Chapter Text
Dark and light existed at once.
A soft breeze stirring his hair, the whisper of distant waves and the closer caw of crows, the warmth of sunlight upon his skin—all these things told Jiaoqiu that the window in his room had been opened. He could tell from the distance of outside voices that his room must be in the upper story of the Alchemy Commission. No doubt, it had a lovely view of the fiery orange tree centered in the heart of the bustling streets.
But he could not see the tree, and it was very likely he would never see it again. The bandages around his eyes were not for wounds but to help balance out the disarray of light and shadow that contorted in his vision. He suspected oppressive darkness might be better than this constant flickering tease of seeing something, but really nothing.
Jiaoqiu drew in a slow, gentle breath, then exhaled just as carefully. Any kind of exertion, even that of his mind, hurt. He was beyond amazed he was alive, and he was grateful. Grateful that Moze had found him, grateful that Bailu and Lingsha had given it their all to save him.
But there was a little whisper that made his ear flicker, a little voice suggesting it would have been easier if he’d simply died. He couldn’t think about it straight on, but the agony of what he thought would be his final moments had been overwhelming. Overwhelming to the point he’d stopped processing it at all and had just faded into a state of delirium and abstract existence. He’d lost far too much blood, the poison and the Lupatoxin eating away at his nerves and flesh. And then he’d slipped into a golden, hazy slumber. And it had been over. All over. His duty fulfilled.
It had been peaceful. It no longer hurt.
The memory of that still lingered in his mind.
But the pain had returned, and it was here to stay. He knew, no matter how sweetly the nurses spoke of his recovery, that he’d never be the same. He was already familiar with chronic pain. That tumble he’d taken saving FeiXiao from the Lux Arrow had left permanent pain in his back, never mind the way the light had seared his taste. The effects of all that would be doubled now and expanded upon. He didn’t need to hear it from the doctors, he knew that anybody surviving Tumbledust—not to mention the mauling of a wolf—would never be the same.
Was it worth it? His death had been worth everything to save Feixiao. But was this return to life going to be worth all the trouble?
What would he even be able to do for her anymore? He was useless as any sort of surgeon. He could hope to cook, but he’d bled and bruise far too easily if he made a mistake. He could listen to reports and councils, but could she really count on him as an advisor if he couldn’t see the full picture?
Maybe it was time to retire for good. Go back to Rainsoar Lake. He wouldn’t be able to see it. He wouldn’t be able to taste the harvest. But he would hear the wind whistling in the bamboo and the gurgle of tiny frogs. Maybe he could just sleep, sleep, and drift away….
Cold claws touched his shoulder.
Jiaoqiu choked on a scream, wrenching backwards into his pillows, the cords of his IV tangling in his panic.
“Me! It’s me!”
Moze.
Only Moze never sounded that worried.
The voice was so pathetic and ashamed that Jiaoqiu had trouble believing it was Moze. He lifted a trembling hand to the bandages around his eyes, tugging them away as if that would help him see the figure that was apparently standing somewhere at his side.
Jiaoqiu couldn’t find a response, struggling instead to draw in proper air through his haggard breaths and the inflamed pain coursing through his wounds.
“I thought you might want some water,” Moze went on, that same guilty tone heavy in his words. “I’d been standing by the window, so I just assumed you knew I was there.”
Because Jiaoqiu always knew exactly where the shadow guard was, even when the assassin was doing his best to hide. The fact the man had been standing right there in plain sight, and Jiaoqiu hadn’t even sensed it reminded him just how much his ears wouldn’t be able to compensate for everything. Moze was quiet and attempted to sterilize himself every day, as impossible as that was for a living being. He was not an easy one to hear or smell.
“I think—” Jiaoqiu said at last, voice shaking from both the panic and the effort. “I think we might have to develop a new tell to let me know you’re around.”
“Okay,” Moze said, barely audible.
“And maybe use the hand without the metal glove.”
“Okay.”
It was not like him to be embarrassed. Jiaoqiu had seen how the years of abuse under the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus had oppressed the young man into the shadows he claimed. It had taken Feixiao and Jiaoqiu a long time to draw him out of his shell. When he spoke, he tended towards mild irritation and petty pride. He was a very pragmatic person and did not question his decisions once they’d been made. But the shame was palatable now.
Jiaoqiu took a few more steadying breaths, trying to remember what he last remembered of Moze. Somewhere in his recent consciousness, he’d asked after his friend’s well-being, and he was pretty sure they’d even brought him to visit. But before that, back with the wolves—
“They hurt you. They hurt you, I remember that clearly. I could see the blood as I was dragged away. What are you even doing in here, shouldn’t you be resting?”
This time he could sense Moze’s presence, he could sense it relax in the face of the doctor’s familiar scolding.
“It was nothing,” Moze said, which meant nothing at all. “They said I could walk about if I wished.”
“Hmph. Somehow I find that very hard to believe. What about Feixiao? Is she…is she well?”
“They’ve told her to rest, but I think she is doing the best of the three of us. She visited you earlier but you were asleep.”
“Ah.” He winced, throat a little thick. It would have been good to hear her voice too.
“Doctor Jiaqoiu, it is good to hear that you are awake. Oh. And you’re here too.” The summer-sweet voice that turned sour at the end most definitely belonged to Lingsha. Unlike Moze, Jiaoqiu could hear when she entered both from the creak of the door and the click of her heels on the floor. And of course her scent—a rich cloud of incense followed her wherever she went.
“Hello, Lady Lingsha,” Jiaoqiu greeted, raspy and unsure he was ready for any medical questions that would surely be coming.
“How are you feeling?”
Oh, starting with the vague question, was she?
He opened his mouth to answer, but somehow felt Moze’s stare boring into his bones. Perhaps he shouldn’t have scolded the young man so sternly in the past for keeping hurts hidden. That was definitely going to be weaponized against him in the future.
“Sore,” he said finally. “Sore and a little out of sorts.”
“I expected as much,” Lingsha agreed, proving she hadn’t really meant anything by the question. “I was wondering if you’d pleased to have visitors—though I see you already have one. Hm. But if your spirit would be brightened on having more, I do have two young people here asking to see you.”
“Who?” Jiaoqiu asked, curious despite himself.
“Lady Yunli and Lieutenant Yanqing.”
“Oh?” He’d attempted to befriend that energetic pair before everything descended into madness, and it hadn’t gone over particularly well. He liked to imagine children were fond of him, but the truth was that he got very mixed results on their perception towards him. All right, the truth was most children found him suspicious, same as did most adults. It was only the brightly optimistic sort like Sushang that accepted him without reservation.
“They were hurt as well, were they not?”
“Yunli sustained mild injuries, but she is a very sturdy girl and is quickly recovering. Yanqing suffered numerous fractures and bruising, especially in his torso. He took a hover-chair outside for some fresh air, and she accompanied him, but they just came back inside talking about you.”
“Getting along better now, are they?” Jiaoqiu smiled, noting it was his first real smile since waking up from death. “All right, send them in.”