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Their breath stills in their chest. Soft electronic beeping fills the space around them, muffled as if the sound has been traveling through several meters of water, and there’s a pinching sensation at their temples. A slow buzz of heat ripples through their body every few moments.
The oxygen cuts back on, filling their lungs once more, and then cuts off, letting their body absorb the air.
It’s an intricate process. It’s all they’ve ever known.
-
Three days ago, they woke in a sensory deprivation tank, blinded and deafened by the darkness surrounding them. The only thing they have is their breath, regulated and slow, the pinch at their temples, and Database.
Database tells them about the world.
Database tells them their name is Sizhui.
Database tells them they are safe.
They listen to Database, because it’s all they have.
-
On the seventh day, Database stops telling them new things. Instead, its voice changes and it begins to speak.
“A-Yuan?”
Yes?
“Oh my god. Hello. A-Yuan, how are you feeling?”
I do not understand.
“Oh. Well, I mean...like, are you in pain? Are you feeling okay? Are you bored in there?”
I am comfortable.
“That’s good! I guess you’re probably wondering why you’re here.”
I don’t know.
The voice pauses. And then, “My name is Wei Wuxian. Do you remember me?”
No.
“Oh.” For a long while, the voice doesn’t respond. Sizhui begins to feel a trace of guilt, but they really don’t remember.
Is something wrong?
“No. I’m fine! I didn’t expect you to remember, honestly. I’m just happy. I’m happy I could bring you back.”
Bring me back?”
Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and begins to explain everything.
-
Sixteen years ago, Wei Wuxian and a man named Lan Wangji were involved in a war. The war was a terrible one, and for years, the opposing sides were locked in a stalemate.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t go into much detail about the circumstances about the war. He skips over a lot, years and years of rising tension, but it’s clear all the same, no matter how little he says.
The two of them, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, rescued a boy from the wreckage. It didn’t take long for them to figure out that he was the last surviving relative of the opponent’s leader, Wen Ruohan, and therefore the last surviving heir to the throne. His name was Wen Yuan.
They raised the boy for four years.
And then the Wens, in one last desperate grasp for victory, shot down the cruiser they were stationed on. It fell from orbit, and few managed to escape.
Lan Wangji did not escape.
Wen Yuan did not escape.
But Wei Wuxian did.
Wei Wuxian searched the rubble as soon as the cruiser hit land, desperately searching for survivors. He found a doctor from Qishan that they’d been harboring after her treason, Wen Qing, in an escape pod with Wei Wuxian’s sister. Other than them, there were no survivors--yet he kept searching.
The next day, he found Wen Yuan’s body, broken and burnt, but miraculously alive. The day after that, he found Lan Wangji’s body. Lan Wangji was long dead, but in his hand was a piece of illegal, highly experimental tech--a core transfer.
Wei Wuxian, with the help of his sister’s wealth and Wen Qing’s medical expertise, managed to keep Wen Yuan alive. They healed his body. They replaced his broken parts. They made him into something else, and named the new child Sizhui, because they weren’t Wen Yuan anymore.
For thirteen years, they raised Sizhui in this tank, protected. Safe.
And now they’re awake.
-
What happened to Lan Wangji?
No response.
-
The next day, the darkness lifts.
The tank opens, cracks open like an egg, and Sizhui steps out.
A man with a messy black bun wearing a black jumpsuit is quick to wrap them in a blanket, chattering quietly about numbers, but Sizhui can barely hear it. Their ears ache, their eyes burn, and their skin prickles with a million invisible needles. It’s all too much. There’s a strange sensation coming from their left leg and their right arm. It takes them a long time to realize it's because those two limbs are made of smooth silver metal.
After several hours of adjustment, Sizhui finally has the sense to look around and take in their surroundings.
They’re in a small room. It’s not the one that had the tank in it--that one was bright and white, this one was dimly lit and comfortable, with a bed in the middle and a woman seated beside it, fiddling with a screen and a tray of tools.
Noticing their movement, she glances up and smiles. “Sizhui.”
Database provides them with a name. “Wen Qing.”
Her smile fades. “Who told you that.”
Sizhui shakes their head. They don’t have an answer.
Her faded smile quickly turns into a dark look, and she drops the screen on the tray resting on the bedside table. “I’ll be right back,” she tells them.
-
They hear arguing outside the door.
-
Wei Wuxian sits down beside the bed nearly two hours later. Wen Qing never returned. “Do you know who you are?” he asks.
“No.” Sizhui sees tiny lights blinking in their vision, and database whispers something about activation, then begins scrolling through idle information.
Wei Wuxian. 35 years old. 185cm. 63kg. Species: Human. Race: Neo-Eurasian; First Wave Martian[see: Early Human Migration ]. Status: Unknown. BPM: Unknown. Net Worth: Unknown. Location: Unknown. Latest News: War Hero Wei Wuxian Still Missing After Fifteen Years[...]
Sizhui blinks it away.
Wei Wuxian shifts in his chair and purses his lips. “It’s a long story. And...I don’t really think I’m ready to explain it all. But you’re going to be living with Wen Qing for a while. I don’t...I can’t have anyone living with me, right now. But she’s got an extra bedroom. Her brother hasn’t been active in, well...we haven’t been able to turn him back on in years. Anyway.” He shakes his head. Sizhui waits patiently. “There’s a lot going on in the world, kid. I don’t expect you to fix it, of course, but...everything’s going pretty badly out there.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. It’s not in a bun anymore. “The King of Luna is threatening Earth. It’s...not good. After the war, the Jins tried to take power there, Luna didn’t want Earthens involved in their business anymore, so Jun Wu…well, there’s a plague. It’s all over the news. Earth isn’t holding up too well.
“We’re safe here; Mars hasn’t had any cases of the plague, yet. It’s pretty...pretty horrific. But. I have some friends. They’re trying to deal with the situation. But you have the rightful claim to the throne, and…” Wei Wuxian huffs out a breath. “Spaces, I shouldn’t be unloading all this shit on you. You just woke up.”
“What do you want me to do?” Sizhui asks, filing all this away in their memory. They’re still trying to process everything, but. They know they have to do something. If they can. Belatedly, they add, “Who am I?”
Wei Wuxian snaps his gaze up and looks at him with fire in his eyes. “I don’t want you to do anything, Sizhui. You deserve a safe, happy life. You should go live with Wen Qing and let everyone else handle this mess.”
“I can’t do that.” Sizhui’s only been awake for a handful of hours, but they know that they can’t sit idly while people are dying; not if they have the capacity to help.
“I know,” Wei Wuxian huffs. “I know,” he repeats, softer this time.
“Who am I?” Sizhui repeats.
Wei Wuxian studies them, his dark eyes unreadable. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“You….” Wei Wuxian reaches forward and grabs his hand, idly inspecting the plated metal of the prosthetic. “I really don’t think you should feel obligated to do anything. You’re a kid . You’re only fifteen. You should be living like a normal kid, not...ugh.” He rubs his other hand over his face. “You’re the true heir to the throne of Luna,” he finally says.
“You think I could take the throne back from this…” Sizhui blinks, and the name of Luna’s king scrolls across his vision. “Jun Wu.”
“No!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, frustrated. “I don’t! I mean, fuck—yes. But I don’t want you to, you have to understand; no one’s going to force you to do anything.”
Database starts providing them with information on the political climate of the Alliance—the loose union between Mars, Luna, and Earth. There's a lot of information, but it spins idly in Sizhui’s mind as they say, “I want to. I want to help. I will do whatever I can.”
Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “How did I know you’d say that,” he laughs gently.
Sizhui and Wei Wuxian sit in silence for a few moments. A low humming rumbles from the walls around them like a quiet lullaby.
“What happened to Lan Wangji?” Sizhui finally asks. Database comes up with nothing, no matter how they ask—the last piece of news about Lan Wangji was a piece about him traveling to Mars for a diplomatic assignment. The other information they can glean is rather sparse—Lan Wangji was Lunar. There are a few photographs, despite this, and it’s clear that he was a beautiful man even without the glamour typical of Lunars. He was also a quite important Lunar, and apparently worked on quite a number of diplomatic missions. He was of noble blood, as well, but his family was a minor noble clan and did not typically attend court.
Otherwise, there is nothing.
“He died,” Wei Wuxian replies stiffly. “And I couldn’t save him.”
--
Wen Qing brings Sizhui a meal a few hours later. Wei Wuxian is long gone; he remained for only a few minutes after Sizhui asked about Lan Wangji.
She sits down beside their bed and pushes the tray into their lap. “Wei Wuxian doesn’t want you to get hurt,” she says, a few minutes after Sizhui begins eating.
Sizhui puts down their chopsticks and sighs. “I want to help.”
“I know.” Wen Qing crosses her arms. “Come home with me. I can’t help you here; Wei Wuxian isn’t going to let you do anything dangerous, but to do this...well, you’ll need to take risks. If you’re positive you want to do this...I can help you.”
Sizhui nods slowly. “Okay.”
--
Forty-seven hours later, Sizhui is sitting in the cockpit of a small ship beside Wen Qing. Wei Wuxian saw them off with great reluctance, but now, they’re flying away, and Sizhui can see the building fading into the distance behind them—a rundown barn in the middle of a field.
“We’re going to Mars, first,” Wen Qing tells them. “We can’t just barge right into Luna. You need physical therapy for your prostheses, and training for all of this. I can teach you how to use your glamour.”
Sizhui glances at her and watches the information scroll across their vision for the umpteenth time: Wen Qing. 37 Years Old. 168cm. 57kg. Species: Human. Race: Lunar. Status: Civilian. BPM: 65. Net Worth: 734872C. Location: Mars. Latest News: Hyperion City’s Best - Stories of Five Medical Heroes[...]
They settle into their seat and nod, staring out ahead of the ship as the blue-grey fades to black and stars speckle the sky. Wen Qing’s fingers dance across the console, and then the ship jolts into sub-light speed.
“We’ll be there in two hours,” Wen Qing says, cutting her gaze over to Sizhui. “You’re sure about this?” she asks.
“Positive,” Sizhui replies. They smile at her assuredly. “I want to help.”
She smiles back, but it’s tinged with sadness. “I know.”