Chapter Text
Zhou Zishu opened his eyes. Colour flooded his vision: eyes that were a dark, dark brown, not black. Dark blue and magenta and pink—and white. He inhaled and a dozen smells presented themselves: the peculiar scent of snow, the cold dustiness of a long-closed cave, clean skin and clean sweat, clothes that still sported a hint of plum blossoms. His internal force, muted for so long flowed through his body like a river instead of the dwindling creek it had been. The pain that had been living in his chest for so long was gone, just gone, and his blood was singing.
He sought out the dark, dark brown eyes, and then realized that the white he’d seen was wildly out of place. Wen Kexing’s hands went limp in his own.
His hair was white. The pink of his skin faded to white as well. The rush of qi that had been passing back and forth between the two of them abruptly cut off, not as if it had run dry but as if its very source had just disappeared.
“No,” Zhou Zishu gasped. “No!” He clambered to his knees and caught the other man before he toppled over. “Lao Wen? What did you do? What the hell did you do?”
“It worked,” Wen Kexing whispered ecstatically.
“Like hell it did! What…what’s wrong?”
“Did my…hair turn…white?” Zhou Zishu nodded. “Ah. I see. Apparently, Combined Six Cultivation Power…can bring someone back from everything but death, but…”
“But?” He searched for a sign of spiritual energy, something that used to almost bleed out of Wen Kexing’s pores, but kept coming up with absolutely nothing.
“But it does take a lot of energy. All of it, apparently.”
For a moment, Zhou Zishu was dumbstruck. Then he burst out, “You knew it would? You knew you’d….I can’t feel anything! It’s all gone, your qi, even your meridians are just…gone! Why? Why did you do this?”
“Because it wouldn’t have worked otherwise,” Wen Kexing whispered. He had the gall to even look smug about it.
Zhou Zishu shook his head. He was trembling and he didn’t even know if it was with rage or loss or pain. “But this isn’t what I wanted. The whole idea was that we both got to live! The both of us!”
“This was the only way.”
“No it wasn’t, you stubborn piece of bastard cock-sucking shit!” Zhou Zishu screamed, fitting in all the swear words he’d learned in the past two years out of court and in the Jianghu into one sentence. “Wasn’t me tearing the nails out FOR YOU enough of an indication that I didn’t want to live without you?”
Wen Kexing nodded serenely. “Yes. That was…a mistake on my side. Thinking that you’d…see through my plot. That you’d stay…with Prince Qi. This whole…situation…is my fault. If not for…for me and my plans of vengeance Da Wu could’ve just…cured you and…”
“Stop talking.”
Wen Kexing frowned. His eyebrows looked very strange. For some reason they hadn’t turned white, and the black stood out stark on his skin. “This is important.”
Zhou Zishu concentrated on his pulse, running havoc beneath his fingertips. “What is important?”
“That I…That you understand that…that this was the only way…for you…to live.”
“I don’t want to live like Ye Baiyi.” There mere thought of ending up like the Ancient one, immortal but lonely and bitter was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.
“Exactly,” Wen Kexing whispered urgently. “Ye Baiyi. A-Xu, if you were gone, there was no one…for me to live for. Ghost Valley’s sealed off. A-Xiang’s gone. There’s only you. So you need to live. You’re the only one I’d live for.”
Zhou Zishu blinked. He realized Wen Kexing wasn’t just babbling. What he was saying, or trying to say was important. “I can heal you.” The realization came in a rush.
“Yes.” His eyes were rolling up. His fingers quivered in Zhou Zishu’s grasp. “There’s needles. I brought them. The book. A-Xu…” The right corner of his mouth quirked up. “…I’m not dead yet.” And with that, his eyes closed, because even when he fainted, Wen Kexing went for the most dramatic performance possible.
“Lao Wen?” Zhou Zishu whispered. The heartbeat beneath his fingers was still there, fluttering and faint. “Lao Wen?” No answer. For a moment, he didn’t dare release Wen Kexing’s wrist, fearing his heart would stop if he stopped feeling its beat, but then he shook himself and hunted down the Ying Yang book, which Wen Kexing had left conveniently easy to find right next to him. He opened it, flicked through it, clacking his tongue impatiently at irrelevant entries on how to cure open bone fractures, bleeding sores, damaged lungs, paralyzed limbs and other useless things. He quickly brushed past a detailed description on how to heal withered meridians caused by destroyed acupoints, not even cursing himself for his blindness that had led him on this suicide mission. His meridians were fine now. Better than fine; with both his own and Wen Kexing’s energy inside of him, he felt as if he could blast away the wall of ice blocking the entrance with a flick of his fingers.
But what he needed was…there. The Combined Six Cultivation Power. It described, with helpful little diagrams, what they had just done and how it had healed his ravaged body. Then, on the next page, with another illustration, this time of the human body, what it had done to Wen Kexing. And on the pages after that, with several incredibly detailed pictures of first a man’s body with all acupoints and meridians mapped out, and then a woman’s, what must be done to undo the damage. Or rather, carve new energy paths to replace the destroyed meridians.
Zhou Zishu let out a long quivering sigh. I thought…I just thought we’d both suffered enough by now.
He took hold of Wen Kexing’s right arm and felt his pulse. It was still beating but noticeably fainter than before. “Alright,” he said, squeezing the man’s cold hand in his warm fingers. “This better be worth it.”
*
During his search for things he needed (a bucket and a bowl and a pot to boil water in, ropes and cloth), all of which was available but for the acupuncture needles, and Wen Kexing had already mentioned bringing them, Zhou Zishu came upon a curious contraption that was exactly what he was looking for, allowing him to forget about ropes. It looked a little like something a sophisticated hunter might use to string up carcasses to bleed them out and a little like a torture chair, but with supple leather restraints covered with the softest silk and smooth wood panels.
They did this before, he thought, and his stomach clenched hopefully. They must have done it so often they decided to design something to make it as easy as possible. It’s been carried out before, and successfully. He carried the frame to the light-flooded spot where they’d sat down, checked Wen Kexing’s pulse, hurriedly but carefully read through the description of treatment again and propped the book open on a stand. The instructions were succinct but clear, with notes in a different handwriting jotted down next to them.
- All following steps should be completed within five hours after reestablishing the Heart meridian.
- Reforge the Heart and Small Intestine meridian pathway. Cross over the chest to ensure the heart serves as the core. Patient should be kneeling with upper body upright. When all needles are placed, send a moderate flow of qi into acupoints on both ring fingers to ignite .
Notes: in case of heart failure, use Revitalizing palm.
- Leaving in the Heart and Small Intestine meridian needles, insert needles along Lung and Large intestine meridians, starting atback of the left hand and ending at right collarbone. When all needles are placed, send a moderate flow of qi into acupoints on both shoulders to ignite.
Notes: if one or both lungs collapse, use a sharp hollow reed to pierce chest cavity and proceed with caution. - Remove Heart and Small Intestine needles but leave Lung and Large intestine needles. Adjust cultivation device. Patient in standing position. Insert needles along Spleen and Stomach meridians. When all needles are placed, send a moderate flow of qi into acupoints on either side of head to ignite.
Notes: May lead patient to experience nausea, internal bleeding and intense stomach pains until qi flow is normal. - Remove all needles but Spleen and Stomach main acupoints needles. Patient’s body lifted up so soles of feet are accessible. Insert needles along Kidney and Bladder meridians starting above collar bones, then feet and ending on back. Use a short, strong qi pulse to ignite.
Notes: blood in urine may continue up to three days. This is an oft-occurring side effect. - Remove Spleen and Stomach needles. Place needles along main acupoints of Liver and Gallbladder meridians only. Ignite by using a gentle flow of qi at the sides.
- Remove all needles. Patient may sit or kneel. Insert needles along Pericardium and Triple Warmer pathways. Ignite pathways with a light transfusion of qi. Remove all needles.
- Keep patient warm and comfortable. Do not transfer qi or use acupuncture as this may disrupt the newly formed pathways. Battle pain with willowbark tea or opiates. Patient will either experience complete organ failure and die or make a full recovery within three days. Once recovered, transfer qi both ways around to stabilize Centerline meridians.
The pictures showed the meridians in great detail, as well as the precise location of the acupoints. The pathways would be reforged by inserting a needle roughly every centimeter and forcing energy along the path they’d drawn.
“I’d better be worth this, Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu muttered, and began to undress him. He feared it was going to be agonizing. He found a case of leather tucked away behind his belt which, upon opening, revealed five ‘pages’ of leather each containing a hundred gold-tipped acupuncture needles, all as thin as cat’s whiskers, the length of a hand and with a red bead decorating the end. How did you know we’d need these?
He took off Wen Kexing’s outer robe, absentmindedly drinking in the vivid marine and red colours of it, folded it and put it aside. Then the middle layer. He got rid of the skirt as well and the zhongyi shirt but left his trousers on for now. He himself hardly felt the cold, but it wasn’t exactly warm in the armory. Then he studied the mechanism of the holding device to see how he could get Wen Kexing’s unconscious form to sit up while still maintaining access to his acupoints, but it worked both simply and ingeniously. He had it figured out quickly, and wasted no time securing Wen Kexing’s back against the narrow pole in the center, using a smooth wooden clasp with a silk strap to keep his head up. A horizontal beam sticking out on either side of the central pole enabled him to place his arms in holders there, so he didn’t need to cover any skin he needed to pierce with needles with constraints. The wound from the fight with Mo Huai Yang stood out pink on his chest, a few centimeters to the right of his left shoulder. Zhou Zishu hoped it wouldn’t interfere with the qi reconstruction procedure.
It felt perverse to prop him up like this, like a doll. Especially because he could hear, in the back of his head, all the depraved commentary Wen Kexing would be voicing if he were awake. Oh Look, A-Xu, this opens perspectives! You’re so agile already; imagine what we could do using this! Such soft straps, you’d have to tie them so tightly to leave any marks, don’t you think?
Shaking his head to clear it, he checked whether Wen Kexing was securely positioned, took a final look at the instructions, lay the book open on the page with the meridian pathway of Heart and Small Intestine guide on it and took out a handful of needles. He stuck most of them between his lips, beads inwards, and began to insert them on the inside of Wen Kexing’s arm, starting halfway his ring finger and working his way inwards to his armpit. The hair there, he noticed, had turned white as well. Ignoring the old Heart meridian, he placed a path of needles from armpit to heart, going just below the swell of Wen Kexing’s ribs as per the illustration. Then he started at his other arm, and finally did the same on the backs of his arms and shoulders. Heart meridian mapped out in needles, he then turned to the Small Intestine drawings and proceeded to insert a needle in all major acupoints of that meridian, and one needle every centimeter along the way. When he was finished, the leather book only had two pages of needles left and Wen Kexing looked like some kind of exotic fighting fish, with red-tipped thorns sticking out of him in quaintly formed ridges. He had barely moved during the entire operation, but then, acupuncture wasn’t supposed to be painful and the needles were very sharp.
It was the next bit that Zhou Zishu dreaded. Reforging meridians.
It could be done.
It had been done; the book and the chair-like cultivation thing were proof.
But Wen Kexing was alive now, and if he went ahead with this, there was no turning back until every single energy pathway was remade, today.
Zhou Zishu cracked his neck and popped his knuckles. Took a deep breath. Then he kneeled down behind the other man and took hold of the hands of his spread arms. “You promised you’d live for me,” he murmured, and sent a steady flow of energy into the gold-tipped path.
Wen Kexing’s body jolted as if struck with lightning, back arching so hard his spine cracked into the center pole and almost toppled the entire frame. He uttered such an inhuman shriek of agony Zhou Zishu almost let go of him. Instead, he gritted his teeth and kept forcing energy through the needles. This was unlike any qi transference he’d ever witnessed. There was nothing to pour it into; he had to literally burn his way in, igniting every single needle tip to gain access. Wen Kexing kept screaming. Zhou Zishu had never heard him scream—not when it came to pain, that was. He’d be voluble enough when he was angry or excited about something, but he suffered more serious injuries in total silence.
Ghost Valley was not a good place to show pain or weakness.
Unconsciousness stripped Wen Kexing of his inhibitions. He kept screaming while Zhou Zishu burned his new meridians, until suddenly the energy didn’t need to be forced anymore but pooled inside of him… and settled. Wen Kexing collapsed, unresponsive, but when Zhou Zishu shifted his grip to his wrist, his heart was beating much more regularly.
It worked. It actually worked. He fed a bit more energy into him and felt it disappear inside like into a huge empty vat—but at least there was something that could take it, now. He stopped the transfusion, walked around the contraption and pushed Wen Kexing’s head back so the straps wouldn’t dig into his throat. He released his arms so they hung down and stabbed a fresh batch of needles into the meridian paths of Lung and Large intestine. This time, the book did seem to follow the original paths without any deviation. Zhou Zishu was no medical expert, but he did know his acupoints and meridians. An assassin’s job was a lot easier if you could knock someone out or stun them with one quick jab at the right spot. The Lung and Large intestine meridians ran along both arms and partly across the shoulders, neck and cheeks and therefore didn’t take as many needles as the new Heart meridian, but he only had a dozen left once they’d all been inserted.
Zhou Zishu took a step back, massaged a crick in his neck and checked whether the silver calligraphy pen with the sharp nub he’d found was tucked away in his belt. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but better safe than sorry. He placed his fingers on the needles sticking out of Wen Kexing’s shoulders and started channeling.
Again, resistance; again, Wen Kexing screamed and threw himself backwards to escape the searing pain in his chest…and abruptly snapped his mouth closed and went silent apart from some barely audible groans deep in his throat. His eyes popped open wide, sightless at first, but then they fell on Zhou Zishu and focused on his face like it was a lifeline. His own face took on the emotionless mask-like expression Zhou Zishu associated with the Master of Ghost Valley, but for once Zhou Zishu didn’t tell him to stop being a scary idiot. Wen Kexing of Ghost Valley was an expert at dealing with pain. If briefly becoming him again made it easier to handle this, he was more than welcome to do so.
Zhou Zishu nodded at him in reassurance. A fierce joy bloomed in his own heart; he hadn’t realized how afraid he’d been it wouldn’t work after all until it was definitely proven otherwise now. Concentrating on his qi transfer, he refrained from speaking until he felt that telltale giving when the paths had been established and his energy was accepted easily, then ended the connection. “Lao Wen? Are you awake? Can you speak?”
Wen Kexing sucked in a deep breath, choked and began to cough. Zhou Zishu’s fingers reached for the pen in his belt, but the coughing eased shortly after. “A-Xu?” he whispered.
Zhou Zishu wished he could hug him. He settled for pressing their foreheads together, making sure not to touch any needles. “I’m here. You’ve been asleep for a third of the procedure, you lazy bastard. How do you feel?”
“A third only?” Wen Kexing mumbled. A tremor passed through his torso. “Why am I…strung up like a deer?”
“Because you were unconscious and this contraption enabled me to position you correctly. It’s a cultivation device.” He winced. “I’m going to have to strip you naked for the next part. I’m sorry.”
Wen Kexing made a valiant attempt at one of his leers, only partly ruined by another convulsive shiver that caused him to stutter. “A-Xu, what makes you think I’d ever have a problem…w-with you stripping me naked?”
“The fact that I’m going to stick you full of needles and blow out your acupoints,” Zhou Zishu replied dryly. “You’ve been doing pretty well so far, but it won’t be pleasant.”
“Well, if you put it that way,” Wen Kexing grumbled. He tensed, Master of Ghost Valley mask sliding into place, then closed his eyes and exhaled with a hissing sound. “A-Xu, you walked around for two years with those…nails ripping you apart every night. This…ritual. Procedure. Cure. Whatever. It shouldn’t last longer than a couple of hours. Maybe days. I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t look fine. He’d always been sallow-skinned, but pouring all of his internal force into Zhou Zishu, ripping it out at the source, and now having it literally burned back into him truly made him look like someone nearly dead.
“Of course you’ll be fine,” Zhou Zishu said irritably. “Just as I was. Which doesn’t mean I didn’t scream into my pillow at night for the first three months until I got used to my nails.”
Wen Kexing coughed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to belittle your…”.
“That’s not the point. All I’m saying is…You don’t have to pretend for me. I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again: If you’re in pain you don’t need to keep up appearances for me.”
“But I’m so very, very good at k—keeping up appearances.”
“Whatever works for you,” Zhou Zishu nodded, dismissing this particular subject. It wasn’t as if he wanted to hear Wen Kexing scream. “Do you think you can get up by yourself or do I have to use this winch?”
“It comes with a winch? How sophisticated.”
“Yes. Let me take out these needles first.” Following the instructions, Zhou Zishu plucked out the needles that ran along his chest and arms and shoulders, leaving the ones he’d placed later in. They left behind a thin trail of pinpricks, mostly bloodless, although small beads of dark red appeared here and there where he must have hit a capillary. He hadn’t thought to bring water to clean the needles, but as they were going back into the same body he hoped that wouldn’t be an issue. He carefully tucked them away between the leather pages of the case.
“Right. Let’s get you standing up.” He used the winch to lift the sideways beams that had kept Wen Kexing’s arms suspended which also repositioned the belts that could be secured around the waist, taking a moment to appreciate how nothing hurt as he turned the little wheel, and let the man use him for support to push himself up with one arm.
“My knees are frozen stiff,” Wen Kexing complained. “I know you love it when I…oww…kneel down in front of you, but…couldn’t you have found me a pillow or something?”
“Must’ve slipped my mind trying to save your life,” Zhou Zishu retorted, effortlessly falling back into their banter. “Can you stand? I think I’m supposed to attach these straps since I don’t need to reach your arms.”
Wen Kexing wobbled like a newborn foal but managed to stay upright with the help of a couple of belts around his upper arms. Zhou Zishu undid the fastening around his throat; he could still lean his head on the neck support. “You good?”
“Great.”
Zhou Zishu pulled his trousers down and took them off. He hadn’t really expected any reaction from Wen Kexing at this point, perhaps another leery comment, but instead, his entire body language changed. He averted his eyes, pale lips compressed, breath coming faster. All of a sudden he looked terribly vulnerable, and not only because he was naked. Wen Kexing had paraded naked through various inn rooms and through pretty much the entirety of Four Seasons Manor when Chengling was off doing chores, and he had never been shy about his body.
“Lao Wen?” He cupped his jaw, made him look at him.
“I don’t care much about being tied up naked,” Wen Kexing muttered. “Brings back memories. Let go, I have to cough.” Turning his head, he coughed into his shoulder. “It’s stupid. It’s fine. It’s you. What are you going to do now? Does the book mention going down on the patient?” He smiled brightly, eyes terrified.
What Zhou Zishu wanted to say was I’m going to untie you and take you to this crappy makeshift bed I’ve put together and hold you like you’ve held me and let you do whatever you want to me, anything to make you turn back into the crazy cocky bastard I’m used to—fuck, you look like a lost child! Stop looking like a child!
What he did say, was “Spleen and Stomach meridians. I hope I have enough needles.”
Wen Kexing regarded the pile of needles with barely concealed dread. “Yeah. I hope so too.”
Zhou Zishu plonked down at his feet and started on the left, quickly working his way up his leg across his shin to the outside of calf. The Spleen meridian ran pretty much parallel to it, on the inside of the leg. By now he had placed so many needles it barely took him a fen to finish his entire leg up to the hip, where the line curved inward along Wen Kexing’s lower abdomen.
“A-Xu missed out on a promising career as a tailor,” Wen Kexing remarked.
“I doubt sewing clothes would’ve been as lucrative as killing large numbers of people for the wrong reasons,” Zhou Zishu shot back, lisping because of the nails stuck between his lips. He traced the line he had to follow with his finger, making Wen Kexing’s belly muscles quiver. He looked up, studiously avoiding his crotch, and smirked. “You’re ticklish?”
“I’m cold.” He shivered. “Yes. Don’t take advantage of it.”
“I won’t.” He suppressed the urge to do it again and, after collecting another handful of needles, started punching them in again, this time up in a straight line until he reached the swell of his ribcage. Then the line curved to the side over his nipple, which he did not pierce, and directly crossed the wound below his collarbone. Zhou Zishu also skipped the wound, inserting the needles as closely to one another as possible below and above the scar. Then the line ran up Wen Kexing’s neck and ended right above his hairline. Zhou Zishu picked up a new handful of needles and kneeled down to start on the right side of his body.
“This is all incredibly boring,” Wen Kexing said, with another cough. He was shaking a little. “Not to mention uncomfortable. Is it going to take much longer?”
“It is if you keep interrupting me.”
“You’d’ve been a crappy assassin if you couldn’t multitask. I’m in pain, indulge me.”
“I’m about halfway through once this is finished.” Pin, pin, pin went the needles, regular as clockwork. “How did you know you’d need these acupuncture needles, anyway?”
Wen Kexing winced as he hit a nerve. “Ye Baiyi told me. So I nicked them from Da Wu.”
“Was he also the one who told you to not tell me you’d totally ruin your meridians when we did the Combined Six Cultivation Power ritual?”
“Mm-mm. And gave me all of his strength, so I’d survive it.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “The Old Monster redeemed himself, as far as I’m concerned.”
Zhou Zishu grunted. “I’m still not amused he didn’t tell me your death was a ruse.”
“Ow! Don’t take it out on me! You weren’t even supposed to be there, A-Xu! You were supposed to lounge around and stuff yourself at Prince Qi’s Mansion and heal! Not go and help me not get murdered by that bunch of nitwits. And then you were so quick to avenge me the Old Monster didn’t even have time to stop you before you had your nails out—and you didn’t even tell me! If I hadn’t figured out what you were up to…this…this cute little suicide mission of yours, you’d have—”
“I went on my cute little suicide mission because you were in a coma after Mo Huaiyang skewered you like a pig and I was two days from dying anyway!”
“Then you should’ve told me before the wedding!” Wen Kexing screamed. “I’d have postponed it! I’d have come here with you and done this and A-Xiang might still…” His voice trailed off. “A-Xiang might still be alive. She and that stupid boy. And Aunt Luo and Qian Qiao…” He fell silent.
Zhou Zishu kept quiet too. He inserted needle after needle, Stomach meridian and Spleen meridian, until the pattern was finished. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “About A-Xiang and Cao Weining. I didn’t know the others very well.”
“Not your fault anyway,” Wen Kexing muttered. He freed one of his hands and awkwardly, because his upper arm was tied to the cross beam, wiped his eyes. His mouth quirked up in a sad little smile. “There’s really no one else to blame but me.” He cleared his throat. “So, this is all very fitting. Go on, hit me.”
“I’m not doing this to punish you!” Zhou Zishu said exasperatedly. “I’m doing this so I can keep you with me. Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. You were the one to set this all up!”
“I know,” Wen Kexing said, which somehow made it even worse. Not knowing what else to say, Zhou Zishu placed his fingers next to the needles on the sides of his head and sent in a steady flow of qi.
“Aa-aahhhhh…” Wen Kexing gasped, unconsciously pulling away but halted by the cultivation device. His face went entirely blank, as if it truly were a senseless mask.
“Almost there…” Zhou Zishu assured him. He could actually see the new pathways ignite if he looked closely, in the way of a red flush that spread around the trail of needles in the man’s flesh, down his neck, down his chest and belly, down his legs. Wen Kexing was shuddering with pain, no longer standing but hanging from the restraints around his upper arms. “Nearly there…there!” His spiritual energy rushed inside, travelling easily along the new meridians. He stopped, and gathered Wen Kexing against him, mindful of the needles.
“Are you alright?”
Wen Kexing blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. “Ow,” he moaned, finally. “That…was really…unpleasant.”
“This was probably the worst.” He hoped. Next were the bladder and kidney meridians, and the first ran along his entire body from head to feet. “Let me take the needles out.” Holding onto him with one arm, he plucked most of the needles out, referring to the Yin Yang book to see which ones he should leave in. “Are you alright? Wait.” Leaving him to the embrace of the frame, he ran to the snow-blocked door and scraped off a few handfuls of snow. “I don’t know if I should let you drink anything, but this might help.” Wen Kexing grazed the snow from his hand like a horse. He swallowed thirstily.
“How about wine?”
“Yes, that seems like an excellent idea. Actually, I found this pot in the brewery section which might just contain the very last bit of Dadong Yellow Spring wine ever brewed.”
Wen Kexing actually perked up a little. “Really?”
“Yes. You can’t have any.”
“Why not?”
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes. “Because, and I can’t believe you keep forgetting about this, you blew all your meridians to bits and I haven’t reactivated the ones that regulate your kidneys yet.”
“Can I have some…after you’ve fixed my kidneys?”
At times, Zhou Zishu reflected, it was hard to see who was the greater alcoholic, him or Wen Kexing. “Maybe not straight away. But yes.”
Wen Kexing drew himself up straight. He didn’t entirely succeed because he was shaking so much but it was a valiant effort. “Well go on and fix them, then.”
“Great. I’ll need to put two needles into the soles of your feet, so we’ll have to hoist you up a bit more.” Wen Kexing closed his eyes in defeat. “Do you need to rest for a little while?” Zhou Zishu asked, abandoning their make-belief game of I’m not about to torture you and you’re not about to collapse in a heap of blubbering misery. “According to the book this whole procedure shouldn’t last for longer than five hours and I’ve been working pretty fast, so you probably have…”
“No,” Wen Kexing gritted out. “Just get on with it. I’ll tell you if I need a break. Do I…do I need to be tied up?”
Zhou Zishu consulted the drawings. “I need access to your entire back, including the backs of your legs. And the kidney meridian runs from the bottom of your feet to the inside of your ankles up to here, and then from your stomach to your chest.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Lao Wen. There’s no other way to keep you suspended.”
“A simple ‘no’ would’ve sufficed,” Wen Kexing muttered. He swallowed. “Can I have some more snow?”
His meekness was disquieting. “Of course,” Zhou Zishu said, and went to get another handful. Immediately after that he lifted Wen Kexing until he hung from the frame with only the tips of his toes touching the ground. “I’ll make this as quick as possible,” he promised, not looking at his face, and started at his collar bones.
When he stabbed the needles into the soles of his feet, pretty much in the center for kidneys and on the inside of the arch for the bladder, Wen Kexing hissed. He had begun to react to the individual pinpricks in sensitive places like the back of his knee and the inside of his thighs. The fact that he was cold, together with the painful bursts of internal energy as his new meridians began to slowly function again, caused him to shiver convulsively from time to time. Zhou Zishu tried to ignore his discomfort as much as possible, but it slowed him down, which was very frustrating.
“Damn it, Lao Wen, stop clenching your ass; I’m bending my needles on your butt.”
Wen Kexing barked out a laugh. His buttocks relaxed, enabling Zhou Zishu to continue on, and he rewarded him with a light caress. The man really did have a nice ass, small and round and muscular. He’d never really had the opportunity to appreciate it. Now is not the time. He took a fresh batch of needles and continued up his back.
Wen Kexing squirmed. At first, Zhou Zishu thought it was because he’d hit a nerve, but two needles later, he whispered, “Stop. A-Xu, please stop.”
“Can you hold on for just a little longer,” he replied around the needles in his mouth. “I’m almost finished, just a few more…”
“No. I’m g—I’m going to be sick.” He swallowed. Swallowed again. Sweat popped out over his entire body.
Well, he hadn’t had any heart palpitations and his lungs hadn’t caused any problems either; it stood to reason he’d suffer from one side effect, Zhou Zishu thought. Nausea was horrible, but it was better than having your heart give out spontaneously. He dropped his needles onto their case and darted out from behind the frame.
During his search for equipment to torture the man he loved back to life, Zhou Zishu had come upon a beautiful large Celadon bowl with the thickness of paper, hidden away on a shelf that contained the secrets of pottery glazing. It had the most delicate light jade colour and was embossed with hand-painted orioles. It might have been used as a flower bowl, or perhaps for eating purposes, or even have been purely ornamental. It was unimaginably beautiful, the kind of vessel emperors would gift to their daughters on their marriage day.
Zhou Zishu now took this priceless bowl, shoved it below Wen Kexing’s chin and looked away as he vomited, only to whip his head around as he noticed something bright red from the corner of his eye and watch blood gushing out of the other man’s mouth. “Lao-Wen…!”
Wen Kexing retched again and spat out more blood. He made the most awful whimpering sound of panic. “I think something’s…broken. I think you’ve…fuck!...” The next heave was so violent it almost tore him in half. There was less blood, but it obviously hurt like hell; he tried to pull his knees up to his chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain, but as he was stuck full of needles and partially tied to the cultivation devise all he succeeded in was causing it to wobble dangerously, so Zhou Zishu had to quickly put down the bowl and steady him.
“Lao Wen. Lao Wen. Calm down.” Inside, he was just as close to panic.
“It hurts!” Wen Kexing gasped. His pupils were blown with shock.
“I know. It’ll pass soon, it’s all part of the process.” Part of the process? He’s puking fully oxygen-saturated blood. I have no idea what I’m doing! I have no idea what I have to do! Zhou Zishu hadn’t led a sect since the age of sixteen without learning how to keep his emotions under control. He kept his voice calm and his face gentle. “The book mentions nausea and stomach aches. It’s all…”
Wen Kexing shook his head, the needles on his head rattling softly, like a bird ruffling its feathers. “It hurts!” he wheezed, as if Zhou Zishu were being willingly obtuse. “It’s not…This isn’t…I can’t…I….” He gagged and threw up again. “Make it stop,” he pleaded, when he could speak again. Tears and strings of blood dripped down his chin. “Take me down. Take them out.”
Zhou Zishu clenched his jaws and shook his head. He gripped the other man’s face, heedful of the needles fanning out from his head and used his thumbs to wipe the dampness from his cheeks. “No. Listen to me. Listen to me! Lao Wen, listen. You have to bear with this. You have to. I can stop for a while, but I can’t just break it off and start again later. I have to complete the entire ritual or you will die. And if you die, I’ll commit suicide, and everything will have been for nothing.”
Wen Kexing said nothing. His breath was coming in rasping gusts that smelled of copper.
“Do you want to give up?” Zhou Zishu asked. It was an honest question. If Wen Kexing couldn’t handle it, if the man who reacted with total indifference to debilitating injuries started mewling like a kitten because he could not take this kind of punishment, Zhou Zishu would honour his request. He just really, desperately hoped Wen Kexing could find the strength to keep going.
He used the lower part of his sleeve to wipe away the bloody mess on his chin.
Wen Kexing shook his head. His mouth trembled, one corner quirking up in the faintest of smiles. Not the empty Ghost Chief smile, just a feeble attempt at levity. “You’re alive so I… It’s just…new, this.” he whispered, and closed his eyes shut to brave another wave of sickness that rocked his body. “Not being able to…ignore it. I’ve been stabbed and slashed and cut and poisoned and punched and I’m not even talking…about…what it felt like to break through the water of the Lethe, but this…this…” His voice changed, growing stronger and more musical as he declaimed:
‘If a great hall should teeter, wanting rafters and beams,
Ten thousand oxen would turn their heads towards its mountain's weight.
Its potential unrevealed, the world's already amazed,
Nothing would stop it being felled, but what man could handle it?
Its bitter heart cannot avoid the entry of the ants,
Its fragrant leaves have always given shelter to the phoenix.
Always it's the greatest timber that's hardest to put to use.”
In spite of everything, Zhou Zishu couldn’t suppress a smile and he would have either fondly swatted the other man’s head or kissed him if he hadn’t thirty needles stuck in his scalp and a mouth full of blood. Wen Kexing would resort to poetry whenever the situation called for it. Well, if he could find solace in poems about towering cypresses, it was all the better. “What is it?” he asked, when Wen Kexing frowned. He knew he should get back to riddling the man with needles, but he couldn’t make himself turn away.
“I skipped a line. I can’t remember what it is. Something…about scholars.” His chagrin was interrupted by another spasm, and again he tried to hunch his back against the pain. But he didn’t vomit again, either because the nausea was easing or because there was nothing left in his stomach. “Just hurry up, alright,” he panted, when he could talk again. “Hurry up.”
“Do you want some more snow?”
He shuddered. “No. Go on and finish it.”
Zhou Zishu did. Wen Kexing passed out when he ignited his meridian pathways.
Zhou Zishu checked his vitals, doggedly removed the needles he had to take out and started on the Liver and Gall bladder meridian by placing a needle in each major acupoint. By now his thumb and index fingers were sore and blistered form handling the needles; he’d jabbed in and pulled out about 2000 by now. Every ten needles or so he had to shake his hand to release a cramp in his wrist; luckily the book didn’t require him to follow the entire pathway this time so he only needed about 150 needles to activate all main acupoints.
“Here goes,” he muttered to himself, pushing in a gentle flow of qi.
Wen Kexing jolted awake and kicked and twisted in his restraints, whining deep in his throat as the energy burned open his energy pathways in leaps from acupoint to acupoint. During the process, an itchy-looking rash spread out over his entire body, but it disappeared once his energy settled. He moaned as Zhou Zishu plucked out the needles and then lowered the cultivation chair’s central pole and cross beams so first his feet touched the ground, and then his knees.
“For fuck’s sake…” he panted. “A-Xu…Aren’t you done yet?”
Zhou Zishu ruffled his white hair in relief. “Awake again? Good. One more. How do you feel?”
“Like my spleen has taken my liver captive and is laying…siege to my stomach to make it surrender to my failing…kidneys and oh god I have to throw up again.”
Zhou Zishu quietly held the emptied Celadon bowl beneath his head. More blood, but darker now, no longer bright red, and diluted with water. “But is it getting any better?” he asked. “Or worse?”
Wen Kexing scoffed, shivering. “Ask me later.” He grimaced. “My back is killing me. Any chance of my…lying down for a bit? And getting to wear some clothes?”
Zhou Zishu consulted the drawings of the final meridian pathways he had to puncture. The pericardium and triple warmer meridians only ran along the arms and the back of the head. He’d be able to do most of his mapping with the other man lying down. “I think we should be able to manage.” First, he hoisted him up again so he could put his trousers, socks and boots on. Then he winched him back down and undid all of the straps that kept him upright and lowered his upper body so it rested on Zhou Zishu’s crossed legs.
Wen Kexing immediately curled up into a tight ball, burrowing into the warmth of Zhou Zishu’s lap, and Zhou Zishu wrapped himself around him until he stopped shaking.
“I really need to get started,” Zhou Zishu whispered. He hated himself for having to put him through even more misery. “Just one more set. I can do this arm with you lying down if you turn a little…yes, like that.” He stroked his hair, once more marveling at the strangeness of its colour. As Wen Kexing didn’t seem inclined to talk, Zhou Zishu gathered his needles and began to draw the last two paths. This position was hell on his own back, but the prospect of a night without the nails ripping him apart made it easier to bear. As was Wen Kexing’s cold body, through which little shocks would run as if he were being kicked. When he had to start on his right side, Zhou Zishu draped him over the cultivation device again. The blister on his thumb had torn, and although he was brimming with qi, it didn’t get the chance to heal. The last fifty needles stood in smudges of blood that contrasted mesmerizingly with Wen Kexing’s white skin.
After he’d jabbed in the final needle, Zhou Zishu stuck his thumb in his mouth and rolled his head from left to right to ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. “That’s the last one.” Wen Kexing just blinked, stupid with pain and exhaustion. “Here we go.”
One last time he burned his way in. One last time Wen Kexing quaked and shuddered, hiding his pain behind his Master of Ghost Valley mask. And then it was over.
Zhou Zishu took out all the needles and tucked them into the case, intending to clean them later. He removed the belt around Wen Kexing’s waist that kept him tied to the cultivation device and caught him as he collapsed. Picking up his clothes, he painstakingly guided his shaking arms into shirt, middle layer and outer robe, picked him up and carried him to the improvised bed he’d thrown together before he’d started the medical procedure. It wasn’t pretty, just a pile of burlap sacks, a few blankets, something that had been used to keep dust from books and a few animal pelts, but it was relatively soft and warm.
Wen Kexing was smiling a little. “A-Xu made us a marital bed,” he whispered.
“Why yes, let’s consummate it right now,” Zhou Zishu shot back. He placed his fingers on Wen Kexing’s wrist. His pulse was steady and strong, even though his internal energy ran rampant and he were obviously feeling like absolute crap. “Go to sleep, A-Xing.”
Wen Kexing’s eyes, which were drifting closed, fluttered open again. “A-Xing?”
“Doesn’t quite have the same ring as ‘Lao Wen’, does it?” he considered, and stroked his wrist with his thumb. The little wound had already closed.
Wen Kexing smiled, the quietly happy smile that lit up his face and made people want to do anything to make him keep doing it, including killing and maiming. “It’s nice, though. Maybe for special occasions.” He closed his eyes. “A-Xu. A-Xu. A-Xu.”
“Go to sleep, you idiot.”
“Dadong Yellow Spring wine,” Wen Kexing murmured.
“Go. To. Sleep.”
To be continued