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1.
Zhao Yunlan was the first person to care for Shen Wei. Oh, there must have been someone before that at some point, to dress him in clean clothes and feed him milk, but even in his earliest memories it’s him caring for his didi, scavenging for food and water and shelter, and no one looking after them.
Every bit of kindness shown to them by the people in the temporary refugee camps had seemed like a trade, even if it hadn’t been one. He was useful. He could make the crops grow bigger, he could make the fires burn hotter, he could find water and cleanse it of impurities and mend clothes and hide them from their enemies.
And maybe there had been some people who had been kind to him out of the goodness of their hearts- certainly there had been kind people. He’d seen them take in abandoned children and seen them feed starving travelers, had seen people share their last blanket with strangers. But Shen Wei was useful, wasn’t someone anyone wanted to offend. So it was hard not to see everything he was given as just payment. Wages not gifts.
But Zhao Yunlan- Kunlun then- had saved Shen Wei’s life even before he’d met him and had asked only for a smile in return. Kunlun had sat down beside him and stolen his mask and laughed and teased and asked him about himself and well, perhaps that was all transactional too- Shen Wei wasn’t naive, young as he was, but it never felt like that. There was never any sense of obligation with Kunlun, only joy in his company, only the sense that he wanted to be close to him.
And when he touched Shen Wei finally, finally, he touched him like he, the strongest warrior in the army, the Heipaoshi of legendary powers, was precious and beloved.
Shen Wei had lived most of his life among soldiers and had heard (and seen and ugh smelled) the quick rutting between them. Most often they treated the act like they treated a meal of tasteless porridge- something to be devoured quickly and then moved on from.
But Kunlun touched him like every touch, every kiss, every brush of their skin, was something to be savored, appreciated. He treated Shen Wei like he was a feast.
He had expected it to happen far sooner, given the way Kunlun had looked at him, his winking innuendos, the easy way he had touched him, an arm slung over his shoulder, thighs carelessly pressed together when they sat down for a meal.
Shen Wei knew he was desirable- he hadn’t always worn a mask. Didn’t always wear a mask, when he was with his own troops and they slept rough and washed themselves in ponds and streams.
He would take off the mask to clean his face and new additions to the troop would stare. “You’re so young,” they would say, or “you’re so beautiful,” and then they would blush and look away and apologize, and the other members of the troop would tease them for speaking so freely to Heipaoshi.
Sometimes someone would be bold enough to proposition him- once someone had even slipped into his bedroll in the middle of the night (Shen Wei had felt bad about freezing him, but honestly).
But Shen Wei hadn’t wanted that, that quick and desperate thing, didn’t want it with someone who was a little afraid of them, as all of them were. Because they were friendly with him, but he was still their leader, still a being of terrifying powers, still someone who wore a mask and was always alone.
Kunlun looked and teased and when an influx of soldiers arrived and there hadn’t been enough for for them all he’d volunteered to share his tent with Shen Wei, and it was small enough that their bedrolls were pressed together and their blankets shared and he thought maybe Kunlun would finally roll over to him and press their lips together or slide one callused hand up his thigh, but instead he grinned and whispered ‘goodnight’ and wrapped his bedding around him and went to sleep.
Shen Wei turned on his side and watched Kunlun sleeping until the morning.
In the morning he watched Kunlun struggle with his hair and then stepped in to help, deftly combing it and braiding it while Kunlun dozed, his back slumped against Shen Wei’s legs, one hand resting lightly on Shen Wei's ankle it like belonged there.
It was Shen Wei who snapped and made the first move, when he had found a hive of wild bees and had taken a bit of the honeycomb for the troop to share, and Kunlun had leaned over and swiped a bit of honey off of Shen Wei’s chin and without thinking Shen Wei had grabbed his wrist and licked the honey off his finger tip, the way he’d licked on Kunlun’s lollipops before he’d run out, and Kunlun had stared at him with eyes blown wide and the rest of the troop had whispered and whistled and Shen Wei hadn’t care at all; he’d stood and dragged Kunlun back to their tent and turned to him and found he didn’t know what to do or say.
But Kunlun knew how to bend forward and brush their lips together. Kunlun tasted like honey and the pheasants they’d hunted and cooked over the fire. Kunlun knew how to kiss his way down Shen Wei’s neck and lick under his ear, how to undress him like unwrapping a gift and to whisper in his ear “Xiao Wei, ah, Xiao Wei, beautiful, perfect, precious, darling, Baobei, Xingan, my own one.”
In this as in all things, Kunlun treated him with tender care. With love.
It left Shen Wei dizzy, how much he cared for him. Kunlun would shoot a rabbit and bring it to the fire before their camp, to cook just for the two of them. He would trade the fur for a ribbon to braid into Shen Wei’s hair. He would run up to Shen Wei when he came back from scouting alone, throw himself into his arms and pepper him with kisses, shameless even though everyone in the camp could see.
“You’re so cute together,” the younger people would say, from where they sat carefully sewing and fletching arrows. “Could you try to be quieter?” their nearest neighbors would complain, causing Shen Wei to turn red and imbue the tent walls with his power until they were sound proofed.
“When will there be a wedding?” the old aunties asked, spooning out scoops of porridge into rough-hewn bowls, and he was so startled he nearly dropped the two he was holding, for him and Kunlun.
A wedding. Of course- that’s what people do when they feel like this. Or, usually, actually, well before. But there was the war and nothing was as it should have been. In the home he barely remembered and would never be able to find his way back to, there would have been rituals, engagement presents, family gatherings. There was a sacred tree the couple would kneel in front of all night long. When the sky began to brighten they’d exchange their final gifts, the finest heirlooms of their families and say the ritual words.
Words that had been lost- even Shen Wei had forgotten the language they were spoken in.
Grief poured through him suddenly as he walked back across the camp to where Kunlun was sitting sleepily and washing his face and hands, his robe gaping indecently as it always did until Shen Wei wrangled him and put it on him properly.
“Xiao Wei,” Kunlun said, taking the porridge away from him and setting it aside, then taking his hands and pulling him down before him. “Baobei, what’s wrong?”
Shen Wei shook his head, unable to explain it and Kunlun just wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly, in sight of the whole camp.
“Kunlun,” Shen Wei said eventually, pulling away, looking up at him. “We’re in the middle of a war.”
Kunlun laughed as he always did. “I’ve noticed,” he said.
“I do not wish to be separated from you,” Shen Wei said.
Kunlun sobered up suddenly. “Xiao Wei,” he said. He reached out and smoothed the strand of hair that fell in Shen Wei’s face. “We’ll be parted sooner or later. I’m so sorry, Baobei, but it must be.”
“We’ll find each other again,” Shen Wei said.
“Yes, I promise we will,” Kunlun said.
“I will find you,” Shen Wei said. “I will always look for you.”
Kunlun leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “Baobei,” he said. “I know you will.”
“We’re in the middle of a war,” Shen Wei said again. “But will you, ah, Kunlun, will you swear to me?”
“What are you asking, Baobei?” Kunlun asked, his voice rough.
Shen Wei swallowed and looked up at him. “Marry me,” he asked. “So we’ll… we’ll always know…”
“Yes,” Kunlun said, putting his hand on Shen Wei’s cheek. “Of course. Of course. Always.”
2.
Zhou Yunlan saw the wedding robes for the first time when he and Da Qing cased Shen Wei’s new apartment, glancing at them as they snuck past, focusing on finding clues to unravel the mystery that was Shen Wei- deeply, incredibly suspicious but also deeply, obviously good.
(And not just because Zhou Yunlan wanted him in every way you could want a person. Partially, maybe. But not just.)
The second time he saw them, he stopped to inspect them. He was still riding the adrenaline high of having saved Shen Wei from that pair of thugs, but even with most of his senses caught up in Shen Wei, something about the framed hanfu caught his eye.
He stopped and turned to look at them more carefully. It was obvious they were robes, even though they had been folded to show the embroidery on the back, neatly tucked into archival shadow box frames. For a moment he didn't understand the significance that there were pair of them, that they were embroidered with a phoenix and a dragon, that they were made of deep red silk. Most of the weddings he went to those days were Western-themed, following the recent trend; black suits and white dresses, flour cake loaded with too-sweet frosting, gold rings.
“Ah,” he said. “Antique wedding hanfu? And a matched pair? I didn’t know Professor Shen was such a romantic.”
Shen Wei looked back at him steadily, clearly embarrassed.
“Did they belong to your family?” Zhou Yunlan asked. Shen Wei has never mentioned his family before, only to say that he has none.
Shen Wei hesitated. “Yes,” he said, finally. Zhao Yunlan recognized the tone. Not quite a truth and not quite a lie.
“Ah,” Zhou Yunlan said, still studying the embroidery. “This one here,” he said. “The phoenix is on the bride’s robes, is that right?” he looked up over at Shen Wei and grinned.
“No,” Shen Wei said, his voice seeming to get stuck on the word. “No, they were both for men.”
“Both men?” Zhao Yunlan asked, his eyebrows raising. “How modern.”
“It wasn’t,” Shen Wei said. “It was… it was a long time ago.”
The first time Zhao Yunlan saw Shen Wei he knew he was going to marry him. It wasn’t a conscious decision on his part. To be honest, he’d never thought about marrying anyone before. Every boyfriend or girlfriend he’d had he’d considered a temporary thing even if- especially if- they didn’t. Unlike most of his friends he didn’t have any family to harass him about his single state- his mother was dead and his father didn’t seem to care. So why would he even think about all the fuss and trouble a wedding- a marriage- would bring?
But when Shen Wei had looked up at that window and met Zhao Yunlan’s eyes, even for that split second, he was a goner.
He was really no better than a middle school girl drawing hearts and her crush’s name in her notebook. He tried to keep himself from talking about the man too much, though it was obvious he had failed on that front when Da Qing interrupted him and asked him if he was going ever to talk about anything else.
“Shen Wei, Shen Wei, Shen Wei,” Hong-jie muttered the next day. “Are there other people in the world?”
People often thought Zhao Yunlan reckless, terrible at restraint, never asking how he could have gotten to the position he held if that was true, much less how his career could have been so successful. Sadly, the best example of his restraint was always going to go unknown by all of his naysayers- that he did not fall to his knees and propose marriage to Shen Wei every time he saw him.
The problem was made worse because the man was so suspicious, his mild meek exterior so clearly a mask it was laughable. He was so interesting, so intriguing. Zhao Yunlan wanted to pry him open like an oyster, split apart the false layers of his armor until he finally revealed the pearl Zhao Yunlan was certain lay at the heart of him.
Or something. He wasn’t good at metaphors. The point was that it wasn’t just lust and a pretty face. It was something so much deeper it terrified him- but not enough to drive him away.
Instead he sat on his hands and waited. Shen Wei could not hide himself forever.
Or, well, he didn’t sit on his hands, exactly. He kept finding himself looking up real estate. Somewhere near the university and the promised new locations of the SID office. A traditional courtyard house if possible- Shen Wei seemed like someone who liked tradition. Somewhere with a garden and a proper kitchen.
A home for him and Shen Wei (and Da Qing, obviously). Shen Wei who was currently only an extremely suspicious acquaintance. Shen Wei whom he had daydreams about being married to (they’d take pictures in those red hanfu that hung on Shen Wei’s wall, but also maybe in matching suits. Zhao Yunlan would wear a suit for Shen Wei. Shen Wei would see him in it and give him that look that killed Zhao Yunlan, the one that made him look, just for that moment, like he was open and honest and desperately needed Zhao Yunlan.)
Shen Wei showed up at crime scenes. Shen Wei made cryptic comments about not leaving the city. Zhao Yunlan toured houses and browsed wedding magazines when he was at the store buying more lollipops and cup noodles.
Shen Wei found Zhao Yunlan in pain and brought him home, cleaned his whole apartment and made him congee. Zhao Yunlan rejected a house because it didn’t have windows that caught the early-morning sun. He wanted Shen Wei to be lit up all golden, sleep-rumbled, cooking Zhao Yunlan breakfast with that little smile on his face.
Shen Wei turned up in the mountains and Zhao Yunlan got to lie on his shoulder, soaking in his scent, thinking about how this was how their bed would smell.
Shen Wei somehow ended up covered in youchu blood and Zhao Yunlan discovered that the only person he’d rather marry than Shen Wei was a Shen Wei who was also Heipaoshi. (Especially since it meant Zhao Yunlan wouldn’t have to be arresting him any time soon). If only he would fucking admit it. That hurt rather more than it should have, considering they didn’t have an actual relationship.
The evening when Shen Wei finally admitted his secret superhero identity, Zhao Yunlan inspected the wedding hanfu again. He supposed it would be rude to ask Shen Wei to take them out of the archival frames to see if they would fit. And then his mind stuttered. Heipaoshi was ten thousand years old. It was entirely possible…
“Heilaoge,” Zhao Yunlan said, the words making their way out of his mouth before he had fully considered them. “Was one of these yours?”
Shen Wei looked away in a manner which Zhao Yunlan knew meant ‘yes, but I am not ready to admit it.’
“Oh,” Zhao Yunlan said. “I guess you lost your husband then?”
“A long time ago,” Shen Wei said.
Zhao Yunlan couldn’t help himself from resting his hand gently on Shen Wei’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That must be hard.”
Shen Wei ducked his head, and then smiled, one of those brilliant smiles he gave away far too seldom. “It’s okay, now,” he said, and met Zhao Yunlan’s eyes and Zhao Yunlan couldn’t help himself from surging forward.
Shen Wei was the most intense person Zhao Yunlan had ever met, so it was no surprise that he was intense in bed. He touched (and licked and bit and sucked) Zhao Yunlan like he wanted to know him inside and out, like he wanted to own him, which was okay with Zhao Yunlan, who had made an offer on a courtyard house with a large, modern kitchen and a study with built-in shelves. Shen Wei touched Zhao Yunlan like he was the most precious thing he’d ever touched, kissed him like he wanted to consume him, gasped and arched when Zhao Yunlan whispered ‘Xiao-Wei, Baobei, Xingan, my darling, my treasure, my own one.”
Shen Wei, blushing, mild-mannered professor/ most powerful being in the world Shen Wei, who looked away and stuttered when Zhao Yunlan’s innuendos got a little out of hand, took Zhao Yunlan apart with a stern efficiency and the obsessive attention of a serial killer, like he knew Zhao Yunlan better than anyone had ever known him and loved him more completely.
It was a validating experience, especially considering that the house should be ready to move into in three or four months' time, depending on if Zhao Yunlan thought they should renovate the bathroom or not and if Da Qing really needed a fish pond.
Sometimes, in the weeks that followed, Zhao Yunlan stopped and considered the wedding hanfu. The news that Shen Wei had lost a previous husband meant that they won’t be using them in their ceremony, obviously. (Though it did, thankfully, suggest that Shen Wei may be open to the idea of having a husband. Zhao Yunlan hadn’t gotten around to broaching the topic of marriage yet, nor to mentioning the deed to the new house, safely tucked away in his bank vault.)
Despite his new relationship with Zhao Yunlan (which he was very clearly in no way half-hearted about), Shen Wei hadn’t taken them down. Was it tacky, to have reminders of your old marriage hanging on the wall when you had a very enthusiastic new relationship? Or was it perhaps, romantic? The idea that if he died, Shen Wei may be moved to memorialize him in some way. Perhaps some decorative art involving lollipop wrappers?
Shen Wen caught him examining them, and ducked his head and looked away, a move which Zhao Yunlan now knew meant that he was hiding something he was embarrassed about. Perhaps he had had an even kinkier sex life with his previous husband, if that was possible.
And then, quite suddenly, Zhao Yunlan found himself in the past and Shen Wei was so beautiful and so young, smiling at him hopefully and licking honey off of his finger and oh.
Shen Wei fumbling and him guiding him through sex (he was a fast learner). Shen Wei showing up in tears and then asking him to marry him. Shen Wei turning their plain cloth into beautiful red silk. The fittings and the planning and the embroidery.
Zhao Yunlan being sucked up into that wormhole regretting that the hanfu had gone unworn.
And oh, Shen Wei is there, older and more worn, and Zhao Yunlan can’t help folding him into his arms, stroking his short hair, saying over and over “I’m here, Xiao-Wei, Baobei, I’m here.”