westwhere | i will not ask you where you came from

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i will not ask you where you came from

WHO: Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu
WHEN: Shortly after the TDM
WHERE: Ephes ( a tavern )
WHAT: Just two awful men reuniting for the love affair of the century.
WARNINGS: No, unless a mass murderer being absolutely pathetic is something to warn for. We're retconning their tdm meeting with permission, however!

The tavern is already full and noisy by the time Wen Kexing arrives, brow furrowed and a bundle of papers in his arms. He slips in easy enough, ducking around patrons to make his way to the bar, gaining the servers attention just by rapping his knuckles against the wood of the counter. A smile, and his bundle is taken away, promises that they will be signed and returned given. A cup of wine placed in front of him that he knocks back with a grimace, his constant headache looming behind his eyes. The server, a broad shouldered man who knows Wen Kexing, tells him he's just missed someone buying a round, and he gives a wry smile, tossing down his coin just as easily. Another cup, and he tilts his head to listen to a group of girls gossiping about the handsome man in the corner, pulling his fan from his sleeve so he can wave it lazily in front of his face.

He's tired, too irritable to make conversation, too busy to leave. He just needs the papers signed by the man in charge and then he can go back to his rooms and drink himself into oblivion, that's all. It shouldn't take long. But still he leans on one elbow to scan the room, idle and bored. It takes him a full sweep before his mind catches up with him and that attention snaps to that very same corner, the handsome brooding man he'd just heard about. They don't do him justice, he thinks, sudden and hysterical. He almost opens his mouth to correct the group of girls when they chitter about the prospect of walking over, but instead he's snapping his fan shut and moving, feet clumsy and his tongue suddenly dry.

The robes are new, the robes are new but he'd recognise him anywhere.

"Ah-Xu."

That lovely face snaps up to look at him, Wen Kexing having to steady himself by placing a hand on the table in front of him. He's shaking a little, he can feel it all the way up to his shoulder. There is a pin in his hair that matches the one in Wen Kexing's own and he thinks wildly that it suits him, that it's unfair that it suits him, when he can't remember placing it there.

"Ah-Xu, we can't keep meeting like this."

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He is well and truly drunk. The wine here is nothing like the wine he can get at home, but after the cart and the fights and the whole running for their lives situation earlier, he was certainly not going to turn down a round or two (or three) when someone is offering to buy them for him.

Zhou Zishu is paying far less attention to his surroundings than perhaps he should. In theory, he should be doing it even unconsciously, but the effects of the Nails have taken their toll on him, and his senses are nothing at all like what they once were.

That voice, though. That voice and that cadence and the Ah-Xu that no one calls him--

It comes through loud and clear, and his head snaps up, eyes widening. "Lao Wen," he breathes, disbelieving, half-rising to his feet as he steadies himself with a hand on the sticky table. The bamboo embroidered across Wen Kexing's robes seem to sway in a non-existent wind, and Zhou Zishu's brow furrows. That wasn't-- He should be in red. "You should be wearing red," he says, and then frowns when he hears himself say it.

Oh, he is very drunk.

"Should I?"

He startled by the statement, nerves flipping over. He'd worn some this week, sick to his stomach and haunted by ghosts, but Zhou Zishu shouldn't know about those, and what red he wears back home he keeps well hidden, allowing only the slightest hint of a calling back to the Valley he belongs to. Anxiety fizzles and then settles, a hand reaching out to steady the other man who is far more drunk than Wen Kexing has seen him in a while. He's real under his palm though, less warm than he'd like, but so so solid.

Wen Kexing laughs, overcome with emotion, a wetness to his eyes that he has to blink away.

"Tch, Zhou Zishu, how dare you! You keep me waiting for months and then instead of tracking me down you get drunk with this rabble? I have half a mind to pull you out of here by the ear."

Even as he speaks, his hungry gaze travels across Zhou Zishu's face, taking him in like a man starved.

"Tell me it's really you and I might have mercy."

There's something not quite right about what Wen Kexing is saying, but he can't get his wine-soaked mind to wrap properly around it. Months. Months?Zhou Zishu, ah, Zhou Zishu. This is shameful. Even if Lao Wen hadn't shown up, he should know better than to get quite this drunk when he doesn't yet know what's going on.

Wen Kexing's hand is warm and solid, though, and Zhou Zishu leans shamelessly into it.

"You're the one I should have prove himself. How do I know you're not a hallucination?" He's sulky about it, almost pouting as he reaches for his goblet--still half full. The number of empty ones littering the table is testament to how much he's been drinking, though.

He's quicker than Zhou Zishu, reaches for the goblet first and lifts it out of the way, downing the wine in one neat swallow, eyes narrowed a little meanly as he takes him in. For all Wen Kexing's expression is disapproving, his heart is skipping ahead of itself, fond delight and anxious affection at war with each other. He's almost certain that the man before him is his Zhou Zishu. He has to, being so willful.

"You deserve that."

He thinks he needs more than the one glass if he's honest, but for now he's looking down at the other man, expression thoughtful. He needs something only the two of them know.

"I knocked you into the lake, you'd told me you couldn't swim. Your face is prettier like this, even if you can't focus all that way."

"Huh." While the eldritch creatures he'd run into did seem to have an uncanny knowledge of things it couldn't possibly know, the person standing in front of him doesn't seem to be intent on trying to hurt him. In fact, he seems to be just as rude and nagging and flirtatious as Zhou Zishu's own Lao Wen. "I suppose you might be real," he allows, and then tips his head slightly, examining him through an unfocused, wine-soaked gaze.

"I was a little surprised you didn't take advantage, then." That's also something he's never said aloud. "Such a gentleman."

Though... Zhou Zishu looks down at his empty cup and scowls. "Even if you're a thieving prick. I was drinking that, Lao Wen."

"I was too befuddled by your beauty to remember myself. Don't worry, I won't make that same mistake again."

The leering tone is natural by now, Wen Kexing leaning into his flirtation as easily as he breathes. Zhou Zishu must truly be drunk to let that thought slip though - that, or he isn't Zhou Zishu, but he thinks he would know, wouldn't he? A startled laugh follows the insult anyway, grin sparking to life as he leans over the other man, into the space with just half a table between them.

"You're very drunk." Giddy. He wants to kiss his stupid, scowling face. That isn't a new phenomenon, but it is stronger. Absence and a fonder heart, maybe. "I know there's something to be said for acclimatising with the locals, Ah-Xu, but this is a bit much."

Ridiculous man. And if it sounds rather fond, even in the privacy of his own mind... Well, he knows what he signed up for.

"Just a little bit, maybe," he counters, even though he knows Lao Wen is correct. "The wine here is--different." How, he couldn't exactly say. Not with his senses as dulled as they are, when he can't taste or smell it, but he can see that it's not the pale or colorless spirits that he's used to. Can tell that it's affecting him differently than wine should, too.

He looks up, a smirk tugging at his lips. "If you've really been here so long, Philanthropist Wen, why haven't you made more of an effort to fit in?"

"Mm. I'm sure it's nothing to do with the quantity of it either."

He sees those littered cups, there's nothing wrong with his eyesight.

"Who says I don't fit in?"

As if on cue the bartender calls out a cheerful Master Wen. With some effort he tears his gaze away from Zhou Zishu to the front of the room where his paperwork is waiting. If he was irritated by the workload before it doubles now, it's a distraction he doesn't need. Still, he waves a hand in response, gaze snapping back to Zhou Zishu. His chest feels tight, feelings too big. It's a good thing there are other people around, that there's a table between them, that Zhou Zishu is drunk, because he's not sure what he'd do otherwise. Shake him, maybe, or cry, cling to his robes like a man drowning in the ocean certainly.

"Can you stand, or should I carry you out of here like a sack of vegetables?"

“You're wearing robes." So is he, but he's been around for a day. Wen Kexing, it seems, has been around much longer. "That's not much for fitting in."

He gets to his feet, anyway, wobbling lightly. "I am perfectly capapble of walking. If I had a place to go to."

Though now that he's found Lao Wen, he doesn't plan on letting him out of his sight. Zhou Zishu is still smarting from being lied to, after all.

"Have you seen what passes for fashion here?"

He has some robes that clearly have an Ephes twist to them, but it's been almost three months and Wen Kexing has had little interest in changing his style to fit in. Besides, this is the third place he's been to, he'd be wasting coin he doesn't have if he tried each place. He watches Zhou Zishu rise, his hand hovering between them both like he might reach out and steady him. It's only some kind of anxiety that has him pause, unsure of the role he usually plays.

So many people have implied they're something more than what they have been, he doesn't know if he's being foolish to hope for it.

"You're coming with me, what, you think just because I find you as drunk as the day we met that I wouldn't still share my roof? Tch. Be good, and maybe I'll let you stave off the encroaching hangover with some actually good wine. They don't serve that here."

The bartender, overhearing, mutters a well if you'd sell it to us, but Wen Kexing merely smiles, plucking up his bundle of papers with one wary eye on Zhou Zishu. "Let's go, so I can yell at you properly."

"You're going to yell at me?" That isn't going to go terribly well for anyone involved. Still, the prospect of proper wine--and Wen Kexing, of course. The main draw is always, always going to be Wen Kexing--is enough to make him slide out from the table. Having Wen Kexing at his side feels like something slotting properly into place again, something that he hadn't quite realized was off for the past few hours.

It was like those terrible, terrible days when he thought Lao Wen had died. When he thought he'd seen his body, had burned his body.

He's fine, though. Warm beneath the hand Zhou Zishu wrapped around Wen Kexing's wrist without realizing it.

"I'm going to think really hard about it, that's for sure."

He stills a little at the touch at his wrist, the sidelong glance sent Zhou Zishu's way curious and a little concerned. He clucks his tongue, and then shoves the papers into his robes in favour of taking Zhou Zishu's arm more firmly. It's easier to tug him out into the street that way, or that's what he tells himself, better to keep him close so he doesn't get too lost in unfamiliar streets.

"I'm staying not too far from here, so you won't be out in the cold too long at least."

He's still sick, and now they have to factor in that Ye Baiyi's aid might come a little too late. That realisation has his stomach twisting, the worry burning in the back of his throat. Maybe it has his steps a little quicker, his grip a little tighter. "Ah-Xu, when did you arrive? It can't have been long, surely?"

Zhou Zishu lets Wen Kexing lead the way. The other man knows where he's going, at least, which is far better than Zhou Zishu picking a random direction and continuing on until the urge to turn strikes him. He is far too drunk to take to the rooftops. (No, not really. He doesn't think he can be too drunk for that, though admittedly qinggong does tend to go better when one is properly sober.)

"A few shichen ago, perhaps." Vague, but that's about as close to an approximation as he has. He has no idea how long he was on that cart, and has spent the past some time in a bit of a wine-soaked haze. Time could be passing much faster or much more slowly than he thinks he does.

Wu Xi would be so angry if he knew how much Zhou Zishu had been drinking, considering those holes in his chest.

Ah.

Lao Wen doesn't know about those. That's going to be a bit difficult.

"I'm going to ask you a question that you might think sounds strange but I promise, I have my reasons. Have I been missing for you? Say, almost three months?"

He peers at him, sidelong, carefully assessing even as he pulls Zhou Zishu across the street away from a busy open tavern where cheers can be heard. Best to keep them both focused, he thinks, or at least, best to get them both away from polite civilisation. Wen Kexing knows he's a firmly wound instrument seconds away from fraying or snapping. And Zhou Zishu might be the same, though it's difficult to tell with him right now.

He offers a laugh, as if to soften some of the blow of his strange question, "Aiya, maybe if I had you'd have been relieved, mm? Some peace."

"If you think," he says flatly, not sounding at all drunk, "that you could be missing for three months without my finding you, then you are either severely underestimating my abilities or overestimating those who would take you."

He levels a look over. "I saw you before I went to bed last night." Zhou Zishu, generally speaking, has always slept earlier than Wen Kexing so that he could get some rest before the Nails acted up. He kept up that habit, even after--

After.

"Okay."

He pauses, in the mouth of an empty alley, turning to look at Zhou Zishu so that he can hold his gaze firmly. Wen Kexing looks troubled, but a little more determined, as though whatever problems he's about to bring them both will be fine now that they're together. He thinks they will be - he hopes.

"Okay, that makes sense. Well, unfortunately for the both of us, Ah-Xu, I've been here for three months. Almost. It sounds like we're from different points too, which is frustrating but matches up with what people have told me. This place, it doesn't work how we think it's supposed to work. It can pluck people out of their own lives without anyone else knowing. From what I can tell the impact on home is negligible. If you saw me last night then I haven't actually left. Or I have, and I've forgotten?"

He pauses then, face screwing up, a curse under his breath.

"Ah, I don't know. But it's been a long time."

As much as what Wen Kexing says sounds absolutley ridiculous, Zhou Zishu's protests stick in his throat. His eyes go unerringly to the jade stick tucked into Wen Kexing's hair, and he knows it's the same one that Wen Kexing has slid into Zhou Zishu's own. That is evidence more damning than anything else, that Wen Kexing is telling the truth, odd as it may be.

"Three months. What's the last thing you remember, then?" If they're from different points in time, he's willing to bet that he's from further along that Wen Kexing is. "And should we really be having this conversation here?"

"No, you're right. Come on then, I'm staying nearby anyway."

It makes sense for him to be close to the heart of the entertainment district, with how much his role depends on the fair passage of women and wine. So he takes Zhou Zishu's arm again, steering him carefully down the alley and towards a row of quieter, crowded buildings. He's quiet as he leads him up the stone stairs to a room at the end of a hall, quiet still as he unlocks a door, guiding him inside. There's a moment where Wen Kexing sweeps his gaze across the empty space as though wary, but that passes, and he pauses only to light a candle or two.

"It's not much, but we shouldn't really be bothered here."

And he's tidied up since his breakdown, which helps. "Ah, there's wine."

The adjoining room is mostly empty, but he checks the chains on the hand's box with a rough pull before he's closing that door behind him, carrying the bottle on his way out. When he looks at Zhou Zishu again though, he pauses, as if once again suddenly arrested by him. His mouth pulls up a little, in a sweet smile, eyes wide in the flickering light. Then he remembers himself, holding the bottle out.

"Here."

The walls have ears; Zhou Zishu knows this better than most. He looks around as Wen Kexing leads him down the alley, through the building and past rows of closed doors. There's a familiarity to this space that Wen Kexing has, and Zhou Zishu isn't sure he likes it. It's not the same casual arrogance that settled across Wen Kexing's shoulders when they stepped foot into Ghost Valley, but something a little more wary. This place is his, but he isn't entirely sure of his welcome in it.

He follows when Wen Kexing moves into the adjoining room, though he stays in the doorway to watch, and his eyebrow quirks as Wen Kexing yanks at the chains of a box, making a reflexive mental note to check it out later. Without hiding what he was doing--Lao Wen knows what kind of person he is--and steps back into the main room when Wen Kexing moves to do so.

Wine, though.

Zhou Zishu reaches out, past the wine, and lets his fingertips trail over the full length of Wen Kexing's hand to take the bottle with a flourish even he can admit is fully unnecessary.

It's so undeniably a Zhou Zishu move that Wen Kexing is seized by the sudden urge to knock the wine from his hand and kiss him then and there. Instead he keeps himself very still, eyes bright, and heaves a dramatic, ridiculous sigh. "If you keep flirting with me, Zhou Zishu, then I might get ideas."

He already has ideas, if he's honest. He knows the other man knows that too. But there are other things he should focus on and so he's removing his bundle of paper from his sleeve, dropping it unceremoniously on a nearby desk so he can shrug out of his outer layer.

"Make yourself comfortable, Ah-Xu. You might prefer to be, while we talk."

There is a chair, a bed, he's curious where Zhou Zishu might settle. If he'll stick to what Wen Kexing remembers, that careful closeness the other man had been nurturing from the moment his identity was revealed. He hadn't quite realised how much he'd missed that until it was gone, and now he finds he's half afraid they'll be back to square one again.

He watches as Wen Kexing drops the stack of papers onto the desk, he's going to go through those later too, and then strips off his outer layer. It makes him look softer, more wearied, and Zhou Zishu's heart aches for him. "Are you going to stay way over there?" he asks, throwing himself down onto the bed with a disdainful sniff and leaving plenty of room beside him.

The wine is sniffed at--habit, since he can't actually smell it--and Zhou Zishu takes a healthy swig. "Stop treating me like I'm delicate, Lao Wen. I'll beat you for it."

He's like a kite pulled along on a string, taking the space beside Zhou Zishu on the bed. Before, when he was simply trying to wind the other man up, he wouldn't have hesitated, but now? Well, it means something to him now. He still offers up a grin, a waggling of his eyebrows, he's not dead, but there's certainly something softer about his gaze.

"I've missed you." Said with a laugh, but the sincerity rings true. He shifts, so he can face him, tucking a leg underneath himself and smoothing out the folds of his robes, an anxiety in the plucking of his fingers that he then forces still.

"All right, so you asked me what I remember last. Hero Shen was with us, he'd just found out about my --." A pause, a twisting of his features, "My parents. I fell sick, I think. I don't know. I remember being angry, and then - then I woke up here?"

It's a blur, and he hates it, hates that even now if he tries to remember his head starts to hurt. "I'm not surprised, if you're from further along." A glance, to the ornament in Zhou Zishu's hair, "Lan Xichen told me that could happen. He said I wouldn't be missed, that if I could return it would be to the exact same point."

He'd been sick with worry then, terrified that the man before him would die in his absense. It had been a blessing, even if part of him had still doubted.

"Lan Xichen," he repeats. "A friend?"

He focuses on that, first. Everything else... Zishu reels a bit from the realization. He knows exactly what Wen Kexing is talking about, but that's-- That's so long ago. Before they sent Gu Xiang off with her little rabbit boy, before going to the Manor and the confrontation with Senior Ye. Before Han Ying and Jin Wang, and Lao Wen storming in with the forces of Ghost Valley at his back to kneel at Zhou Zishu's feet and declare himself the second disciple of Four Seasons Sect.

Before the act when Zishu thought he watched his own disciple kill his zhiji. Before Zishu burning the body he thought was Wen Kexing's to prevent it from being desecrated. Before Zhao Jing's deception was revealed and they retreated to Ghost Valley for the wedding Lao Wen is so excited for.

Zhou Zishu takes a deep breath, and another long drink.

He wishes he could taste it.

"Mm. A good one."

He knows it's a little funny, that Wen Kexing has made friends. He finds it funny, anyway. It's certainly been a surprise that he'd somehow managed it, though he suspects that's more to do with Lan Xichen than himself. He'd been aiming for allies, and had been seen through quite quickly.

"He and his brother both, though Wangji is ... well. We disagree, more often than not, though he still tends to be useful."

He didn't leave Wen Kexing to the ghost of the Valley Master, and so now Wen Kexing owes him. That's as close as they'll get to friendship, he thinks. But he suspects that Zhou Zishu's asking as a way to give himself time to process though, and so Wen Kexing watches him closely, keen dark eyes flitting over his face. He's so lovely to look at, even guarded.

"When I first arrived I was told we've been here before. You and I both. You don't remember, do you?"

His memory is already a fragmented thing, he can't trust it. But Zhou Zishu's on the other hand? At least if they're on the same page he can start to feel better about it.

He's glad Wen Kexing has a friend. Someone to help him remember who he is and who he is trying to be, without Gu Xiang or Zhou Zishu at his side.

"I've never been here before," he says instead, firm and certain. "Whoever told you that was wrong."

Zishu's senses may be failing, but not his memory, as whip-sharp as it's always been. He knows he's never seen this place.

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