Chapter Text
In the depths of Chu Wanning’s soul, there lives a child. A small broken thing, that shudders at the slightest noise, a tiny husk of fragments, held together by the barest semblance of faux composure and disinterest.
The last one to see this child had been Huaizui. This had been true for years upon years, until that fateful day, when the Sisheng Barrier office building crumbled. It was later discovered, that a construction error had caused the building to sag over time. A construction error that Chu Wanning had bemoaned and drawn attention to for years.
The people in charge at Shisheng’s main offices had long since known about the issue, but whenever they asked for funds to have renovations done to the sagging structure, somehow the money was never available.
And so they left it as it was for as long as possible… until it wasn’t possible anymore.
Chu Wanning had been in the basement, working on improvements to the structure that their offices could afford – the budget of which was heavily bolstered by his own private finances – when the weight of concrete, glass and steel finally proved to be too much.
If he’d been alone down there, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have given in to the crumbling rubble and submitted to his fate… but he wasn’t alone.
Mo Weiyu, better known by his given name, Mo Ran, had been down there with him, replacing his usual assistant Shi Mei.
Chu Wanning and Mo Ran did not exactly get along all that well. They were a good team though, in terms of work efficiency, so they got paired up whenever no other option was available.
Chu Wanning… didn’t like this.
He preferred to work alone, where no one else could be harmed by the dangers he exposed himself to, where no one else could hold him back and insist that he put on that goddamn filtration mask before heading into rooms with potential chemical leaks…
Mo Ran did that. Mo Ran always got so unreasonably angry, whenever Chu Wanning disregarded his own safety – which was always.
Today, and only today, Chu Wanning would admit that maybe these safety measures had saved his life.
It wasn’t enough however.
Chu Wanning, helmet firmly in place atop his head, filtration mask on his face, laid on his stomach, a warm, heavy weight resting atop him… a weight that seemed to get warmer by the minute… a warmth that seemed to seep into everything… … oh gods, it was wet.
It was blood.
Chu Wanning wasn’t sure how much of it was his own, and how much of it was Mo Ran’s, either way they couldn’t stay here.
Any moment the rest of the structure might give way and crush them under a few hundred tonnes of stone and metal…
Move.
Move, goddamn it.
Chu Wanning, for once in your worthless life, do something right and fucking move!
With an impossibly painful breath Chu Wanning braced his weight on his arms… … arm. One of his arms is broken, bone sticking out between his skin and muscles… okay. One arm.
He tried to use his ruined arm to somehow steady Mo Ran atop his back, while pulling himself forward with his other arm.
He timed his motions with his exhales just so he wouldn’t scream. Screaming burned through energy like fire through paper.
Speaking of fire… it was… so… foggy down here. Was it gas? Smoke…? Dust? All of the above? Almost certainly. The only mercy in this mess was Mo Ran’s insistence on proper safety equipment…
Chu Wanning could only hope that Mo Ran’s equipment was still working properly. From what he could see, the mask was still on his face, even though the helmet had been knocked off his head.
No matter, Chu Wanning had to keep going.
So he kept going… blindly pushing onward by feel and faith alone. He pushed aside the rubble barring his way, crawling like a worm up the stairs… a worm with precious cargo.
He kept going… he kept going. Forward, only forward, there was no other option…
Whenever the darkness threatened to take him, he reminded himself to keep going. Mo Ran would die if he didn’t. Mo Ran had to live.
Mo Ran.
Mo Ran.
Mo… Ran…
Mh… r-rah… ah… n…….
Mo Ran wasn’t sure if it was a memory, a dream or something else entirely. When he came to in the hospital, his cousin Xue Meng was next to him, sobbing like a baby.
“You had only a few minutes left, Ge… your oxygen tube had a leak and … and … a few more minutes and you would have sustained irreparable brain damage… fuck, we don’t even know if you are okay yet...” he babbled between incomprehensible wails and sobs, grabbing at Mo Ran’s hand like he could float away if he let him go.
Mo Ran tried so hard to blink through the fog in his brain, to pick out the few words left in his mind among the rubble…
“a… boy...” he whispered into the oxygen-mask over his face.
Xue Meng sobbed harder, though he tried to suppress it and pay attention.
“What, Ge? Who?” he asked anxiously.
“Tell… the boy… Mo Ran gege… is okay...”
Mo Ran had no memories of this conversation. The doctors chalked it up to trauma and confusion. Since Mo Ran didn’t seem to show any other issues after his recovery, they figured it was only a hallucination due to the immense stress, and called it a day.
A few days after his first time waking up, Mo Ran had come to again, his mind clearer this time.
That had been, when Xue Meng and Xue Zhengyong sat with him and explained that Chu Wanning was in the ICU, comatose with little hope for recovery.
It had also been, when Mo Ran found out, that it had been none other than Chu Wanning, who dragged him out of the basement, up the stairs, through the rubble despite his own lethal injuries, where he was then found and saved.
There had been no boy, Xue Meng had said and Mo Ran had blinked at him in confusion.
“What boy?” he had asked.
And that had been it about the boy.
Five years later…
It had been an arduous journey to claw his way back from the gates of hell, back to life and health.
Months upon months of recovery, where all he could do was lie on his back and whimper against the endotracheal tube lodged in his throat. Even longer was the path to physical recovery. Week by week he would go through the painful process of regrowing his muscles, relearning even the simplest movements like a newborn baby.
He had almost sobbed when he finally managed to hold a pencil for a few seconds – just hold, not even write!
All in all, it had taken years of physical therapy to get him back on his feet.
Huaizui had taken him back into his home and gone through the motions with him, driving him to the hospital whenever necessary and hiring therapists to assist in his physical recovery.
By the time Chu Wanning was able to return to his former life, he had fully regained his original capabilities.
He had gotten used to the prosthetic arm even, that had replaced his broken one.
Due to the debris that had gotten into the wound, he had gotten septicemia, which on its own would have been enough to kill him. And then on top of that, due to the damaged blood vessels in the injured arm, it was starting to go necrotic.
The doctors had weighed their options, and decided to save his lungs and brain first, and his arm second.
As a result he now had to use a prosthetic arm, but at least he was alive.
The higher-ups of Rufeng and Guyueye put on a show of remorse and regret for the media, providing huge sums of money to help with the rebuilding and improvement of Sisheng’s Barrier office building and even took over payment for all of Chu Wanning’s medical expenses.
The Xues personally got involved, getting their lawyers on the case, to ensure that Chu Wanning would be given adequate recompense for his pain and trauma, threatening to sue them for their corrupt financial decisions otherwise.
After all, it had been a well known fact that Chu Waning had seen the flaws in the construction for years.
With a newly rebuilt life, a cozy retirement fund and not much else to do with his time, Chu Wanning found himself drawn to places and people he never would have thought to entertain previously.
Or rather, he was now old enough to explore his curiosity, without risking Huaizui’s punishments or derision.
He had been a rebellious teenager, much to Huaizui’s displeasure, but no matter how rebellious he got, there had been limits.
At the tender age of sweet sixteen, there was only so much nonsense he could get up to – though Huaizui never got tired of bemoaning just how much nonsense he actually did get up to.
So now, Chu Wanning went to bars freely, blending into the crowd, anonymous and invisible. He shed his white attire and unleashed his tight, high-ponytail in favor of soft blacks and loose flowing locks.
In the seedier bars he frequented, he was soon given a nickname.
Hei Mao – black cat – after his black attire.
He was seen at the counter, nursing drinks that never seemed to end, while never seeming even the slightest bit drunk.
Alcohol had been one of the few things he had been able to smuggle under Huaizui’s watchful eyes often enough to build up some tolerance.
Nowadays his tolerance was legendary.
Chu Wanning had never been the type of person to fit in with a crowd. At least alcohol seemed to soften people’s attitudes towards him enough for them to permit his presence, whenever he held a drink in his hand.
People, men and women alike, flirted with him, hoping to earn one of his rare, precious smiles… to no avail.
Chu Wanning had no interest in the scantily clad girls trying to climb into his lap, nor did he care for the twinks trying to “subtly” shake their butts at him.
All the leather daddies and riggers soon learned their lessons as well, not to cage him when he wasn’t receptive to the advances, which admittedly was never.
So the black cat was not to be trifled with.
The black cat was only meant to be looked at from afar… never to be reached.
Mo Ran had needed quite some time to return to his former interests and activities after that devastating day.
It had taken a lot of needling and pushing, and arguing and even a few tears from his aunt, uncle and cousin to get him back on his feet through various forms of therapy, but they’d gotten him there eventually.
Now that he wasn’t freaking out at the sight of a high-ponytail, white clothes or red stains, he was ready to return to his former hunting ground.
Back when he was working as Chu Wanning’s assistant at Sisheng, he had often needed some kind of outlet for the stress he was under. Chu Wanning was a strict boss, and even stricter instructor. Too often did they butt heads over seemingly nothing – minute details that no one else would even notice, except for Chu Wanning - or over incomprehensibly big issues – such as Chu Wanning disregarding even the most basic aspects of personal protection.
Needless to say, it was nice to just unwind after such a day, with some faceless person, have some fun… you know.
Now, as an adult – not that Mo Ran hadn’t been an adult back then, but he actually felt like an adult now – he saw the world through different eyes.
He returned to his favorite club, not as Taxian-Jun – gods, he cringed at the name nowadays… It really had been an immature prick’s idea of dominance and power – but as Mo Zongshi. Nice and simple… it wasn’t a costume or a mask he was wearing, it was simply who he was.
Mo Zongshi scanned the room, finding it both familiar and foreign at once. So many people he had once known were no longer around. In their place were new people…
It didn’t take Mo Ran long to pick up on the latest gossip from the chatty barkeeper – a familiar face, at least.
Hei Mao was a newcomer. Be careful about that one, he’s feisty.
Mo Ran shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Whatever.
Rong Jiu got a guy now, Chang Da-something. Mo Ran gave another shrug. Whatever, again. Why would he care about some guy he fucked once or twice, ten years ago?
The barkeeper chucked.
“Aiyah, Taxian-Jun,” he chided, forgetting to use Mo Ran’s preferred new title. “Don’t just sit at the bar, go have a look around. We’ve got some fun people around these days!”
Mo Ran honestly doubted it, but he put on a smile regardless and went to look around the club a bit.
As expected, he found most people to be boring.
Young people with wide-eyed fantasies about taboo things, about kink and fetish, about impossible sessions with impossible doms and subs who could fulfill their wildest dreams…
… and the few old ones, who have seen it all, who are too tight-knit in their own group for anyone new to join in.
Mo Ran found his way back to the bar, this time taking note of the small crowd gathered at a respectable distance around the black-clad man, quietly observing the scenery.
… hold on.
Mo Ran blinked.
Was it his imagination, or did that person seem familiar?
He walked over confidently, completely prepared to be proven wrong and move on with his day, but the closer he got, the more familiar that face seemed.
Mo Ran’s mind superimposed the image of Chu Wanning onto the stranger, trying to find some distinction between the two… to no avail.
Chu Wanning had his hair undone, he was wearing black, but it was Chu Wanning, there was no doubt about that!
Mo Ran couldn’t help but chuckle. Hei Mao… more like Bai Mao!
He must have said this out loud, as Chu Wanning’s head whipped around to look at him wide eyed.
A frightened kitten, Mo Ran’s mind supplied needlessly.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the illustrious Chu-” Mo Ran started, only to be caught off guard by Chu Wanning’s hand covering his mouth to muffle him.
“That name has no meaning here!” Chu Wanning hissed.
Mo Ran let out a genuine, warm chuckle. “Bai Mao then,” he said once Chu Wanning removed his hand from his mouth.
Chu Wanning looked like he regretted removing his hand, but didn’t try to silence Mo Ran again.
“Yuheng elder,” he said quietly.
Mo Ran nodded, acknowledging the title.
“Allow me to buy you a drink then, Yuheng elder,” Mo Ran said, infusing his voice with just enough of a smirk to dig at Chu Wanning’s dominance without being disrespectful.
The subtle power play did not escape Chu Wanning’s notice, but he deemed it forgivable.
As much as he wished he could be part of this world – a world where he was one of the others, where he wasn’t elevated and separated by virtue of his name alone – he knew this could never be.
So instead he sat back and observed, filling his mind with scenes and moments… Images he could never be part of.
With Mo Ran by his side, indulging him out of some misguided sense of humor, or maybe gratitude – if he even knew…? – he could pretend for a night at least. Why not make the most of it?
So he accepted the drink Mo Ran soon handed him without looking what it was. He didn’t bother putting on a pleasant face, didn’t try to feign emotions such as pleasure or interest while Mo Ran watched him like a hawk.
Mo Ran wondered how Chu Wanning even felt about him now. He had clearly noticed the metallic, glistening hand where there was once soft, porcelain skin.
He had heard vaguely about Chu Wanning’s recovery, enough to know that he had survived after months of uncertainty.
Xue Zhengyong had been involved in the lawsuit against Rufeng and Guyueye, so Mo Ran knew that Chu Wanning was being compensated for his suffering, but still… beyond that, he knew nothing.
Why, oh gods, why… why had Chu Wanning saved him?
Clearly he had been a dead weight, clearly Chu Wanning had been aware of the risky situation… clearly… clearly… there had been any number of reasons, why Chu Wanning should have abandoned him to his fate…
but he didn’t.
It was tough to face someone, who’d gone so far for you. How can anyone repay such a favor? Mo Ran cringed, to call it a mere favor seemed like an insult more than anything.
He owed Chu Wanning his life.
The least he could do now was… pay attention to the man and take him as he was. Cold, sharp, unpleasant and mysterious… an immortal god among common men.
And yet, as Mo Ran kept watching, he began to see.
Chu Wanning wasn’t cold. The thing that everyone perceived as cold and sharp, was a thick layer of protective glass, shielding the fragile, flickering flame that was his bleeding heart.
Mo Ran saw it in the shy glances Chu Wanning cast in his general direction, never daring to look at him in case any semblance of an emotion could be read in his eyes, yet unable to just remain cool and unaffected.
Chu Wanning knew what he’d done for Mo Ran.
Chu Wanning had done the first step long ago. The first, the biggest, the single-most-important step…
It was on Mo Ran now, to reciprocate… to show that he knew what it meant…
except… did he even know?
Chu Wanning tried to hide his gaze in the dark, swirling depths of his glass, watching the two ice-cubes melting into the alcohol…
If only Mo Ran could know… if only Mo Ran had any idea at all that if not for him, Chu Wanning wouldn’t be here either.
“Does it still hurt?” Mo Ran asked eventually, as he waited for his second drink that night.
Chu Wanning blinked.
“Does what still hurt?” he asked sharply.
Mo Ran smiled faintly, then nodded towards Chu Wanning’s hand.
Chu Wanning flinched at the reminder and tried to hide his hand, as though he could take back the existence of the prosthesis… as if he could spare Mo Ran the guilt… the… knowledge… of his sacrifice…
“No. I actually… lost majority of my nerve-ends in this arm. It doesn’t hurt,” he said evenly, slowly extending his arm again.
Withdrawing was too suspicious, he realized. He had to play it cool, to act like it was nothing…
Mo Ran wouldn’t worry if Chu Wanning just didn’t give him any reasons to worry.
But instead of taking this answer and dropping the matter, Mo Ran caught Chu Wanning’s hand and examined it.
It was a sleek prosthesis, smooth resin, embellished with chrome edges. Chu Wanning had chosen it, because he felt that a fake skin just wouldn’t feel natural. He had nightmares of trying to touch someone with that fake hand, and scaring them with the unnatural temperature and texture…
No, he’d rather have people staring at his prosthesis, fully aware that it wasn’t a real limb, than have anyone be scared by the touch of a dead hand.
Even though he’d thought of this situation when he made his choice, somehow he was still completely unprepared to have his hand held by another person.
A person, whose warmth he couldn’t feel… … it was strangely devastating to him.
Mo Ran held Chu Wanning’s prosthesis in place gently, examining it like a piece of art.
“What about phantom pains? I hear those are particularly nasty with stuff like this,” he wondered after a moment, releasing Chu Wanning.
Chu Wanning withdrew his hand like he’d been burnt, biting his tongue. It hurts… a lot. It hurts so much… he doesn’t dare say.
Gege… it hurts a lot…
Chu Wannning flinches like he’s been struck and slips off of his seat.
Mo Ran almost falls off of his own in his hurry to follow, grabbing onto Chu Wanning’s arm to steady him? Or maybe just to hold him back… maybe… even comfort him?
He clearly touched a nerve there.
“Sorry, that was insensitive of me to ask,” he amended quickly, trying to keep Chu Wanning from running away.
It was no use.
Chu Wanning had reached his limit, and he needed out now.
He twisted out of Mo Ran’s grasp and ran away.
The barkeeper clicked his tongue.
“Didn’t I tell you to be careful with Hei Mao?” he muttered, but Mo Ran had no attention to spare him.
Chu Wanning was all there was on his mind…
As luck would have it – or maybe it was karma – Chu Wanning was once again at his spot at the bar when Mo Ran stepped into the club.
He had planned on mingling with the other people a little, but those plans went out the window in the highest arch, as he made his way to Chu Wanning.
“Yuheng elder,” he greeted, not a hint of humor or disrespect in his voice this time. He bowed as Chu Wanning turned to face him with that same old, familiar, emotionless, masked expression. “I am very sorry for pushing you the other day!”
Chu Wanning waved a hand at Mo Ran, a gesture so small he would have missed it if he didn’t have his eyes glued to the other man.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” Chu Wanning said evenly, taking a sip of his drink.
Mo Ran gave a faint, soft smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“It’s not. It matters,” he said quietly.
“Please, I just want to… I want to know who saved me that day,” he added after a moment passed in silence. “The Chu Wanning I thought I knew wouldn’t have given a shit, so why did the Chu Wanning in front of me…?”
Chu Wanning bit his lip hard and averted his gaze.
He knew who he was. He knew what kind of person he was.
He was regarded so highly, and yet no one bothered to seek the person underneath the surface… … and he knew it was his own fault too.
There was no person underneath the surface. Whoever even tried to look beyond the sharp glares and vicious words would find whatever lurked beneath to be lackluster at best.
It was no wonder Mo Ran had thought him to be the kind of heartless person who’d happily abandon a … a fellow human being to his fate, if it meant saving his own skin.
Honestly…
Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, even. Most humans when faced with insurmountable odds would choose to save themselves. It was only natural.
If their roles had been reversed and Mo Ran had abandoned him to his fate, Chu Wanning would have praised him for doing the right thing.
And yet.
For some reason… hearing those words from Mo Ran… was like a slap to the face.
He realized in complete horror that tears were rolling down his cheeks when Mo Ran reached out to brush them away.
“Wanning…” he whispered.
Gege… gege… it hurts a lot… Gege? Gege, please wake up, there’s a lot of blood...
Chu Wanning had long since known himself to be susceptible to Mo Ran’s pull… He had fallen into his orbit back then at Sisheng too, only their work relationship made it impossible for him to even consider the option of … whatever, honestly. He couldn’t dare make a move that would go beyond professionalism, so he didn’t.
Chu Wanning knew just what kind of weight his word held in Sisheng – though clearly not enough to make the people at the top realize where they should put their funds – so anyone he showed his favor, would be known and scrutinized by the higher-ups.
Chu Wanning wanted to spare Mo Ran the embarrassment of having to clarify that no, nothing untoward was happening to him… he wasn’t being taken advantage of by the great Chu Wanning, because clearly… clearly no one in their right mind would actively seek out Chu Wanning’s favor in any kind of non-professional context.
No, Chu Wanning was an insufferable human being… someone who was alive thanks to pity, rather than some inherent merit.
Chu Wanning knew not to get close to people, least of all Mo Ran…
And yet somehow… somehow, inexplicably… Mo Ran was seeking him out again and again.
Every time he entered the club and saw Chu Wanning sitting there, he abandoned any and all pretenses of mingling with the others, and instead sought his company.
Chu Wanning could only assume it was due to some senseless feeling of guilt, gratitude and curiosity, because clearly… it couldn’t be genuine interest.
Anyone who made the mistake of becoming interested in him soon found him to be lacking.
So why was Mo Ran here again?!
“Wanning, I was wrong about you,” he said this time, for some incomprehensible reason. Chu Wanning couldn’t even pretend to … react in any kind of measured way, whipping his head around to glare at Mo Ran.
“No, I really was,” Mo Ran continued, nursing his drink like he wasn’t unraveling Chu Wanning like a ball of yarn. “I remember Xue Meng, my cousin was so fucking devastated when I woke up. I think I know it wasn’t because of me now,” he muttered with a goodhearted chuckle. “He admires you so much, and I never understood why… but now I do.”
Chu Wanning could only stare.
What…?
“Wanning,” Mo Ran said, setting down his drink at last, facing Chu Wanning with an inescapable clarity.
Chu Wanning wished so desperately that he could just get drunk out of his mind to forget tonight ever happened. Because clearly it didn’t.
“Wanning, listen to me,” Mo Ran repeated himself and lightly placed his fingers at the back of Chu Wanning’s nape…
It took all of his energy not to melt right then and there.
“When I first started working at Sisheng, I got in thanks to my uncle. It wasn’t a secret, but it also wasn’t openly acknowledged… you know… you were the only one who didn’t give a shit,” Mo Ran continued, his voice like syrup… filling up Chu Wanning’s senses until the sweetness and heavy, velvety sensation was all he could feel.
“You didn’t bother with that ‘Mo Gongzi’ bullshit. You yelled at me if I made mistakes, and you fucking… you treated me like a human, nothing more and nothing less.” Mo Ran smiled, pulling Chu Wanning in closer, “It took me until now to fucking get it,” he admitted, his fingers slipping under Chu Wanning’s collar, feeling the warmth of his nape, the slight dampness of his sweat, his porcelain skin flushed hotly…
“I realized it now, because you stopped treating me as such. You treat me as more, don’t you?”
Chu Wanning wanted to run.
He never should have let down his guard around Mo Ran. He should have known that five years were not enough to cool the disgraceful flames dancing in his faithless, treacherous heart.
Back then Mo Ran hadn’t been able to see through his youthful bravado, hadn’t bothered to look beneath the surface… but now… Mo Ran was a man, taller than even Chu Wanning himself, and he knew where to look now.
He knew to look and watch, to listen and wait… how… how had he known…
Chu Wanning averted his gaze, trying to maintain whatever fleeting control he could over his situation, even as Mo Ran stripped his soul bare with his words alone…
Mo Ran only smiled and leaned in closer, knowing he had been correct.
Any other person right now would have become closely acquainted with the floor, Chu Wanning’s fist, his shoes or all of the above for their audacity.
But not Mo Ran.
Chu Wanning melted for him.