take pity on him, but this time he simply watches. Eventually, Han Ying says, quietly, "He has been rebuilding his sect. Since he met - for several months, now. The manor has been restored to working order. I believe he intends to live in it, from now on."

Wen Kexing has known for some time, now, that Zhou Xu is, in actuality, Zhou Zishu, former Four Seasons Manor sect leader and current leader of the Window of Heaven. He'd introduced himself to A-Xiang as Zhou Zishu even, the first time they’d met. So it isn't exactly a surprise in some ways. But A-Xu had never once mentioned rebuilding his sect; he'd never even indicated that he wanted to. 

But then, it's not as though he owed that information to Wen Kexing, is it? And he's telling him now, in that roundabout way he has of saying anything important. Wen Kexing has yet to figure out if that's nature or nurture, given how equally blunt A-Xu can be. 

"And he had a room made up for A-Xiang?" Wen Kexing asks, just to be certain. 

Han Ying nods. "Specifically," he says. 

Wen Kexing doesn't bother to ask about a room for himself, because they have never once slept apart in all the time that they've spent together. And if, now that A-Xu has also had sex with him, that has somehow changed, Wen Kexing would prefer it to be a nasty but inevitable surprise, to having to know it for a fact in advance. 

"Very well," Wen Kexing says after a moment. "You may as well tell him we'll come."

Han Ying seems almost apologetic about it when he says, "I've been instructed to stay and escort you back. There's a carriage ready to leave tomorrow morning, if you find that agreeable."

Wen Kexing bristles. “That’s presumptuous.”

Han Ying says, immediately, “I apologise, if -”

“No need,” Wen Kexing cuts him off with a wave of his hand, offers up a soothing smile that makes Han Ying’s shoulders relax just a fraction. He won’t take his anxiety out on this kid who is just following orders, who probably did not sign up to the Window of Heaven to be acting as Wen Kexing’s personal escort.

“Have you eaten?” Wen Kexing asks, kindly. 

Han Ying blinks at him in surprise. “No...?” he says, at length. 

“Come on, then,” Wen Kexing says. “You may as well meet A-Xiang. I’ll make dinner.”

Han Ying looks even more wrongfooted by that, especially as Wen Kexing puts a gentle hand on the small of his back to start drawing him down the street. “You don’t need to -” he tries, sounding a little bewildered. Wen Kexing allows himself to look and see a boy who understands violence intimately, and kindness not at all. He’s still so young, only eighteen or nineteen at the most.

“But I want to,” he says, gently teasing in tone. “Besides, this way I can grill you about A-Xu’s injury. I want to know exactly what I’m walking into.”

Han Ying seems to understand this a little better, at least, which is what Wen Kexing had been expecting, and he lets Wen Kexing take him home with him.

*

They arrive at the Four Seasons Manor in the afternoon of the third day of travel. It is, Wen Kexing can admit, easily one of the most beautiful places he has ever seen. It is also, he realises with some surprise as he looks around, exactly the sort of place he can imagine his A-Xu living in. 

Han Ying, ever attentive, helps A-Xiang down from the carriage, and then takes them straight to A-Xu’s bedroom door. Wen Kexing sends him away with her, to show her her room, or otherwise keep her occupied, he doesn’t really care.

His heart is beating too fast in his chest as he stands outside the door, hesitating halfway to opening it. Wen Kexing has never had the luxury of being squeamish, but there’s something different about a person you care about being injured. There’s something worse about it, perhaps, when it is something you have been worried about for a while, now. Wen Kexing has seen other, smaller, injuries on A-Xu since they’ve known one another. It makes him wonder, now, if some of those months between visits had been down to injury. Would A-Xu have told him? He doesn’t imagine he would.

“Are you coming in or not?” comes a familiar, amused, impatient, voice from inside the room, making Wen Kexing startle so badly that he’s glad there’s nobody around to see it. 

He takes a deep breath to steady himself and then heads inside. The room is large, as beautiful as the rest of the manor, and at the centre is A-Xu, propped up in bed, reading. 

“So you do know how to open a door,” he teases, mouth curving up into a soft smile as he looks at where Wen Kexing is momentarily frozen in the doorway. Even like this, a blossom of bruises over pale skin, shadows beneath his eyes, A-Xu is still the most beautiful person Wen Kexing has ever laid eyes on. 

His heart stutters inside his chest and he has to force his feet to propel him forward, clumsily shutting the door behind him. “A-Xu,” he says, softer than he maybe means to, hovering at the edge of the bed. He wants - he wants - 

“Sit down,” A-Xu says, gentling himself for Wen Kexing the way he so often does, reaching out a hand to tug him down onto the bed. Wen Kexing’s knees give out a little as he sits down on the edge of it. 

They look at one another for a long, drawn out moment. Wen Kexing is all but consumed with the desire to reach out and touch, which he might normally have given into, but. But now he isn’t exactly certain if he should. If that’s still allowed. He settles for taking A-Xu’s hand, instead, which seems safe enough.

“If I’d known this was all it takes to make you speechless, I’d have invited you a long time ago,” A-Xu teases, and when Wen Kexing looks up at him, he can see the laughter sparkling in his eyes. Beside the bruises and the slight pallor, he looks perfectly fine. He’s in good spirits, in fact, quite clearly. It should ease the coil of tension inside Wen Kexing’s chest, but somehow it doesn’t. 

“It isn’t funny,” Wen Kexing snaps before he can get hold of himself. A-Xu looks surprised, and Wen Kexing knows that his own expression mirrors that surprise. 

He takes a breath to steady himself as A-Xu shifts his hand beneath Wen Kexing’s, turning it so he can lace their fingers together. It’s almost unbearably intimate. “Lao Wen,” he says, softly. He’s gentling himself for Wen Kexing again, which only makes Wen Kexing feel worse. 

He looks away, jaw clenching and unclenching as he tries to work his way through how he’s feeling. Angry, primarily, that A-Xu has been injured at all. Angry that he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it, that he would never be in a position to do anything to stop it. Angry that he has no right to feel this way about any of it. 

He can feel A-Xu’s searching gaze on his face, but he doesn’t look up until A-Xu reaches out with his other hand to cup Wen Kexing’s cheek, trying to guide him into meeting it. “Lao Wen, look at me,” he says, gently. Wen Kexing hates just how gentle he’s being. 

He hates that he immediately turns his head to meet A-Xu’s gaze, which is as soft as his voice, as soft as the hand against his cheek. Wen Kexing’s heart thud-thud-thuds inside his chest, inside his ears. 

“I’m fine,” A-Xu tells him, firmly, with absolutely no room for argument. He stares Wen Kexing down, waits until he sees the recognition of his words in his eyes, and then says, deliberately, “I just wanted to see you.”

His heart all but stutters to a stop, at this, and Wen Kexing looks at him for a long moment, before gently turning his face away again to dislodge A-Xu’s hand. A-Xu lets him, still watching him with those dark, intense eyes.

Wen Kexing forces himself to take a breath. “I need you to know -” he starts, looking up at A-Xu again and then faltering. How is he supposed to explain how he feels? How hard he's fallen, for a man who was supposed to be a client and nothing more.

A-Xu smiles at him, a soft curl of his beautiful mouth. “I do know,” he says, softly, before leaning the rest of the way in to kiss Wen Kexing. If he means it to be a distraction, it works admirably, as every thought leaks right out of Wen Kexing’s ears, a soft noise of surprise escaping from his throat as he surges forward to kiss A-Xu back. 

He probably isn’t as gentle as he should be, but A-Xu doesn’t seem to mind, winding his fingers into Wen Kexing’s hair to hold him in place as he kisses him breathless. When they part, finally, finally, long moments later, both of their chests rising a little more heavily than normal, A-Xu’s pupils are blown wide, mouth kiss-swollen and obscene.

“I have a proposition for you,” A-Xu says, carefully, like he’s well aware of Wen Kexing’s skittish animal heart. 

“A proposition?” 

A-Xu nods. “I would like you to live here.”

Perhaps he is still kiss-addled, because Wen Kexing finds his head completely empty when he tries to come up with any kind of response to that. He should be feeling something more than surprise, he’s pretty certain, but he can’t quite seem to grasp what A-Xu is asking, even. 

“Here?” he echoes. “Why?”

A-Xu looks a little amused. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Wen Kexing thinks about it and finds that it isn’t. They’re so far out from where the Window of Heaven operates, and where Wen Kexing lives now is much, much closer, and he still doesn’t see A-Xu all that often. He thinks if he were here, he’d probably never get to see him at all. “You’d never be able to be here,” he points out. 

“I’m leaving the Window of Heaven,” A-Xu says, which brings Wen Kexing’s poor brain to another screeching halt. 

“What?” he asks, hearing distantly how shocked he sounds.

“I’m leaving the Window of Heaven,” A-Xu repeats, patiently. He still looks a little amused, but fondly so. “I’ve had to move up my plans due to this injury, but everything is already in motion.”

Wen Kexing opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. No sound comes out, and he thinks normally A-Xu would tease him for looking like a gasping fish, but instead he simply patiently waits him out. “But you - I thought you couldn’t,” he says, at last. His thoughts feel jumbled and sluggish, like they simply cannot untangle what A-Xu is telling him. 

A-Xu looks at him, a smile hovering at the corners of his beautiful mouth. “I found a reason to find a way,” he says.

Oh. Oh. Wen Kexing hears his sharp inhale as he makes it, before choking on it a little. A-Xu isn’t kind enough not to laugh at him about it. “Lao Wen,” he says, a little chiding. “That isn’t so surprising, is it?”

Wen Kexing privately thinks it’s incredibly surprising, but he’s not foolish enough to say as much. “What are you going to do?” he asks, instead. 

“Lead my sect as I always should have,” A-Xu answers, easily. “Live here, with you.”

The surge of want that rushes through Wen Kexing is almost overwhelming. That A-Xu can just say it, as though it’s that easy to want and to have. That A-Xu wants this, is asking him this. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” says his mouth before his brain can intervene. 

“Yes, Lao Wen,” A-Xu says, amused. “I’m asking you to move in with me.” A beat. “A-Xiang too, of course.”

“Of course,” Wen Kexing echoes, nodding. A-Xu already knows that he wouldn’t go anywhere without his A-Xiang. He’s already had a room made up for her. Specifically , he recalls Han Ying saying. 

Wen Kexing smiles, then, wide and bright and wild, and leans forward to kiss A-Xu. They kiss again for a long while, A-Xu gentling it into something soft and slow, before eventually pushing Wen Kexing away. 

“Is that a yes?” he teases. 

“Of course it’s a yes,” Wen Kexing snaps, without heat.

A-Xu smiles, the kind that softens his face into true breathtaking beauty. The kind that reaches his eyes and makes Wen Kexing’s traitorous heart stop inside his chest. “Good,” he says, firmly, before slipping back into teasing. “Have someone show you to the kitchens, then, it’s almost lunch time.”

“Are you implying that I’m to cook for you?” Wen Kexing demands, admirably outraged in the face of how soft and affectionate that smile makes him feel. The teasing, too, given that that is how they operate.

“Why else would you be here?” A-Xu asks, expression mischievous. Wen Kexing wants to kiss him again, very much, but that would be rewarding him for bad behaviour, so he doesn’t. 

“So you’ve lured me here under false pretenses so that you can make me your servant,” he grouses. 

A-Xu widens his eyes in mock innocence and then says, “It would certainly seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

Wen Kexing doesn’t laugh, either, although he wants to, because that would also be rewarding bad behaviour. “Very well, Lord Zhou, since it would seem that you’re so hard up that you cannot even hire a cook,” he says as he climbs to his feet.

“Why would I, Lao Wen, when I have you to cook for me?

It sounds like so much more than simply teasing; it sounds like trust and hope and affection. Something warm floods Wen Kexing’s chest, almost stealing his breath. “I’ll spit in your food,” he threatens, without heat. 

A-Xu has the nerve to laugh at him, which is exactly what he’d wanted. “I’ll take my chances,” he says. 

Wen Kexing allows himself to lean down and fuss with the covers, and A-Xu is kind enough not to call attention to it. Instead he says, softly, “Lao Wen.”

Wen Kexing looks up at him under his lashes. “I want to,” he says, equally softly, and A-Xu relaxes into a smile and a nod, leaving him to find his own way to the kitchen. 

Later, there will be his mother’s healing soup and a conversation about whether or not Wen Kexing will allow himself to become a kept man. 

Later, A-Xu will slip the word ‘wife’ into a sentence, and Wen Kexing will glare at him and tell him that that is not a proper proposal. A-Xu will laugh at him, and refer to him as his wife from thereon in. Wen Kexing will play along with it, and A-Xiang will gag and roll her eyes whenever she’s in the vicinity. 

Later, much later, there will be a real proposal, and then a wedding.