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“Ah, daxia, it’s fortunate that you’re here now,” the innkeeper says.
Di Feisheng turns. He suspects the man has a problem of some kind, or else why would he be grateful to see someone like Di Feisheng?
“I just remembered… The man you’re looking for—”
“What about him?”
Di Feisheng feels his heart leap, a flash of joy. Could he finally have a lead on Li Xiangyi? Will he find him soon? Will they—
“Ah, well, daxia, I’m sorry to say I haven’t seen him,” the man says, and his heart crashes, his joy fleeting.
Of course. Of course Li Xiangyi would continue to evade him. He’d done it for ten years, after all. A few months…
“I haven’t seen him, but there’s another young man here looking for him… Fang-gongzi. The son of Minister Fang.”
“He’s here, too? When did he get here?”
Maybe, if Fang Duobing is here too… maybe he knows something Di Feisheng doesn’t. It’s unlikely, of course, but there’s a chance.
“Just last night, daxia, but… ah, I hope you’re a friend of his.”
“Is something wrong?”
“It might be nothing, but Fang-gongzi wasn’t feeling well when he arrived last night, and we haven’t seen him all day. It’s close to dinnertime now, you know.”
Something twists in Di Feisheng’s chest. Except for the time he’d poisoned him (which he does regret now, looking back), he’s never seen Fang Duobing in poor health. It could be nothing. The brat could simply have a cold and just be feeling a bit miserable and sorry for himself… but it could be something.
“Which room is he in?”
The innkeeper leads him there, and before the man leaves him at the threshold, Di Feisheng orders some rice and broth to be brought up. If Fang Duobing is truly sick, he’ll need to eat something.
He takes a moment to listen at the door, but he can’t really hear anything inside. Knocking, he calls, “Fang Duobing? Fang Duobing, it’s— it’s Lao Di,” not wanting to fully announce himself. He listens again, still hears nothing inside. Maybe Fang Duobing left and the innkeeper was mistaken that he was still in his room. There’s only one way to check.
Sliding the door open as quietly as possible, Di Feisheng slips into the room, looking around. There’s a pot of tea on the table, probably cold. The coals in the small stove are black and cold as well. On the bed, barely visible in a pile of blankets, is Fang Duobing.
Di Feisheng goes to him, checking his breath in a moment of fear, then laying his hand on the young man’s forehead. He’s burning up. There’s a flush in his cheeks, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin, a slight wheeze in his breathing. He doesn’t look good. He’s still wearing all of his clothes, too, like he came up last night and just dropped into bed. And he hasn’t even realized that Di Feisheng is here.
A knock at the door indicates the food has arrived, and Di Feisheng goes to retrieve it, asking for a bucket of cool water and some washcloths. He’ll need to cool Fang Duobing down once he can wake him. He sets the tray of food on the table, and once the water and washcloths are delivered, he sets those aside too and returns to Fang Duobing.
He hasn’t even moved. Di Feisheng sits beside him on the bed, shaking him lightly and calling his name.
“Fang Duobing, it’s Lao Di. Fang Duobing? Fang— Fang Xiaobao?”
It’s the nickname that seems to draw him to wakefulness, his eyes finally stirring under his lids and a little groan leaving his throat. That alleviates a bit of Di Feisheng’s anxiety, but not all of it, not by a long shot. Fang Duobing is waking, yes, but barely.
“Come on, Fang Xiaobao, wake up. Wake up for me.”
Finally, his eyes blink open, though he still doesn’t really look with it. His eyes, usually so expressive, are glassy and glazed, and he seems to be looking through Di Feisheng rather than at him. Di Feisheng takes the opportunity to try and extricate Fang Duobing from all his blankets. The cool air in the room wakes Fang Duobing a little more.
“Lao— Lao Di? You’re-... What are you—?”
“What am I doing here? The same thing you are,” Di Feisheng says, cutting him off, “And good thing I am, too. You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit…”
He’s shivering now that Di Feisheng has uncovered him, his teeth chattering slightly. He really does look like shit now that he’s awake. The flush on his cheeks highlights the pallor in the rest of his face. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. His skin is clammy. Di Feisheng feels a sharp pang in his gut. He sighs, says, “It’s already dinnertime. I got you some food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“The innkeeper said you were up here all day and never came out. That means you haven’t eaten since yesterday. That means you need to eat now.”
“I said I’m not hungry—”
“And I said you need to eat. I’ll feed you myself if I have to—”
“Don’t you dare.”
Fang Duobing’s voice is a hiss, dangerous, and he looks less feverish and more angry. It startles Di Feisheng.
“Fine… Fine, don’t eat. But drink some broth, at least, while it’s still hot.”
A moment passes, Fang Duobing thinking hard, before he finally agrees, “Alright, Lao Di. I can drink some broth.”
Di Feisheng brings him the bowl, tells him gently, “Your hands are shaking. Let me help you.”
Fang Duobing looks like he wants to protest, but his hand visibly shakes when he reaches for the bowl, so he doesn’t. Di Feisheng lets him control most of the bowl’s movement, choosing when to drink from it. He barely drinks half of it before shaking his head and telling Di Feisheng, “No more… I don’t want any more.”
Di Feisheng takes it away, setting it back down on the table. When he turns back around, Fang Duobing is trying to bury himself in the blankets again, still fully dressed.
“Don’t go back to sleep just yet. You have a fever, Fang Duobing,” Di Feisheng says, “We need to cool you down some more. You should at least take off your outer layer.”
“Lao Di,” he whines, “I’m tired, I just want to sleep.”
“And you always sleep fully dressed? It won’t take long, and you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll even help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
He sounds more like a petulant child now, something Di Feisheng is more used to hearing from him, but he at least gets up and tugs at his belt, managing to untie it with fumbling fingers. He drops it unceremoniously on the floor, his outer layer soon joining it along with—after a moment of thought—his inner robe as well. Di Feisheng briefly thinks he should look away, like he shouldn’t be seeing Fang Duobing in his undergarments, but he isn’t given much time to think about it. Fang Duobing sways where he stands, and Di Feisheng rushes to his side, gripping his arm and guiding him to sit on the bed. His arm twitches in Di Feisheng’s hold, like he wants to pull away, but he isn’t strong enough right now.
Di Feisheng lets him get himself settled in bed while he retrieves the bucket of cool water and washcloths.
“What’s that for?”
“What does it look like? I’ve already told you that you have a bad fever. It’s water to cool you down.”
“I don’t need you to do that for me.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Di Feisheng replies, “I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t need—”
“—my help. I’m sure. That’s why you’re sick in this inn in the middle of nowhere. When’s the last time you had a good meal? The last time you slept well? How do you expect to find Li Lianhua if you’re half-dead?”
The silence that fills the room is deafening. Fang Duobing stares at him, his eyes wide and glassy, his expression hurt. For a brief moment, Di Feisheng regrets his words, but he knows they’ll be effective. Fang Duobing may not take care of himself for his own sake, but for Li Lianhua…
“Do you think he’d want to see you like this? He’d be losing his mind with worry and taking care of you.”
“Stop,” Fang Duobing grits out, his voice shaking, “Stop it—”
“He’d be plying you with food and scolding you for not taking better care of yourself—”
“Shut up! Stop it!”
There are tears in the boy’s eyes, his lip wobbling, his body shivering.
“You think— You think I don’t know that?” he says quietly, brokenly, “You think I don’t wish he was here? That— That I didn’t think that— that maybe if I was sick he’d show up if only to scold me? I wish he was here more than anything—”
His voice chokes off, his tears falling, and Di Feisheng finds himself contending with something he’s wholly unprepared for: Fang Duobing crying. He freezes up. People don’t cry in front of Di Feisheng, and if they do, he’s usually about to kill them. No one cries in front of him expecting comfort… until now.
He doesn’t know how to comfort. He never received it in Di Fortress, where only the strong survived to see another day. In the Jinyuan Alliance, he was the leader, feared and imposing. The closest thing he’s ever had was being able to talk with Wu Yan, but Wu Yan was a subordinate. He could only offer so much.
Unsure what to do, he just watches as Fang Duobing uselessly wipes away tears that won’t stop falling, his breath hitching. Di Feisheng recalls two brothers who’d ended up in Di Fortress, a pair of orphans who’d come looking for a place to belong. The little one cried a lot, missing their family, being cold and hungry and thirsty. The older would always comfort him, holding him in his arms and whispering things only the little one would hear. They didn’t last long in Di Fortress. No one who had anything to lose did.
“I don’t understand, A-Fei,” Fang Duobing whimpers, finally looking back up at him, “Why— Why did he leave us?”
“I… I don’t know. That’s why I’m looking for him, too.”
“Why’d he leave? Why wouldn’t he let us stay with him? A-Fei, I don’t want him to die—”
It’s like those words break a dam inside him, and he hunches over, sobbing into his hands. Di Feisheng unfreezes, slowly stepping forward and sitting beside Fang Duobing. Tentatively, he settles an arm around Fang Duobing’s shoulders, unsure what else to do.
He knows how Fang Duobing feels, of course. He doesn’t want Li Lianhua to die, either. Doesn’t want him to die alone. Doesn’t want him to die without them knowing. He’d rather have the man die in front of him than not know what’s happened to him. Li Lianhua thinks he’s doing them a favor by slinking off to die alone, but he’s only made them feel worse.
“I don’t— I don’t understand! Why didn’t he stay? Why— Why won’t he trust us?”
“It’s nothing you’ve done, Fang Duobing. Li Lianhua is— He thinks he’s being kind to us without realizing this was the cruelest thing he could have done.”
Fang Duobing picks up his head, looking up at Di Feisheng. He’s the picture of misery: eyes red and glassy, cheeks splotchy and wet, lip trembling. It stirs something in Di Feisheng’s heart, a sharp stab that tells him he doesn’t want to see Fang Duobing cry anymore.
But he still says, “I don’t want him to die, either, Fang Xiaobao. When we find him… I won’t ask him to fight with me anymore. I just want to see him again.”
Beside him, Fang Duobing shifts, and an arm slips around Di Feisheng’s waist.
“We’ll find him, A-Fei. We’ll find him no matter what.”
His head drops onto Di Feisheng’s shoulder, and Di Feisheng allows it, taking just as much comfort from the gesture as Fang Duobing. He even lets his own head drop a little, resting his cheek on top of the boy’s head. Fang Duobing still sniffles quietly, occasionally wipes at his face.
“If you-… You should cry if you need to,” Di Feisheng says quietly.
“I don’t want to cry anymore,” Fang Duobing replies, his voice thick, “I feel like I’ve cried so much since he left us.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t still need to. ‘Need’ and ‘want’ are different.”
“I just wish he was here. A-Fei, even if he still was— was dying, I wish he was here so we wouldn’t have to worry about him. I wish he was still here calling me ‘Xiaobao’ and telling me I was silly. I even wish he was here to cook us terrible food.”
“Me too. I want him here… but he isn’t.”
“I still don’t understand why he left.”
“He left because he thought that was kinder to us. Bicha Poison… Bicha Poison, one of its effects is that a person starts to lose their senses. That’s probably why Li Lianhua’s food tastes so bad, because he can’t taste it himself. He’ll stop being able to hear and see soon too, if he hasn’t already,” Di Feisheng explains, and Fang Duobing’s breath hitches, “At the end, a person loses their mind as well. I assume he left because he doesn’t want us to see him like that.”
“He doesn’t want us to take care of him?”
“I think he does, but he doesn’t. I’m sure he’d want us to take care of him, but he doesn’t want to be a burden.”
“He’s not a burden,” Fang Duobing says, “He could never be a burden. Not to me. I would take care of him however he needed, do whatever he needed.”
“I know that, and I’m sure he knows it too. He just… You’re supposed to marry a princess. I should be rebuilding the Jinyuan Alliance and fighting the best swords in the jianghu. He doesn’t think we should be taking care of him when we have so much to do.”
He understands Li Lianhua so well because he thinks he’d be the same way. If he was dying, he wouldn’t want to be a burden to others either. At least, he thinks he’d feel that way. Maybe now, with people who actually care about him…
“I’d rather take care of him than do anything else in the world. A-Fei, I want— I want to find him. I want him back—”
Another hitching breath, and Fang Duobing is crying in earnest again on Di Feisheng’s shoulder, his body shaking with fever and sobs. Di Feisheng tightens his arm around the boy’s shoulders, feels that painful twist in his chest once more. He wants to break his promise to Fang Duobing and fight Li Lianhua one more time for making him cry like this. He wants to find Li Lianhua and shake him until he understands that Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng want to take care of him. They want to have him for better or worse, if he’s thriving or dying, if he’s deaf, blind, paralyzed, crazy, they don’t care, they just want him back.
A lump rises in his throat. He starts to feel the burn of his own tears. He hasn’t cried this whole time, hasn’t cried since he was a teenager who’d finally escaped Di Fortress and had gotten his first full night of sleep in an old man’s barn and woke feeling rested, realizing he’d actually escaped. He’d cried for what felt like hours, really cried for the first time in his life, cried until he was exhausted and the old man found him and brought him some congee.
For now… For now, he’ll hold his tears until they find Li Lianhua.
For now, he lets Fang Duobing weep on his shoulder and holds him close. Once he’s done crying, Di Feisheng wraps him in a blanket and helps him settle into bed.
“Fang Xiaobao… let me take care of you,” he says quietly, “Li Lianhua would want that. He’d want you taken care of… so let’s honor him.”
Fang Duobing just nods, exhausted. Di Feisheng retrieves one of the washcloths and soaks it in cool water, returning to Fang Duobing’s side. He starts with cleaning some of the sweat from his face, gently dabbing with the washcloth. Once he’s satisfied with that, he moves to Fang Duobing’s neck, setting the damp cloth on his throat to cool him further. Fang Duobing is shivering, but Di Feisheng can already see more sweat beading on his forehead.
“I— I really feel ter—terrible,” Fang Duobing tells him, his teeth chattering.
“I know… I’m trying to make you feel better. I’m going to put this one on your chest.”
He has to dig Fang Duobing out from under the blankets a bit, but Fang Duobing lets him. There’s a bit of hesitation when Di Feisheng reaches for his undershirt, needing to open it a bit but unsure of himself. Fang Duobing is half-asleep and doesn’t see it, which makes Di Feisheng feel slightly better. He gently opens up the boy’s undershirt, baring his chest, making him shiver again. The fabric is damp when he touches it, and he can see the sweat on his skin.
At the first touch of the cool cloth to his chest, Fang Duobing gasps, his body jerking slightly.
“C—Cold—”
“I know, I know… Just bear with it a while longer,” Di Feisheng says quietly, “We need your fever to come down.”
He’s learned such softness from Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing, softness he never knew he was capable of. He rubs a slow circle with the washcloth, trying to both clean up the sticky sweat and cool Fang Duobing down. Fang Duobing’s teeth chatter as he tries to burrow back into the blankets. Di Feisheng reaches out, hesitates again, slowly brushes Fang Duobing’s hair back from his face. The boy chases his touch, half-asleep. There’s a clenching in his chest at the sight. He still can’t believe how much Fang Duobing trusts him.
After changing out the cloth on his neck for a cooler one, Di Feisheng decides to eat the lukewarm rice, not wanting it to go to waste. He’ll get fresh food for Fang Duobing once he’s feeling hungry again, maybe in the morning. He takes the time to walk around the room, making sure it’s secure (even though he knows Wu Yan is just outside the building, ready to take down any threat). When he gets to the door, he hears Fang Duobing’s voice, small and quiet.
“Stay with me, A-Fei.”
“Silly brat, I’m not going to leave you,” Di Feisheng tells him, “How could I leave you alone in this state?”
Nothing else is said, but Fang Duobing has a pleading look in his eyes. Di Feisheng remembers a small bed in Lotus Tower that Li Lianhua once made them share, remembers how Fang Duobing curled against him in his sleep, remembers how he’d gotten used to sleeping next to someone as A-Fei and then was suddenly by himself again.
“Alright, alright… but you keep the blanket. I don’t need it.”
Di Feisheng carefully removes his outer layers, stripping down to his underrobe before climbing into the bed beside Fang Duobing. He’s warm even through the blanket. As soon as he feels Di Feisheng beside him, Fang Duobing rolls and shifts, pressing as close as he can while wrapped up in the blanket.
In the morning, Di Feisheng will make sure Fang Duobing eats. He’ll make sure he gets a bath. He’ll pass him some of his Beifeng Baiyang in the hopes it will help ease his illness. He’ll make sure that Fang Duobing is feeling well and ready to travel. Maybe they’ll stay at the inn another night or two just to make sure he’s fully recovered.
Tonight… Tonight, he’ll sleep next to Fang Duobing, one arm slung over his body to keep him close, Li Lianhua’s conspicuous absence looming over them.