In Every Time and Season

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Branch

An arc loosely inspired by the alternative ending, and pondering how this could be made to happen without undoing the momentum of the whole series. Happy Endings for All!

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Black Turns to Blue" published on 2017-05-21 19:11:53.

"Red Heart and White Sword" published on 2017-06-18 16:22:13.

"The Yellow Season" published on 2017-06-29 17:04:01.

"Candles Lit at the Doors" published on 2017-08-21 19:26:41.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "Red Peony Flower" by Dusan Bicanski, public domain, and "ä¸æ–‡ï¼ˆç¹é«”)" by Rock com cn, CC-BY-SA (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%E6%A9%AB%E5%88%80.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

Black Turns to Blue

Lin Shu survives, and, with a certain amount of salutary brow-beating, finds a purpose in doing so that moves him to enter the world again, seek out his loved ones, and start walking a meaningful path forward with them. Drama with Adorable Romance, I-3

One

When Liu An had come to be examined for betrothal to the new Crown Prince, she had been a little nervous, but mostly excited. She was not one of the great beauties of the realm, had never even imagined appearing on the List, but she was thoroughly schooled in managing a household, was a reasonable musician with a flute, was even judged fairly deft at body services. She represented quite a good political alliance. And, her own close-held secret, she had actually met Prince Jing. She knew better than to place too much weight on that, but being rescued from bandits certainly made more of an impression than anyone else her parents had spoken of betrothing her to!

So she'd bowed deferentially under the cool, lovely eyes of her prospective mother-in-law, answered her questions softly, and hoped. And, indeed, fate seemed to favor this chance of hers. When she heard she was the one chosen, she'd been nothing but excited, delighted, holding her mother's hands and laughing at the news.

It wasn't until she stood before her newly betrothed that she felt a faint shiver of alarm up her spine.

She had not expected to be particularly noticed, that day at the monastery; he'd been seeing to his men, speaking to the priests, had spared no more than a glance to be sure she was not injured. Everyone knew Prince Jing was a man of action, so she hadn't been surprised. But even here, in the outer rooms of the Eastern Palace, somewhere that should be a place of repose and even triumph for him... he was so stern. His eyes saw her when he looked at her, yes, but he only looked for a moment before turning away again—courteous, but so distant. Intimidated, she spoke only formal words of pleasure, and he spoke brief, equally formal words of welcome, and then he was gone, striding out the doors like someone shrugging off a cloak, and An bit her lip.

Consort Jing's arm settled warm around her shoulders, and when An looked up, the Lady wore a small, rueful smile, so she dared to ask, "Mother, is my husband-to-be displeased?"

"Not displeased, child. Simply... distracted."

Men of the military families were taught to track the movements of armies, but women who were meant for the courts were taught to track other things: the flicker of an eye, the passing word, the shift of weight that could say where thoughts marched. Liu An had learned her lessons well; she heard the delicate emphasis Lady Jing placed on her words, and her heart sank. She looked down at her clasped hands and murmured, "Is there another?"

This close, she could feel her mother-in-law's sigh. "He is Crown Prince, and likely to be Emperor; much of his attention will always be given to his people. As for his heart... even I did not realize how much of that was given to his young cousin until xiao-Shu was gone." She held An a little closer and murmured into her ear, "If you can be here for him and not reproach him, and accept how much of him is given to his kingdom, his people, the brother of his heart, then it will be well. I believe you can do this. It's why I chose you."

An took a breath, heartened by that; it was not another woman she would need to contend with for control of the household. Rather, from what Lady Jing said, it was only that her husband-to-be was a man of duty and... and, perhaps, of grief, if his heart's brother was gone. "I will, Mother," she answered stoutly.

It was not difficult, to start with. Her husband-to-be was stern, yes, and reserved, and focused on many things that were not her, but he was courteous when they met, and she started to know how to look for the little easing in the straight line of his mouth that meant he was pleased. An attended closely to her mother-in-law's quiet directions and demonstrations of what made her son's relentlessly straight shoulders relax a little. And the Lady was very kind to her. She started to find that Lady Jing's gentle smiles, when she succeeded in some small thing, like the first time she made hazelnut pastries that the Crown Prince liked, made her almost as happy as they made the Lady's son. The first time she and her husband-to-be smiled at each other, awkward but sweet for all that, was when Lady Jing kindly complimented her tea brewing in the Prince's hearing, and An looked away, delighted and a little flustered, only to catch his eye.

Though she had no idea why the Lady's remark that they both disliked strong tea so, perhaps An would let him have as much water as he really liked should make his gaze turn distant again.

As the days passed, she found herself increasingly in awe of Lady Jing, her knowledge of the court, the graceful calm with which she spoke to this maid, that eunuch, another consort, and thereby opened the way before her son and his advisors, broad and smooth with the good will or self-interest of everyone around them. She attended to these subtle lessons, also, though she doubted she would ever be the master Lady Jing was. And the day Lady Jing laid a quiet hand on her shoulder and murmured in her ear exactly who her long-time nurse was beholden to, An clasped her hands tight together and smiled.

"I will take the utmost care in choosing my attendants," she murmured. "And I'm sure my house's guards can secure everything that needs to be brought here to the Palace." The tiny, satisfied smile the Lady gave her at her faint emphasis on 'everything' made her heart nearly burst with pride.

Making her first moves in the game of court, rather than waiting for another to move her, making a successful move, she understood a little better how some people let themselves be drawn so very deeply into that game. She understood it, but she could not entirely approve of where that so often led (only look at where it had led the Empress and Lady Yue!), and she thought her husband felt the same. And, once the wedding was past and she began to take hold of the Eastern Palace as her household, she began to wonder at how often she saw the scholar Mei Changsu visiting her lord. She knew the whispers of him, of course; who didn't, after the past few years? The genius strategist, the Qilin scholar, the one behind the rise of the old Crown Prince, of Prince Yu, and then of her husband.

Thinking on what had become of the first two men, she couldn't help but feel some trepidation. Was her husband only the most recent in some longer game? Would he go down the same way, dropped from this man's hand when his use was done? Eventually, unable to tell for herself what Mei Changsu meant to do, this man who walked so softly and casually through her house, who smiled at her, faint and distracted, and nodded courteously, but whose glance was so sharp it felt like it should slice her skin each time it fell, even glancingly, on her, she went to Lady Jing.

"Mei Changsu?" The Lady blinked at her, hand actually paused on her cup, seeming genuinely startled.

"I'm probably being foolish," An murmured, looking down at the delicate, celadon pot as she set it down, carefully aligned in its corner of the tray. "You must surely have thought of all this already. I just... my lord..." Gentle fingers touched her cheek, and she looked up to find her mother-in-law smiling, affectionate and yet sad. So very sad, and An caught her breath on the sudden understanding of how deep that melancholy that often hung around Lady Jing like an old, faint scent must truly run. "Mother...?" she whispered.

"Be at ease, child," Lady Jing said, softly. "There is nothing in that man that is capable of betraying Jingyan."

An nodded slowly, still uncertain. She knew Lady Jing had greater understanding of the situation than she did, but this was so counter to everything she had ever heard of Mei Changsu. Her mother-in-law's smile lightened a little with amusement, and she patted An's hand. "Here." She called one of her ladies to bring her a stacked, lacquer box, and set it on the table before An. "Bring them some sweets, today, and watch a little. I think you will see."

An straightened; this was a lesson, then. "Yes, Mother," she murmured, gathering her robes to take her leave, taking the box of sweets with her.

Sure enough, Mei Changsu was announced that afternoon, and she waited until her husband called for tea, minding her breathing to hold down her nerves. Both men looked up with some surprise when she accompanied the tea in, but as soon as Mei Changsu's eye fell on the box in her hands he smiled, faint but knowing. An tried not to feel like a transparent screen as she bowed and answered her husband's raised brows with, "Your lady Mother sends these, my lord."

As she knelt to unpack the delicate sweets and lay them out, Mei Changsu's smile deepened at the corners, and he slid her husband a sidelong look. "Still no hazelnut. Are you going to perish from the lack, yet?"

A sudden smile, albeit half stifled, broke over her husband's face, startlingly bright, and only years of training kept An's hands moving smoothly as he elbowed Mei Changsu without looking at him, and Mei Changsu elbowed him back, both of them positively grinning. She stood in a bit of a daze at this sudden, so very clear friendship between them, holding on to her countenance with her fingernails, and bowed herself out. Her husband's nod was kind but thoroughly distracted, all his focus on the man beside him.

"I'm sure Mother simply doesn't want to deal with xiao-Shu complaining over having to spend a week in bed after encountering them," he said as she turned to go, clearly teasing. That, in itself, was a sufficient shock, coming from her stern, reserved husband, that she didn't register what he'd called Mei Changsu until she was nearly at the door.

Xiao-Shu?

A relation, her social training supplied in calm reflex, regardless of the disorientation of her thoughts. One he was close to, perhaps had grown up with. Genealogies unfolded before her mind's eye, the families connected by marriage to the royal line: Yan, Xie, Lin, though no one spoke aloud of that now, of the disgraced family that had seemed so secure and so gifted with talent...

Lin Shu.

She had to catch herself against the edge of the room's open screens at the shock of that name surfacing. It shouldn't be possible, the whole family had died, but that was the only Shu she could think of that Xiao Jingyan would speak to so familiarly. And hadn't Lin Shu been hailed as a genius? She glanced over her shoulder at them, and got another shock; Mei Changsu (Lin Shu?) was looking back at her.

He held her eyes for one long moment, and then gave her a tiny smile and a deliberate nod, and yet another shock ran through her.

He had let her see this.

It had been he who started the teasing exchange in her presence, showed her how close he must be to her husband, possibly (probably!) even known that would prompt him to use that old, familiar name. And had, apparently, judged her accurately enough to know she would be able to unravel the name. And had confirmed all of this in no more than a nod. She clutched the screen's frame, feeling a little faint, the way she had the first time she'd truly understood the reach of Lady Jing's influence and control, in the Palace.

It was the memory of her mother-in-law that steadied her, though, because she heard again the Lady's quiet words, in her mind. There is nothing in him that is capable of betraying Jingyan. She clung to the memory of those words, even as the scope of what her husband might be planning started to expand alarmingly, in her mind, and drew herself up, resettled calm around her like a fine robe. When she dipped another bow to the man watching her, straight-backed, she thought she saw a glint of approval in his eyes before he turned back to her husband.

So there were two masters of this deadly game who stood behind her husband, she thought as she walked away. So be it, then.

It wasn't until she'd gone to bed, that night, settling herself under the summer-light coverlet, that she remembered where she'd heard the name "xiao-Shu" before—it had been when Lady Jing was telling her of her husband's beloved cousin, who had been lost, and her mouth tilted ruefully in the darkness. No wonder he brightened so, when Mei Changsu teased him. Well, at least this answered her unvoiced question—whether the Crown Prince truly intended to force the issue of the Chiyan case. He almost certainly did, if the one Lady Jing had called the brother of his heart had returned from death itself to stand beside him and demand justice. She turned over, pulling the cover closer around her shoulders. It would be dangerous; she remembered whispers of what had happened to those who tried to defend Lin or Prince Qi, and death had been the kindest outcome. She couldn't deny the fear that wrapped around her throat, when she thought of that. And yet...

Wasn't justice right? Wasn't the bright, unyielding conviction of that one of the things she admired in her husband? And hadn't she thought, just this afternoon, that two masters had both bent their thoughts and skill to this end, supporting him? Very well, then; so would she, as was only right and proper.

Her husband's unbending integrity was a measure she thought she could willingly raise her children to, and, thinking that, she smiled into the darkness and returned Lin Shu's quiet nod, firmly.

Liu An stood in the entrance of her husband's rooms, watching over him quietly.

She didn't know what else she could do.

They had triumphed so greatly, politically and personally, and she had rejoiced with them—her husband, her mother-in-law, her cousin by marriage. Even now, the rest of the country celebrated their military victories, the successful defense of their borders. In these rooms, though, and in the rooms of the Lady Jing, there was grief, grief so heavy in the air she could nearly taste it.

Lin Shu was dead.

Her husband sat quietly, staring straight ahead with a still face, and a casual passer-by might only think him deep in his own thoughts. But he hadn't moved for hours, and his eyes... she tried not to look too closely, because when she did she had to step back into the shadows of the pillared hall and wrestle back her own tears.

"My lady?" It was Zhao Fang beside her, one of the attendants she'd brought from home, hand hovering under her elbow. She must look in need of it, An supposed.

"I'm well," she murmured, and a tiny smile tugged at her mouth, at the frankly dubious look on Zhao Fang's face as she bowed acknowledgment.

"My lady..." Zhao Fang hesitated but finally rushed out, very softly, "My lady, have you told him? It might... it might comfort him."

An laid her palm against her stomach, biting her lip. They'd only been sure this month, and already the flurry was starting among her attendants, to ensure the harmony of her surroundings and the well-being of her developing child. But the news from the border had come before she could tell her husband. Would this news help, here and now?

She found herself thinking of the man she'd only met a few times, of how his spirit had burned in him, a cloak of fire laid over shoulders that had always been bent under the weight of illness. Even without Lady Jing's great learning in medicine, An had seen that weight, and honestly been a little frightened by the force of will that drove forward despite it. And yet, even in the midst of all that burning will, he had still teased his cousin, reassured her, been mindful of the hearts around him.

Liu An did not yet have the knowledge or skill of Lady Jing, to match the scope of Lin Shu's strategies, nor did she have the strength of arms to win victories in war, like Duchess Nihuang. But Lin Shu's mindfulness, that she could carry on, here and now, with nothing but what already lay in her hands. "Leave us for a while," she told Zhao Feng, and drew a long, slow breath for calm before she turned and walked into her husband's rooms, steps sure and steady.

It wasn't a memorial. The time for that would be later, after clean-up had been done and they'd returned to the capital. Tonight was a different kind of tradition—soldiers still in the field, gathering to mourn the fallen at least enough to put the grief aside in the morning and go on.

"Was he always like that?" Jingrui asked, low, eyes on his cup. A ripple of something fond, if too subdued to be laughter, ran through the tent where the northern army's officers had gathered.

"The entire battlefield at his fingertips, even when he's in the middle of it?" Zhen Ping asked, with a faint smile. "Yes."

"Always sure, in an instant, what you should do?" General Meng added, and tossed back his own drink. "Yes."

"And really thinking about, well, the long term?" Yujin asked, looking around at the older men. "I felt like he wasn't just looking at the battlefield. He was thinking, the whole time, about all the next steps, and getting everyone home, and..." He broke off, blinking hard, and took a long drink, himself.

"Yes," Li Gang said, simply, reaching over to pour again. "Those of us left, we didn't just follow him because we survived together. It's that he never stopped being our Marshal. And our Marshal was always like that."

Jingrui closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he let it out he felt a twist of pain he'd never been able to let go before ease a little. "I'm glad of the chance to know him, this way." Maybe it was just the change in his own perspective or expectations, but with Lin Shu as his commander, he'd never felt that he'd been set second to anyone or anything, even when it was his unit used as bait or ordered to hold, even when they lost men doing it. Rather, he was an indispensable part of the whole that Lin Shu commanded and cared for. He was grateful for that knowledge, to hold in his heart, the last gift from the brilliant cousin who had pulled he and Yujin into manhood this past year, like it or not.

And it was Yujin who held up his cup and said, softly, "To Lin Shu, Marshal of the Chiyan Army and commander of the Northern border."

Everyone in the tent drained their cups, and Jingrui thought that maybe his cousin's spirit smiled at them, wry and affectionate.

Nihuang had expected the letter.

Of course she had. The words on which she had parted with Lin Shu were not words spoken by a man who thought he would return.

Even so, it took a few breaths before she could force herself to reach out and take the letter held out to her by the girl at her feet, hand shaking. Both their hands were shaking.

She opened the letter only long enough for the characters "is dead" to make sense to her, and then her hand clenched on the thin paper, crushing it, and she closed her eyes against the burn of tears, trying to breathe past the pain sawing at her heart.

She had expected this, hadn't she? Why did it hurt so much?

It wasn't until the girl whispered, "I should go," that she managed to regain a small grip on her composure, swallowing hard and wiping half-angry palms across her wet cheeks.

"Rest the night here, at least," she offered, husky. "You've come a long way." And then she looked down, really looked, and saw the wet tracks on the girl's own cheeks, the trembling of her mouth, even when the girl's teeth closed on her lower lip, obviously trying to conceal it. Softer, remembering Lin Shu's rather plaintive complaints of how determinedly a young woman followed him, even to battle, Nihuang asked, "Are you Gong Yu?"

The hint of trepidation in her eyes, when the girl glanced up answered the question, even before she nodded slowly. Nihuang took a deep breath and smiled down at her. "Stay a while, mei-mei," she said gently, laying a hand on Yu's shoulder. "We can talk."

The helpless widening of those eyes was reward enough for pulling herself together, as was the quick hand Yu dashed across her face before looking up again and answering, hesitant and hopeful and maybe even a little awed, "Yes, jie-jie."

Nihuang knelt down and gathered Yu close, laughing a little with soft, painful recognition when Yu buried her face in Nihuang's shoulder, armored as it still was, and sobbed. Yes—this she recognized very well. She stroked the loose hair falling down the girl's back and let her own tears fall into the dark braids wrapped around Yu's head.

The sun was almost down before they got around to speaking in words, but that was all right. They both knew all the words already.

At the top end of a northern mountain trail, a man in flamboyant layers of white shook his sleeves back, eyes sharp and determined. "All right. Let's see what we can do."

Fei Liu nodded, holding tight to Su ge-ge's hand to keep him from trying to leave again.

Su ge-ge wasn't going anywhere without him.

Two

For a long time, or what might have been a long time, he was afraid he'd failed, each time he woke. He woke weak, groggy, never able to rouse to full awareness, and he knew that sensation from a decade worth of illness, fought stubbornly against it, as he always had, to push his thoughts past the fog to grip on the world again.

This time, though, he could never force himself past the cloudy uncertainness of almost-dreams. And what did that mean, if not failure, to fall ill again before his last task was done?

As it happened again and again, though, he started to wonder, in the fuzzy way that was all that was available to him, if perhaps it was all a dream—he'd never been so ill for so long. He'd have thought, if he really was this ill, he'd be dead. Or perhaps he was dead, and this not-quite-existing was what came next, for him. He'd been resigned to hell for years, really, and this was surely his personal hell. The one time he actually recognized one of the vague voices around him, it was Lin Chen saying, furiously "If you die, after all my hard work, I'll revive you just so I can kick you down this mountain."

An eternity of Lin Chen's idea of beside manner. Most likely hell, then.

Eventually, though, he started to see things, lost in that fog of half-thoughts. He saw them very clearly, though he was almost sure his eyes were closed. Perhaps this was the vision of spirits?

Green grass, and a sky bluer than he'd thought was possible, and a white sun shining down—not scorching, but gentle.

A carriage with soft, gauzy orange curtains. He could hear every crunch of the wheels over a dirt road, but couldn't feel the jolts, so he must not be inside it. Somehow this made sense to him.

A red streamer, blowing in the wind. Or a scarf? It moved like silk.

The tiny curve of Jingyan's mouth that said he was amused, and he felt that curve pull on his chest like drawing a bow, felt the weight of that faint smile so viscerally he tried to speak to it, but he couldn't move his mouth and no, no, he can't be back to this again, he didn't have the strength to start over a second time, no.

Air choked him and someone's voice exclaimed "Idiot!" and he sank down into darkness again with relief.

Feeling returned first. He was lying down on something cushioned. Something heavy was draped over him from chin to toes. Slowly, it came to him that there was soft light on the other side of his eyelids. That he knew what the sounds around him were—not one vast cloud of noise any more, but the rush of running water, the brisk song of mountain birds, the rustle of cloth nearby.

There was a reason all of this should not make sense, but he couldn't quite grasp it in his head. He tried to open his eyes, hoping sight would spark thought.

His lids were heavy, and slow to rise, but after a few tries he finally kept them open for more than a fuzzy flash of lightness. Half-drawn shades of bamboo hung from above. White screen paper was bright against the smooth, dark wood all around. Slanting sunlight made a glowing bar on the pale quilt laid over him. The fabric was soft under his hands when he finally managed to stir.

Lin Chen was sitting beside him, and lifted his head at the faint motion, brows rising when he saw his patient was awake.

That was the sight that sparked, not just thought, but memory, knowledge, panic, and Lin Shu tried to jolt upright, made a hoarse sound of frustration when he could barely move. Lin Chen rolled his eyes and pushed him firmly back against the bed.

"Of course your very first move would be to try to leap to your feet and gallop off. It's fortunate I know exactly what kind of fool you can be, or I might have let you wake up before this and then we'd probably be stuck chasing you through the woods until you fell into a river and drowned of stupidity. You really do have a death wish, don't you? You want to absolutely ruin my reputation as a healer, don't you? Don't bother denying it!"

He ignored this, as one was always well advised to ignore Lin Chen once he got going, and finally managed to rasp out of a desperately dry throat, "The border?"

Lin Chen gave him an exasperated look. "The border is secure, of course. You saw to that, before you got yourself stabbed in the side and tried to bleed out on the last battlefield."

The relief of that was dizzying, and for long minutes, he just lay back and tried to breathe through it. Lin Chen snorted and picked up his discarded scroll again. Eventually, though, enough sense returned that he realized why this all seemed so very strange, and cleared his throat as much as possible to ask, roughly, "Why am I alive?"

At that, Lin Chen threw down the scroll and positively glowered at him. "Did you become stupid, just because you were surrounded by stupidity, in the capital? What did you think I signed up with the army for?" When Lin Shu only blinked at him, not quite able to gather his thoughts enough to explain that this was insufficient information, Lin Chen sighed and leaned over to pick up a cup and feed him water, a sip at a time. More quietly, he said, "I'm not you, so I didn't think to switch the pills until after you'd already badgered the bottle out of me. And then I had to follow after you anyway, to adjust the doses and make sure you didn't just collapse because I was using less deadly measures to increase your strength." His mouth twisted, and he added, rather sourly, "And if those hadn't been sufficient, I have no doubt you'd have gotten the more deadly measures out of me; I only hoped a little, and certainly not enough to say anything to you about it." A haughty look. "Which you can hardly complain about, now can you, Su Zhe?"

A faint huff of laughter shook him. No, he probably couldn't. Still. "How?"

Lin Chen smiled at him, sunny and glinting in a way that made him reflexively check the distance to the room's exits. "You have assisted the study of medicine, Changsu, be proud. Since you were already going to need transfusions anyway, I took a chance."

Horror crept through him, freezing his lungs, his heart, his blood...

Lin Chen thumped him irritably with a knuckle to the hollow of his shoulder, sending a jolt down his arm and air flooding all the way down in his lungs, and snapped, "Don't be ridiculous!" The air cleared his head enough, at least, to nod an apology for thinking his friend would use what they'd both agreed was a rightly forbidden procedure, even in extremity. Lin Chen resettled his sleeves, like a bird settling ruffled feathers. "You have your genius, I have mine." At Lin Shu's raised brows, though, he sat back a little and expanded. "I know you read the records on how Bingxu grass can be used; did you understand why?" Lin Shu shook his head and looked inquiring, which worked on Lin Chen about half the time. Fortunately, this seemed to be a day for it to work. "It increases your yin energy."

Lin Shu blinked at this, because... well, he knew medicine wasn't always intuitive to the lay-person, but still... Lin Chen smirked at him, good humor apparently restored.

"To put it simply, Bingxu grass dramatically increases your absorption. It poisons the system because we are not made or meant to indiscriminately absorb the influences around us. A body that suffers serious enough depletion will benefit from this, briefly, but without any way to filter or balance what is absorbed, any body will collapse into irrecoverable disorder in a few months. I gave you many strengtheners during the campaign, at very dangerous doses, but I didn't give you Bingxu until I had you back here in Langya, where I could control your surroundings."

All right, that made sense enough. "And transfusions?"

"Mm." Lin Chen looked out the propped open windows over the new spring green spreading over the gray mountain slope outside, eyes distant. "Your followers are mostly fools, but even a fool can be correct sometimes. Zhen Ping asked me, during the campaign: if it would take the lives of ten to let you recover, would a tenth of the lives of a hundred not also serve? I had to delegate more of the selection process than I really like, but Yan did an adequate enough job." He looked back down at Lin Shu, gaze dark and steady in a way that held him still under the flow of words. "We found a hundred. And then I suppressed your mind and stimulated your instincts as intensely as possible for seven months, while they came, one after another, to offer a year or two of their health to you. Your instincts, at least, want to live, so there's a small part of you that isn't an idiot, I suppose. Enough to accept their gift, at least."

He still didn't like the sound of that at all. "Chen—"

Lin Chen snatched a fan out of his sleeve and smacked him over the head with it. "Their health, not their lives! They will all recover with a little care, which is something you made possible for most of them in the first place! Shut up and be grateful!"

"I am grateful," he protested mildly, rubbing his head with a trembling hand. He held it up to regard the tremors thoughtfully, but had to let it fall after a breath or two, unable to keep his arm lifted longer. His hands were thinner than ever.

"You'll probably have to re-learn how to walk, after this long bedridden," Lin Chen supplied. "Perhaps I'll make a harness for you and give the leads to Fei Liu, to keep you from falling every other step."

His mouth quirked, and he murmured, "You'll have to leave off teasing him, then, or he'll take me flying when he runs from you."

He hadn't realized quite how stiff Lin Chen's shoulders were, until they relaxed, and then he wondered just how close to death he'd been, all this time. Lin Chen, of course, ignored his sharp look and only prodded him playfully with the end of his fan. "It might be good for you. Get your blood flowing properly. For now, though, let's see how much you can eat without getting sick." He pushed himself to his feet, shaking his robes straight, and swept out of the room, head high.

It seemed likely he'd been very, very close to death, given that kind of flamboyance. Lin Shu laid quietly, watching the shadows of the ceiling move, and wondered rather tiredly whether he was to find himself carrying the weight of other lives yet again, albeit smaller bits of them.

He didn't know if he could do that, again.

The answer to how much food he could keep down was "almost none." It prepared him a little bit for the answers to several other questions, such as how far he could walk (he passed out the first time he tried to so much as stand up) and could he even bathe himself (no). After having even a few months of something approaching his normal strength, again, it was galling. He quickly learned that Fei Liu haunted his rooms, and that waking up when the boy was gone had been very much an exception to the normal state of affairs, which now included Fei Liu being the one to put up his hair, on days Lin Shu was awake enough.

He was reasonably certain, as he ruefully patted at the knots that resulted, that this was a bit of Lin Chen's revenge for worrying him.

Slowly, as days passed into weeks, he re-learned how to stand, how to hobble, at least, and sent Fei Liu out onto the mountain's darkening green slopes to cut staffs for him to support himself on. Slowly, as the pines put out soft, new needles and the air warmed, things other than rice started to appear in his rice porridge. Slowly, as the white and pink lotuses bloomed on the verges of Langya's river, his hands stopped shaking when he tried to hold up even the lightest book.

So very slowly. And for what was all this effort, now?

"You've done this before," Lin Chen scolded him, when he was slow to get up and go for his excruciating hobbles around the broad stone flags of the plaza outside his rooms. "Last time, I had to keep you from breaking your neck by pushing too hard. Never thought I'd miss that," he finished in a mutter.

Lin Shu rolled over on his back and stared up at the grimly familiar ceiling. "A year of recovery, again, for how much life left? You said it yourself: the body can only take so much." Lower, he added, "The soul likewise, I think."

Lin Chen crossed his arms, leaning against the room's open screens. "True enough. You don't have any reserves at all. Your tissues have lost almost all elasticity. You'll fall ill easily. But," he held up an admonishing finger, "the Poison of Bitter Fire is purged. You may live like a man over twice your age, but you can still live."

"How long?" Lin Shu asked calmly, having long since learned to listen for what his friend didn't say.

"Perhaps ten years."

A crack of laughter escaped him, then, though it wasn't amused. He hadn't lied to Nihuang after all. It was no comfort. "Ten years of what kind of life? Should I go back to my loved ones and lay that kind of fate on them, to fret over me for years and then grieve me a third time?"

"I take it all back," Lin Chen snapped. "You have no understanding of women at all. I think we shall have to reduce your rank on the gentleman's list."

The reminder of the other half of his place in the world outside jolted him up on one elbow. "Chen...!"

Lin Chen rolled his eyes. "Oh calm down. Your name hasn't appeared for two years, and right now you wouldn't even make the top fifty, let alone the top ten. I'd rank you just below a drowned rat, at the moment."

"What a relief," he shot back dryly, propping himself fully upright and trying to catch his breath. Lin Chen eyed him for a long moment and then smiled, smugly.

"There, you see? You didn't even cough once."

He snatched up and threw the only thing in reach, which was his staff. Lin Chen slid aside, laughing, and caught it, spinning it deftly up and over to rap him, very delicately, over the head. Lin Shu swept a hand up to deflect, reawakened body memory taking over, however futile it had been for years now, and had to stop still when it actually worked. He could feel the pressure Lin Chen was putting on the staff, but his arm didn't give way under it. That was what the angle of a deflection was for, of course, but still...

"You see?" his friend repeated, quietly.

He slowly closed a hand around the still-extended staff, taking it back. His grip trembled, and the staff wobbled. But he could still feel the force of actual strength, however small, that had been behind that single, unthinking move. "I could never really go back, though, could I?" he asked, low. "A man over twice my age would be retired long since."

"Do you think you're the only one?" Lin Chen shot back. "Your Crown Prince will never take the field again either, will he? Do you think him less for it?"

Lin Shu opened his mouth and then had to close it again to order his suddenly scattered thoughts. "Of course not," he murmured, distracted by the new constellation those thoughts had fallen into in the wake of Lin Chen's jarring question. "The work he has now is even more demanding, and..." He trailed off, remembering an empty throne room, and the empty remains of his uncle jabbing a finger at the throne.

Anyone who sits on this throne will change.

And perhaps... perhaps that was true, though he'd bet on Jingyan's stubborn integrity against the weight of any throne. But change... yes. Jingyan would have to change, had already had to change, was already trapped in the Capital as much as Lin Shu was trapped in his body most days. But he knew Jingyan would already be reaching for new footing, a new place to stand strong. He knew Lin Chen's point was that he should not be less, should not let himself fall to despair either, but there was another thought linking itself ever so softly to the end of that chain.

Was it possible that he and Jingyan, shifting to each find his new footing, could stand in the same place, once again?

The thought spread through him like a fire catching from a spark, one slow lick at a time until it finally flared up in a burst of wanting that stole his breath. If he hadn't already been sitting, he'd have fallen, dizzied by the very possibility. He would never, could never, ask Nihuang to abandon the field, would never permit another to suggest she open her fingers and release the martial brilliance she was born to, not for any man. But Jingyan... Jingyan was fighting a new kind of battle, now, and it was one Mei Changsu knew the ways of. To serve his dead he'd walked even the most shadowed turnings of that way, but to serve Jingyan, now, what was needed was to find the brighter tracks, the ones that would not consume his heart. And perhaps, just perhaps... Lin Shu could walk those ways with him.

He only realized he was gasping for breath when Lin Chen took his shoulder and shook him a little, frowning. "What idea have you gotten into your head now?"

Lin Shu laughed out loud, for the first time since he'd woken, and smiled up at his friend's startlement. "Help me up. I need to walk."

Startlement faded into a rueful twist of Lin Chen's mouth, and he sighed. "I suppose I should know, by now, to be wary what I wish for, around you. Come on, then." He hauled Lin Shu upright and handed him his staff, standing on the veranda with folded arms and a wry smile as Lin Shu made his way, with slow determination, around the plaza, staff clacking down firmly on the stones.

Recovery with no goal to work toward had been soul-killing, but recovery that still dragged on once he had a reason to fight through it was infuriating. He'd actually managed to forget just how frustrating it was when he knew he could be better and simply wasn't yet. It had been quite a long time since he'd had any hint of "better" to look forward to, after all. Fei Liu brightened, though, and started perching in the trees again, to watch over him, instead of huddling stubbornly in a corner of his rooms, never budging outside unless it was to help him walk somewhere, and then refusing to move further than arm's length away. Li Gang, when he visited, looked less like a man attending a very extended memorial service, and more like a man visiting a sick friend, though he still had a certain air of resignation about him.

Lin Chen had it, too, and finally said, one day while helping him get dressed like a civilized person and not an invalid, "You're still going to leave your life with us, aren't you? I can barely call you Changsu, these days."

He tugged his sleeves straight, slowly, eyes on the soft layers of blue. "My life with you was only ever borrowed."

"Oh, don't be more of an idiot than you can help!" Lin Chen yanked his outer sash snug enough to drive a tiny grunt out of him. "You lived by the laws of our world without fault or hesitation for twelve years. You led Jiang Zuo with strength and care, and protected those who had obligation to you. Of course you had your own reasons for it, but what moment of that time was false?"

"No moment, perhaps," he allowed, quietly, "but the reasons and intent that drove me do not weigh nothing in this. As you say, I am not, now, Mei Changsu."

Lin Chen sniffed, stepping over his scattered books and scrolls to take a seat at the low table, graceful as he only ever was when he fought—or when he had a point to make. "Lin Shu isn't completely intolerable, I suppose. Except when he's moping." He stabbed a finger at Lin Shu's tiny snort of amusement. "But he does not make Mei Changsu a falsehood, any more than Changsu makes Lin Shu false."

The words rang in the air, in his head, the way true things did. He stepped slowly over to the table, lowering himself down on the other side to watch his friend, who watched him back, sharp-eyed. "So, as you say, I have had two lives," he finally answered, softly. "I will count myself fortunate for them. For you. For my people. But it's true, isn't it, that I can only live one at a time?"

For a long moment, he thought Lin Chen would not answer, or would turn aside with a jest. Instead, Chen sighed, propping an elbow on the table, loose hair sliding over his shoulder as he turned to look out at the brightening sky. "You weren't wrong, you know; Lin Shu is a friend. I will visit him now and then, perhaps, to make sure he isn't undoing my hard work, and I expect to see him visit here and mock with me all the foolish questions Langya receives. But no—you cannot live as both at once. No man can live in two worlds at the same time."

It felt like release, like absolution, and Lin Shu took a long breath in. "Thank you." His smile tilted wryly, but it was still true. "My friend.

"I would be a poor physician if I couldn't see what my patient required to be strong again," Lin Chen grumbled, not looking at him. "So? Who have you been grooming to take Jiang Zuo after you?"

It was, Lin Shu had to admit, refreshing to talk with someone who took his foresight and forethought entirely for granted, sometimes. He leaned against his backrest and offered the future a tiny, satisfied smile. "Nie Duo."

Lin Chen's head snapped around, and he stared for a breath. "Nie Duo? The brother of that hairy General of yours who married the investigator girl?" Lin Chen was the master of Langya, and almost as good at keeping track of affairs as Lin Shu; he could see the connections linking together, one after another, in those sharp eyes. Nie Duo was a man from a well-established military clan, one who'd grown up learning tactics, troop movements, how to plan a battle at the knees of his elders, who had connections to the military via his brother, to the intrigues of the capital via his sister-in-law. Nie Duo was the one who'd been sent beyond Liang's borders bearing messages to the further flung members of Jiang Zuo, who was known and trusted by entire networks, who had laid the groundwork for the gambit in Yunnan, years ago, and would be recognized—though not for who he was—by Mu Qing. In short, Nie Duo was a man to make anyone hoping to take advantage of Mei Changsu's disappearance regret the thought, swiftly and sincerely. Nie Duo was also the brother of a Chiyan General, and would never forget his debt to either his chief or a revived Lin Shu. And when that last piece fell into place, Lin Chen threw back his head and laughed, open and delighted as he'd ever been with Mei Changsu.

In a softly-lit room of Liang's Inner Palace, the woman who had become the Palace's de facto mistress sorted through her day's correspondence as little Lan put up her hair. Letters from the agents she'd finally been able to spread outside the Palace went to the side, to go over with An later, once Jingyan's son was taken off for a nap. Inventories, she glanced over and passed to Li Mei, who would see they came to Lady Hui. The few notes from officials she set firmly in the "not until after I have had tea" pile. That left...

"Shall we use the blue enameled hairpiece today, my lady?" Lan asked, and Jing smiled a little at the sparkle in the girl's eyes. She'd chosen Lan as one of her dressers exactly because she delighted in achieving the proper harmony of fabric and jewelry with the day's work, rather than simply piling ostentation atop display. It was one less thing to worry about.

"Yes, that will do." She frowned down at the last letter, though, as Lan carefully settled and pinned the gold and blue hairpiece in place, turning it over in her fingers. It had the seal of Langya Hall.

She had considered, on more than one occasion, sending inquiries to Langya, especially regarding the balance of power beyond the borders, but every time the value of keeping her own counsel and questions close had weighed more heavily. And now they wrote to her? Perhaps... perhaps there was some last request xiao-Shu had left with them? She broke the seal and unfolded the delicate paper, running her eye down it as Lan brought over a pair of long but simple gold earrings on a tray.

"Will these suit, my—my lady!"

The tray clattered to the floor and Jing clutched at her table, trying to steady her breath, her heart, unable to tear her eyes from the few, simple characters on the paper in her hand, even as her attendants caught her arms to hold her upright.

Your nephew lives.

"Call for a physician, quickly," Li Mei was snapping, kneeling beside her to feel her hands, her brow. "My lady?"

"I will be well," she tried to reassure them, though she was ruefully aware of how unsteady her voice was, and that she would undoubtedly have ordered herself to bed, dosed with heart-strengtheners, were she her own attending physician. Actually, that was a fine thought. "Bring me my red medicine chest."

Li Mei frowned, but did as she said, and brought a cup of water to help her swallow the two pills she extracted from the upper layer of boxes. She counted breaths out, slowly, and finally felt the easing of her own pulse. "I'm well," she reassured the girls clustered around her. "There's no need to trouble the physicians."

Li Mei's mouth tightened for a moment, at that, but she dutifully shooed everyone back to their places.

"Are you sure, my lady?" little Lan asked, picking the earrings she'd brought and laying them back on the tray with fingers that trembled just a little. Jing patted her arm, kindly.

"Quite sure. And those earrings will do nicely." She sat, calm and poised, while the last of her jewelry was placed, and drank her first cup of tea with hands that were perfectly steady.

She had, after all, many more years of practice than Lan did.

"You look like a housecat in a patch of catnip."

Lin Shu took another loving breath of the steam rising from his cup and ignored Lin Chen.

"Are you actually going to drink that or not?"

"Good tea deserves to be savored." Finally, he took a slow sip and nearly sighed with pleasure at the rich, delicate flavor.

On the other side of the room's low table, Lin Chen held the letter he was reading a little away from him, brows raised. "You know," he said, slowly, "your noble aunt has quite the vulgar turn of phrase on her, for a woman of the Inner Palace."

Lin Shu nearly passed the first mouthful of real tea he'd been allowed in months through his nose. Fei Liu, looked up from the paper menagerie he'd been creating with a worried frown, and only settled back slowly at Lin Shu's waved assurance. "You wrote to Lady Jing?" he gasped, once he'd finished coughing, sleeve pressed to his mouth. "Chen...!"

"What? You are planning to go back, aren't you?" Lin Chen gave him his most infuriatingly cheerful smile.

"Yes, but—!"

"She is your Prince's other strategist, isn't she?"

Lin Shu took a long breath, reminding himself not to argue on Lin Chen's own terms, and set his cup down with precise fingers, which he was finally, thankfully, able to do. "I was hoping to manage the news of my revival in a slightly more graceful manner than driving a Noble Consort to swear at you in letters."

His friend smirked at the letter. "Not a problem, really. I'm actually a little impressed."

After a long moment, Lin Shu decided firmly not to ask. "Does my honored aunt have anything to say, aside from pointing out your lack of manners?"

Lin Chen fanned the letter through the air, looking more smug than ever as he leaned an elbow on the table. "She admonishes you to attend her in the capital with all due haste."

"Do I take it, from this maneuver, that you think I'm fit to make the trip?" Lin Shu asked rather dryly.

Lin Chen looked him up and down, piercingly, and finally nodded. "You're recovering more according to normal rules, this time. It will continue to be slow, and you will reach a limit, but that limit will be far less a matter of looking constantly over the edge of death and more a matter of... well, of simple age."

Lin Shu dared another sip of his tea, this one rather more satisfactory. "Twice my age, hm?"

"That's how much wear you've put on your body, yes. A man of sixty, who's lived his whole life in war. He may be perfectly well, but he will often ache, he will be slow to recover from any illness, and he won't be able to bear great stresses on his body." Lin Chen leaned forward, slapping the table for emphasis, "Because he's already borne as much as he can!"

"I heard you the first time," Lin Shu pointed out, mildly, mouth quirking at the snort of disbelief he got.

"At any rate, yes. As long as you go slowly, you've reached the point where it would be good for you to be out traveling. I might even let you on a horse." At Lin Shu's startled look—this was the first he'd heard of any such possibility—Lin Chen flapped an impatient hand. "You're recovering better than I expected, actually, and working on practice forms has smoothed your qi considerably. Provided you don't do anything too very stupid, I'm starting to think you might live as much as twenty more years."

Lin Shu had to set his cup down, feeling like his hand might start shaking again. Twenty years? That was... it was almost a life. His voice was a little hoarse when he asked, "How is that possible?"

For a long moment, Lin Chen didn't answer, gazing instead out the open windows at the first flashes of autumn gold, dancing as wind swept through the bamboo on the mountain's flanks. "The will of those who came to help and heal you is still with you," he said at last, quietly. "It's as if the tiniest seeds of a hundred benevolent ghosts gather around you." After another moment, he shrugged off the sober mood and slanted a smile at Lin Shu. "When I write this procedure up, I'll have to make very clear that the circumstances and intentions of the donors appear to weigh very heavily on the results."

"Of course." Lin Shu folded his hands together, more shaken by this news than he had been by the last two seasons of slow, painful recovery. He was used to slow and painful. Hope was what bewildered him, now. Even he could hear how tentative his voice was, when he said, "I suppose I should write to Meng da-ge to start arranging things, then."

"Excellent idea!" Lin Chen pushed himself up from the table in a flurry of robes and smiled down at him, sunny and ruthless. "You can think about what to say while you work through your afternoon training form."

With a glance of wistful regret at the teapot, Lin Shu levered himself upright as well. "As if your standards of proper form leave the slightest space for thinking about anything else."

"You'd have plenty of mind left for it if you weren't wasting so much on complaining. Ingratitude!" Lin Chen gestured broadly at Fei Liu, who promptly edged around Lin Shu's other side. "Just look how pleased Fei Liu is that his Su ge-ge finally knows how to do something useful!"

That got him a very dark look from Fei Liu, who declared, "Fine!"

Lin Shu smiled wryly. He'd insisted as much, himself, for twelve years, flying in the face of all evidence. And now, past any point he'd ever thought to even imagine himself alive in, he seemed to finally be fine again—and barely knew how to deal with it. But perhaps, if all went well, he'd find out soon.

He'd know, when he saw Jingyan again.

Jing descended from her closed carriage, passing from the assistance of Li Mei's hand to Jingrui's and smiled quiet acknowledgment of his greeting. "Her Highness is gracious to receive me," she murmured as Jingrui led her up the stairs of Grand Princess Liyang's elegant house. "I was worried when we didn't see her for the Moon Festival. Is she quite well?" Without waiting for a reply, as the doors shut behind them, she added, "Is she truly willing to have this meeting here?"

"I don't think she's happy about it, but she's appreciated your visits and care, this past year," the young man answered, level. "If it's true, I think she will be glad for you, at least."

Jing could well believe that. Princess Liyang had, in the end, loved her husband, but "complex" did not even begin to describe that love. She nodded silently and let Jingrui guide her through the courtyards to Liyang's outer receiving room, dark wood lightened today with the pale rose her attendants wore, and the soft green of the tea set waiting. Liyang herself, as she rose to exchange greetings, was still in her dark, mourning blue; Jing thought she would probably wear it the full three years, and not for her husband alone. At least one of the agents she'd been able to send out into the world had gone to quietly add Liyang's gifts to the ones Jingrui sent to the Zhou family.

"Do you think this is for real?" Liyang asked, as they sat, reaching for the tea set.

Jing folded her hands tightly under cover of her sleeves. "I hope so. From what the Master of Langya sent me, it seems... possible."

Liyang's mouth twisted a little as she poured. "I think the heavens must have a purpose for that man, that they return him so persistently to this world." She looked up, eyes sharp. "Have you told the Crown Prince?"

Jing held back an indelicate snort with the ease of long practice. "No. Not until I'm sure." There were few things that could break Jingyan as surely as lying hope of his beloved cousin, and that she would not permit.

"They're coming," Jingrui said, from the door, nudging it open and beckoning his younger brother in, along with Meng and a tall, hooded figure. Jing rose, eyes fixed on them, taking in Meng's open excitement, Jingrui's slowly brightening face. Thin hands rose to fold back the hood, and Jing had to breathe through a wild rush of emotion—joy and shock and disbelief and a thread of hope that slowly strengthened as the man who stood there smiled, small and wry the way he seemed to have learned to in his second life.

"Xiao-Shu." It came out husky, and his smiled softened a little as he bowed greeting to her.

"Aunt Jing." That made her have to blink back tears for an instant; he used to call her that when he was much younger, careless of the protocol of court.

"Come here and let me see," she ordered, as she had when he or Jingyan or Nihuang had managed to injure themselves training. He smiled for real at that, and came to hold out his wrist, obediently. She nearly held her own breath, setting her fingers over the pulse point, hope and fear of what she might feel tangling together, but long habit composed her to quiet attention.

And his pulse beat, sure and steady under her fingers, no hint of the stumble and catch that would tell of poison, of a body on the verge of collapse at any moment. It was weaker than it should be in a man only just past thirty, but it was steady. "It's true," she whispered, for the rest of them, for herself, for xiao-Shu, because she suspected he needed to hear it again, too. The laughing and shoulder-clapping among the men gave her a chance to re-gather herself, and she added, more calmly as she tugged his sleeve back down, "Perhaps I won't do anything too very dreadful to your friend after all."

He turned a little red at that, but only asked, "Does Jingyan know?" The rest of the room quieted, Meng looking hopeful, as if he might volunteer to carry the news. She gave him the same look she gave overexcited young maids, their first time serving in the Palace.

"He does not. And I believe this is news you should bring to him in your own voice." Her nephew looked, perhaps, a shade nervous at that, which she honestly felt was to the good. She never wanted to watch her son collapse at her feet again, and one of the only people in the world who could either cause or avert that was standing in front of her right now, hands vanishing into his sleeves as he clasped them.

He'd probably learned that from her.

"If you think it best," he agreed, quietly.

She gave him a nod of approval and gratitude, and hid a smile when he ducked his head a little; yes, for all he'd learned in twelve years focused on vengeance and death, he was still their xiao-Shu. "I'll arrange for the meeting. General Meng, if I could trouble you to bring xiao-Shu to the Eastern Palace at the appropriate time?"

"Of course, Lady," Meng agreed, clearly delighted by all this, and she had to wonder whether xiao-Shu had told him, yet, that actually staying here would likely have to wait on the Emperor's death.

"Very well. If the Grand Princess will permit," Jing looked a question at her, and Liyang nodded slowly, eyes flicking between xiao-Shu and her son, whose whole body was turned and focused on xiao-Shu, nearly as firmly as Meng's. "Let us sit and talk a little," Jing finished, gently.

If Liyang's son had been captured by Lin Shu's brilliance, the way the boy's subordinates so often had been, they would need to speak, later. Liyang would need reassurance that xiao-Shu returned loyalty given to him without stint—which the events of a year ago should bear abundant witness to, but mere bonds of friendship had been harshly strained to keep that dire loyalty and the heart often needed these things explained.

Even xiao-Shu's heart, which was another reason she wanted him to bear this news to Jingyan in person.

Jing took up her tea cup and smiled over the edge, satisfied.

Lin Shu felt distinctly like the lover, in some tale of romantic adventure, being smuggled into the Palace. Except that, instead of going to meet a Concubine, he was being led through the shadows and back stairs to meet the Crown Prince. His sardonic amusement, every time the senior palace lady they followed hissed at Meng to walk more softly, was undercut by a certain amount of nerves. Last time he'd come to the capital and sought out Jingyan, he'd had a very clear idea of what would need to happen. This time, all he had was the understanding that both of them were standing at the start of new lives, and the hope that they could lean on each other while finding their way.

Hopes could always fail.

He'd been the one to push Jingyan into this position, though, and if he had honor left after what he'd done to restore the names of his family and his men, it had to lie in supporting the Prince he'd placed here in the Eastern Palace.

Finally, they cleared the maze of gardens and back walks, and the lady waved them across the plaza in front of the Eastern Palace, blue robes vanishing into the shadows as she slipped away. Meng escorted him across the lantern-lit space, nodding approval at the alert guards, and Lin Shu had to stifle another chuckle at the whole affair. A young eunuch let them in, the slightly wide-eyed expression on his face suggesting that someone, likely Lady Jing but possibly Lady Liu, had had some firm instructions for him regarding what he was to do and questions he was not to ask. In any case, he led them down the halls and deposited them just outside one of the few brightly lit rooms, and took himself off without a word. To them, at least; Lin Shu had no illusions that this whole trip would not be fodder for gossip at once, at least within the Eastern Palace.

He nodded to Meng, who nodded back, nearly grinning, and stepped into the light. "Your Highness? I brought that visitor your Noble Mother mentioned." Following behind Meng, Lin Shu could see the tired look that crossed Jingyan's face, as he folded and set aside one of quite a stack of report folios on the low table before him before pushing himself to his feet, not even looking up yet.

"Very well. Come in."

"You'll like this interruption, Your Highness," Meng promised, holding out a hand to usher Lin Shu in. He stepped forward with the gesture, refraining from rolling his eyes at Meng's obvious glee.

"I suppose it will be a change at least," Jingyan started to say, but as he looked up, Lin Shu stepped fully into the light, and for a moment it seemed as if time had stopped. Jingyan stood as if frozen, only his widening eyes telling that he knew what he was seeing. Lin Shu took another step forward. "Your Highness..." started to fall from his lips, because he had drilled that habit into himself as deeply as he could. It hadn't been deep enough, of course; he knew perfectly well, looking back, when Jingyan had known in his heart, if not his head, who Mei Changsu was, and it had been the moment when he'd called Jingyan by his name. And so, knowing that, he closed his eyes and took another breath, and said, instead, "Jingyan."

He could see the simple name go through his friend like a sword, and when Jingyan stepped forward it was almost a stumble. "Xiao-Shu?" Another step, and another, faster, and then he had hold of Lin Shu's shoulders, holding them tight, as if he were truly afraid it was an apparition in front of him. The shock on his face, and the open, breathless hope cracking through Jingyan's iron reserve shook Lin Shu down to the heart of him, that his mere existence should be the cause of this.

"How?" Jingyan breathed, voice breaking for one instant on the word, and Lin Shu's hands came up in automatic response, to close on his arms.

"Lin Chen." He shrugged a little, as much as he could under the hard grip of Jingyan's hands. "He tricked even me, this time."

A voiceless shade of laughter escaped Jingyan. "He had to trick you into living?"

"Well..." Lin Shu's breath caught as Jingyan shook him a little.

"Be quiet." Jingyan closed his eyes for a long moment, head bent down, and finally managed, in something closer to a conversational tone. "Of course he did. But—" he looked Lin Shu up and down, hands working a little on his shoulders, and finally asked, hope fragile in his voice again, "you're well?"

"I'm well," and it turned from assurance to promise, in his mouth, pulled from him by the tiny shivers of reaction he could feel running through Jingyan, under his hands. "Lin Chen said at least ten years. Perhaps even as much as twenty." Jingyan's hands tightened until he could feel his bones creak, and the open relief that swept Jingyan's face clean wrenched another promise from him. "I will be with you, here."

The smile Jingyan gave him then stopped the breath in his throat, so bright for such a faint curve of lips that he could only tighten his hold on Jingyan's arms and let it be what it was.

Eventually, reluctantly, Jingyan released him, and Lin Shu was grateful because he didn't think he could have pulled himself away and Meng was still standing by the entry, positively grinning at them both. Jingyan straightened and gave the General a grave nod. "This was a very welcome interruption, General Meng. Thank you."

"It was my honor, Your Highness." Meng gave them a parting bow and strode briskly back down the hall, as if the thanks had been a dismissal.

Lin Shu was starting to suspect that Lady Jing had managed and directed this meeting in far more detail than he'd at first thought she would. And that led him to wonder why she should trouble that much, and to think about how Jingyan had looked at him when he'd stepped into the room, and then he had to stifle a wince. He hadn't the slightest doubt that his aunt was delighted and grateful for his return, but she was probably upset with him at the same time. He'd done his best to hold his loved ones away from him, when he'd thought he would have no choice but to leave them within months. Jingyan...

Jingyan turned back to him, and if Lin Shu had been the sort to ignore the world around him, he might have thought he'd imagined the tiredness hanging so heavy on his friend mere moments ago. There was no sign of it, now. A year ago, he'd thought there was no help for it, had done his best to surround Jingyan with others who could stand behind him and support him, even as he himself withdrew. Now, it was painfully clear that those efforts hadn't been enough.

Well, perhaps he could do something about it, now.

"Come." Jingyan beckoned him through to the inner room. "Tell me what happened."

They wound up sitting by his bed while Lin Shu recounted his recovery, and then had to go further back and explain how Lin Chen had made off with his body from the final battlefield, with, from what he'd heard, Meng's grief-stricken permission, and then Jingyan asked his perspective on that battle and the cushions wound up serving as placeholders for the army's regiments while the covers were pressed into service as mountain geography.

Lin Shu wasn't really surprised when he woke up with his head pillowed on Jingyan's bed and Jingyan on the floor beside him.

He wasn't surprised, but he did have to stop and breathe carefully for a while, so as not to wake Jingyan with the burst of grief and hope and pain that memory shook out of him—heart memory and body memory of so many mornings like this. His life had come full circle, in a way, but how much had he lost on the path to return here? He buried his face in the bed, concentrating on keeping his breath even, again.

"Xiao-Shu." Jingyan's hand was warm, resting on his head, deep voice still rough with sleep, and Lin Shu made an annoyed sound, not looking up.

"You were supposed to stay asleep."

"I always woke up, when you woke up."

At that, he smiled a little, lifting his head. "Yes. I did, too."

Jingyan smiled back, more peaceful than Lin Shu had seen him in a very long time. All he said, though, was, "It will be time for food. Come eat."

Liu An had been as shocked as anyone else, when her mother-in-law had told her, very quietly, who would be visiting her husband in the night. She'd had over a year under Lady Jing's tutelage, though, and as she prepared for bed, herself, she'd turned the thought of Lin Shu's return over in her mind, examining the angles of it. She had little doubt that her husband would wish to bring the man into her household; she approved of Lin Shu's support for her husband, and did not object to the idea. But Lin Shu (Mei Changsu, as was) had been instrumental in forcing the Emperor to face truths and duties he had not wished to face. If Lin Shu entered the Crown Prince's household, now, she could not see any way to prevent a very sharp downturn in the Emperor's already brittle relationship with his current heir.

With that in mind, she brought her son to breakfast with her, a wordless reminder of the dynastic stakes still in play within the Palace.

And, indeed, Lin Shu's first sight of the boy made him stop in his tracks, but she was fairly sure politics weren't the cause. The flash of shock that broke his faint smile was unmistakably a personal response. She thought, though, that the tangle of melancholy and thoughtfulness that followed might mean his thoughts turning in the direction she wished.

She was quite sure that the flicker of amusement in his eyes when he greeted her meant he knew exactly what she'd been doing. So she dipped a graceful bow of acknowledgment and waited quietly to see how he would answer her.

They had barely started when Lin Shu looked over at her husband and said, "I won't be able to stay for long, not yet." Jingyan's head came up sharply, and Lin Shu raised a hand, holding his eyes. "That was the deal I made with the Emperor. That Lin Shu would not return to the capital. But to be of the most aid to you, I need to be Lin Shu again."

"Do you think I care how much aid you can be?" Jingyan asked, quiet and fierce, and a rueful smile tugged at Lin Shu's mouth.

"No. But I do." He met her husband's dark look with perfect equanimity, and An had to hide a smile. "So, there are two ways to do this: the safe way and the fast way." He waited for Jingyan to sit back, arms crossed but not interrupting, and continued. "The safe way is to wait for the Emperor to die, and return then."

"The Lady Jing believes that will be within the next four or five years," An put in, softly. "His health was already not the best, and it took a blow, a year ago."

Lin Shu nodded, and the faint light of approval in the glance he gave her lifted her heart so that she understood, abruptly, how this man might inspire such unending loyalty in the men he led, and why an Emperor might, indeed, fear him greatly.

"Five years, then," he said, turning back to Jingyan. "It's longer than I like, of course, but I could, at least, visit discreetly during that time."

"And the fast way?" her husband prompted. The sparkle that put in Lin Shu's eyes made An brace herself.

"Well, I should go south and see Nihuang in any case, at least if I wish to continue living. The fast way is for me to return to her openly, as Lin Shu, and let the Emperor order us to the capital so as to keep us under his eye."

"The Marshal of Chiyan and the General of Yunnan, united," Jingyan filled in, rather dryly. "Yes, that would likely get very fast results."

"There's a certain amount of risk in it." Lin Shu took a sip of his tea and, for some reason, gave her a look of deep amusement before turning back to the matter at hand. "He will understand quite well that I'm forcing his hand, and if I then stand openly in support of you, his fear may overcome his good sense. Again."

Her husband's face turned set and cold, at that. The reminder of Prince Qi's fate made An think of something else, though. Of a certain memorial tablet, and what her mother-in-law had never quite admitted to doing, to secure it. "Perhaps," she said, words falling softly into the quiet between the two men, "that need not be a great concern." At Lin Shu's raised brow, she lifted her chin, hands clasped tightly in her lap. "You should consult with Lady Jing, who often has such influence over him."

She didn't think her husband knew what she was saying, but Lin Shu went very still for a long moment before nodding slowly. "A wise suggestion, Lady Liu. My thanks."

She nodded back, trying not to show the tiny shivers running through her at the enormity of what she'd just said might and should be done. The warmth of her husband's hand covered hers, though, and the small, quiet smile he gave her slowed the quick beat of her heart again. This was her rightful work and duty, to do all in her power to safeguard her husband and children, and if her husband did not yet know all she intended, still he approved of her joining this effort. An drew a long breath and bent her attention to the plans her husband's brother in heart was setting out.

Three

Nihuang sighed, exasperated, as she sorted through her letters. The Emperorâ€™s tournament for the right to marry her had started a positive flood of ongoing proposals, some subtle and some rather less so. She was starting to recognize some of them by the writing, and those she crumpled and tossed aside.

â€œIs the Da Yu envoy still bugging you?â€ Qing asked. â€œHeâ€™s so annoying! I should challenge him, next time we have to host him.â€

â€œDonâ€™t challenge envoys just because theyâ€™re annoying me.â€ Sometimes Nihuang wondered whether she should move her daily work into an office of her own, if only to keep her little brotherâ€™s nose a bit further out of her business. The rustle of paper from his table caught her ear and she added, absently, â€œRead the whole thing, Qing-er.â€

He gave her a hang-dog look and pulled back the report of crop plans that he hadnâ€™t spent nearly long enough on to be finished with. Nihuang smiled down at her own table, which had almost certainly been her brotherâ€™s goal. Heâ€™d gotten more subtle about teasing her, this past year. Perhaps she would move to her own office some year soon, but there were compensations for staying here, for now. She picked up the last letter and almost crumpled that one unread, too; she was almost sure she recognized this writing from somewhere also. But it had no name or seal on it, from the sender, which the diplomatic proposals always did. She frowned at the characters of her own name and title, thoughtfully. Where had she seen this writing before, then?

â€œItâ€™s almost time for training, my lady,â€ a soft voice interrupted, and she looked up to see Gong Yu, looking a bit like a shadow in the dark greens sheâ€™d worn all year, hovering by the entrance. â€œShall I help you change?â€

Nihuangâ€™s smile gentled; she was glad the girl had agreed to stay with her, and not only because it was pleasant to have another woman versed in the arts of war to accompany her. Without some kind of task to accomplish, and one she could tell herself would have pleased her Chief, Nihuang thought that Gong Yu might not have survived the year. And she couldnâ€™t deny that it had helped her, too, to have some living piece of Lin Shuâ€™s life to look after. â€œYes, just let me see who this last letter is from, and we can go.â€

Gong Yu turned white as snow.

â€œYu!â€ Nihuang started to her feet, hand outstretched, wondering if the girl was going to faint.

â€œThatâ€™s the Chiefâ€™s writing,â€ Gong Yu whispered, one hand clutching the frame of the screen beside her, knuckles white. Nihuang felt she might need to hold on to something solid, herself.

â€œAre you sure?â€ Her voice rasped in her throat.

Gong Yu hurried across the room and slid to her knees beside Nihuang, eyes fixed on the slip of folded paper, wide and devouring. â€œYes. Yes, Iâ€™m sure.â€ She looked up at Nihuang, entreating. â€œJie-jie, you knowâ€¦â€ Nihuang nodded silently; she knew what it was to recognize something of Lin Shu, to know, at once and without doubt. She took a slow breath and reached out to take Gong Yuâ€™s hand, wondering if her own fingers were as cold as Yu's.

â€œLet us see what this is, then, mei-mei.â€

Qing had come to hover over her shoulder, anxious, as Nihuang unfolded the letter. Her heart caught as she scanned down the page; if Gong Yu recognized the writing, she recognized the turns of phrase. â€¦truly ridiculous plansâ€¦ â€¦cannot leave him surrounded by foolsâ€¦ â€¦thought I had betterâ€¦

â€œJie?â€ Qing-er asked, softly, and she realized there were tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away with a quick palm.

â€œHeâ€™s coming back.â€ She lifted her head and smiled at Gong Yu, laid a hand over Qingâ€™s, on her shoulder. â€œI suppose weâ€™d better get ready.â€ After all, the one thing her betrothed had always brought with him was actionâ€”often action that no one else would have dreamed or dared.

It was one of the things she loved in him.

Lin Shu had debated whether it would be best (and even, now he had that luxury, kindest) to send a letter ahead or not. In the end, heâ€™d chosen to write, hoping the shock would be a little less; he had no wish to be mistaken for his own ghost, however briefly. And, once he started writing, heâ€™d found himself explaining at some length, writing of his exasperated gratitude to Lin Chen, his concern for how Jingyan could handle the burden Lin Shu had dropped on him, his worry for her. It was when he finished that last, that he had to stop and rest his head in his palms and laugh at himself. Heâ€™d spent over ten years winding himself ever deeper into the mindset of a strategist, of a revenger, of one who would do whatever it took to drive a plan through to completion. And where was all that icy focus, now?

Apparently, heâ€™d only ever managed to close Lin Shu up (briefly) in a box that turned out to have the flimsiest of latches.

When he was shown into one of Mu Palaceâ€™s inner receiving rooms, he knew heâ€™d been right about that, because he couldnâ€™t make himself turn his eyes away from the hand Nihuang pressed over her lips, the water-brightness of her eyes. The habit of long years still froze him in the entrance until she strode across the room and threw her arms around him, but the warm press of her against him broke that habit and discipline like thin ice snapping in spring, and he caught her close in return, laughing low and helpless into the darkness of her hair until they were nearly giggling together, unstrung by the long, long release of grief and tension.

She balled up a fist and hit him in the shoulder. â€œYou said ten years!â€ she accused without lifting her head from his chest.

â€œI was actually right, though I didnâ€™t know it then.â€ He smiled down at her as her head jerked up and she stared, disbelieving. â€œPerhaps as many as twenty.â€ Softer, as her hands closed desperately tight in the fabric of his sleeves, he added, â€œI will stay as long as I can; you have my word.â€

She smiled back, slow and brilliant. â€œDonâ€™t think I wonâ€™t hold you to it.â€

â€œI hope you will.â€ They finally managed to step back a little, only hands still clasped, and Lin Shu looked up for her brother, wryly aware that he was probably in for some exuberant congratulations and teasing. His attention caught on the completely unexpected presence beside Qing, though, standing with clasped hands and wide, dark eyes. â€œGong Yu?â€

â€œShe brought me the news, and I convinced her to stay with me.â€ Nihuangâ€™s smile turned a little wicked, and he automatically braced himself. In the past, that was the look that had accompanied challenges to climb the city walls or race each other across the roofs. â€œMy younger sister's company has been a great comfort.â€

He might, Lin Shu thought distantly, have preferred the roof race to the open gratitude in Gong Yuâ€™s face, quickly replaced by shy hope as she glanced up at him under her lashes. Even in his current condition, it would have been less trouble. â€œNihuangâ€¦â€

â€œThey train together,â€ Qing supplied, grinning, clearly in on the whole conspiracy. â€œGong Yu is the only one of her ladies who can keep up with her, riding.â€

That was no small thing, Lin Shu had to admit, but stillâ€¦ â€œWe can discuss that later,â€ he said, firmly.

Nihuangâ€™s cheerfully unyielding expression made his heart sink a bit. â€œYes, we shall.â€

He sighed quietly; apparently, he had better start planning for a larger household, in the capital.

Gong Yu had spent her whole life in the pugilist world, and a mere year as a palace ladyâ€”especially lady to the General of Yunnanâ€”was not nearly enough to wear away the responses sheâ€™d absorbed from the time she was big enough to walk on her own. In her bones was the knowledge that Mei Changsu was her Chief, even with a new name and a new, or old, life.

Names were changeable things, in her world, at need.

So when the evening meal ended, and he caught her eye, she followed him out without question, without even glancing at Nihuang. She probably should have looked to her lady, she realized, pacing down the dark walks of the palace behind him, for approval orâ€¦ or direction? But, then again, perhaps not, if Nihuang meant her for his concubine. The thought sent a flutter of excitement and hope through her, which she tried to restrain, clasping her hands before her and hoping the chill of the winter night would cool the heat in her cheeks. When her Chief paused, at last, resting fine hands on the rail of the palaceâ€™s smaller water pavilion, she stood quietly at his shoulder, waiting for orders and hoping, deep in her heart, for acceptance.

â€œNihuang has already fallen prey, once, to the politics of the Inner Palace.â€ His words fell into the evening quiet like petals falling onto the water. â€œThe thought of someone beside her to watch her back does set me at ease.â€

â€œMy lady has a very ardent heart, and does not always guard herself,â€ she agreed, cautious. It was clearly something he already knew, but the heart was not always sensible. She had no wish to sound jealous, especially of the one who had been so good to her, a goodness she had almost forgotten the taste of over the years of pursuing her revenge.

â€œYou must know that I do not love you.â€ He did not look at her, so she dared to look up and watch his face, still in the faint glow of lamps across the water. â€œDo you wish this, even so?â€

His bluntness stole her breath like a blow, and yetâ€¦ he was not denying her. â€œIf I can continue to serve you, I will be satisfied.â€

His hand snapped up and caught her chin, not cruelly but very firmly, and dark eyes bored into hers. â€œDo not ever lie to me,â€ he said, very softly.

Gong Yu swallowed, heart beating fast, not daring to move, in his hold. â€œIt is not all I wish,â€ she admitted, voice a little ragged with nerves, â€œbut itâ€™s not a lie! Yes, I would wish you toâ€¦ to look on me kindly, but if I can still serve you I will be satisfied! And Nihuang jie-jieâ€¦ sheâ€™s sheltered me. She found a place for me. I would willingly live under her, and guard her from her enemies.â€

For a long moment, he only examined her, searchingly, but at last he granted her a slow nod and let her go. â€œVery well, then. You should know, I have never stood in the way of what my people wish to doâ€”only used those wishes. If that will truly content youâ€¦â€ his hand lifted to rest lightly on her head, â€œthen I will accept you into my house.â€

She bent her head, shaking, by now, hard enough that he could probably feel it. â€œIt will content me, my lord,â€ she whispered. He sighed, quietly, and patted her head, gentle and absent.

â€œVery well, then. Let us go in and speak to Nihuang.â€

She was still shaking a little, when they came to Nihuangâ€™s outer rooms, and when Nihuang gave them both a look of rather smug satisfaction and held out an arm, Gong Yu was more than willing to hurry over and bury her wildly vacillating mix of triumph and shock and hope and fear in Nihuangâ€™s shoulder. Nihuang jie-jie gathered her in and stroked her hair gently. â€œThere, mei-mei, donâ€™t worry. You get used to him, in time, and Iâ€™ll protect you.â€ Gong Yu couldnâ€™t help the tiny sound that jerked out of her, half giggle and half protesting gasp.

â€œI beg your pardon.â€ He sounded amused, though.

â€œJust like I used to protect Yujin,â€ Nihuang continued, clearly teasing, and Gong Yu started to relax against her side.

â€œI donâ€™t recall you ever protecting Yujin,â€ Lin Shu pointed out, robes rustling as he seated himself on the riser beside them. â€œIt was Jingrui that Yujin always hid behind, which was very wise of him.â€ He was smiling when she dared to look up from Nihuangâ€™s shoulder, wry and affectionate, and when his glance fell on her, curled in the circle of Nihuang jie-jieâ€™s arm, it was gentler than before. â€œWell. How shall we do this, then?â€

Nihuangâ€™s smile turned a little vicious and a little dreamy, and Gong Yu perked up to listen. She recognized that kind of look; she saw it often, in her own world. â€œPerhaps we can write to the Emperor asking his blessing, since he was so very concerned with my marriage prospects, recently.â€

Lin Shuâ€™s smile nearly matched hers. â€œOr perhaps Qing should write to notify him, since itâ€™s technically Qingâ€™s blessing you want, now. Iâ€™m sure heâ€™d write very enthusiastically of my return from â€˜exileâ€™.â€

Nihuang laughed out loud. â€œOh, I like that!â€ She sobered again quickly, though. â€œShu ge-geâ€¦ how much of Jingyanâ€™s position will we risk, provoking the Emperor that way?â€

â€œWe run a risk now in order to reduce it later.â€ He turned a hand palm up. â€œAnd, too, I have Lady Jingâ€™s assurance that the risk can beâ€¦ minimized.â€

â€œThe Emperor never struck me as that susceptible to his Consorts,â€ Nihuang said skeptically.

â€œNo. I believe she intends to take more direct action; she's a physician, after all, and knows very well what would calm him.â€ His eyes narrowed, thoughtful. â€œIn fact, itâ€™s quite possible sheâ€™s already taken direct action and merely needs to modify what sheâ€™s already doing.â€

Gong Yu was, frankly, impressed. Sheâ€™d never thought noble ladies could be so iron-nerved and dare such consequences as would come from drugging the Emperor. Nihuang shivered, though, perhaps remembering her own close call, and Gong Yu wrapped a shy arm around her, nestling closer. Jie-jie didnâ€™t need to worry about that, not while she was here. Nihuang gave her a quick smile and dropped a light kiss on her hair. â€œAll right, then. Let us hold the banquet on the next suitable date, and send the letter.â€

Lin Shuâ€™s smile at her made Gong Yu catch her breath, so soft, and a little wondering. â€œI never thought this would be possible, you know.â€

â€œIt was never yourself you made wonders possible for.â€ Nihuang reached out a hand to him. â€œBut now it can be.â€ The simple clasp of their hands made Gong Yu blush to watch.

Yes. She thought she could be content with this.

Chief Eunuch Gao had lived quite a long time in the Palace, and knew its moods. He knew the hushing of everyday sounds that meant the ministers would spend the day glancing nervously at each other, watching for where trouble or change might come from. He knew the sharpening of the palace ladies' graceful gestures that meant the balance of power had shifted, in the Inner Palace. He knew the sweetening in the air that meant everyone was thinking of the new year celebrations. All those shifting moods focused on or stemmed from the Emperor, which made many people think they were caused by the Emperor. Gao, however, had served the Emperor himself long enough to understand that, far from weaving all the threads of the Palace's fabric himself, the Emperor was as enmeshed in them as anyone else, influenced by his ministers, his family, even the shadow of his parents.

And, of course, by the officials like Gao.

Gao had been a young man, working his way up the hierarchy of the imperial messengers, when he'd first seen those threads pull tight and start to snap, yanked in two different directions—one the old Emperor, pulling toward governance and empire by brute force, the other the then-Crown Prince, pulling toward policies of strategy and diplomacy. He'd watched the fabric of the Court tear, then, taking with it the life of the Emperor, the guiding hand of the Dowager Empress, and the soul of Xia Jiang. He'd seen how long it took to reweave even a little of the fabric's sturdiness. And he had seen how the smallest word of comfort to the new Empress' ladies, or a calm smile to a nervous minister could help.

It was those small words and smiles that had made him Chief Eunuch by the time he was forty.

The second time he'd seen the threads of the Court fabric pull dangerously tight, he'd been new to his position as the one who watched over and minded the Emperor, and perhaps he'd been too cautious with his words, his smiles, his gentle nudging of the Emperor toward one concubine or another. Or perhaps there had simply been no help for it, whatever he'd done. The only one gripping and tangling the threads, then, had been the Emperor, afraid of his own reflection in the mirror of his mind, but they'd snapped all the same.

Gao had still been at work patching that tear when he'd heard yet another shift in the mood of the Palace, heard the name Mei Changsu whispering down the halls like the scent of plum blossoms through winter air. When that name had flared to life, in the Capital, like fire reaching down the threads of the Princes' rivalries, Gao had braced himself to preserve what he could, attempting again and again to calm and amuse the Emperor with the stable, everyday foibles of Palace life.

To little effect.

When Prince Jing had seemed to finally lose patience with the resulting tangle, himself, and reach out to lay his hand on the threads of the Court's fabric, Gao had blessed the chance and willingly steered the Emperor into Lady Jing's arms. She was another who understood the power of a gentle word and a calm smile.

In retrospect, he could only salute the Lady; the fabrics she wove from the threads of the Court ran soft and subtle and untorn from end to long end. Which was why, after the crisis had passed, he had come at once when she requested his presence.

"Chief Eunuch Gao," she'd greeted him, serene as a lily pond, and extracted a small, black bottle from her sleeve, setting it on the table between them without so much as a click, as she spoke. "I believe you know how harshly the Emperor has used his own heart and health over the years. Before any others, the palace officials must be aware of how his care for the Court and the Princes must wear on him." She'd looked up at him, dark eyes as deep and inexorable as the sea. "I know you must surely wish to ease his way. I beg that you will let me know if there is any way I can assist His Majesty."

In her words, he'd heard a promise—the promise of an Emperor to come, who would not rip the fabric of the Palace over and over, in his care for nothing but playing one Prince, one faction, against another. The promise of an Emperor who was, in so many ways, already there, doing the work of a ruler with an iron integrity Gao had not seen through the reigns of two Emperors before him.

So he'd taken the bottle with him, when he'd left, and measured a careful three drops into the Emperor's tea every morning, and he'd watched the sharpness leach out of the Emperor's eyes with regret. But not enough regret to throw away that little black bottle. Not when it had been months since the Emperor's temper last exploded, longer than that since he'd done more than nod upon reading one of the Crown Prince's meticulous weekly reports, or wave a dismissive hand over Duchess Mu continuing to lead the southern army in the field. Gao had begun to hope this Emperor might even manage to die in bed, instead of at his desk, of heart failure.

...though today's letters looked like they might set that hope back a bit.

Gao stepped cautiously closer, watching the Emperor's face twist and redden as his eyes sped down the paper. "Majesty? Is anything—"

"Yunnan?!" the Emperor exploded, fist clenching on the letter. "I tell the damn boy he can't return to the capital, so he goes to Yunnan instead?! To get married?!" He banged the desk furiously with his free hand, waving the letter in Gao's direction while Gao patted the air with both hands, trying to get a word in edgewise. "Does he think I'm a fool? Does he think I'll let this stand?"

"Majesty," Gao put in in his most soothing voice, "who is this from?"

"Lin Shu!" the Emperor raged, pounding the desk again. "Back from exile, Qing says! Sister delighted, he says! The Marshal of Chiyan and the General of Yunnan both on the south border in the Mu princedom? I won't have it!"

"Then surely all Your Majesty need do is order Lin Shu elsewhere," Gao said reasonably, hoping that Lady Jing's drug would take hold again soon enough for reason to actually work. "As Lin is exonerated, Lin Shu is legitimately under your command. And if the Duchess has finally married him, then she is bound to go with him."

"I wouldn't trust the pair of them anywhere!"

Gao sighed to himself, seeing exactly how this was to go, and in his mind he offered 'Mei Changsu' a rather weary salute; the man did plan well. There seemed to be no way around it, so he obediently laid out the next move. "Perhaps the best place is under your own eye, then, Majesty," he 'jested' with a small chuckle.

"Ha! That's probably exactly what he wants!"

"Then surely he will give you no trouble?" Gao suggested, watching closely, and nearly sagged with relief when he saw the fire in the Emperor's eyes begin to dim, losing the struggle against the soft haze of Jing's drugs. "Surely you'll feel better with them here under your eye," he repeated, gently.

"Mm. I suppose." The Emperor leaned back wearily in his throne, and waved a hand at him. "See to it. Lin Shu and Mu Nihuang are commanded to present themselves before their Emperor..." he rattled off the language of an official order, seeming to lose interest even as he did, and regret nipped at Gao. Relief was still stronger, though, watching that alarming red fade to a healthier color. Gao gently tweaked the offending letter off the desk and into his sleeve, and bowed.

"I will see to it, Majesty."

Jingyan had just presented his weekly report on the affairs of Court and the Ministries to the Emperor, wondering as always whether his father's wordless grunt as he glanced over it was approval or pique, when the announcement was called from the door, the one something at the base of his spine had been waiting months for.

"Marshal Lin Shu and Duchess Mu Nihuang request permission to enter the Emperor's presence!"

The Emperor snapped the report folio closed and tossed it aside on his desk. "About time. Bring them in."

Lin Shu swept through the room's pillars, Nihuang at his side. He'd laid aside "Su Zhe's" muted colors, and looked so very familiar, in brilliantly embroidered white over rich, dark blue, that Jingyan couldn't keep his fingers from curling into fists, as if he could physically grab hold of this new-and-familiar Lin Shu and keep him. Nihuang held her head high, matching his stride, hair swept all the way up for the first time Jingyan had ever seen, and her smile was as fiercely delighted as Jingyan felt. He tried to catch his breath, and calm, as they knelt and bowed to the Emperor, only to have it stolen again by the direct look, straight as a sword, that Lin Shu gave the Emperor as he straightened.

"You called for our attendance at the Capital, Majesty?"

The Emperor considered them for a long moment and finally shook a finger at Nihuang. "Finally found someone you'll deign to marry, hm?"

Nihuang gave him the sharpest smile Jingyan had ever seen out of her, and another short bow. "The one promised to me, yes. Thank you for your concern, Majesty."

The Emperor snorted and eyed Lin Shu in turn. "Fine, then. You might as well be useful. So you can keep him," he jabbed his finger at Jingyan, "from upsetting all the diplomatic channels I spent so much trouble creating. That should keep you busy."

Jingyan didn't think he was that bad at it, but the thought slipped away when his friend, his brother, turned his head and gave Jingyan Mei Changsu's tiny smile with Lin Shu's fire blazing in his eyes. "As my Emperor wishes," he stated, never looking away. Jingyan couldn't manage to look away either, and it was to Lin Shu that he spoke when he said, "I will be most grateful for the assistance." And then common sense gave him a jolt and he turned hastily to give his father the bow that went with the words.

The Emperor leaned back with a tetchy sound. "The two of you make me tired. Go away."

Gao stepped smartly forward. "His Imperial Majesty's audience is ended!" he announced, and flicked urgent fingers at Jingyan. Jingyan took the direction, as his mother had firmly instructed him to always do, and bowed along with Lin Shu and Nihuang, backing two formal steps before making for the doors. They only made it as far as the stairs before they all three stopped and stared at each other.

"You did it." Jingyan still couldn't believe it had been this easy.

"I always do. Pay attention, Jingyan." Lin Shu kept a mostly straight face until Nihuang swatted his shoulder, and then he was laughing, soft and bright, throwing an arm around her and leaning against Jingyan for balance as she elbowed him, and Jingyan found his own arms around their shoulders, all three of them ignoring the raised brows of the Palace guards, laughing together in the slanting sunlight.

The leaf buds were barely starting to unfurl, here in the Capital, but it finally felt like summer in his heart, again.

End

Red Heart and White Sword

Lin Shu and Nihuang settle into life at court, in the field, and in Jingyan's home while Lin Manor is repaired. The rest of the court may need a few stiff drinks to recover from the process, especially once a complex political scandal breaks in the middle of it. Drama with Politics and Porn, I-4

One

"I suppose I should see if the Lin manor can be reclaimed and repaired," Lin Shu mused, hands clasped behind him as he, Nihuang, and Jingyan walked slowly through the palace complex's roofed walks toward the Eastern Palace and Jingyan's waiting work. Jingyan was the one walking slowest, he was rather amused to note.

"And perhaps beg some staff from someone," Nihuang put in ruefully. "We came on so fast we left almost the entire rest of our train and escort a day or two behind, and we don't keep more than a handful of people at the Mu house here, regularly."

Jingyan nodded to a small herd of ministers who crowded out of their way and bowed—and started whispering as soon as they'd passed, Lin Shu noted. "Go to my house in town, then. It's almost fully staffed." His mouth quirked at the corner, the quieter relative of that irreverent grin Lin Shu had always loved to pull out of him. "Since none of my officers really wished to enter the ranks of the Palace officials at this point in their lives."

"Jingyan! You didn't actually suggest that to them, did you?" Nihuang asked, eyes dancing.

"No." Jingyan's smile faded. "I wasn't in the mood for laughing, at the time."

Lin Shu laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight for a moment. "I'm here," he said, softly. "I will remain here."

Jingyan took a quick breath and visibly settled himself. "Yes. And I said it a long time ago, didn't I?" he added, more briskly. "What's mine is yours, including that house. Stay as long as you like."

It was Lin Shu's turn to feel his breath catch, though he knew it should be no surprise that Jingyan also remembered.

Nihuang slid a thoughtful look back and forth between them, and finally smiled. "We will, then." At Lin Shu's raised brows she tucked a hand into his and otherwise ignored him, still smiling, which meant she wanted to tease him over knowing something he didn't. It probably said something about his own nature that he found that endearing. He laced his fingers with hers, ignoring the sidelong glances of passing officials and the faint quivering of Jingyan's shoulders that said he was trying not to laugh at them. It was their own business if they wanted to take this delayed opportunity to act like youngsters in love. "You should join us, in the mornings, for practice forms" Nihuang added, to Jingyan.

Lin Shu winced, pinched pride twinging a bit, but Nihuang just gave him a stubborn look. He knew she was right, that a partner closer to his own build would probably help him re-find the edges of himself more quickly, but he still had to take a moment to stifle the internal wail that said he didn't want Jingyan to see how much he'd lost.

Jingyan, for his part, had stopped still in the middle of the open walk between buildings, eyes wide. "Xiao-Shu... you can do forms again?" The first, faint stir of delight in his voice, and the aching hope in those words snuffed any remaining protest like a pinched-out candle.

"My sword forms are still appallingly stiff, and I can't complete any but the lowest leaps." Lin Shu's mouth tilted wryly. "The Lin swordmaster would weep. But yes. Every morning." Looking away, through the pillars of the outer walk ahead of them, he admitted, softly. "You would be welcome."

"Then I will come," Jingyan told him, just as softly.

"Excellent," Nihuang declared, looking downright smug as she caught their arms and towed them back into motion. "Then, for now, you can show us what's giving you a headache, Jingyan."

"Nothing is giving me a headache." Jingyan disengaged from her grip, nearly rolling his eyes.

"Then show us what would be giving you a headache if you were not Lady Jing's son," Lin Shu specified, and shared a knowing look with Nihuang when Jingyan's gaze slid aside. More seriously, he added, "Jingyan. This is exactly what I came back in order to help you with. Let me."

Now Jingyan returned his gaze, steady and serious. "Even though you hoped to be done with being the strategist, after Prince Qi, my brother's, and Lin's and Chiyan's names were restored?"

For a long moment, he was silent, because that had been true. "I did finish with it, though," he said at last, slowly. "And I returned to my old self, my own world, long enough to die there. I thought that would be the end of it, and I still believe I was right about that. This," he swept a hand around, at the palace, at the ministers and officials and ladies moving through the halls and gardens, each intent on their own ends and ambitions, and the three of them in the middle of it all, "this is what comes after that end, another new life." He gave Jingyan a tiny smile. "Now, what I can do, all that I can do, is for you and with you, nothing held back. That's as it should be, and I have no wish to be done with it."

Jingyan paused at the turn in to the Eastern Palace's garden walk, and Lin Shu saw true relief in the faint easing of his shoulders. "Xiao-Shu," Jingyan said, softly. "Thank you."

"If you thank me too often, I'm going to start calling you Your Highness again," Lin Shu warned.

Jingyan laughed at that. "Fine. Come on, then." He gestured them down the walk, and Lin Shu exchanged satisfied smiles with Nihuang. Her eyes were dancing, like she was laughing at them, again.

Eventually, he'd have to figure out what it was she thought he didn't know.

Things that were attempting to give him headaches took them all the way through dinner, and for once Jingyan didn't feel bad for complaining. Nihuang might not be any more of an adept at politics than he was, but they all knew how to read a situation and xiao-Shu seemed to know most of what he said even before he said it.

"Of course Zhu Yue still bears a grudge; he's actually quite aware of the city's political currents, even if a mole would have a better view of the country's larger concerns." Xiao-Shu pointed a sliver of dried apricot at Jingyan. "As far as he's concerned, you're directly responsible for his sister's death."

Nihuang rolled her eyes and pushed his hand toward his mouth. "I'll hardly deny that it was our actions that brought Prince Yu down, but even if Lady Zhu had really died, that would have been her own choice; she wasn't condemned with him."

"I did say Zhu Yue had a narrow view." Xiao-Shu finally popped the bit of apricot into his mouth. "He'll bear watching, even demoted, but I doubt he'll go beyond a little obstructionism. She was always the one with the most courage, in that family."

Jingyan sat back, trying not to laugh as Nihuang nudged a dish of dumplings under xiao-Shu's hand without looking. "Are you practicing for your future children?" he finally asked. It was at least the fourth time she'd done it, this meal. Nihuang snorted inelegantly.

"Hardly. It's that this one has gotten careless," she aimed a quelling look at xiao-Shu's indignant sound, "and always forgets that he has an appetite again, or what one is supposed to do with an appetite."

"I eat," xiao-Shu protested mildly. Jingyan eyed the dishes around them; xiao-Shu's were, perhaps, half as empty as his and Nihuang's. At his raised brows, xiao-Shu sighed and reached for another dumpling. Nihuang gave Jingyan a pleased, complicit nod, and Jingyan made a note to see how soon he could take xiao-Shu to his mother, who could give authoritative orders about how much to make sure he ate—orders that xiao-Shu might even follow, coming from her. It was xiao-Shu's open amusement and the laughter in Nihuang's eyes that he took to bed with him, though, the still-strong wonder that the brother of his heart had returned to him, and when his eyes opened on the soft light of early morning, he was smiling.

It was good, so very good, to step out into the cool air and see Lin Shu and Nihuang standing in the middle of his house's open training ground as if they had never left. Good to settle into his stance beside them without needing a word spoken, and move as one, hands sweeping up in the opening movement of the first form they'd all been taught. Good, above all, to watch Lin Shu out of the corner of his eye and see steadiness in the slow sweep of his feet over the dusty ground, true calm in his eyes and not the brittle, desperate edge of a year ago.

They were all quiet for a long moment after closing, all three of them, he thought, basking a little in having regained this peace together. At last, though, Nihuang stretched and nudged xiao-Shu with her shoulder. "You should do paired forms with Jingyan, today."

"Are you all right continuing?" Jingyan couldn't help asking, a little hesitant to even bring it up but remembering all too well the days of illness that had come after even small exertions, last year.

Lin Shu chuckled, sweeping one hand up to guard and beckoning. "Amazingly, yes. I can't come close to full speed or force, and Lin Chen threatened some fairly grisly things if I dared break a bone while practicing, but we haven't even been out here for half a shi. I'll be fine." His smile turned into a flashing grin that nearly knocked Jingyan's breath out with the weight of years suddenly rolling back. "Just be gentle with me, hm?"

"Yes, of course." Jingyan couldn't even blame Nihuang for stifling laughter as she took up a practice sword and stepped apart, ruefully aware that he'd answered far more earnestly than the joke probably called for. But that, too, was familiar, and he was smiling back as he stepped forward, letting that old shock of contact roll over him as his arm met xiao-Shu's and his other hand drove in, past xiao-Shu's shoulder as he turned, not as light on his feet as he'd once been, not as sure, but still fluid in a way Jingyan had never hoped to see again.

Their rhythm was different now, and the shape their forms took against each other. Jingyan had always been given to driving through the center, but had also always kept his own center, been careful not to overextend. Xiao-Shu used to work around the edges of him, forcing him to turn, breaking his footing, leaping to catch his back. Now there were no leaps or lunges, only the fluid swirl of Lin Shu's movement around and past his strikes, so that any strike immediately edged on overextension, ran the risk of giving xiao-Shu his back. It was... exhilarating. Now, their rhythm together demanded all his skill, just to keep xiao-Shu from controlling it completely.

Perhaps it was exactly that which led him to push a little faster, and then a little more. In the end, it was xiao-Shu's step that stumbled, tangled, and tripped. That snapped Jingyan out of the form's focus, and he lunged forward to catch xiao-Shu before he fell. They stopped there for a long moment, clutching each other and leaning together, panting for breath. "Was that too fast?" Jingyan finally managed to ask.

"A little," xiao-Shu admitted, in exactly the same tone he'd used to allow that his first sword wound hurt 'a little'. He huffed a bit at Jingyan's dark look, and pushed himself upright. "I wasn't exactly complaining."

"You never do. That's why we worry," Nihuang pointed out, closing her sword drill to come and wind her fingers with xiao-Shu's, tugging a little. "Come wash up, both of you."

"Fine, fine," xiao-Shu agreed, tolerantly. "But if either of you try to treat me like glass tomorrow, you'll regret it."

Jingyan smiled, reassured by the familiarity of the threat. "All right."

He thought he could get used to having xiao-Shu around again very quickly.

Interlude: Appraisal

Lu Jian, one of the better architects in Jinglin if he did say so himself, stood in the first courtyard of the Lin Manor, hands planted on his hips, and turned on his heel to get a sense of the place. Six courtyards and three gardens, one of them a water garden—he wasn't looking forward to that cleaning job—not counting the tangle of the kitchen gardens, now an impenetrable riot of herbs and gourds. The bones of the place were still elegant, but rich paint was weathered off and peeling, everywhere, the metal sheathing at the feet of the pillars was grimy, and tile and shingles were cracked on nearly every surface they covered.

"This is going to be a pretty big job," his senior foreman, Shi Ping, said, squinting up at the underside of the inner gate. "We've never worked on someplace let to rot for quite this long. The framing will need checking, everywhere."

"Make sure you check the supports before you let anyone up on the roofs." Shi Ping gave him a patient look in answer, and Jian laughed. "I know you know, but there's always someone on the crew who thinks he can rush."

"If there are any, I'll give him a scythe and send him out to clear the west field; looks like they kept that one trimmed down." Shi Ping was circling the courtyard, and paused when he got to the inner hall, on the north side. "Or maybe make them work on this hall."

Lu Jian blinked at that; the steps didn't look in that bad of shape. "Why that hall?" He strode across the courtyard to join his foreman, kicking debris and broken clay shingles out of the way as he went. When he got to the steps, though, he stopped short. "Oh."

Some attempt at clean-up had been made at some point, but there was still a wide stain on the landing, just before the doors to the hall, where something dark had seeped through the paint, blistering it up and soaking into the wood. Someone had died on these steps, without question; died and been let to lie for a time.

"The Lin family have a hall of remembrance," Jian said, quietly. "You remember; last year, the Emperor himself led the first prayers. And their son has surely performed all the rites, since he returned."

Shi Ping, kneeling beside the steps to check for warping, gave him a speaking look, and Jian sighed.

"No, you're right. We'll make an offering, before we start." Jian rubbed his arms briskly, where goose-flesh had risen at the sight of that stain. "And we'll replace these steps first thing, I think."

Shi Ping grunted approvingly, as he stood. "Good idea. This is going to be a tough enough job, as it is."

Two

Cai Quan knew that, objectively, his life was far easier now than it would have been under Prince Yu or, thank the Heavens for forbidding it, Prince Xian, or even the Emperor had he still been the one whose hand was on the reins of the Ministries. He knew this. He knew that having a reasonable assurance of being able to take action when he uncovered some bit of corruption in his ministry was a gift, that the full-blooded support of a Crown Prince like Xiao Jingyan was a blessing. He knew that.

It just didn't make the apparently unending parade of peculation and bribery and misappropriation and plain old incompetence any less frustrating.

He exchanged bows in passing with a palace official, as he stalked down the breezeways to the Eastern Palace, and tried to ignore the obvious amusement in the man's smile. Yes, he was here a lot. Yes, he was usually annoyed over the reason. That was not actually a good thing! He stumped up the steps and waited for his presence to be called; at least the Crown Prince's close attendants were more sympathetic than amused. They undoubtedly got to watch the ongoing struggle to bail out the exceedingly leaky boat of the government from much closer up, and with the immediacy of it being their own master who was getting blisters from hauling the buckets.

Cai Quan shook off these rather frivolous mental images as Zhou Wei, who had taken over managing the Eastern Palace after the debacle of the old Crown Prince, gestured him in, pulling his thoughts back to the day's business. "Your Highness..." He only got halfway through his greeting before the presence of the man beside the Crown Prince's desk registered, and then he nearly swallowed his own tongue, staring. "...Mr. Su?" he finished, a little weakly. The clothes were different, finer than he'd seen on the man he'd only met once or twice, at the Prince's own manor in the city, the expression was different, the stance was different, but that was the face he remembered throwing a litany of betrayed history in the Emperor's teeth.

Su only smiled at him, a slow curl of lips that nearly made him take a step back. "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else, Minister. I am Lin Shu." He bowed gracefully in greeting.

Cai Quan fumbled a bow back, stunned. Lin Shu? Lin Shu? He'd speculated, with Shen, that their Prince's brilliant strategist had to be someone from Prince Qi's or the Lin's service, but the Vice-Marshal of Chiyan, himself? How was it possible?

The Prince directed a tolerant look at the impossible man standing at his side, and Quan had to admit, dazed, that it was exactly the kind of look one would give a cherished but mischievous younger relative. "Vice-Marshal," he finally managed. "Congratulations on your return." He was most definitely dragging Shen out drinking this evening; this was news that called for alcohol along with it, and perhaps Shen's advice on how much to say to anyone else.

"You had something for my attention?" the Prince asked, and Quan shook himself back to the business at hand.

"Yes, Highness." He fished the report folio out of his sleeve and proffered it. "Evidence of some long-running misappropriation has come up, in the southern Qing Li supply depot. Investigations have only started, but this is a list of the missing equipment so far." His mouth twisted. "I learned only recently that the Ministry of War might have suffered some delay in passing the information on to you."

The Prince flicked open the report, frowning more and more darkly as he read down the fairly extensive list. "You think someone there is involved?"

"As I said, Your Highness, the investigation has only begun." At the Prince's sharp look, though, Quan admitted, "I think it likely." Shen would complain about quick judgments, but really, what else could it be?

Su... rather Lin, was reading over the Prince's shoulder. "Mmm. This was probably sold off to the Dao rebellion in Southern Chu."

The Prince looked up at him, brows raised, and Lin Shu's mouth quirked up. "Look." He leaned over the Prince's shoulder to tap the start of the list. "There's plenty of horse-gear taken, yes, but it's all basically replacement straps, no saddles, no stirrups even; that was taken to be resold for money."

"And without that all the rest is skirmishers' gear or food," the Prince murmured. "I see. You think it goes back that far, though?"

"If it wasn't critical before now..."

"...then it was a trickle over time, yes, but I thought Qi would be the ones to support Dao..."

"It's Northern Yan that's keeping Qi standing firm..."

"...which means they'd have the most stake in making sure Southern Chu was distracted..."

"...but also be the place hardest to get supplies out of."

The Prince sighed and settled back in his chair. "We'll need to check for Xuanjing involvement, then."

Cai Quan shook his head a little, trying to catch up with that rush of shared thoughts weaving back and forth like currents in one river, and asked, "Xuanjing?"

"Putting Dao in their debt, and possibly implicating Northern Yan in Chu's internal politics, would have been a desirable move, from the viewpoint of the network of Hua agents that Xia Jiang wanted to keep control of," Lin Shu supplied, and Quan's jaw tightened. Even dead, that man was still trouble.

"My investigators will be alert for the possibility."

"Good." The Prince nodded brisk dismissal, and Quan took himself out, tallying up the wagon-load of extra documentation and background he'd probably need to have his people find, to unravel this one, and which of his inherited agents he might need to keep away from it lest old loyalties interfere. Perhaps he should put Xia Dong in charge of it...

He was definitely dragging Shen out for a drink, today.

"Nihuang!" Xia Dong strode through the pale hangings and dark wood of her outer rooms in the Nie manor to catch Nihuang in a quick hug before taking her shoulders and holding her a little away, eyeing her up and down, and finally smiling. "You look well. It's true, then?"

Nihuang smiled, the way she sometimes felt she hadn't actually stopped smiling for months, now. "It's true." The smile faded a little as she reached out for Dong-jie's hands. "And I wanted to speak with you about that."

Dong-jie looked at her, dark and steady, for two long breaths and then nodded. "Come on, then." She gestured Nihuang toward the inner rooms and made shoo-ing motions at her attendants.

"Dong-jie," Nihuang admonished, laughing a little when Xia Dong rolled her eyes.

"I've never been the inside type, you know that." She settled Nihuang on one of the stools by her well-piled writing table and pulled up another. "Now. Tell me."

Nihuang folded her hands in her lap and took a breath to organize her thoughts. "There is a cure. It's not a sure thing. It depends on finding enough people who will with all their hearts for him to live, who are willing to give a little of their own lives. And I know that is a weight on Shu-ge." She looked up to meet Dong-jie's sober gaze. "And it's not... I mean, it's..." She had to bite her lip to still its stubborn trembling. "It doesn't erase anything of what they went through, before."

"Oh," Dong-jie whispered. "Oh, Nihuang..." She leaned forward, winding her arms back around Nihuang, and Nihuang let herself cling tight for a moment while Dong-jie rubbed her back. Finally she asked, gently, "I imagine touching is a difficult thing for him, still?"

Nihuang nodded, sitting back just enough to blot her eyes on her cuff. She'd thought Dong-jie would probably understand; Nie Feng had almost certainly been dealing with the same thing.

The first time Shu-ge had come to her bed, after their so very long-delayed banquet, she'd been startled by how hesitant he was. He'd seen to her pleasure all right, with slow hands and mouth, but when she'd reached for him he'd flinched. And then apologized in a stifled, helpless voice while she'd been frozen, stricken. Only when she'd insisted had he told her, one slow, painful burst of words at a time, about thirteen years of pain and exhaustion and honest forgetting that pleasure of the body was even possible. Of feeling nothing but fury and betrayal for his own flesh. Of bitter, bone-deep knowing that he'd have nothing to give any lover, and the shock and blankness of mind he'd felt the first time his flesh stirred, after he'd woken up to this new life. They'd wound up huddled together among the covers and pillows, crying in each other's arms, that night.

"The memory of pain is slow to leave," Dong-jie said quietly, stroking her hair back with light fingers. "You've recovered from injuries before; you know."

Nihuang blinked hard and nodded. "A little. Yes. But Dong-jie, thirteen years..." Those light fingers touched her lips, hushing her, and Xia Dong's smile was tight and tilted.

"Yes. It took... a long time before Feng-ge could even lie in the same bed with me, let alone anything more." She huffed, half amused and half annoyed. "Of course, part of that was convincing him his appearance wouldn't disgust me, silly man." She took a deep breath, shoulders straightening. "But we have time, now, Nihuang. Time and peace that we've all fought for and won. So take it."

Nihuang took a breath of her own, telling herself to trust Dong-jie's wisdom, which was what she'd come for, today, after all, and nodded, smiling through the wetness still in her eyes. "Yes, jie-jie."

"Better," Dong-jie said, firmly, and grinned at her. "And I hear you have a younger sister in your household, now, to help you?"

Nihuang laughed, only a little damply. "Yes. She was so annoyed that I made her watch over the rest of the train while we came ahead; I'm going to have to make it up to her, when they get in."

"Bring her to visit," Dong-jie told her. "Or perhaps I'll come see you. I still have to thank her for taking my place in the prison."

"You'll like her," Nihuang predicted. "She's a lot like your agents."

"Hmm." Dong-jie got a speculative glint in her eye. "Perhaps she'd like a job..."

Gong Yu directed the unloading of the last horse with the same smile she'd used on importunate clients when she was an entertainer, and stalked up the stairs of Prince Jing's manor (which she knew her way around very well, thank you), and made for the inner halls, tugging the sleeves of her travel robes irritably straight. She still couldn't believe she'd been left with the baggage, and yes, she knew that there'd been a definite chance of attack on the train of Lin Shu and Mu Nihuang, but really! She knew for a fact that two of the servants were men of Jiangzuo, and could look after affairs just fine without her!

"Jie-jie, the baggage is all disposed of," she reported, a bit sulkily, as she entered Nihuang's rooms, and then stopped short in the entry. Nihuang jie-jie had company. And her company was the most beautiful woman Gong Yu had ever seen.

Yu knew that she was considered very beautiful, and by classical standards she supposed it was true. She'd certainly used the fact often enough. But the woman standing to greet her was slim and straight as a sword, had swift, graceful hands that settled into place like the flick of a knife, and her sharp features were alive with a wicked, sardonic amusement.

"Thank you for taking care of the train, mei-mei," Nihuang was saying. "Come and greet Xia Dong, third rank official in the Ministry of Justice. Dong-jie, this is Gong Yu."

Yu hurried forward, and nearly wobbled as she dipped a bow of greeting. "Madam Nie."

"Gong Yu." A light touch under her elbow made her look up. Xia Dong's smile had softened, and Yu could feel herself blushing. "I didn't get a chance, a year ago, but I wished very much to thank you for enabling me to leave the prison and see my husband." She gave Yu a bow, swift and precise as every other move she'd made. "My thanks."

Yu returned it hastily, unaccustomedly flustered, heart beating quick. "It was my honor to assist, Madam Nie."

Xia Dong gave her a wry grin, and Yu's breath caught. "You're part of the clan, now. No need to be so formal."

Yu blushed deeper, cheeks hot, and clasped her hands tight, wetting her lips. "Xia Dong jie-jie," she amended, obediently.

Xia Dong clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Better. Come tell me about how the roads are; it looks like I'll be headed a little south soon, myself." She sank down cross-legged by a low table with a tea set sitting out, fluid and graceful, without a single second of wasted motion. Yu tried not to stare.

"You have a case?" Nihuang asked as Yu settled on the cushion beside Xia Dong, carefully graceful so as not to look like any more of a fool.

"Theft from one of the rear area army depots. A leftover from Xu Anmo's style of leadership, I'm guessing." Xia Dong's mouth twisted expressively.

"Ah. That case." Nihuang poured more tea, passing Yu the third cup. "Jingyan is angry over that one. He was in the field long enough to know well what happens to the troops who have to meet action when their supplies are interfered with."

"Minister Cai isn't too happy about it, either." Xia Dong sipped her tea, and her mouth curved like a drawn bow, sweet and deadly. "That's why he's sending me."

"The roads are clear near the capital," Yu supplied, hoping she didn't sound breathless, "though they'll be worsening soon, as the wet season sets in. I hope your case goes swiftly." And that Xia Dong returned swiftly; it was a real shame she couldn't do something about that directly, any more.

"I shall see that it does." She give Yu a knowing, sidelong smile. "Would you like to help?"

Yu truly couldn't help the way a smile took over her face. "Oh! May I?" She turned to Nihuang, who was laughing behind her hand. "Jie-jie, may I? Oh, but..." she drooped on her cushion. "My lord wished for me to guard you, in the capital."

Nihuang made a hmph sound, setting her cup down with just a little more force than necessary. "Shu-ge can just learn that I can guard myself."

Yu nibbled her lip, somehow doubtful that this would satisfy Lin Shu.

Xia Dong shook her head, smile wry. "You're in little danger, now. Tell you what, we'll ask Lady Jing to have a few of her girls keep an eye out. Xiao-Shu won't have qualms about her arrangements."

Nihuang positively smirked with satisfaction. "That should work." She leaned over and patted Yu's hand. "Go have fun, mei-mei."

Yu barely managed to hold back her squeak of excitement.

Lin Shu looked down at the woman in the circle of his arms, brows raised. "Are you telling me Dong-jie stole my concubine?"

Nihuang burst into such gales of laughter that he had to wonder if that was more accurate than he'd thought. "It will be good for her," she said, when she'd finally recovered. "Gong Yu is used to having more to do; she gets impatient with nothing but household duties to occupy her."

Lin Shu smiled, stroking back her loose hair with gentle fingers. "Like you?"

"Like me," she agreed easily. "Only without the military training and experience that will keep me in place as one of the generals of the nation. This will be good for her. Besides," she smirked, "Gong Yu has a crush on Dong-jie."

When he murmured thanks to his ancestors, she swatted his shoulder, and he laughed, gathering her close. "I hope they have a good time together, then." Against the darkness of her hair he added, still a little hesitant, even after their months together, "Come to bed?"

Her smile this time was sweet and brilliant, and she stood on her toes to kiss him. "Yes."

They helped each other out of over- and under-robes and, more slowly, undergarments. He still had to go slowly, when he actually started touching her skin, had to steady his breath and remind himself that it had always caught like this when they'd kissed, that it was normal, and even to be expected, surely, that the softness of her skin under his fingers would make any man a little dizzy. When she tucked herself under his chin, arms wrapped around him, and just settled there with a pleased sound, he had to hang on in return and close his eyes for a moment, nearly overwhelmed by the warmth of her pressed against him.

She waited for him. Waited for him to convince himself, again, that this was real. Waited until he stopped trembling and could slide his hands gently down the curve of her bare back to smile up at him and tug him toward the bed. As they stretched out together, he murmured against her shoulder, "Thank you."

"Oh hush." The words were impatient, but her voice was gentle and her hands were slow as they slid up his chest. "We have time."

"Even so." He kissed her softly, and laughed at the faintly exasperated sound she made into his mouth.

His awareness of his own body still came and went sometimes, but tonight, when she hooked a leg around his hip and rocked against him, slow, heavy heat curled at the base of his spine, and it felt... sure. Immovable. As steady as the knowledge of where his own center was, when he took a step in their training forms. And so, tonight, he slid his fingers into her hair and kissed her deeper, open and openly wanting, moving with her, sliding against her until she shivered, arching against him, and murmured, "Shu-ge..."

"Oh yes." He almost didn't recognize his own voice, rough and husky with the urgent heat running in his veins. She was wet against him, now, and the sound she made when he pressed into her was nearly a growl. The heat of her filled his mind, his lungs, and all he could do was catch her closer, drive into her, let the tide of sensation take him and trust that the ferocious intensity of it would be pleasure. Nihuang ground up against him, strong arms winding tight around him, and the burst of brilliant heat as her body tightened knocked the breath out of him in a wordless groan, drowned everything else in the wild surge of his body's response.

Other sensations settled back into place slowly. His mouth was dry from panting. Nihuang was pressed tight against him, shuddering as her body settled from her own pleasure. Her hands were stroking up and down his back, the slight scrape of callouses reminding him again that this was real.

"There," she finally said, voice just as rough as his, "see, we're getting better at that."

And, at that, he couldn't do anything but laugh, helplessly, and kiss her again.

Three

While Jingyan had been entirely correct about how easily he could become accustomed to having xiao-Shu always near, again, apparently this was not the case for his officials and ministers. Nearly a month after his arrival (or re-arrival) in the capital, whispers still followed Lin Shu through the halls of the Palace like an over-robe trailing off his shoulders. Xiao-Shu only smiled at them, though, small and amused, so Jingyan paid it as little mind as he could.

The distraction of half the officials reporting to him, he was less willing to ignore. He tapped a finger meaningfully against his desk, and the Minister of Personnel started a little, gaze jerking back to him from where it had been wandering off to the side. Admittedly, the tangle of tables and shelves, all stacked with books, scrolls, ink, bushes, and the occasional candle tree, which was slowly engulfing one side of Jingyan's outer receiving room, was worth a second glance. But He Jingzhong had seen what Jingyan couldn't help thinking of as xiao-Shu's command center before, and there was other work to get through, today. He raised pointed brows, and He cleared his throat.

"Ah. Yes. So, all the ladies the Crown Princess requested be inducted to the Palace staff have been approved." He bowed and offered a report folio. Jingyan refrained, with what he felt was admirable self-discipline, from rolling his eyes, and flipped through it quickly. Everyone An had discussed with his mother was, indeed, present.

"Very good." He nodded a dismissal, and He took himself off, a little slower than was really necessary.

Jingyan gave in and rolled his eyes.

From his own desk, xiao-Shu chuckled, finally looking up from the stack of reports and letters he had been giving every appearance of being completely engrossed in. "Give them a little longer to become accustomed, before you start thinking of distant posts you can banish people to."

"I wasn't thinking of banishing anyone," Jingyan said with dignity, if not with entire truthfulness. Xiao-Shu laughed out loud, at him.

"Of course you were. It's exactly the same little lines between your brows that you always got when dealing with idiots. It's probably the same look Nihuang is giving the Ji army generals at this very moment."

Nihuang had declared, when offered her own work space in the Eastern Palace, that she had just escaped a princedom's worth of paperwork, and demanded some field work to clean the paper dust out of her throat. Jingyan had sympathized too heartily with the sentiment to argue, and had asked her to inspect the armies posted to the interior. He trusted that she would bring back reliable accounts of whomever she didn't terrorize into shape on the spot. And also that she would make Lin Shu stop looking softly distracted and then a little disappointed immediately after. As he was, for example, at this moment. "She'll be back in ten days," he offered.

Xiao-Shu actually blushed, and Jingyan couldn't help laughing. "An thinks the two of you are adorable, you know." Actually, so did he. The two of them had only recently grown out of teasing each other mercilessly, when everything went wrong, and he treasured the chance to see them acting properly lovestruck. And, because that clearly meant someone else would have to do the teasing for a while, he added, "Mother thinks you're adorable, too."

Xiao-Shu snatched up a report folio and threw it at him, half-laughing and half-glowering. Jingyan grinned as he caught it, and ignored Zhou Wei's faint sigh from the side of the room. He didn't think the man actually disapproved. He did turn back to his work, though, because there was just so much of it to get through. "Do we have that review of boat-masters shipping under an Imperial charter yet?" he asked.

"Yes. You're holding it." Xiao-Shu smirked at him sidelong, and Jingyan snorted. All right, fine, yes he should know better than to try and get the better of his cousin.

That did not, of course, mean he would stop.

Jingyan was smiling as he bent over the endless reports.

Li Len climbed the steps to the Eastern Palace in Cai and Shen's wake. The two of them were already, or perhaps still, arguing.

"You should have gotten rid of Tian Gen as soon as you knew he was corrupt!"

"The point is that I didn't know; I can't just purge my ministry on suspicions."

"Suspicion is good enough for demotion, and then he couldn't do as much damage."

"Cai Quan..."

In a way, Len could see why the Crown Prince favored the two of them together. They did provide a fairly balanced view of any topic if you let them argue long enough, but it was a little nerve-wracking to be around, and he could do without extra nerves on any visit to the Crown Prince. At least Cai and Shen stopped arguing long enough for their entrance to be called.

That didn't actually help Len's nerves any, though, because Lin Shu was at the Crown Prince's side, today, as he was so constantly since he'd returned, leaning casually on the Prince's writing table and pointing something out over his shoulder. As someone who'd survived by adherence to protocol for decades, Len freely admitted to getting twitchy over how easily the Prince accepted Lin Shu's unpredictable shifts between knife-sharp observance of protocol and casual disregard of the same. How was a man supposed to know how to keep his head on his damn shoulders without at least a few guidelines?

He salved his nerves with a rigidly proper bow, along with Cai and Shen, and took a deep breath. Today was going to be tense enough as it was.

"Ministers," the Crown Prince greeted them, sitting back. "I take it you have something significant to discuss, today, to have all three of you here?"

"Unfortunately so," Shen agreed. "Your Highness will recall the misappropriation from the Qing Li southern depot. We seem to have struck an impasse, on it."

At Shen's nod, Len stepped forward. "Minister Cai's investigator determined which of the depot officers was responsible for the theft, and he has been remanded to prison already. Unfortunately, he has not yet been persuaded to give up the names of who else he worked with." He spread his hands, half helpless and half frustrated, and tried not to wince at the way the Prince's always-stern expression was turning dark and hard. "I am willing to approve sterner questioning, but..."

"I doubt it would be of use," Cai finished for him, clearly and entirely frustrated. "If he's this resistant to interrogation, to begin with, we'd have to use extreme measures, and the information that comes from that is always questionable. We do have a suspect, one Tian Gen, but I will admit that the evidence is very circumstantial."

"I see." The Prince's increasingly cold gaze turned to Shen. "Someone from your ministry, then?"

Shen nodded rather wearily. "What we do know points that way. Sergeant Yang covered his appropriation of supplies by reporting a good deal of spoilage, more than would have normally gone without question or inspection of the depot's storage itself. Investigation traced that money, and some of it was sent back to someone in the capital, but the trail ends at a pick-up point and a false name, and we have not been able to get a definitive description of the man who picked up those moneys."

"But you assume it's Tian Gen," Lin Shu murmured from where he stood by the Prince's chair, arms crossed, eyes distant, as though he were reading a scroll no one else could see.

"He's the one who should have overseen reports from that area." Shen gave Cai, who was nearly bouncing on his toes, a patient look, and added. "And he rose very quickly under Lou Zhinjing. I will admit that many of those who did likewise have been... less than reliable. But it is not evidence."

"He fits the description we do have," Cai grumbled.

"So do a quarter of the men in the city!" Shen pointed out, exasperated. "I can't throw the man out of the ministry just for that!"

"I can," the Prince stated flatly, and Len saw Lin Shu's head jerk up.

"Jingyan," Lin Shu said, sharp and warning, and Len tried not to actually pale with shock. He knew the man was sometimes casual with the Crown Prince, but this...!

Beside him, Shen sighed and murmured, under his breath, "Oh dear."

The Crown Prince nearly exploded up out of his chair, rounding on Lin Shu. "If he should have had oversight, he's guilty in any case!"

"Then let him be tried and removed for that," Lin Shu snapped back. "You cannot set a precedent for removing officials at your whim!"

The Crown Prince gestured sharply, as if to strike that aside. "This is hardly a whim!"

"It is if you don't wait for evidence!"

The two men glared at each other for a long moment before the Prince turned away and planted his clenched fists on the table, head lowered. Li Len wondered, a little distantly, if he could sneak out now and pretend he'd never witnessed this. He jumped a little when Shen patted him on the arm. "Calmly, Minister," Shen said out of the corner of his mouth, nearly whispering. "They do this now and then."

Before Len could ask how, in that case, Lin Shu was still alive and walking around free, Lin Shu sighed and stepped forward, anger falling away as he laid a hand on the Crown Prince's shoulder. "Dong-jie is very good at what she does," he said, quietly. "She'll bring you what you need, to act on this. Trust the people we've chosen."

The Crown Prince didn't answer, but did lift a hand and lay it over Lin Shu's. When he straightened again, his fury seemed to have washed away, or at least eased into a focused calm. "Minister Cai," he said quietly, "when do you expect Xia Dong to return?"

As if there was nothing at all strange about the Crown Prince, and de facto emperor, having a public shouting match with his closest advisor, Cai answered, "Likely another month; she's following the matÃ©riel trail to see whether we can trace more conclusively where the goods went. She sent the girl who accompanied her back, along with her interim report, though." He made a dubious face. "She suggested we try the girl on Tian Gen, actually."

Lin Shu smirked, where he was still standing close at the Prince's shoulder, and put in, "Gong Yu was one of my agents in the Capital for years. She's very good at getting men to talk."

"Ah." Cai bowed briefly. "With both of you vouching for her skills, sir, I'm willing to let her try."

"Do so," the Prince approved. "Let me know when you have more information. You will have my support for whatever needs to be done, to clear this matter."

Len bowed acknowledgment, along with Cai and Shen, and followed them out the door, finally releasing a relieved breath, when they were clear. And then he spun to Shen and demanded, "Exactly how often is 'now and then'?!"

Shen and Cai exchanged thoughtful looks. "Twice?" Shen suggested.

"This time makes three, that we've seen." Cai clapped Len reassuringly on the shoulder. He thought he must look as horrified as he felt. "Don't worry so much!"

"They both obviously have the family temper," Shen put in, more quietly. "Better they use it to keep each other in check than otherwise, yes?"

"I suppose so," Len had to agree, albeit a little weakly. He shook himself and continued down the steps with them. After a few more, in which he recalled the lack of space between the two men, and the gentleness of Lin Shu's tone, he added, "Do you think the two of them are... that way, perhaps?"

"You have to think," Cai agreed. "Considering."

"Oh certainly," Shen murmured. "Just as soon as one of them notices."

Len and Cai both stared at him, Len picturing Lin Shu's easy hand on the Prince's shoulder and the Prince's hand covering his. "You think they haven't?"

Shen chuckled. "Remember your son's courting, if not your own. Not quite yet, I don't think."

Len considered how his own son had behaved, when he'd finally noticed his betrothed was a girl, and a pretty one at that, and rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on already.

"My turn to host drinks," Cai stated firmly, and Len let the two of them steer him toward the gates with gratitude. He felt badly in need of a little fortification.

Interlude: Clearing

Lu Jian was knee deep in slimy mud, the day Princess Nihuang, Madam Lin, visited, debating with the boss of his garden crew whether the bed of the water garden needed to be dredged. By the time he'd scrambled up the ladder and over the edge, he was even muddier. The Princess only smiled, returning a courteous nod to his bow. "Your message said you wanted someone who was familiar with the manor to look at something?"

Jian tried not to goggle at her, and hastily bowed again. "One of the servants would have done, Milady!"

She waved this off. "There aren't many left, and none in the city at this time. What is it?"

"Well..." Jian ran a hand through his hair, hoping against hope to neaten it after his morning climbing in and out of muddy holes. "I was hoping to speak with someone who knew how the manor was furnished. I know the family belongings probably can't be recovered, but... well, I was hoping to at least come close."

Her smile warmed, and Jian suddenly understood why one of the premier generals of the nation also had so much poetry written about her. "That is a kind thought, and one I will be pleased to assist with."

"Yes, Milady," he agreed, just a little faintly, before he pulled himself together and called for the senior secretary on site.

He tried to make the tour of the premises quick, but the Princess herself kept pausing, considering the Inner Hall for a long moment before telling him that the candle trees had been four-tiered, sighing at the eastern garden's disarray before telling him that the Royal Princess Jinyang had favored azaleas and roses there, touching the fresh timber of the main hall's rear supports with light fingers before confirming that they had been colored a deep black. By the end of it, Jian felt somewhere between guilty for making the lady relive the past to answer his questions and delighted that he now had a chance to match her memories (and thus Vice-Marshal Lin's memories) so closely.

It was not a comfortable mix.

"Anything for me to take to the suppliers?" Shi Ping asked, once he'd seen the Princess off.

"Quite a bit, actually." He gestured for his secretary to pass over the list. "This renovation might just restart the fashion for painted hangings."

"Well, at least they'll be less expensive right now," Shi Ping pointed out, practically. "I'll see about these. You go talk to the garden crew again. Whatever we save on hangings, I'm thinking we'll have to spend on rock to re-line the water garden."

Jian groaned at the mere thought of the expense, but he couldn't actually argue; a water garden with that kind of slime built up at the bottom had to be cleaned out completely, or it would just pollute the new water and kill off any new plantings. You couldn't argue with the facts of nature—only work with them. He turned and made for the third garden.

He was probably going to need two baths by the end of the day.

Four

More and more often, lately, Lin Shu found himself remembering Prince Qi, the brother Jingyan had idolized, the Prince that Lin Shu himself had thought to serve. Once in the field, the Emperor had been a distant, abstract sort of memory. It had been Jingyan at his side, his father in command, and Prince Qi's orders, thoughts, ideals guiding them. Now that management of the whole nation, rather than just one army, had fallen on he and Jingyan, he cast his thoughts back to those ideals whenever he could.

He also found himself wondering how Prince Qi had possibly been able to keep his relatively cheerful disposition when buried in the paperwork of government.

"Xiao-Shu."

He believed in staying informed as much as the next man, and considering the next man was often Lin Chen this was saying something, but he would be happier if more officials and ministers spent a season or two writing via messenger pigeon to master the art of concise language.

"Xiao-Shu?"

The explanations for official expenditures ran especially long, and he was seriously considering sending sub-minister of Public Works Huang a note advising him to simply put "bribe to expedite construction" in his next report. Both honesty and efficiency would be served well, thereby, and he wouldn't have to comb through his own height in paper just to find out which shippers were building up unusual funds and might, therefore, be trailed back to foreign sources he could use to track future goods smuggled out of the country.

"Xiao-Shu." A firm hand fell on his shoulder and shook him out of his concentration, and he blinked up at Jingyan.

"Hm?"

Jingyan was smiling down at him, openly amused. "Nihuang only returned yesterday. If you miss dinner because you were reading reports, I hesitate to imagine what action she'll take to rectify matters."

"Ah." Lin Shu straightened in his chair, glancing around at his stacks of reading, and he had to smile himself, a bit wryly. He was, perhaps, too used to working alone with a small network, still. "Yes, all right. I suppose the rest of this can wait." As he stretched upright, all the muscles in his back registered their agreement.

There was definite approval in Jingyan's voice when he said, "Good." He squeezed Lin Shu's shoulder and let him go.

Perhaps it was only that Lin Shu was already paying attention to what his body was telling him in the moment, but when Jingyan's fingers brushed against the bare skin of his neck, drawing away, that one moment of contact poured a warm shiver straight down his spine to pool low in his stomach, hot and startling.

Or... perhaps not startling, exactly, because Lin Shu could remember many moments like this, when they were younger. They spilled through his mind, quick and visceral, those moments of heat, of awareness, that had accompanied Jingyan's hand in his hair, on his neck, on his wrist, moments so easy to fold into his love for his cousin, his desire to always be near, the easy knowledge that Jingyan would never deny him. Now... now he had fourteen years of separation, of fiercely ignoring his body and its pain, of ignoring everything he knew he could never have again. Now it stood out.

And what did he do with it, now?

"Xiao-Shu?" Jingyan had turned back, half-way to the entrance to the inner rooms, brows lifted. Lin Shu shook himself and stood.

"Yes, of course." He made his way to Jingyan's side and tried not to let his breath catch at the easy nudge of Jingyan's shoulder against his as they passed within.

What on earth was he going to do with this now?

Nihuang eyed her husband thoughtfully, as they ate, aware of Jingyan doing the same, with, perhaps, a shade more concern. Of course, Nihuang was fairly sure she knew what was behind all the moments when Shu-ge hesitated just a bit longer than usual before answering someone, when his hand stayed poised just a beat too long before actually conveying food from dish to mouth. The decisive clue, she thought, was that, in each one of those moments, Shu-ge's eyes slid toward Jingyan and then snapped away an instant later. Even An was giving him a puzzled look, now and again. Nihuang caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile, rolling her own eyes toward both the men. An looked down quickly, stifling a giggle, and relaxed again.

She and Nihuang had talked about this before Nihuang had ever left the capital.

And tonight, Nihuang thought she might just be able to get through another of the necessary discussions to untangle her husband from his own uncertainty. So as soon as they'd finished, she reached out to twine her fingers with Shu-ge's and said, "Come and talk. I've missed you."

Jingyan chuckled at that, which made her think he'd been teasing Shu-ge about her, which was an encouraging sign. Shu-ge only smiled, though, small and warm. "Yes, of course."

So she tugged him off to her own rooms and promptly snuggled close as soon as he sat. It was entirely true that she'd missed him, after all, and missed the way he gathered her into the curve of his arm and pressed his lips to her hair. There were other matters that were overdue to be seen to, though, so as soon as she was settled to her satisfaction, tucked up against him, she asked, "Shu-ge, is something wrong? You spent all evening not looking at Jingyan."

He huffed softly. "I suppose I should have expected you to see it."

"So what is it?" She nudged him and added, leadingly, "You must know he'd never disapprove of anything you wanted to do."

"It's not like that. I just... That is, today..." She waited while he took a long breath and let it out. "Today, when Jingyan touched me, I remembered how it used to be, back then."

"Ah." Now they were getting somewhere. She smiled and cuddled closer. "You mean when, every time he touched you, he was smiling like the dawn sun, and, every time, you looked back at him like he was the world's first sunrise?" His arms tightened around her sharply, and she reached up to touch his cheek and maker him look at her. "And how is that in any way different from how it is now?"

After a long, wide-eyed moment, he smiled down at her. "Well. I'd forgotten how it felt."

"So now you remember." She stroked her thumb along his cheekbone, gently. "Shu-ge, do you remember what we used to talk of, back then? That we'd find another girl of a military family for Jingyan, and all live together in one house, and be together always?"

A soft, unsteady laugh escaped him. "And that we'd all four take the field together, and be as fierce as legends, and sweep the enemies of the nation before us?"

She smiled back, a little unsteady herself with the sweetness of those memories. "And look at us, now. All in the same house, much of the time. And if An isn't of a military family, she is the one who understands best the other ways you fight, now." She reached up to cup both hands around his face, finishing in a whisper, "And have we not swept our enemies before us?"

He caught her close, burying his head in her shoulder, and she could feel him shaking a little in her arms. "Yes," he answered, low and rough. "Yes, we have."

"Then be as fierce as the legend we will become," she told him, completely sure of this one thing. "What is there to fear, after all this?"

Finally he lifted his head, eyes a little wet though he was smiling. "You've grown so wise, my heart." He still hesitated, though, and she cocked an eyebrow. "I know you were jealous of him, sometimes," he said, low.

"Sometimes, when we were first betrothed," she agreed, quietly. "Yes. But Shu-ge... do you know how you looked at me, back then?

He smoothed back a strand of her hair with light fingers, eyes soft. "How?"

"Back then, you stopped in your steps, now and then, and looked at me like I'd just stepped out of the sky itself to take your hand. And I looked back like you were the beating heart in my chest." She leaned up to kiss him, softly. "And that, too, is no different, now, than it's ever been."

He caught her closer, tight enough to drive her breath out, this time. "No different at all," he agreed, husky, and kissed her back, slow and tender. Against her mouth, he murmured, "So, may I be legendarily fierce tomorrow? I believe I'd like to stay here, for the the rest of tonight."

She laughed, free and open, and twisted to pull him down to the bed with her, hands buried in his hair as they kissed again, sweet with the fierceness that was always at the heart of her brilliant boy, even when he didn't see it. That was all right. The ones who loved him saw it for him.

And she had always known that Xiao Jingyan was a true partner, in that.

Predictably, Lin Shu found himself even more distracted the next day. It felt like the first few weeks after he'd returned to Nihuang, all over again. His eyes constantly strayed to Jingyan, to the tilt of his head as he read, to the movement of his hands over paper, to the occasional curl of his mouth. His memory, now thoroughly stirred up, insisted on recalling all the other times he'd seen Jingyan smile, so many of them at him.

Of course Jingyan noticed.

"Xiao-Shu?" he finally asked, quietly, once they'd sent the sub-minister of Rites away with a quelling promise that Marquis Yan would review his recommendations, coming to stand close. "Are you all right?"

And, of course, that was where Jingyan's mind would immediately go; he should have anticipated it. Lin Shu reached out, in unthinking reassurance, and rested a hand on Jingyan's chest. Just as unthinkingly, Jingyan's had rose to cover it. "I'm well, I promise," he soothed. "I just..." he paused as the warmth of Jingyan's hand on his finally registered, and looked down at his own hand on Jingyan's chest. They were standing so close, and he hadn't even noticed, because that was how they'd always been. Always, save for a year ago, and that had been two solid years of restraining himself at every turn from stepping closer, reaching out, knowing that Jingyan would never deny him if he did. That Jingyan hadn't denied him, once he'd known. Jingyan's voice wound through his memory, low and sure, stating like a fact, We are as one person.

Now he felt like a bit of a fool.

"Xiao-Shu?" Jingyan asked, softly.

Lin Shu took a breath and let it go, uneven with the thread of laughter in it. "Sometimes I miss the obvious, it seems. In my defense, I never even thought to be alive, here and now, let alone returned to you."

"You, miss something?" Jingyan asked, straight-faced and teasing. "Surely not."

Lin Shu shoved at him, lightly, and then turned his hand to catch Jingyan's, smiling. "Say rather I wasn't letting myself remember. This," he added, as Jingyan started to ask, and lifted their clasped hands to press a kiss to Jingyan's fingers. In the quiet of the room, he could hear the quick draw of Jingyan's breath. When he looked up again, Jingyan was standing very still, eyes wide and dark.

"Xiao-Shu."

It was little more than a whisper, but the weight it sank into his chest like a sea anchor in a storm. "You said it, didn't you, a year and a half ago?" he answered, low. "We are as one." Agreement and promise and apology wrapped together in the simple words. "I won't forget again."

Jingyan's stillness finally broke, and he stepped closer, free hand lifting to curve around Lin Shu's nape. Gentle as he was, the gesture caught Lin Shu's breath short with the heat that curled through his stomach in answer. He was remembering now, all right, but he wasn't used to this any more.

A faint, meaningful cough from the direction of the doors reminded him that they were also standing in Jingyan's outer receiving room in the middle of a work day, and that Zhou Wei was probably going to give them both long-suffering looks for days, over this. He leaned his forehead against Jingyan's, trying to hold back laughter, which would only make the long-suffering last longer. Jingyan's mouth curled in an answering smile, and he murmured, low, "Later, then."

Well, there was his concentration gone for the day, Lin Shu reflected, ruefully.

He did make it through the rest of the day without any really egregious lapses, but by the time Zhou Wei firmly closed the Eastern Palace's main doors his expression had turned from long-suffering to downright exasperated. Jingyan thanked him, with, perhaps, just a bit of suppressed merriment in his eyes, and calmly set his hand on Lin Shu's back to guide him toward the inner rooms. Lin Shu swore he could hear Zhou Wei rolling his eyes behind them.

By far the majority of his attention was on the heat of Jingyan's hand through his robes, though, not a light touch, not the pro forma gesture of everyday courtesy, and he had to concentrate a little to put one foot steadily in front of the other. By the time they reached Jingyan's rooms, he felt as though all his skin was sensitized to that simple, steady touch. "Jingyan," he said, softly, not entirely sure what he meant to say after that. Whatever it might have been was lost as Jingyan turned to him, smiling, and drew him close with that hand on his back.

"Do you remember this?" he asked, low and intimate, just the sound of his voice enough to stroke a finger of heat down Lin Shu's spine. Even so, even a little breathless, he had to laugh, because Jingyan was teasing him.

"I certainly do." Which was true. It hadn't been at all unusual for them to end up pressed together, and sometimes, if training had devolved into rough-housing, tangled together. And he remembered the times Jingyan had pulled him close, triumphant or laughing or... just leaning together at the end of the longest days. He slid his hands up Jingyan's arms and over his shoulders. "I wondered, a few of those times, whether I shouldn't do something rather like this." He leaned in and kissed Jingyan, light and questioning—the same question he'd had in his heart, those times, wondering if the beloved cousin who gave his world a center would wish this, also.

Jingyan's hand slid up to cradle his head, mouth unhurried and sure on his, kissing him back until he was a little dizzy with the thoroughness of it, the slide of Jingyan's tongue through his mouth, tasting him slowly. When Jingyan finally drew back, he answered Lin Shu's half-forgotten question, softly, "I would have welcomed you then, too."

The assurance unwound something deep in Lin Shu's chest—the lingering wonder whether Jingyan would have merely indulged him or actually wanted him in return. He'd been used to being wanted, really, but Jingyan was the one, the only one, he'd never been able to easily move to his whim. The one who really counted. Jingyan must have felt him relax, because he shook his head, mouth quirked wryly. "Xiao-Shu. You have always been my heart and soul," he said, quiet and easy.

Lin Shu's breath stopped for a moment, as those words sang through him, resonating in his own heart. "Jingyan..."

"It's true," Jingyan told him, perfectly serene, gathering him close. Lin Shu settled against him willingly, smiling small and true. Jingyan rubbed slow fingers up and down his neck and made a satisfied sound when Lin Shu unwound a little more, leaning against him. "Will you come to bed, xiao-Shu?" he asked against Lin Shu's ear, low and warm, sending a little shiver spilling down his spine.

"Yes," Lin Shu answered, husky.

Jingyan stayed close as they undressed, hands sliding down Lin Shu's arms and chest as he took each layer away, as if he wanted to re-learn Lin Shu's body. He was far more careless of his own clothing, tugging belts loose quickly and shrugging out of all his layers together as soon as the ties were undone. That simple motion fixed Lin Shu's eyes like nothing else could have, though. Jingyan had always been beautiful to him, and he'd grown into something magnificent, the hard muscle of one campaign after another shifting under his skin, sleek and powerful as a tiger prowling, as he stepped through the muddle of silk toward Lin Shu. He reached out for Jingyan because he could scarcely help it, and Jingyan gathered him close again with a smile. The heat of Jingyan's bare skin against his, the line of Jingyan's back under his palms, took up all of his awareness, at least until Jingyan's mouth found his again for a slow kiss, this one so unmistakably possessive that it pulled a soft, wanting sound out of him.

"My own," Jingyan said against his mouth, answering Lin Shu's want as easily as he always had.

"Yes." Lin Shu pressed close, arms tightening hard around him. "I wish that." He had wished that, even when he'd carefully slipped away, determined that those he loved would not have to watch him die. And now... He gasped, breath driven out by the force of Jingyan's arms closing around him.

"Then I will not let you go." Jingyan's words felt like they burned into him, fierce and hot as the kiss that followed, and he answered with all his heart, moaning out loud as Jingyan's mouth moved down his jaw to his throat. The pull and soft sting of Jingyan sucking a mark into his skin, nearly made his knees give way. Jingyan made an agreeable sound against his skin and let them both down to the bed, leaning over him on one elbow. "You like that," he observed, satisfaction clear in the curve of his lips as he ran a slow finger over the tender skin he'd marked. A hot shudder ran through Lin Shu, in response, and he reached up to pull Jingyan down against him, to another kiss.

"I do," he finally answered, when that burst of heat had eased a little, settled by Jingyan's weight over him. He was so hard he was dizzy with it, in fact.

Jingyan smiled, slowly, eyes bright. "Well, then." He leaned down, nuzzling under Lin Shu's jaw until he tipped his head back, and kissed slowly down the line of his throat, biting gently here and there until Lin Shu was pushing up against him, breathless little sounds catching in his throat as need and pleasure danced down his nerves.

"Jingyan..." He nearly whimpered as the wet heat of Jingyan's mouth continued down his chest and stomach, and he should really have remembered how much trouble they'd almost always gotten into when Jingyan got that look in his eyes. When Jingyan settled between his legs, broad shoulders pushing them apart, arms curled around his thighs, he moaned out loud. "Jingyan."

"Xiao-Shu." Jingyan looked up at him, and this smile was quiet and sure. "It's all right." The assurance in that deep voice settled over him like summer sunlight, warmth and comfort and security sinking into his bones. Jingyan made a pleased sound as he relaxed, and pressed a soft kiss to his inner thigh, and another, and then slowly sucked a mark there.

Relaxed as he was, the answering rush of heat went through him like the breaking of a storm-front. "Jingyan!" Jingyan only purred, marking his inner thighs again and again, holding him gently in place as Lin Shu tried to spread his legs wider, to press into his hold. He kept going until Lin Shu was twisting breathlessly against the bed, hands closed tight in the soft blankets under them, half wild with the hypersensitivity of his skin under Jingyan's mouth and the knowledge that Jingyan wanted to lay such a thorough claim on him.

When Jingyan's mouth finally closed over the length of him, hot and wet, he was so overwhelmed by sensation that all he could do was groan, wordless, and all it took was Jingyan's mouth sliding down him, slow and sure, to undo him completely. Pleasure shook him senseless for endless moments, left him wrung out and panting, muscles trembling under the warm stroke of Jingyan's hands.

"Mmm," he finally managed, reaching for Jingyan, and sighed with satisfaction as Jingyan's weight settled against him again. Jingyan smiled down at him, fingers sliding gently up into his hair.

"Looks like I guessed right."

"Very right," Lin Shu agreed, softly.

"Good." Jingyan slowly tugged loose the pin of his hairpiece and unraveled the snug twists of Lin Shu's hair until he could run his fingers all the way to the ends. "Do you remember this, too?"

"Mmmm." Feeling nearly liquid under the slow, easy strokes, Lin Shu wound his arms more snugly around Jingyan. "Of course. You always liked to take my hair down." He could feel the vibration of Jingyan's silent chuckle, this close.

"Well, you put it all the way up so young. I didn't think you needed to, to be taken seriously." He pressed a kiss to Lin Shu's forehead, and murmured, "And I liked being the only one who got to see it down, when we were in the field."

Lin Shu smiled up at him, sliding his hands up the broad line of Jingyan's back. "And is that all you wish of me, right now?" Lying this close together, it was fairly clear that it wasn't.

"Do you want more?" Jingyan countered, hand sliding gently down his neck, thumb stroking over tender, marked skin. "Or is this enough, for now?"

The curl of heat that answered that caress actually startled him, and he pulled in a quick breath. "Oh..." Jingyan's eyes on him darkened, hot and focused, but he still waited until Lin Shu reached up to cup his cheek and answered, "My desire for you has never had an end. I just never thought I'd be able to feel it like this again."

Jingyan caught him close, at that, and his mouth on Lin Shu's was fierce and hungry, this time. "Then you need do nothing but feel." Those words, wrapped in Jingyan's deep voice, stroked down his nerves like a fine brush, dark and soft, and left him flushed and breathless against the bed as Jingyan slid away to reach for the small cabinet beside it. When Jingyan gathered him up again, one hand sliding under him, slow and slick, he pressed close, accepting Jingyan's word and letting that touch fill his mind and senses, clinging to it just as fiercely, now, as he'd pushed sensation away for years. It was easier when Jingyan's fingers pressed into him, intimate enough to leave him gasping for breath against Jingyan's shoulder, and completely new. Jingyan went slowly, working his muscles open with gentle, relentless fingers until he was thoroughly unwound, hands flexing against Jingyan's back with each slow push in.

When Jingyan set his teeth on Lin Shu's throat and bit down softly at the same time, the sensation took fire all in a rush and it shook an open moan out of him. "Jingyan."

Jingyan kissed him, deep and sure. "Yes."

The feeling of Jingyan's hands sliding down the marked skin of his thighs, to catch his knees and press them back and open, put a hot shudder through him and he was already breathless when Jingyan pushed slowly into him. The hard stretch and slide of it stole the rest of his breath and most of his thoughts, leaving only want and the anchor of Jingyan leaning over him, dark eyes intent on him.

"Just feel," Jingyan told him, low and husky, rocking into him slowly, over and over. "Xiao-Shu. I have you. Just feel."

"Jingyan..." It was almost a plea, and Jingyan leaned down to kiss it off his lips, gentle.

"Just feel," he repeated, deep voice soft and coaxing, and reached down, wrapping still-slick fingers firmly around Lin Shu's length.

Lin Shu didn't think he could help it, as pleasure spiraled through him in a dizzy climb that jumped with every stroke, every slow thrust. And it was Jingyan with him, in him, holding him, so he didn't try—just let the rush of pleasure take him, groaning out loud when it finally burst through him in a wash of fire down every nerve. Jingyan's deep moan answered him, and he looked up, dazed, to see Jingyan arched over him, flushed and gorgeous, lips parted. Every short, hard thrust into him sent another shock of pleasure up his spine, and he clung to the sweetness of feeling so much, so close.

When Jingyan drew back a little, easing his legs back down to the bed, Lin Shu shivered and reached out, not wanting to be parted even that little bit. Jingyan smiled and settled over him, holding him tight even as Lin Shu wrapped around him. His fingers slid through Lin Shu's loose hair, slow and easy, familiar and soothing after that wild surge of sensation.

"My own," Jingyan murmured against his ear, and the reminder relaxed him further, that he didn't have to lose this.

"Yes." He touched Jingyan's cheek to turn his head, and caught his mouth for a slow, open kiss. "As I always have been."

Jingyan positively purred at that, mouth curling in a satisfied smile. "Then I will keep you. My treasure."

Lin Shu felt his face heat at that, and bent his head, laughing. "Jingyan!"

"It's true," Jingyan said, calm and immovable, and Lin Shu gave in with a sigh, settling against him. He couldn't deny that the part of him that had always turned to Jingyan, always sought him as Lin Shu's personal pole star, was warmed and settled by every tender word.

"My heart," he admitted, softly, winding closer around Jingyan. He could feel Jingyan's lips curve against his temple, and smiled helplessly against his shoulder in return.

Now, now he truly felt he was all the way home.

When he'd been selected as the head of Prince Jing's attendants, on Jingyan's creation as Crown Prince, Zhou Wei had been pleased. Possibly even a little excited. Whatever his reputation for bullheadedness, Prince Jing was clearly the rising star of the Palace, and Zhou Wei would be the one responsible for looking after his affairs. It was even possible, given the Prince's equal reputation for rectitude and loyalty, that this would put Wei on track to become Chief of the palace officials, when Gao stepped down. Gao-gong had even spoken with him personally, about the appointment, and had a few quiet words of advice, which Wei had taken firmly to heart.

He had sought out Lei Zhanying, the Prince's left hand, and asked him how the Prince preferred to be served. Thanks to that discussion, Wei kept himself close to the Prince, whenever he was in the Eastern Palace, but unobtrusive. He firmly discouraged the other palace officials from attempting to fawn, the way the last Crown Prince had liked, and hustled ministers and officers in and out of the Prince's presence as expeditiously as possible.

Thanks to Gao-gong's advice, he'd also sought out the Noble Consort Jing and made himself known to her. The Lady had smiled, faint but warm, and invited him back a month later, to what had turned out to be a strategy meeting with the young Lady Liu. That had been invaluable, and only the suspicion that Lady Jing would dislike fawning as much as her son had kept him from truly effusive thanks. Wei and the Crown Princess now sent each other at least weekly notes about the Crown Prince's health, temper, and schedule.

The last piece of advice Gao-gong had given him was to never, ever speak ill of Prince Qi or Chiyan or Lin or, most especially, Lin Shu. To think of Lin Shu, in particular, as his Prince's dearest brother.

That advice had served Wei very well, indeed, in the months following the Crown Prince's ascension, and had made him careful of his Prince's grief during the year that followed.

It had not, however, quite prepared him for Lin Shu's return.

Suddenly, the man was everywhere, never apart from the Prince except when he was boring through some unfortunate Ministry's records like an arrow through straw. A few of the younger officials actually hid when they saw him coming, now, and the keepers of the Royal Library looked pained, because no one could stop him. Lin Shu might as well be an extension of the Crown Prince. If the Prince was in the Eastern Palace, so was Lin Shu, and if Lin Shu was in the Prince's city manor, so was the Prince.

And they were really not discreet in the slightest.

Zhou Wei caught a rustle of robes from the room behind him and resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He knew without looking, without even looking at the half-delighted, half-scandalized expressions on the door attendants as they peeked past him, that Lin Shu was stealing another kiss from the Prince. They'd been doing it all morning, and sooner or later someone besides their own attendants was going to notice. Wei made a mental note to speak personally with the Crown Princess about how to manage the rumors. A note was not going to be sufficient this week.

A messenger started across the plaza to the Eastern Palace steps, and Wei sighed, stepping back into the outer receiving room. Sure enough, Lin Shu was leaning over one arm of the Prince's chair and the Prince's hand was curled around his nape, fingers sliding under the collar of his robes.

"...been able to feel the marks of your mouth on my thighs with every step I take, all day," Lin Shu was murmuring, as Wei got back into earshot. Wei attempted to quash that mental image, violently, and made sure to kick a bench in passing. The Prince, at least, had the grace to flush a little when the two of them looked up at the little clatter and saw him approaching. Lin Shu just smiled, straightening up slowly and folding his hands.

"A ministry messenger for you, Highness, Sir," Wei said, trying not to sound harassed. From the upward crimp at the corners of Lin Shu's mouth, he didn't entirely succeed.

"Let him in," the Prince ordered, reaching for one of the report folios on his desk, as if he'd been paying any attention to them at all, today. Wei sighed and waved at the door attendants.

He'd entered Palace service, among other reasons, because he didn't want to deal with a family and children. Why did he suddenly feel like he was getting all the annoyances of parenthood anyway?

The messenger bowed quickly. "Message from Minister Cai, Highness, Sir. He says the lady is in place."

Gong Yu stepped lightly through the halls of Jinglin's second best brothel, a demure smile settled over her like a fine headdress, drawing eyes and clearing her way at the same time.

She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed this work.

The actual arts of the body she found merely tiresome. Give her a sword drill any day. But this—the careful tension between a welcoming smile and averted eyes that kept all the clients at just the right distance for her to stalk her prey—this was almost like the strings of a zither under her fingers.

Today, she'd painted her cheeks darker, to make them look thinner, sharpened the line of her jaw, dressed her hair up high to lengthen the lines of her head. No one had recognized her as Miao Yin's finest musician, least of all the rather discontented looking man watching the dancers in the public room. Gong Yu exchanged a nod across the room, with the house's Madam, and folded herself down beside him in a sigh of fine silk, leaning in just enough to suggest intimacy without touching him. "Does our company not please you this evening, good sir?"

He harrumphed and tossed back his cup of wine. "Apparently," he said with heavy sarcasm, "all the private rooms are taken. What kind of House is this, to keep clients sitting out so long?"

She poured him another cup and lifted it in her fingertips to offer with a smile. "How unfortunate, good sir. Perhaps you will deign to allow me to entertain you while you wait, then?"

He finally looked at her properly, and the tight line of his shoulders relaxed a bit. "Hm. Well, now, that's a little more like it." She smiled back, sweet and winsome, and leaned a little closer, playing the developing tension in the air between them, delicately.

And all the while she cooed and snuggled at this fool, she held close in her heart the memory of Dong jie-jie's teeth flashing as she bared them in a fierce grin the day Gong Yu had gotten past her guard during morning training, the hardness of her eyes when they'd finally pinned down when Qing Li's southern depot had started losing goods—just a year after the man beside her had gained his current office in the Ministry of Revenue. Even more than that, the sober confidence in her voice when she'd told Gong Yu to return to the capital without her and close this half of the net. She made her smile bright with that memory and poured more wine.

Tian Gen was getting to what Yu privately thought of as the usefully drunk stage—expansive but not so loud or sloppy that the House's attendants would start trying to nudge him outside. "I have plenty of money for the best room here!" he declared, waving his empty cup in a broad gesture.

Yu promptly filled it again, making her eyes wide and impressed as she hung delicately on his shoulder. "Truly?" Dong jie-jie would have laughed long and hard at the breathless note in Yu's voice, she reflected.

"Ha! I have more money than even a Second Rank Minister, these days! And no one knows how!"

Yu molded her body a little closer against his side. "But... how can no one know, good sir?"

Tian Gen smirked and leaned toward her, clearly woozy though he kept his voice down, and Yu leaned in with a conspiratorial giggle. "I was smart, see. I never touched the money myself. I sent my man to get it for me."

Yu covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Oh!" Really, it was a good thing Tian Gen was this drunk; surely no one sober could have kept from laughing at her performance. She leaned on his shoulder, lips just brushing his ear, and breathed, "Are you sure he won't tell anyone? If it's that much money..."

Tian Gen laughed out loud, wrapping an arm around her, and Yu deliberately called to mind the feel of Dong jie-jie's hands closed around her face and the gentle kiss she'd given Yu in parting, letting that memory flush her cheeks and make her eyes soft. Tian Gen grinned down at her. "Deng has been with me for fifteen years. I've no worries about him!"

Yu smiled up at him, and if that smile's brilliance was due to the fact that she had a name to bring back for Dong jie-jie and her lord, well, Tian Gen didn't need to know.

She hoped Dong jie-jie's hunt was going as well.

Xia Dong crawled out of a drainage ditch in the Northern Yan capital, spat out muddy water, and wondered yet again if she should have kept Gong Yu with her after all. Trying to infiltrate another country's capital and steal the financial records of one of their royal factions was not a solo job. Though she had to admit, the contact Yu had sent word of her to wasn't doing too badly.

Her current associate, Wen Ru, landed in the slick grass beside her, breathing hard. "I think we're clear."

"Good. Do you know where I can get a fast horse?"

His grin winked in the darkness. "Who do you think you're talking to, again? One of the stable-boys at Prince Kang's manor is Jiangzuo."

Kang being the prince who had lost the succession race to Northern Yan's present Crown Prince, which would nicely derail any suspicions that it had been a Liang agent who'd raided the secret records of Duke Ma, the Crown Prince's strongest supporter. She hauled herself upright and made a dash for the nearest alley, Wen on her heels. "I like the way you think."

"It was the Chief who set it all up." He grabbed her arm to hold her back while a city patrol passed. "How is he doing, by the way?"

Xia Dong paused in the shadow of a wagon and gave him a sidelong look. "With Jiangzuo's information network, I'd have thought you knew better than I."

"I know he lived, and that he's making himself busy in the Capital." Wen jerked his chin up and leaped for the top of the wall beside them. She followed, landing light-footed and careful on these unfamiliar tiles. "What I don't know is if he's happy."

She shot him a searching look at that, but even in the moonlight up here she still didn't recognize him. "Were you one of his men?" she asked as he led the way over one ridgepole after another.

A faint snort answered her. "I suppose that was obvious, yes." They both froze, flat to the roof tiles as a clutch of servants passed by below. Xia Dong was very glad of a guide who knew his way, by the time they got to the edge of the manor, and its stables; alone this would probably have taken her past dawn, and then things could have gotten... exciting. Instead, a few low words from Wen got them both into Kang's livery and onto some of his horses in short order.

Once they were into the streets again, she said, quietly, "I think he is happy, yes. There's a great deal of foolishness to deal with, in the Court, but he's with the people he loves. That makes a very great difference." As she had cause to know.

His answer was a sigh in the darkness. "Good." For a long moment, she thought that would be all, but eventually he added, "He made a home for we who had lost ours; that's what Jiangzuo is, for we few who survived. But it never was for him. Madam Nie," she had to stifle a start at being recognized when she swore she hadn't known him, and he gave her a wry smile as they turned onto a torch-lit boulevard, "for the sake of what you regained, too, look after our Vice-Marshal?"

She swallowed back the memory of those cold years without Feng-ge, along with a lump in her throat, and nodded. "I will. As will others, as well."

He nodded back solemn acceptance of her word, and lifted his reins. "Then let's get you and your information out of here."

Jingyan and all his people were fortunate that xiao-Shu had returned, bringing back much of his old fire as well as his new and formidable network of alliances and loyalty. As they trotted briskly toward the city gates, though, stolen armor rattling, Xia Dong's hard-trained suspicious side had to wonder just who was going to end up ruling Da Liang, when xiao-Shu's reach was already so much greater than Jingyan's.

Interlude: Supports

Lu Jian wished that, just once, they could all get through a job without anyone trying to argue Shi Ping (and by extension him) into cutting corners.

"But if we don't trim the ends short, we won't be able to get the beam into place without cutting into the roof again!"

Just once.

"Not the roof," Shi Ping stated. "We'll cut the wall to bring it in upright."

Xu Hai, Jian's soon-to-be-ex head carpenter ignored the flatness in the foreman's voice and positively wheedled, "It will be just as stable once it's in place..."

"We are not going to shim the foot of a load-bearing beam," Jian snapped, ducking into the 'office' they'd set up in the south-western hall. "Have some pride in our work, man!"

Xu Hai jumped a bit at his arrival, but only sulked at his words. "How can we be sure we're even going to get paid for doing that kind of work, this time?" he muttered.

Shi Ping only looked a little weary at this; Jian, less reserved by nature, groaned out loud. "Is the entire crew doing nothing but listening to court gossip and rumors?" he implored the heavens. "Look, if the Crown Prince doesn't know his own childhood friend, surely the Princess must know her own betrothed! Isn't she the one who refused to marry anyone else for years? You can't seriously think the Vice-Marshal is really some kind of impostor."

Too late, he caught Shi Ping's urgent throat-cutting gesture and saw the gleam of an avid rumor-monger in Xu Hai's eye, as the man leaned forward eagerly. "But what if he really is Su Zhe? He was supposed to be such a brilliant courtier and scholar, and then he just vanished into thin air, and now there's another brilliant courtier showing up. What if it's him?"

"If it is, then he's obviously got the Crown Prince's favor, and we'll still get paid," Jian said, with as quelling a glare as he could generate. "And that means we are doing to do this job right, so stop gossiping and get back up to the main hall. I want calculations by the end of the day, on where to cut the back wall, to bring in a new support beam without having to do any stopgap shimming once it's in!"

Xu Hai deflated and allowed Shi Ping to herd him out at last, while Jian scrubbed both hands over his face. "Why can't anyone just do the job?" he muttered.

Shi Ping, ducking back through the door, clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "At least our client is probably doing his job, if there are this many rumors flying around," he offered.

As he'd probably intended, Jian laughed. "We'd best do ours, too, then. Once that support is replaced, we'll be ready to re-roof the main hall. Is the last load of shingles in?"

Properly tallied figures and solid workmanship, that was the thing that would always win out, in the end.

Five

Gao Zhan had many years of experience with Palace politics, and knew well the importance of having either an impenetrable smile or an equally impenetrable blank stare at all times. It was solely due to this long experience and habit that he was able to refrain from rolling his eyes at Pan Bai, the under-minister from the Palace Affairs Bureau, who was slowly edging his way toward a point that Gao, for one, had seen coming two ke ago.

"...so the Crown Princess' new additions to the palace ladies are very well thought-out, really, she is clearly a thoughtful and accomplished lady."

"Of course she is," the Emperor said, impatient, tossing the redundant report the man had brought onto the edge of his table.

"Surely, then, she should not be slighted or set aside...?" Pan Bai suggested, raising his brows in what he clearly thought was a meaningful, way.

The Emperor frowned at Pan. "Obviously not; there's been no thought of such a thing." He sounded rather offended on Lady Liu's account, which clearly heartened Pan. Gao stifled a sigh.

"Even though the Crown Prince and Vice-Marshal Lin Shu are..." the man trailed off and coughed delicately. "Well, it does seem to have become clear that the Vice-Marshal is a man the Crown Prince would cut his sleeve for..."

The Emperor snorted, sitting back in the throne with an audible huff. "If the idiot boy would take a cup of poison for him, I fail to see how that should surprise anyone."

Pan's eyes bugged out, and Gao had to bite back a snicker. He returned the man's stare blandly, not offering the tiniest clue what the Emperor might be speaking of. He'd had a good deal of practice doing so, in the past year, as Lady Jing's drugs did loosen the Emperor's tongue just a bit.

"I... that is... Then, ah..."

"Is that all you had to report?" the Emperor demanded, cutting off Pan's stammering.

"Yes, Majesty," he answered, sounding a bit dazed, and bowed himself out at the Emperor's brusque wave.

The Emperor settled back with a disgruntled look. "Do they think I have time for idiots wasting air, just because Jingyan is dealing with the day-to-day work?"

"Perhaps it will entertain Your Majesty to watch how Lin Shu deals with them, then," Gao suggested, just a bit slyly, he would admit. He'd observed that, much as the Emperor complained about Lin Shu, he also seemed obscurely proud of the young man's political ability. And, indeed, his suggestion drew a smirk from the Emperor.

Gao smiled with satisfaction, and made a note to see about sending young Zhou Wei some extra help at the Eastern Palace, to compensate for the increased headache his charges were about to become.

Dinner had become a more cheerful affair, over the past months, which Jingyan had to admit he enjoyed. This particular evening, though, his young wife appeared to be stifling actual giggles, which was a little unusual. "An?" he inquired courteously, and quietly, leaning a little toward her. He was a bit disconcerted when that made her turn very pink. Xiao-Shu, on the other hand, seemed to understand, and gave her a conspiratorial smile across the dishes and trays.

"How are our rumors progressing?"

An burst into helpless giggles behind her sleeve. Xiao-Shu seemed to think this was a good sign, or at least he sat back with a satisfied expression. When An caught her breath again, she glanced up at Jingyan, eyes dancing, and said, "Lady Hui thinks the two of you are romantic."

Xiao-Shu definitely smirked. "Romantic, hm?"

"Returning to your love from beyond the grave," An recited. "Realizing your heart is too full to refuse your second love. Finally requiting the Crown Prince's silent yearning. Oh, and the Princess Nihuang is very noble and generous; that's a new one to encourage."

Nihuang and xiao-Shu both burst out laughing.

Jingyan was still halted over the mental image of the royal Consorts gossiping over his bed affairs. "Xiao-Shu," he started, because he had no doubts whatsoever who the planner behind this was.

"Jingyan, there are going to be rumors," xiao-Shu told him, pulling himself back to some semblance of dignity. "We need to steer them as much as possible, and that means indulging the Palace's taste for drama. Besides," he smiled, gentler this time, "Lady An is very good at it."

An blushed pink again at the compliment, and peeked up at Jingyan, hesitant and hopeful. Jingyan gave in with a sigh, and rested a hand over hers. "Very well, then." He almost felt guilty, seeing how she relaxed and brightened, at his approval. They were still learning their way around each other; he supposed he should be grateful that xiao-Shu and Nihuang had so clearly accepted An into the family circle.

If only they hadn't also infected her with their terrible senses of humor.

"Speaking of rumor," Nihuang put in, picking up a piece of melon and nudging the plate toward xiao-Shu, "one of the officials from Personnel tried to sympathize with me, today."

"Ah." That was all xiao-Shu said, but there was such a weight of understanding and satisfaction in it that Jingyan raised his brows. Xiao-Shu smiled, sharp as the edge of a knife, and selected a melon slice for himself. "I was wondering whether the Chancellor would use Personnel or Rites, for this."

All three of them were looking questions at him, now. "None of Chancellor Yu's assistants have been involved in any of the rumors, so far," An said, slowly.

Xiao-Shu's smile widened. "Exactly."

An nodded, eyes turning distant and calculating for a moment. "I'll speak with Zhou Wei about watching that, then."

"What could the Chancellor possibly have against you?" Jingyan demanded, annoyed. "Aren't you only making his job easier?"

Now the other three were all looking at him with varying degrees of amusement. "Even I know that no minister is going to be happy about someone else touching his work," Nihuang pointed out. "Even to help."

Jingyan knew it was true, but that didn't make him any happier about it.

"It's more than that, actually." Xiao-Shu leaned against his back-rest. "The Chancellor, and the entire Department of State Affairs really, has had to deal with the Emperor's secretiveness, and his preference for using off-record methods like Xuanjing's agents to solve a lot of internal issues. Now, just when they thought they were done with that, here I am, bringing an unknown network of unknown strength with me. From the outside, would I not look very much like your private action or enforcement agent?"

"Then the rumor that you are the Crown Prince's lover..." An said, slowly, frowning.

Xiao-Shu nodded. "Makes some of them fear that either I will be unassailable, if they let me become entrenched, or even that I will seek to become the true ruler by manipulating Jingyan from behind the throne." He opened a hand, palm up. "Chancellor Yu is a good enough man, who has done his best to stay out of factional strife after being promoted to this position, but all men have their limit. He's reaching his. So he will use Personnel and Palace Affairs to put pressure on me, to set me off balance, and then attempt to cut the ground out from under me, when he sees a chance."

"Can you prevent him, then?" An asked softly, still looking a bit worried. "Without impairing his function as the Chancellor, I mean?"

Xiao-Shu gave her an approving smile. "I believe so, yes. He'll be far less trouble than the ones who are merely trying to safeguard their own personal power, of which we still have an unfortunate number."

"And I suppose there's still no hope of getting me eighteen more like Cai, to put under the Inspector of Discipline," Jingyan grumbled. That would fix a lot of problems, he was still convinced.

"We can work on it," xiao-Shu told him, smiling.

Nihuang nudged him with an elbow. "You couldn't have just gotten him some peaches? You had to get him a government, instead?"

Xiao-Shu colored a little, at that, but shot back, "Governments last longer, at least if you're doing it right." He paused, then, and looked down at her, suddenly serious, lifting a hand to brush her cheek with light fingers. "Nihuang..."

She leaned just a little into the touch, smiling up at him, so softly that Jingyan picked up his cup to have an excuse to look away and give them a little privacy. "Don't be silly, Shu-ge. Didn't I tell you, already? You still look at me that way; that's all that matters." The softness of her voice suddenly turned bright and wicked. "Besides, I already share the care of you with my younger sister. Why should I object to sharing with a brother, too?"

Jingyan nearly choked on a swallow of water, An squeaked, eyes wide, and xiao-Shu caught Nihuang close, laughing out loud against her hair. "If I need a charge to break the ministries' ranks, I'll definitely call on you," he promised, eyes bright.

She leaned up to kiss him, with a satisfied smile. "Good. Do so." She pushed to her feet. "Now, you haven't spent the night with Jingyan all week. I am going to make sure Gong Yu doesn't actually sleep out in the mews, waiting for word from Dong-jie."

An promptly stood, as well, eyes dancing as she bowed to Jingyan. "I will bid you a good night, then, my lord."

Jingyan gave her a faintly exasperated look, but had to allow, in justice, that she was only following the example of her elders. Unfortunately. "Yes, yes. Good night, then." He drew her close and dropped a light kiss on her hair, and she smiled up at him, sweet and happy, before following Nihuang out.

Xiao-Shu was still laughing. Very quietly so, but Jingyan could tell, and eyed him thoughtfully, stepping around the trays to close the distance between them. "So. It appears that I'm the one who's joining your household, then?"

Xiao-Shu rose to meet him, almost straight-faced as long as you couldn't see how bright his eyes still were. "It is the business and expertise of the ladies to arrange these things; I try to always trust in my experts."

Jingyan reached out to catch his hips and pull him closer, smiling at the slide of xiao-Shu's hands up his arms, slow and firm, as if xiao-Shu wanted to memorize how he felt. "Do you trust my expertise, then?" He bent his head and nipped gently at xiao-Shu's neck, making a pleased sound when xiao-Shu's hands tightened sharply on his shoulders.

"Entirely," xiao-Shu answered, a little husky with the way he tipped his head back as Jingyan kissed down his throat.

"Good," Jingyan murmured against his skin, and sucked a mark into it, just under the line of his collar. Xiao-Shu's body arched taut against his, like a bow drawn by his hands, and the sweetness of feeling xiao-Shu answer him so freely made Jingyan smile and stroke his tongue over the mark he'd left.

"Jingyan." Xiao-Shu pushed him back a little, flushed and dark-eyed. "Bed."

Jingyan grinned at him, pleased, and agreed. "Bed."

There were times, he had to admit, when he showed his own share of his family's sense of humor.

Xiao-Shu had recovered his composure by the time they were both undressed, and came to press close against him, catching Jingyan's mouth for kiss after heated kiss, murmuring between them, "You make me want, so."

"What is it that you want?" Jingyan asked against his mouth, hands sliding down the lines of xiao-Shu's body, still lean but no longer so desperately thin.

Xiao-Shu's slow, wicked smile warned him to brace himself as xiao-Shu leaned in and spoke against his ear. "I want you to fuck me." Hearing xiao-Shu's smooth voice wrapped around the kind of barracks language they'd both learned from soldiers in the field sent a shock of heat through Jingyan, and he caught xiao-Shu closer as xiao-Shu leaned against him, laughing.

"If that's what you wish," he agreed, a bit breathless, and drew xiao-Shu onto the bed, pressing him gently to his knees.

Xiao-Shu smiled that slow, heated smile again and bent over, stretching his arms along the bed for a moment before folding them loosely and resting his head on them. "It is what I wish."

Jingyan knelt behind him, sliding his hands down the arch of xiao-Shu's back, slow and easy. "Then feel," he urged quietly, the way he'd learned he had to coax xiao-Shu along to do just that. After a moment's thought how best to effect it, he smiled, perhaps a little wickedly himself, and settled his hands on xiao-Shu's lifted rear, spreading him gently open. The faint catch of xiao-Shu's breath turned fast and shocked when Jingyan leaned down and stroked his tongue slowly over xiao-Shu's entrance.

"Jingyan!"

"Shh," he said softly, hands tightening a little as xiao-Shu shivered. "Just feel." He lapped, soft and slow, at xiao-Shu's entrance, and made a satisfied sound as xiao-Shu slowly unwound, under him, with a low moan. He listened to xiao-Shu's breathing as it turned deeper, faster, waiting for the muscles under his hands to relax. It wasn't until they finally did, accompanied by a soft sigh, that he slid a thumb down, working the pad of it against xiao-Shu's entrance in slow, firm circles, urging those muscles further open.

"Jingyan..." Xiao-Shu's arms were unfolded, now, thrown out along the bed as his hands flexed slowly in the covers, and Jingyan could see that his eyes were closed, his lips parted. "Jingyan, please..."

That went through him like a stroke of fire; xiao-Shu still asked for so few things. Jingyan's voice was rough and low as he answered, "Yes, my own." He leaned over the side of the bed to rummage out the sealed jar of seaweed gel (one of the few medicinals he did not get from his mother). The slickness of his fingers sliding down his own length made him shudder, hot anticipation pooling low in his stomach. The tightness and heat of xiao-Shu's body around him as he pushed in made him moan, low and open. And the wordless, entreating sound xiao-Shu made drove his hips forward, sinking all the way in, leaving them both gasping for a moment.

"Xiao-Shu," Jingyan breathed, when he had his voice back, leaning down to wrap his arms around xiao-Shu, curling his body over his lover's until he could gather xiao-Shu in against his chest and nuzzle the curve of his neck. All the gathering tension in xiao-Shu's body loosened again, and he moaned softly as he unwound to lie quiet and breathless in Jingyan's arms; the trust implicit in that relaxation caught in Jingyan's chest. "Thank you, my heart," he whispered against xiao-Shu's shoulder.

Xiao-Shu laughed, soft and breathless. "Why thank me for the things you do to me?"

Jingyan smiled against his shoulder. "Because you let me." Before xiao-Shu could argue with that, which he knew was a distinct possibility, he slid a hand down xiao-Shu's stomach to wrap around him and stroke, slow and firm. Feeling xiao-Shu lose his breath on a soft moan, feeling the way his body tightened, braided pleasure down Jingyan's nerves, and he rocked into xiao-Shu, sure and hard.

The sounds xiao-Shu made were breathless and openly wanting, and Jingyan couldn't help but catch him closer, drive into him harder, drawn on by how rarely abandoned xiao-Shu was, tonight. The flex of xiao-Shu's body under his was so open, so wanton, it took his breath, and when xiao-Shu tightened around him with a low moan, Jingyan let pleasure sweep him down, as well, shuddering as heat burst through him.

Eventually, they both lay quiet, catching their breaths together. When he had the sense to, again, Jingyan eased back and stretched out on his side, and promptly gathered xiao-Shu back against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his nape. "My treasure," he murmured. This close, he could feel xiao-Shu's skin heat as he colored, and smiled. "It's the truth." He found himself repeating that a lot, to xiao-Shu, but that was all right; he was perfectly willing to repeat himself until xiao-Shu believed it.

And perhaps that was closer than he'd thought, because although xiao-Shu didn't answer, he did cuddle deeper into the circle of Jingyan's arms. Jingyan held him closer, breathing in the warmth of that simple acceptance, and closed his eyes. Nothing undid him like these small moments of closeness and trust, the reassurance that his xiao-Shu was returned to him, whole and entire.

He cradled xiao-Shu closer and let the sweetness of his presence sink into his bones and soothe away the chill that had grown there over the year and more he'd had to bear the growing shadow of the throne's weight alone.

Six

Normally, Cai Quan rather liked seeing Xia Dong stalking into his offices. She was undeniably his favorite official, in his own Ministry, and the knife-sharp smile she wore when she'd secured unarguable evidence of some wrongdoing never failed to cheer him. Today, though, her expression was darker, fiercer, and Quan braced himself as he accepted her report folio.

"I tracked the goods," she said, flatly, folding her hands behind her, "and the money. It came from us."

Possibly, he had not braced himself quite enough. "Did you find from what faction?" he asked, grimly, not looking forward to the scandal and infighting this could spark.

"I recognized the name given by the courier." Her jaw was tight. "He was one of Xuanjing's agents."

Quan's hands closed tight on the edge of his writing table as a cold wave of fury and reflex fear washed over him. "This... this was approved by the Emperor? Undermining one of his own armies?"

Now he understood perfectly the hardness in her level gaze. "The Emperor never favored the military. This is the man who approved the execution of Chiyan's commanders when, as far as he knew, the Da Yu army was still a threat on our northern border. I suspect he would have thought the extension of Xuanjing's network and influence beyond our borders a decent trade."

As would Xia Jiang, Quan added to himself, as she probably would have added if she ever spoke Xia Jiang's name, these days. He glanced over her summary report and scrubbed his hands over his face with a resigned sigh. "Their Crown Prince's faction, wonderful. I'll probably have to bring the Chancellor's office in on this." That was never pleasant. The whole of that office tended to an approach they called 'pragmatic' and he called 'morally questionable'. Well, no help for it. He straightened and gave her a firm nod. "I'll probably call for you, when we go before the Crown Prince. For now, get some rest and catch up with yourself. And also with that girl you recommended." He had to smile a little, remembering. "She's impressive, but she also drove the mews-keepers to distraction, waiting for word of you."

The tight line of her mouth softened a little, at that. "Gong Yu gets very focused," she agreed, and took what looked like her first full breath in a while. "I'll be standing by, Minister." She gave him a short bow, and strode out.

Quan contemplated the tangle of military, ministries, and imperial plotting that an apparently straightforward case of misappropriation had developed into and indulged himself in one heartfelt groan before picking up his brush and starting to write his requests for time and information from the other ministries.

Jingyan was beginning to be just a little sympathetic to his father's tendency to shout when arguments broke out in front of him. Not terribly sympathetic, but he was aware of a growing urge to gag his ministers with their own hats.

"This wouldn't have happened in the first place if military officers were paying more attention to their duties than to promotion!"

"This isn't about the Ministry of War, this is about a history of corruption in State Revenue..."

"We can't just strip either Ministry, this is going to take time to fix..."

"The real point here is that this was approved at the highest levels..."

"No, the real point is that Northern Yan's Duke Ma is threatening reprisals, and we don't have enough money to support another extended campaign, yet..."

"And he only knows because your agent was careless!"

"Duke Ma and their Crown Prince clearly knew the source of that money." Xia Dong's voice cut easily through the bickering. "It's a safe gamble, to accuse us." She stood straight and calm at Cai Quan's shoulder, not bothering to defend herself further, for which forbearance Jingyan was grateful.

And, through it all, xiao-Shu sat out of the way, at his own desk, reading reports and correspondence with a calm smile, not even looking up at the racket of the ministers arguing. Jingyan was starting to suspect, a bit darkly, that xiao-Shu was willing to indulge the Court's taste for drama, at least in part, because he enjoyed it himself. Jingyan drew a fortifying breath and waded in.

"Sergeant Yang Liu and under-minister Tian Gen are already in the custody of the Ministry of Justice, and their trials will be conducted according to the law," he started, and waited until Li Len and Shen Zhui had bowed acknowledgment. "Minister Cai has already judged the competence of his agent in this matter, and I have accepted his judgment." Cai Quan and Xia Dong bowed in their turn, and Jingyan turned to Yu Qiao, the Chancellor of the Department of State Affairs, for the past two years. "Chancellor Yu. What, exactly, is Duke Ma saying to us?"

Yu Qiao stopped giving Xia Dong a dark look and drew himself up. "Highness. He is insisting that we were clearly behind the recent raid on his sealed records, and demanding recompense under threat of a military raid. I believe that we can still negotiate with him, though, if Your Highness will empower an envoy." His gaze flicked sidelong at xiao-Shu, who appeared oblivious, only looking up to take a handful of paper from the Eastern Palace attendant xiao-Shu had unofficially annexed as his secretary and courier, who had sidled in and along the side wall. Xiao-Shu glanced over it all, nodded, handed back a sealed note, and went back to reading. Jingyan thought he saw a flash of satisfaction in Yu Qiao's face before it smoothed into respectful entreaty. "The Department of State Affairs has many officials who are experienced in diplomacy, Highness. If I may suggest Huang Fu? We may have to make some gifts to Northern Yan, to smooth this unfortunate affair over, but Huang will be able to prevent the matter from escalating to Northern Yan's Crown Prince."

"On the contrary," xiao-Shu called, from his desk, still not looking up from his reading. "Involving the Crown Prince is precisely what we wish."

Yu Qiao's turned to glare at him. "There is no benefit in forcing an international confrontation to a higher level!"

Finally, xiao-Shu looked up, smiling. "Chancellor Yu. I understand very well your frustration, and I have no wish to add to it, but I have a responsibility to my own people. My workings cannot all be transparent to you." He stood, brushing his robes straight and laying aside his papers. "I am, however, willing to make the results transparent."

Jingyan thought that Yu Qiao suddenly looked less angry and more wary.

Xiao-Shu stepped out onto the floor before Jingyan's desk. "You fear that Northern Yan's Crown Prince stands behind Duke Ma, is using the Duke to test us, our cohesion, our readiness to war or to words. The reality is that, on the contrary, Ma is the one who wishes to test us. The Crown Prince will restrain him."

Yu Qiao drew himself up, face hard. "Vice-Marshal, I ask that you not interfere in state matters on the basis of such wild supposition."

"Supposition?" Xiao-Shu raised his brows at Yu, looking quite entertained, and Yu's temper snapped.

"There's no way you could possibly know—!"

"Under-minister Huang Fu requests entry!" one of the door attendants called. Yu turned away from xiao-Shu, every movement sharp and annoyed, and bowed to Jingyan.

"Highness, under-minister Huang undoubtedly has news of this matter."

Jingyan eyed xiao-Shu, who folded his hands and stood calm and smiling, and had to stifle a snort. Clearly, xiao-Shu's game was still in play. "Very well. Let him enter."

Huang Fu hustled through the room and bowed hastily to everyone. "Your Highness, Sir, Ministers. Chancellor Yu, we just received a letter under the seal of the Crown Prince of Northern Yan."

Yu Qiao stiffened. "Already? What is he..."

"He apologized!"

In the resulting silence, Huang Fu proffered a folded letter. Yu Qiao slowly accepted and opened it, looking more and more baffled the further he read.

"Well?" Jingyan finally prodded.

Yu shook himself and looked up. "Highness. It's as Minister Huang said. Northern Yan's Crown Prince states that there is evidence this matter is internal, and apologizes for Duke Ma's hasty judgment." He stared at the letter for another long moment before it seemed to sink in, and then his head whipped around toward xiao-Shu. "How...?"

Xiao-Shu was still smiling, but it was a sharper, fiercer smile, now, and his voice was dangerously soft when he answered. "I know, Chancellor Yu, because I was the one who set their sixth Prince there, to be a friend and ally to my Emperor."

Something like a shiver ran through the room. Everyone there knew it was not the current Emperor that xiao-Shu spoke of, and long years of stepping softly around the Emperor's paranoia made xiao-Shu's fierce candor chilling. Yu Qiao was looking wary again, perhaps even a little afraid. Xiao-Shu considered him for a long moment, and finally shook his head, smile turning wry. "Peace, Chancellor Yu. I understand your concerns, but, really, does this affair not assure you that I work only for the benefit of my lord?"

Jingyan tried very hard not to turn red at the familial title xiao-Shu used, especially when Shen Zhui started 'coughing' behind his fist and Dong-jie smirked outright. Trust xiao-Shu, he reflected, ruefully, to use everything to his advantage, even this. Yu opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally throwing up his hands. "Fine! You work for His Highness' benefit. Have it as you will!"

"Only when it's important," xiao-Shu murmured.

Jingyan really did snort this time, at the magnitude of that untruth. Xiao-Shu nearly always got his way, and always had.

Yu's expression said that he also doubted xiao-Shu's words very much, but he only bowed to Jingyan. "It appears my Department's concerned are resolved, for the present, Your Highness."

"Then we're done, here." Jingyan held out a hand for the letter Huang Fu had brought. "I will respond to this myself." After all, if xiao-Shu had arranged this alliance, for him, he should probably do his part to secure it.

Yu surrendered the letter with good grace and all of the ministers bowed themselves out. Finally. Jingyan contemplated the letter in his hands for a moment, and cocked a brow at xiao-Shu. "To be my friend and ally, hm?"

"We could use some," xiao-Shu pointed out, dryly, leaning a hip against his writing table. "Northern Yan and Southern Chu were not the only places your father sought to keep busy by funding one faction against another. Admittedly, Prince Ren didn't refuse the funds, or the plot, but he's the sort that prefers fair dealing, when it's possible." He smiled at Jingyan, small and warm. "You make it possible."

Jingyan smiled back, helpless, as always, to respond otherwise. "Very well, then. Let's begin it here." He unfolded the letter and spread it out over his desk, and xiao-Shu came around to read over his shoulder. The warmth of him against Jingyan's side eased all the muscles that the morning's arguments had pulled tight, and Jingyan settled down to read.

His ministers would hopefully learn this, in time: Lin Shu was the best hope they could have for an Emperor who would stay sane.

It was one reason that, while he would be glad for xiao-Shu's sake, Jingyan wasn't actually looking forward to the Lin Manor repairs being finished.

Interlude: Fulfillment

Lu Jian took a last turn through the Lin Manor, once everything was done. He always did this, with any project he worked on, making sure the blinds and dividers were all rolled evenly, picking up the bits of wood and paper that were always missed in shadowed corners, putting away the pails and scrub brushes that inevitably got left out. Shi Ping didn't protest, or call him 'fussy' for it, just followed after him with a sack for the scraps, which was why Shi Ping was his senior foreman.

The Lin Manor wasn't perfect. It was clear that major repairs had been done, and some of them showed, especially where he'd had to replace support beams and parts of walls. There were still places where the paint didn't quite match, where the newer tiles stood out. This was still a manor that had been neglected for fourteen years before being repaired. Even so, Jian was proud of the job they'd done. The place was solid and safe; it was even beautiful again. The gardens were clean and growing to some good order again. The sharp lines of each hall's framing were softened and graceful with hangings. Jian watched the breeze send ripples across the pools of the water garden and nodded, satisfied. "This was a good job."

"Do you think they'll actually use it?" Shi Ping asked, as they turned back toward the gates.

Jian blinked at him. "Why wouldn't they?!" He gestured around at the just-finished and, frankly, quite expensive renovation they'd completed, and and been paid for by Lin Shu.

Shi Ping examined the roof-lines, as they passed through the second courtyard. "You hear rumors."

Jian rolled his eyes. "Rumors are only rumors. And even if it's true," he had to clear his throat, because some of the rumors were downright lurid, "they commissioned repairs. Someone is intended to live here." He patted a pillar of the inner gates as they stepped through. "They aren't living at Mu Manor either, are they, but that certainly isn't being left to rot."

Shi Ping looked satisfied, and Jian shook his head, amused. Shi Ping invested a lot more in each job than anyone who'd just met him would ever realize from his laconic manner. "Lin Manor has a master again, and one that cares about the house" he said, firmly, as they stepped through the main doors and he turned to pull them shut, pausing to rub a stray speck of paint off the bronze ring. "That's what keeps a house alive."

His foreman knotted the sack of trash and tossed it over one shoulder. "Well, then. On to the next job."

Jian laughed and clapped him on the other shoulder. "As always!"

Seven

Lin Shu's fingers paused, unfolding the accumulated night's notes over breakfast. "Lu Jian writes that the repairs are finished," he said, quietly.

Sound around the room hushed, just like the sound in his head felt like it had. Jingyan looked up, sober, hand a little halting as he set down his cup. Gong Yu clasped her hands tight, dark eyes watching him intently, waiting for a cue. An was biting her lip, just a little, glancing back and forth between Lin Shu and her husband. After a moment, Nihuang reached over and closed a hand over his, tight and sure. "Shall we go and see, today, then?"

He took a breath, trying not to be obvious about how much he needed the moment to settle himself, and nodded, turning his hand up to lace his fingers with hers, anchoring himself. His eyes slid back toward Jingyan as if pulled there, though, and Jingyan caught them. When he smiled, small and warm, and asked, "Shall I come along?" it felt like release through his chest and down his spine.

"If you have time." That was disingenuous, of course. He needed them both with him, very much, these two who had been there, who shared so many of his memories. Fifteen years ago, he'd have said so. Fortunately, both of them still understood him perfectly well, at least if the exasperated looks they both gave him were any indication. He bent his head with a slightly unsteady chuckle. "Yes, all right."

Nihuang leaned against his shoulder, warm and steady. "Watch over things while we're gone," she directed Gong Yu, who nodded seriously, as if she'd heard more than just the words Nihuang had said. If Lin Shu hadn't spent his entire life observing every man of his acquaintance have just as little control over what was allegedly his own inner court, perhaps he'd be worried about that. As it was, he took a moment to be rather smug that his mother had chosen so well, for him.

It was a moment's distraction, anyway.

He continued focusing firmly on little things, as they made their way out through the north-east district—the brightening of the gray sky as morning drew on and lit the overcast clouds, the tug of the leather reins in his hands as his horse tossed it's head at a passing wagon, the steady chime of the bells on Nihuang's horse's chest-band. And these little things brought him, without panic, to the steps of Lin Manor.

The last time he'd seen the entrance, it had been overgrown, even in winter, untrimmed bamboo running wild, flowering trees sprawling messy and unpruned, doors hanging open and a little askew. Now the summer-green trees framed the fresh, dark paint of the doors neatly. It looked like someplace people might live, where he might expect a house servant to open the door at any moment and bow greeting. Except that they wouldn't, at least not the servants he remembered. Not more than a bare handful, if they even wanted to return, by now.

Jingyan's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present with a jolt, and he swallowed the shock of it, nodded, and put his foot on the stairs. And another. And another. Until he could touch the doors, and see Nihuang's hand beside his. When he glanced over, she was looking up at him, eyes dark, and gave him a steady nod. He returned it as well as he could, and, together, they pushed open the doors.

The house was bright and clean. As he stepped through to the inner gate, feeling like he might be walking through a dream, he saw fresh paint, washed flagstones, scrubbed tile everywhere he looked. The first courtyard was neatly swept, autumn flowers just starting to show buds in the lining beds. The deeper into the house he walked, the more he felt like these simple sights were knocking his breath out.

He didn't quite realize it was literal until Nihuang pushed him down on the steps of the west breezeway and rubbed his back, frowning. "Shu-ge, look at me." She studied him intently, when he looked up, and pursed her lips. "Well, you're not in shock. Yet. Sit and catch your breath for a minute, though, all right?"

He took a deeper breath and nodded, trying to ground himself in the warmth of her hands, and of Jingyan's hands when he knelt in front of him and took his shoulders.

"Xiao-Shu..."

He flinched at the way Jingyan's voice echoed in memory and the present both, and Jingyan frowned, worried. Lin Shu reached out to rest his hands on the sleek, heavy silk of Jingyan's robes, so much finer than anything he'd have bothered to wear back then. It helped.

"I'm all right," he finally managed, husky.

"Should we leave, for today?" Nihuang asked, still rubbing his back slowly. He shook his head.

"I want to see it all." To see and know, and not wonder later. Nihuang and Jingyan exchanged not entirely pleased looks over his head, and he huffed a faint laugh. "I need to see it all as it is, now."

"All right," Jingyan sighed, and held out his hands to pull him upright.

Lin Shu took them and stood, and was grateful that both of them stayed in contact once he was up, Nihuang's hand wrapped around his arm, and Jingyan's resting on his shoulder. It helped remind him of what was real as they circled the mansion slowly, passed through the third and fourth courtyards, newly painted red framing gleaming gently in the day's indirect light, echoing with the memory of his younger cousins running down the outer walks, laughing, calling for Lin Shu ge-ge to hurry up.

They took one turn through the rear building and started back toward the gate through the main hall. His steps slowed there, caught by the memory of his father leaning one elbow against a backrest, cup half-forgotten in his fingers as he argued strategy with his generals, of the sweep of his mother's sleeves as she gestured, laughing together with Aunt Yueyao, when she visited.

The inner hall was easier, in a way; the room for the family shrine was empty, but he'd seen the hall where the tablets did stand, now, had finally performed the proper rites for them. That was a memory he could hold on to without being cut. There was new wood here, too, he noticed as they stepped out. It was smoothly set into the landing, and the whole steps and landing re-painted, but it flexed a little differently under his feet than the older wood. He wondered what had happened to it; the framing, and sometimes walls, had been replaced elsewhere, but not the floors.

A memory slid past his mind's eye, of his mother standing at the top of these steps, smiling, hands held out to welcome him home.

Something that wasn't a memory, something made of whispers and rumor and horror, followed—his mother, at the top of these steps, sword drawn, watching strange soldiers burst through her home. His mother's blood spreading and pooling over the wood, sinking in and staining, too deep to ever plane away. His knees hit the steps, and he reached out, half expecting his hand against the wood to turn red.

"Shu-ge!"

"Xiao-Shu!"

It took long, long moments to remember where he was, and when, and why, to understand why there were arms around him, why the shoulder under his head was wet and the hand against his neck was shaking just as badly as his own were. It took long, gasping breaths before he could gather himself enough to lift his head, to see Nihuang and Jingyan looking back, faces just as wet as his. "I can't," he whispered, voice rough and choked. "Not where Mother..."

Nihuang pulled his head back down, arms tightening around him fiercely. "Then we won't. It's all right."

"But..."

"So stay in the home you already have," Jingyan told him firmly. "With me."

He looked up again at that, with a faint, helpless laugh. "Zhou Wei really will resign if we try to do that."

"Nonsense," Jingyan said at the same time Nihuang was saying, "Don't be ridiculous." They smiled at each other in a way that made him laugh again, rough in his throat after the tears. Jingyan reached out to wipe the wetness off his face with a gentle palm, and he couldn't help leaning into the touch, the reminder of what he still had, here and now.

"Most of the Court already knows perfectly well that you're lovers," Nihuang pointed out, rubbing her hands gently down his arms. "And half the ministers already treat the two of you like you're some eight-limbed beast named Highness-Sir."

Jingyan snorted over that, mouth tugging up in a wry smile. "True enough."

Lin Shu shook his head a little, thoughts turning over again, albeit a little slowly still. "Maybe that will work for now, but when you take the throne..."

"Then our rooms will be further apart," Jingyan stated, flat look daring anyone, including Lin Shu, to argue. "I won't say that I'll like that, but I also won't let it make any more difference than that."

Lin Shu felt too wrung out to argue with Jingyan's stubbornness. especially backed by Nihuang's. Perhaps he'd best leave that to Gao. Yes, surely Gao would have the wisdom and patience to argue them back to reason.

He couldn't. Even if it would be the wise thing to do, he couldn't. Not now.

They both smiled, obviously feeling the tension in him slacken, and he rolled his eyes and let them help him to his feet, keeping his back carefully to the inner hall. By the time they'd reached the outer gate, he managed to say, quietly, "Perhaps we could keep some staff here, if anyone wishes to return." He didn't want to see Lin Manor fall into disrepair again, just because he couldn't bear to walk here again.

Nihuang smiled up from where she'd ducked under his arm, eyes a little wet again for a moment. "Yes. Let's do that."

Stepping back out into the city, feeling the support of Jingyan's arm around his shoulders, and Nihuang's warmth against his side, he took what felt like his first free breath all day, and turned toward the horses that would take them home.

Coda

Gao smiled benignly at the youngsters gathered in the inner receiving room of the Eastern Palace, folding his hands. "Why yes, I don't see why not."

The Crown Prince smiled with immense satisfaction, and the Princess Nihuang exchanged a pleased nod with the Crown Princess, while Lin Shu stared at Gao with a betrayed look.

"Gao gong-gong," he started, nearly sputtering. Gao waved dismissive fingers.

"Palace Affairs may complain a bit, at first, but, really, it's hardly the first time this has happened. They'll find precedents, and then they'll be happy again." And if they weren't, well, they would be once Lady Jing was finished with them. Gao's smile may have broadened a hair at the thought, and the young Vice-Marshal threw up his hands.

"All right. All right! Fine!"

Gao bowed, hiding the urge to laugh outright at the young man's dramatics. "If that was all, then I will take my leave." He patted Zhou Wei on the shoulder, on his way out, and got a harried look in answer. Yes, they were all settling in quite well. Zhou Wei had always needed a challenge to bring out his best.

He strolled back through the Palace complex, enjoying the late-summer warmth of the evening, reflecting on how pleasant it might be to have an Emperor who loved, rather than feared, those nearest to him, and was loved by them with such fierce loyalty. Gao liked the thought quite a bit. He thought the Court and country would, too, once they got accustomed, and if time had taught him anything it was that people did get accustomed if you just gave them a little while. He smiled up at the first stars coming out in the darkening sky, and though he'd never gained the learning of the royal scholars who read the skies, he felt deep in his heart that those stars agreed with him when he murmured, softly, aloud.

"All will be well."

End

The Yellow Season

Jingyan is figuring out why Lin Shu likes to be held tightly, in bed, and in the process shakes a few truths loose that he didn't expect. Porn with Characterization, I-4

I swear, I do not normally make terrible linguistic jokes in my titles, so let's just consider this one truth in advertising.

One of the things that had surprised Jingyan the most about xiao-Shu, in bed, was that he liked to be held. Jingyan had very clear memories of xiao-Shu being always in motion, always a little restless. He'd liked being in contact, definitely, always reaching for Jingyan's arm or leaning into an arm thrown around his shoulders, so it hadn't actually surprised him that xiao-Shu liked it when Jingyan left the marks of his mouth on xiao-Shu's skin. That was the kind of reminder he could have guessed xiao-Shu would enjoy having. But the xiao-Shu of fifteen years ago had been quick-fire and restless, and not the type Jingyan would ever have expected to like being in any way restrained.

Xiao-Shu now, though, made little sounds of satisfaction when Jingyan's weight settled over him, or when Jingyan folded his arms around him and held him close. When Jingyan's fingers wrapped around his wrist so that Jingyan could press a kiss to the inside of it, xiao-Shu's eyes dropped closed for a breath and his lips parted softly.

And so, this evening, Jingyan let his hold on xiao-Shu's wrist tighten, winding his fingers firmly around it, and watched xiao-Shu closely. The quick hitch in his breath made Jingyan nod to himself; he was fairly sure he was right about this.

"Jingyan?" xiao-Shu asked, a little husky.

Jingyan gathered xiao-Shu closer and turned them, easing xiao-Shu back against the bed and stretching out over him. He caught xiao-Shu's soft, pleased sound in a kiss, and said quietly, against his mouth. "My heart. My own." Xiao-Shu relaxed back against the blankets, a smile curving his lips in response; xiao-Shu, now, also liked it when Jingyan reminded him that he belonged here, with Jingyan. Belonging—that was the key, wasn't it? Jingyan wrapped his fingers gently around xiao-Shu's other wrist as well and pressed them both to the bed over xiao-Shu's head.

Xiao-Shu's eyes went wide and dark, and his whole body arched up taut under Jingyan's. "Jingyan..." He could feel tiny tremors running the length of xiao-Shu's body, feel the sudden quickness of his breath.

"My own," he repeated, low and sure, sliding a leg between xiao-Shu's thighs and pressing up between them. Xiao-Shu moaned, low and open, grinding up against him with a complete lack of restraint that made Jingyan's own breath come faster. Perhaps this wasn't something he would have expected of xiao-Shu, but that didn't mean he couldn't put the pieces together when they were in front of him—and he was more than willing to oblige. He tightened his hold on xiao-Shu's wrists a little and bent his head to bite, slow and firm, up and down the line of xiao-Shu's neck.

"Jingyan...!" The note in xiao-Shu's voice was breathless and yearning, the flex of his body under Jingyan's hold increasingly wanton. Jingyan made wordless, encouraging sounds as he sucked the marks on xiao-Shu's neck darker, each one sending xiao-Shu bucking up against him.

"My own, my xiao-Shu," he murmured against xiao-Shu's ear, rocking his thigh firmly between xiao-Shu's legs. "It's all right; I won't let go."

"Yes, this, please." Xiao-Shu sounded near incoherent, and he was pushing up against Jingyan so hard that, if he weren't begging, Jingyan might be having second thoughts. He had to hold tight enough to xiao-Shu's wrists, to keep him pinned, that he might be leaving marks there, too. Given the way xiao-Shu was pulling against his grip, he wondered if that was exactly what xiao-Shu wanted. The thought sent a curl of heat through him.

So he settled his weight more securely over xiao-Shu and pinned his wrists hard against the bed. He pushed his thigh up between xiao-Shu's legs and, when xiao-Shu arched up against him, head falling back, leaned down and closed his teeth on xiao-Shu's throat.

Xiao-Shu cried out, shaking under Jingyan's hold as he came undone all in a rush, flushed and half-wild, so beautiful in this moment that Jingyan couldn't look away. It took a long time for xiao-Shu to quiet again, and even then his breath was still quick, his eyes dark and dilated when he looked up at Jingyan. Jingyan held him against the bed, gentle and firm, and waited.

"Jingyan," xiao-Shu finally whispered, wetting his lips. "What...?"

"It seemed like something you wished," Jingyan answered, quietly.

Xiao-Shu took in a quick, trembling breath, eyes falling closed. "I..." He couldn't seem to find words to go on.

"If it is something you wish," Jingyan finally said, voice soft, "then you can have it." He tightened his hold on xiao-Shu's wrists for a moment.

The sound xiao-Shu made was low and rough and wanting, and the words that followed seemed shaken from him. "I do. I want it, I wanted it so much, then. For you to hold me by you, and not release me. Even when—"

"Even when what?" Jingyan prompted, when he broke off. When xiao-Shu opened his eyes, the desperation in them struck Jingyan breathless.

"Even when I pushed you back, because I couldn't stand what it would mean." Xiao-Shu's voice was raw. "To watch you watch me die... I couldn't do it. And even so, even then, I wanted."

Jingyan let his wrists go only so that he could catch xiao-Shu tighter against him, wrapping himself close around xiao-Shu, as if he could ward off even that memory with his own body. Xiao-Shu held just as tight to him, still shaking a little. Jingyan ran a hand up his back into his hair and told him, soft and fierce, "Then I will hold you by me, and not release you."

"Yes," xiao-Shu said, low and breathless, pressing his forehead to Jingyan's shoulder. "Please. Until I can believe it."

"And after, too." Jingyan smiled against his hair and stroked his thumb down xiao-Shu's neck, pressing gently over the marks he'd left, pleased by the hitch of xiao-Shu's breath—this time, there was a bit of a laugh in it.

"And after," xiao-Shu agreed, softly, and if there was still more hesitance in it than Jingyan liked, at least it was agreement. He settled xiao-Shu more comfortably against him, running slow fingers up and down his nape, soothing that flicker of tension in him until xiao-Shu sighed and relaxed against him again. And he let the knowledge sink into him, that it hadn't actually been politics that xiao-Shu had put ahead of their hearts, two years ago.

Jingyan held xiao-Shu closer and smiled, soft and open.

End

Candles Lit at the Doors

Jingrui is finding himself drawn back toward a military position, after fighting at the northern border, and Yujin follows along, as he always has, despite his own reservations. Along the way, the two of them get into trouble, politics, and eventually a deeper understanding. Drama with Politics and Romance, and also a Sprinkle of Porn, I-4

Finding a Path

The road that led past the river north of Jinling was a good one for racing on. It got less traffic than the others, and ran fairly flat until it reached the tree line. Yujin had raced Jingrui down this stretch many a time, once they were both old enough to be let out on their own horses without an older cousin to mind them.

Today they gave their horses their heads, but it wasn't a race. They rode close all the way to the trees, horses running shoulder to shoulder, slowing together as they passed between the first tall trunks. Yujin waited until they were well under the unfolding spring leaves before he spoke.

"It's really true, then."

Jingrui flashed a bright smile over at him. "It really is." And then he looked faintly hangdog. "I'm sorry I didn't say, in the winter, when he first visited. Aunt Jing made me promise not to."

Yujin waved that off, scoffing. "Don't worry so much; of course you kept quiet if she asked." He did give Jingrui a long, searching look as they turned onto the path to the river, though. "That's why you've been thinking about returning to the military, though, isn't it?" He'd wondered about that, a little. He knew Jingrui had stayed in contact with some of his men, even once their year-long obligation was up, and he'd been watching the capital patrols with a more and more considering look in his eye all winter.

Jingrui smiled down at his horse's neck. "A little." They reined in at the edge of the clearing by the river's wide bend and dismounted as one. They'd always moved together, like that, but Yujin was starting to wonder how much longer they could do so. His own military experiences, so far, had left him ambivalent, aware he could likely be a good commander but sickened by the waste of every fight, and furious that some ambitious fool's failure of thought had made it necessary. Though he admitted he'd felt somewhat less of that under Lin Shu's direction, on the north border.

"Everything I've heard says he'll never take the field again," he said to his saddle, loosening the reins so his horse could drink from the river. "You would never be under his command again."

"Not in the field," Jingrui agreed. "But... well, it's Lin Shu ge-ge. If he's back, then..."

Yujin couldn't help the grin that tugged at his mouth. "Then he'll be the one in charge anyway." Only Prince Jing had ever really been able to stand firm against Lin Shu's impatient assumption of command, and the Crown Prince certainly wasn't going to be refusing any military distribution the brilliant Vice-Marshal of Chiyan might advise. Not after the battle at the northern border had demonstrated so conclusively that Lin Shu had lost none of his tactical brilliance. Yujin pulled his horse gently back from the water and tied it so he could walk around to join Jingrui at the water's edge. "You're sure, then?" he asked, quietly.

"I think so." Jingrui gave him a bright, open smile, elbowing him lightly. "So, what about you?"

Very few of Yujin's reservations had ever held up in face of Jingrui's smile. Not when they were little and stealing sweets off Aunt Jing's table (with her amused connivance, Yujin had realized years later); not when they were a little older and Jingrui had dragged Yujin everywhere after their glamorous, if also sometimes alarming, older cousins; not when they'd come of age and Jingrui hauled Yujin out onto the roads to wander the country with that very same smile. He could barely imagine leaving Jingrui's side, at this point. So there was really nothing else to do but elbow him back until they managed to shove each other into the shallows, laughing.

In the end, it was Meng Zhi's still-pressing need for commanders he could trust without question that quashed the last of Yujin's reservations. Because he could see the uncertainty, at every gathering he attended, hanging in the air like smoke—the doubt in the eyes of nobles and ministers alike, whenever they looked sidelong at the Imperial Guard, or even the City Guard. He'd learned young how dangerous that kind of doubt and fear could be, and had no intention of letting his loved ones live in that kind of capital again, if he could do anything to help it.

"You're sure you won't mind?" he asked his father, a little hesitantly, as they sat together over wine in the evening. "I know our family is a scholarly one, it's just... I feel as though I could do something, there."

His father's mouth quirked faintly under his mustache. "If I'd minded you taking up martial pursuits, I'd have needed to do something about it a long time ago."

That was not, Yujin had to observe, actually a 'no', and he chewed on his lip behind his cup.

This time his father laughed, quietly. "It's fine, Yujin. You did well, dealing with both politics and battle two years ago, and you obviously already know how to listen for what's not said." He settled back a little on his cushion though his eyes were still sharp and thoughtful, resting on Yujin. "The Imperial Guard isn't a bad place from which to watch the workings of the court and the ministries. I doubt that's what Jingrui needs or will find in it, but for you... well, go and see."

Something in Yujin relaxed, hearing that, something deeper than his concern for his father's approval, the hot thread of outrage that curled tight every time he saw yet another thing about the capital that was still broken in the aftermath of the princes' fight for the throne. "It just... it makes me so angry, sometimes, to see what always seems to lead up to an actual battle," he admitted, looking down.

"What, stupidity?" his father asked, blandly, taking a sip of his wine. He smiled a little at the sputter of laughter Yujin couldn't hold back. "That's why I'm not worried, boy. You're true blood of the Yan lineage. You'll never be content to fix the results when you could be laying hands on the cause."

Yujin took a deep breath, feeling the words settle into his heart and ring true, there. "Yes," he agreed, softly. And then he had to sigh a little, as his heart did a prompt and familiar about-face and tugged in the other direction. "Jingrui..."

"Jingrui has to follow his own path." His father softened the flat statement by laying a hand on Yujin's shoulder, and added, "That doesn't mean your paths can't go in the same direction, if you both choose."

Yujin paused, suddenly remembering the handful of times he'd heard his father refer to 'Lin Xie da-ge' in his hearing, always with affection and fierce loyalty, and nodded slowly. "I'll remember, Father." He still didn't like the thought of not being right at Jingrui's side, but... perhaps it truly would be enough to travel the same way, if not quite the same road.

He would hope so.

And for now, at least, they could go together. He didn't have to try to explain another road to Jingrui, yet. He would hold tight to that, while he could.

Li Gang stepped past the house servant who'd shown him through to the Chief's rooms, here in Prince Jing's city manor, and gave the Chief a quick look up and down. He looked far less like a man trying to outrun a slowly festering gut wound, these days. He also snorted as Gang and Zhen Ping bowed.

"I'm fine, yes, and don't try to tell me you haven't been in communication with our members in the Imperial Guard, to get reports on me, all this time."

Gang exchanged rueful looks with Zhen Ping, and didn't try to deny it. "You called for us, Chief," he said, instead.

"Mm." The Chief jotted a note on the lists spread over his writing table, and said, in the thoughtful tone that meant he was saying more than it sounded like, "Neither of you have accepted reinstatement, yet."

This time, the look Gang traded with Zhen Ping was wary. "It didn't feel right, without you in command." He could hear the faint edge of entreaty in his own voice, and didn't try to stifle it, because if the Chief was about to give the orders it sounded like he was thinking of...

The Chief looked up, eyes steady on them. "You had a chance to see a bit of how Xiao Jingrui and Yan Yujin commanded, at the north border. What did you think?"

Gang blinked a little, but he was used to not being able to follow the Chief's quicksilver turns of thought. He settled back and considered. "They're both strong warriors, and not afraid to lead from the front. They're not as good, yet, at keeping a whole unit's position in mind, when they're fighting, but I thought they both had potential, as commanders."

"Yujin is better at strategy than Jingrui," Zhen Ping put in. "At least right now. Yujin thinks more. But Jingrui..." He raised a brow at Gang and Gang nodded agreement.

"Jingrui has stronger command presence, with the men."

"It's not that Yujin doesn't have it," Zhen Ping added, "but he doesn't throw it out into the world, as Jingrui does. In time, the men would follow Yujin, with a good will, because they'd know he'd make wise choices. But they'll follow Jingrui right now, because he calls on their hearts."

"Romantic," Gang accused, under his breath.

"Not like you don't agree," Zhen Ping muttered back.

From the smile the Chief was stifling, he'd heard that.

"There is one thing, about Yujin, though," Zhen Ping said, slowly. "I noticed it at Jiu An. Most of the time, in the field, he's a thinker. But he has a streak of savagery in him, when he's protecting something. That day, with his father, and then Gong Yu, behind him... he never took a single step back toward those stairs. Not one."

Gang's brows rose; that had been a close, bloody fight, from everything he'd heard. For someone who'd never experienced a battlefield before to hold his ground so hard... yes, 'savage' was a good word for it. That could be a helpful tool, in the field, but it could also get a lot of people killed. "It would almost be ideal for them to be co-commanders, then, wouldn't it?" he mused.

A faint huff of laughter escaped the Chief. "Except for the part where Jingrui is one of those things Yujin would defend to the death," he pointed out, dryly. "But what is it in Jingrui that makes you think so?"

Gang settled himself more firmly into the familiar flow of reporting to the Chief, focused on question and answer, and never mind the side-tracks the Chief himself might dart down. All Gang had to do was answer the questions as they came. "He's protective enough, but he doesn't fight to protect, and he doesn't get lost in that urge. He fights for his ideals. What he wants is to help."

"Hmm." The Chief settled back in his chair with a distant look in his eye. "Help whom?" he murmured.

"His friends. His people. His nation." Gang thought for a moment, about what he'd seen of the young man, at the north border. "The nation, that part is still unformed. He's not very fond of the government, and who can blame him? But, having traveled as much as he has, he's seen a lot of the people. His men kept mentioning that he recognized where a lot of their homes were. He values the wellbeing of those people he met."

The Chief was smiling. "Yes. For a young man who never had the slightest ambition for the scholar's way, Jingrui does a fine job of embodying righteousness and benevolence."

"He still assumes those in others a little too much, but," Gang shrugged, "that's what makes the men respond to him, too. At the north border, he fell very easily in with the brotherhood of soldiers. He just needs to learn not to trust everything reported to him."

"So Jingrui will be well, with a little more seasoning and a commander he believes in," the Chief mused. "And Yujin will need someone to watch his back." He straightened and looked directly at them again, tone slipping out of thought and into command. "Jingrui and Yujin are both considering entering the Imperial Guard, this season. I need some experienced officers under them, to keep an eye on them. Zhen Ping, you'll go to Yujin. Li Gang, you will go to Jingrui."

"Chief..." Gang half-protested, looking at Zhen Ping for support.

"If we're reinstated, that isn't something we can go back from easily," Zhen Ping agreed, just as anxious as Gang felt.

"Nor is the Palace somewhere I can easily return from, any more," the Chief said quietly.

That halted them both, and Gang turned this new charge around, in his head. If the Chief was part of the Palace, now, and they returned into the Jin army, they'd be closer to hand than anyone but the Palace eunuchs could get.

And Gang didn't really want to become a Palace official, at his time of life.

Relief spread, warm, through his chest, and he bowed, Zhen Ping a second behind him. "Yes, Chief."

"Tomorrow, then." The Chief gave them a sharp nod that was so very much their Vice-Marshal's gesture, Gang had to brace himself against the spike of nostalgia, so intense it was nearly pain, like hot blood rushing back into a long-deadened limb.

He'd been with the Chief long enough, he didn't think for one second that it was accidental.

"So, we're going back," Zhen Ping murmured, as they stepped out into the slanting, early evening sunlight.

"With yet more of the family, to look after," Gang agreed, a little ruefully.

"At least they can't possibly be as much trouble as the Vice-Marshal and the Prince were." Zhen Ping sounded hopeful, but Gang winced a little.

"Don't tempt fate."

Zhen Ping laughed, quietly. "All right, but at least the capital barracks are supposed to be better than the border cities."

Gang finally smiled. "Now that, I'll drink to."

Following a Path

It didn't actually take Yujin long to settle in to his new work. From his point of view, not a great deal changed.

There was training and drill, but that had always been true, especially once Dong jie-jie had started taking his training seriously. There were suddenly a lot more people he was responsible for, but he'd been the one looking after the Yan household for a long time, and just like he had the steward and housekeeper at home, he had sergeants to help with his battalion.

(The first day he'd met his unit, and watched the man he still thought of as Mei Changsu's personal swordmaster step forward, with a professionally blank face, to hand over the tally of his men, he'd been startled enough to ask, "What, really?"

"You're his family, Commander," Zhen Ping had said, under his breath but apparently quite calm. "Of course he wants to make sure you're taken care of."

Yujin hadn't quite had the nerve to protest, at the time, and he had to admit that Zhen Ping was very helpful.)

And he and Jingrui were both currently assigned to the bulk of the Jin army garrisoned outside the Palace itself. So, really, Yujin was feeling a great deal like this was an extension of his travels with Jingrui, except that both of them actually went home at night.

It was possible that their 'business as usual' approach was not endearing them to their superior, though.

"You want to do what, now?" Sun Wen, the Vice-Commander they both reported to squinted at them like he might be getting a headache.

"A mock battle," Jingrui repeated, brightly. "It'll keep everyone from getting too bored and losing their edge."

"They like being bored," Sun Wen pointed out, a bit dryly. "The alternative to bored is called 'battle'. And, frankly, we want hundreds of soldiers all crammed together to have less of an edge to them than a couple of hot-blooded young warriors used to gallivanting around as they please. Just for example."

That was definitely to their address, and Yujin stepped in to deflect it with a hopeful smile. "Varying the way they train will keep their skills sharper, won't it?"

"Which is exactly why we have several mock battles a year, out on the plains, about which you'll be informed in good time." Sun Wen picked up the report he'd put down when they entered.

"This would be indoors, though." Jingrui leaned forward, earnestly. "Won't that be good training for our Palace rotation?"

"Indoors?" Sun Wen looked up at them, brows arched incredulously. "Where, exactly, do you think we have space for two battalions to go at each other indoors?"

"The old Zhang manor, in the west-central district," Yujin supplied promptly. "Old Man Zhang's daughter has been trying to convince him to have it knocked down and rebuilt for years. If the army rents it for a while, then he's happy because it isn't getting knocked down yet and she's happy because they'll be getting more money to eventually rebuild it, and we get an interior practice area that's almost as complex as some of the Palace."

"So everyone's happy, hm?" Sun Wen eyed the two of them, and Yujin gave him his very best reassuring smile. Sun snorted. "All right, you seem to be reasonably organized about this; you can try it once. But if there are too many injuries out of this, and the physicians come after you, I'm going to leave you to their mercies. Just keep that in mind."

Yujin immediately thought of Aunt Jing's scoldings and quailed. From the look of trepidation on Jingrui's face, he was remembering exactly the same thing. "Yes, sir," Jingrui hastened to assure the Vice-Commander. "We'll make sure everyone is careful."

"Do so." Sun Wen nodded dismissal in answer to their bows, and picked up his reports again. And if he was shaking his head as Yujin left on Jingrui's heels, well, at least they'd gotten permission to convince him.

Yujin grinned at Jingrui as they clattered down the steps to Wen's office, and Jingrui grinned back, and they clapped each other on the shoulders, laughing. This should be fun. Also productive, of course, because that's what they were here for, after all, but it was very gratifying to find that he could still combine the two, now and then.

Perhaps he could find uses for more than his martial skills around here, after all. The thought made him relax under Jingrui's hand, smiling.

Zhen Ping crept through tall, dry weeds beside a weathered breezeway, after his Commander, and had to hold back a smile. He'd wondered, a little, how much of Yan Yujin's determined pleasure in life would survive something like Jiu An, especially once Yujin took a military post. But his Commander's eyes were bright, and he grinned as he watched their forward scouts sneak up to the tattered doors of the next hall and signaled Ping for two more squads to follow them. That cheer seemed to ripple out through the men who caught a glimpse of him, like a gust of wind through grass.

Ping observed that, and thought about the fact that Yujin did seem to have a good instinct for the morale of his men, and finally asked the question that had been nagging at him. "So, for this exercise, we're supposed to be rescuing a Minister from kidnappers who are holding him in his Palace offices, aren't we?"

"Exactly," Yujin agreed, and added thoughtfully, "It's really too bad we can't use the actual offices, but I suppose that would be too much disruption."

Ping took a moment to offer silent and fervent thanks that his Commander hadn't suggested that plan to Vice-Commander Sun. Sun Wen had been recalled from retirement to fill one of the two posts left empty (again) after the executions that had followed Prince Yu's rebellion. He didn't have a reputation as a harsh man, but the whole Jin army knew that his patience had a definite limit, after how briskly he'd restored order among his battalion Commanders. Thinking on the Vice-Commander's potential lack of amusement with them, Ping was a little cautious when he asked the next question. "If that's so, sir, then why do I keep hearing Commander Xiao's men yelling about having spotted the kidnappers?"

"Because their objective is to defend a Minister against the attack of kidnappers who have penetrated the Palace offices," Yujin said, quite calmly, eyes on the progress of the men clearing the hall ahead.

Ping had been afraid that was going to be the answer. "Sir," he started, searching for a respectful way to put this, "isn't that a little too..."

"Realistic?" Yujin's smile was crooked, now.

Ping had been thinking 'cynical' and still was, but 'realistic' also worked. "Yes, sir."

"That's the all clear sign," Yujin said, instead of answering. "Come on."

Ping ran forward on his heels, keeping a sharp eye out for anywhere around the dilapidated court that bowmen might be hidden. Li Gang believed quite devoutly in extra precautions, and Xiao Jingrui turned out to have a good eye for crossfire positions, as they'd already found out once. Over fifty men had had to retire, grumbling, with ink-spattered armor showing where they'd been shot.

It wasn't until they were safely under a rear window, with scouts ducking underneath the breezeways to crawl forward again, that Yujin said, quietly, "Jingrui said people fight better if it's for the right reason. And I didn't want any of our men thinking too long about being asked to attack the government." He looked over his shoulder at Ping, eyes steady. "If anyone asks, we thought it would be a good joke, for both sides to actually have the same objective."

Ping couldn't help giving an abbreviated bow to that level expression. "Yes, sir."

He still thought that it was Yujin who had the better strategic sense, but the longer he spent at Yujin's side, the more he heard 'Jingrui wants' or 'Jingrui said'. He was starting to wonder if Yujin ever really did anything on his own account or for his own sake, or if, perhaps, someone should suggest the idea to him.

And then one of the scouts popped out of the long weeds, signaling back that they'd found an opening, and Yujin lit up, laughing. "We've got them!" He bounced up onto his toes and dashed forward.

Or perhaps, Ping reflected, ruefully, as he sprinted after his Commander, he'd better save his worrying for keeping his charge in one piece right now, and let the future take care of itself.

Yujin loved sparring with Jingrui. Jingrui's sword form was beautiful, full of clean, sharp turns that swept aside any weakness in defense, meeting his blade only to spin aside and suddenly return from another angle. Yujin was, justifiably he thought, proud of the demonstrated effectiveness of his own style, but sparring with Jingrui was like playing a line of music.

Of course, all that sleek economy of motion and momentum did tend to mean that he often got worn down before Jingrui did, when they fought with swords.

"Ha!" Jingrui's eyes were bright as the line of his sword settled delicately against Yujin's neck. "Finally got you!"

"What 'finally'?!" Yujin demanded, laughing and out of breath, as cheers and groans broke out from their spectators around the drill field. "You think you shouldn't have to work for your win?" He tossed his sword back to his off hand and elbowed Jingrui as Jingrui flung an arm around his neck.

"Should I have to work, against you?" Jingrui teased, leaning against him until Yujin rolled his eyes and shifted his weight to dump him off, one of the most useful moves Dong jie-jie had ever taught him. Jingrui stepped through, graceful as ever, to catch his balance, laughing.

"Time to give someone else a chance, you two," one of the onlookers called out, and Yujin looked up to see Wan Fa, the Commander who'd been shifted over to take Jin's Second battalion while Yujin took over the Fourth from him. A little murmur of anticipation ran through the noise of bets changing hands, around them, enough to make Yujin nod to himself.

The battalion hadn't been in bad shape, when Yujin took it, not the way Jingrui's had been, with their previous Commander dismissed from service, the company captains anxious or wincing, and the sergeants uniformly grim. But Yujin was used to listening for what wasn't said, and that wasn't only useful in keeping a party going cheerfully. He'd watched his men watching him, seen how his captains' shoulders eased down when he'd called them in, that first month, and asked about the distribution of men and equipment across each company, whether anyone needed him to go argue for extra from the Logistics Bureau or needed to be on light duty while they got new men trained up.

The battalion hadn't been in bad shape, but it hadn't been well cared for. It had made Yujin think of what Yan Manor might have been like, without him, for the years his father had had his mind on other things. And that made him smile at Wan Fa with just a bit more teeth than usual, and say cheerfully, "I was thinking of a round unarmed. You interested?"

Jingrui's brows rose for just a moment, because normally an unarmed match was Yujin's chance to get his own back, if he'd lost with swords, but one look at Yujin's smile made Jingrui clap him on the shoulder and agree, brightly, "I wanted to steal Zhen Ping for a little, anyway!"

They exchanged a quick, complicit grin and Jingrui faded back into the onlookers, positively smirking. Yujin sheathed his sword and stepped back out, re-settling himself, waiting for Wan Fa to come at him.

As he'd more than half expected, Wan Fa had no problem with making the first move, and a showy move at that, a broad, circling strike at Yujin's ribs. Yujin's smile thinned, and he shifted for a high, sweeping kick, arm snaking out to lock Wan Fa's against his side as it came in. Wan Fa didn't quite yelp, but his expression looked like he wanted to as he twisted under the kick, only barely pulling free enough to keep from breaking his own arm in the process.

Mostly because Yujin let him.

Wan Fa was glaring when he came in again, this time with a more focused chest strike. Yujin flipped back out of range, easy and springy, and then, to bait him more firmly, flipped up over Wan Fa's head. The 'just swallowed a bug' expression on the man's face as he spun around nearly made Yujin laugh. He knew a lot of people looked at his stocky build and assumed his form would be thin on aerial maneuvers, grounded and strength-based.

And it wasn't as if they were entirely wrong, after all.

Yujin stood his ground as Wan Fa spun into a series of high, scything kicks. He bent back from one, blocked the next cleanly, and then he was far enough inside to wheel on his own center and land a brutal double punch that threw Wan Fa back to the circle of spectators to land in a gasping heap. Yujin came back to a neutral finishing stance, and gave his collapsed opponent a bow and a sunny smile, and whoops went up all around. Yujin laughed and went to give Wan Fa a hand up, as comradely as could be. He wanted to shake the man up, after all, not actually alienate him.

"Dong jie-jie would have twisted your ear off for that flip," Jingrui told him, grinning, as Yujin joined him at the edge of the circle.

"Dong jie-jie isn't here, or I wouldn't have done it." Yujin jostled through the press of men, as they broke up to return to drills, and grabbed a dipper of water. He turned a little, as he drank, casting a quick eye over the training ground, listening for the tone of it the way he'd listen to the tone of a social gathering. The men of his battalion, and for that matter of Jingrui's, were mostly grinning, smug. The few who wore darker expressions were still satisfied, just with a far harder edge of pride in it—he'd already marked most of them as soldiers who'd been at Jiu An, and he added the ones he hadn't known of yet to his mental tally. In turn, Wan Fa's men elbowed each other and rolled their eyes, some exasperated but most only rueful. That was a good sign. He'd ask Zhen Ping to check on that battalion, and make sure their morale (and supplies) really were being kept up reasonably, but it didn't look like more energetic measures would be needed.

"Yujin?" Jingrui asked, softly, stepping closer and turning a little to watch behind him. "What is it?"

"Nothing right now," Yujin murmured, leaning against his shoulder for a moment, warmed by how easily Jingrui still guarded his back. "Just keeping an eye on things." He grinned up at Jingrui. "Ready to go look commanding, Commander Xiao, and make sure your men are doing their drills properly?"

Jingrui drew himself up, managing to look dignified despite the way his eyes were dancing. "Always, Commander Yan."

Yujin gave him a mocking bow, and laughed as Jingrui pulled him along across the training field.

Nothing was wrong right now, and that was why he'd keep an eye out. Yujin didn't intend to be caught in the crossfire of politics and poor choices twice, and he especially didn't intend to let Jingrui be caught, no matter how much of an uphill battle that had always been, against Jingrui's lack of self-preservation.

Jingrui looked up with a satisfied smile as the last of his company captains filed in, and waved the letter with their new orders between his fingers. "Get everything polished up, this week; we're on rotation at that Palace starting next week!"

"Really?" He Niu sounded shocked, and the rest of them were exchanging equally startled looks, some pleased, some alarmed, but all about equally taken aback by the news. Jingrui shook his head at them.

"It's our turn, in the schedule; there's no reason to think we wouldn't be. You can't be held to blame for obeying your commander," he said firmly. Again. He felt a bit like he'd been repeating some variation on this at least once a week for months, now. And it wasn't as though Peng had even been clearly in collusion with Jin's late, unlamented Vice-Commanders. Personally, Jingrui thought it likely the man had just been currying favor with whoever presented themselves above him; he'd seen a lot of similar behavior, since he'd come here, and that, at least, he found understandable, if not at all admirable.

What he found less understandable, and wouldn't have believed if he hadn't heard it from Yujin, was the real reason his men never quite seemed to believe him. It still shocked Jingrui down to the core, what the Emperor had almost done to even the surrendered Qing Li soldiers, what had only been averted by the Crown Prince and High Commander's pleas. To hold a servant to blame for following his master's orders... Jingrui knew he'd been only a middling-good student but even he knew that struck against both the codes of law and the roots of civility itself. The limits on a servant's responsibility, or a soldier's, (or a son's) were all that made obedience a virtue and not some form of madness. Jingrui had been fresh from the orderly (if rather voracious) atmosphere of his blood-father's court, when Yujin had told him the story of Jiu An, and the thought that the Emperor, the nation's source of order, would do such a selfish, chaotic thing had chilled him.

At the same time, and much though the Crown Prince should never have had to do it, Jingyan ge-ge's example had heartened him. If he could follow that example, give the men he was responsible for some of their moral certainty back... well, he'd think that worthwhile work. No matter how many times he had to repeat himself.

His captains ducked their heads at the reminder, He Niu with a sheepish expression.

"Yes, Commander. Sorry, sir."

Jingrui smiled at them. "Just make sure the men are ready. The timing of our rotation means we'll be escort for the Fall Hunt; remind everyone. If there are any who are likely to have trouble at Jiu An, let me know and keep an eye on them." He nodded dismissal to their bows of acknowledgment, and only shook his head ruefully once they were all gone.

"They're getting there, sir," Li Gang said quietly, at his shoulder. "Who else is on this rotation with us?"

"Yujin's battalion, and Wan Fa's, and the First and Third too."

Li Gang snorted a little with amusement. "Everyone Commander Yan has under his wing, then. Probably a good thing."

Jingrui smiled, only a little wryly for the fact that Li Gang was so very right. "Yujin is good at looking after things." He touched the pile of tallies and lists on the side of his writing table. "So, I have the inventory reports, reports from the stables, though I want to double-check those before the Fall Hunt, preliminary patrol schedules for the Palace complex, and I'll be meeting with the other Commanders tomorrow to finalize those..." He looked up at Li Gang with a soft chuckle. "Anything I'm forgetting?"

His sergeant gave him an approving look for asking (he was getting better about that!) and answered, respectfully, "Have you written the City Guard, yet, to arrange the route we'll take to the Palace complex, sir?"

"No," Jingrui sighed, reaching for his brush to jot a note to himself. He was coming to realize, this year, that while he was actually fairly good at command, he was not good at bureaucracy. He was working dutifully, if not exactly enthusiastically, to get better, but he was also starting to have a terrible suspicion that he was going to wind up in Marquis Ning's position some day, buried in reports with a perpetual headache, even if he genuinely managed to avoid politics. He couldn't see any way around it, not if he wanted to actually have enough rank to do some good for the nation his greater clan ruled.

On the other hand, at least Yujin would be with him, and Yujin was very good at this side of things. Jingrui added the first character of Yujin's name to his note, and smiled.

They'd manage together, the way they always had everything. He honestly couldn't imagine it being any other way.

Duty at the Palace complex was a prized and prestigious one. People actually competed for it. There were even rumors people had killed for it, if the High Commander wasn't careful to maintain even rotations of the duty.

Yujin was incredibly bored by it.

He did, actually, understand Vice-Commander Sun's point that boredom was desirable, especially here. But Palace duty involved a great deal of doing nothing. The Imperial Guard detachment stood rigidly in place at their posts. They escorted palace officials on their very brief trips out into the city, to act as the Emperor's voice, or, more commonly these days, as the Crown Prince's voice. They patrolled the Palace complex, keeping a careful eye out for any untoward behavior, of which there had not been any, lately.

And Yujin spent most of his time in the Imperial Guard's offices, writing up duty rosters and patrol patterns without even being able to get out to walk many of the patrols. He'd started debriefing the on-call troops who rode out escorting palace officials, just to have something mildly interesting to do. He'd pulled out all the detailed and confidential maps of the Palace complex their offices contained and baited Jingrui and Wan Fa and Xu Jian and Yuan Kang with the housekeeper's best snacks until they all sat down and drew up freshly optimized patrol routes to submit to the High Commander. He was actually looking forward to the Fall Hunt. He was also starting to understand why the Palace guard detachment trained so very vigorously; it was probably so they didn't die of boredom.

Or, in Jingrui's case, because Meng Zhi was around to train with.

Yujin couldn't help smiling at the delighted grin Jingrui wore as he spun just a breath past Meng's kick, palm driving hard toward Meng's ribs. Not that he connected, but Jingrui looked pleased to have come as close as he had. Jingrui really was adorable, when he was around someone who could teach him. Yujin had thought, more than once, that Zhuo Qingyao was a lot of the reason Jingrui had thrown himself so wholeheartedly into being a son of Tianquan Manor, all those years. Jingrui made a good enough big brother, responsible and kind, but he was a lot better at being a little brother.

"Good afternoon, Commander Yan."

Case in point, Yujin thought, a little wryly, turning to bow to the man who'd come up quietly to stand beside him. "And to you, Vice-Marshal Lin."

Lin Shu chuckled softly at their formalities, folding his arms and joining Yujin in watching Jingrui and Meng separate and then close again, twice as fast as before, both of them grinning. "This is my first chance to see how the two of you are getting on," he murmured. "Jingrui looks to be enjoying himself."

Yujin had to give him a long look, at that, brows raised. "Have Zhen Ping and Li Gang been forgetting to send all their reports? That doesn't seem like them."

His cousin's mouth crimped up at the corners. "My first chance to see for myself," he specified. "They've only kept me generally informed. It's not quite the same." He glanced sidelong at Yujin, smiling. "So, how have you been? Keeping busy?"

Reminded, Yujin made a face and grumbled, "Not very. I'm wondering if the request process over in Logistics and Supply can be streamlined, actually."

Lin Shu made a sound that may have started life as a snort of laughter. "Is there a particular reason you're contemplating take-over of a bureau?"

Yujin sighed. Yes, he'd been afraid that was what it would probably take. "It's not that there are any particular delays, yet, it's just that I was looking at the timing of fulfillment so I could write up the next few months in advance, since I had the time..." He paused, blinking, because Lin Shu had dissolved into helpless laughter.

"Ah." His cousin finally straightened up again. "All right, now I see why Meng da-ge asked me to come speak to you."

Yujin started a little at that. The High Commander had? He glanced up at the practice area where Meng was throwing Jingrui's kick briskly back off crossed arms. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty of opportunities to speak, himself, now Yujin and Jingrui were on Palace duty. A hand closed on his shoulder and shook him gently, and he looked back to see his cousin smiling.

"What he actually said," Lin Shu told him, still amused, "was 'he's getting almost as bad as you used to be, in camp'."

Yujin's eyes widened, and he felt quick heat in his cheeks. Chiyan's brilliant Vice-Marshal was one person he'd never thought to be compared to, even in exasperation.

Lin Shu patted his shoulder and let him go. "You think too much, for ceremonial duty, is all. It's not a bad thing." His mouth quirked up again. "Unless it leads you to start taking over the Ministry of War, one bureau at a time. Save that for when you're a little older."

That was not helping Yujin stop blushing. "Shu-xiong," he protested. "I'm not going to..."

His cousin's eyes sharpened, and he held up a hand, cutting Yujin off. "Yujin, we both know you won't let Jingrui go down this path alone or unguarded."

After a moment, Yujin nodded slowly, mouth a little tight. He wasn't exactly surprised that Lin Shu had seen that particular motive, but he still didn't like having it said out loud. Lin Shu's expression softened a bit. "Don't worry too much, yet. Jingyan and I are watching. We'll make sure nothing happens."

All in a rush, Yujin remembered the warm, easy comfort he'd felt when he was younger, before the Chiyan case, before his first priority had become being able to pull Jingrui back from the capital's political bear-traps. He'd been sure, back then, that nothing too very bad could ever happen, because his cousins would watch over them—Prince Qi, kind and patient, Prince Jing, so strong and steadfast, Lin Shu, bright and fierce. And had Lin Shu not still watched over him, even after it all? He had to swallow hard, blinking back those memories and the echo of them in his cousin's quiet assurance. His voice was a little husky when he answered, "Yes, Shu ge-ge."

For a moment, he thought Lin Shu might ruffle his hair, the way he had back then. Thankfully, given they were surrounded by half of Yujin's battalion, his cousin only smiled and turned to look back at Jingrui and Meng's match, which had now moved on to swords. "For now... hm. Perhaps I'll ask Meng da-ge to let the Guard escort ministers around the city, again, as well as the palace officials."

Yujin perked up at that. That would surely make for far more interesting gossip that he could get. "Did we used to?"

"Before the ministries got so enmeshed in the fight for the throne, yes. Now that there's less danger of the Guard getting pulled in after the ministers, I think it would benefit everyone to take that duty back off the household guards. I'll suggest it." Lin Shu winced at the next step Jingrui took, which was apparently an over-extension, because in the next moment his blade went clattering aside and Meng was at his back with his own sword across Jingrui's throat. Jingrui shook his head ruefully as Meng let him go, but Meng just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"That was better than last time! Try it again." He backed up, beckoning, and Jingrui's smile turned brilliant as he scooped up his sword again and flowed into a low stance.

Lin Shu smiled, wry but not quite as bitter as Yujin thought it would have been two years ago. "I'll suggest it later," he corrected himself.

Yujin couldn't help laughing.

It was a little strange, for Jingrui, to return to Jiu An as a commander of the soldiers who guarded the Emperor and his retinue, after so many years as part of that retinue. Everything was brushed with newness and unfamiliarity, seen from this new angle. The mountain and its forests were still wild and full of life, but hunting the wild creatures was not his focus. The fortress itself was still airy, its long halls gracefully shadowed, but he was in a new wing of it, with new shadows.

Some of them in the eyes of the men around him.

It put a little chill down Jingrui's own spine, to see the bright newness of the gates, set in the middle of the old, scored walls, but some of the men stepped through that new gate into the plaza on the other side and shuddered.

Yujin was one of them.

Jingrui knew he'd been hovering a bit, since they got here. A Yujin who wasn't smiling or frowning or pacing, always expressive and in motion, a Yujin who paused so still he might not be breathing and wore no expression at all for a handful of heartbeats before turning with a smile harder than it was bright, was a Yujin who worried him a little.

And apparently hovering had actually worked, because Yujin had just rolled his eyes and taken Jingrui's hand to slap a stack of reports into it, and told him, in a tone of rare exasperation, to go fill in the rest of the injuries log, if he didn't have anything else to do. That had been more of the usual Yujin than Jingrui had seen since they'd arrived, complete with deeply expressive eye rolling. Jingrui smiled as he scanned down the list of men who'd been involved in Tingsheng's little mishap with a yearling boar. There was someone who'd gotten a wrenched shoulder when his horse threw him, Jingrui was sure, but who had it been?

He almost rolled his eyes at himself when he remembered; it had been one of Wan Fa's men. He was getting as bad as Yujin about casually counting them in among his own.

On the other hand, if they wanted complete accounts, which Yujin clearly did, then he should get the man's name anyway. Jingrui laid down his brush and crossed the small courtyard of their wing to the rooms Wan Fa had taken, rapping lightly on the open screens as he stepped in. "Wan Fa, can I get the name of the man who was injured in that little scuffle with the boar, the other day?"

His fellow Commander looked up from his own paperwork with a snort. "Yan has infected you, too, has he?"

Jingrui couldn't help laughing. "Always, sooner or later."

And clearly Wan Fa wasn't that annoyed, because he got up from his writing table willingly enough and opened up a chest to one side. "Just a minute, then."

Jingrui waited politely while Wan Fa dug out what looked like the list of his whole command, though he couldn't help raising a brow at the fact that Wan Fa apparently didn't have any more concise reports of the incident handy. Possibly it was a good thing Wan Fa had his back turned. Jingrui glanced over his writing table, a little curious to see what he was doing, if not writing up the reports he really should have ready. A familiar hand caught his eye, on the top of a letter sticking out from underneath a few other reports. Had Yujin been sending notes over already? Alright, perhaps Jingrui could understand a little huffing, if so...

A chill uncurled down his spine, though, as the realization settled into his mind: Jingrui recognized it, but that wasn't Yujin's writing.

It was his sister's.

Yuwen Nian wrote to him often, and he replied as often and kindly as he could, knowing she was still disappointed that he had not stayed in his blood-father's court long enough to escort her wedding journey north. Knowing how impetuous she could be, he could well believe she might have written to any Da Liang officer she knew to be in contact with him for more news. What he couldn't image was why any officer of Da Liang would keep or reply to a letter from the highest ranking Princess of what was, after all, an enemy state.

He stole a quick look at Wan Fa, who was muttering under his breath as he wound through his long scroll, and set his fingertips on the letter, inching it out from under the reports it lay under until he could slide it into his sleeve.

"Ah! That was it, it was Lu Qiang." Wan Fa turned and caught up his brush to jot down the characters on a bit of clear report paper and tore the strip neatly off to hand to Jingrui. "Was that all?"

"Yes," Jingrui said, as calmly as he could, taking the slip. "Thank you." He sketched a short parting bow and made for his own rooms with a quick stride. He hoped this would turn out to be nothing but one of his sister's headstrong whims, the letter one that Wan Fa simply hadn't had a moment to burn, yet.

He really hoped.

Yujin was just putting away his sword, after cleaning, when Jingrui burst into his rooms, so abruptly that Yujin nearly drew on him. "Jingrui, what...?"

"Yujin," Jingrui interrupted, only to stop short, looking over his shoulder. "Not here. Come on." He seized Yujin's arm and more or less dragged him out and down the interior passage.

"Jingrui!" Yujin tugged loose once he'd managed to catch up, frowning at the set look on Jingrui's face. "What's wrong?"

Jingrui's jaw tightened. "Not here," he repeated, and didn't say another word until he'd led them back into one of the unused inner halls. Once there, where, Yujin couldn't help noticing, the doors and screens he'd left open in their wake gave them very clear line of sight in all directions, he thumped down onto the hall's veranda and put his head in his hands.

"...Jingrui?" Yujin settled slowly beside him, watching him closely. "What happened?"

Jingrui didn't look up, but he did fish a letter out of his sleeve and hold it out. "This. Read this."

Yujin frowned, quickly turning over, in the back of his mind, the tally of who might have news that could make Jingrui look like this. When he saw the letter was addressed to Wan Fa, not Jingrui, he just blinked. "What...?"

"Read it," Jingrui insisted, and the flatness of his voice made Yujin settle back and unfold the letter.

My thanks, once again, for your news of my honored brother, Commander Wan. It has been a great comfort to know he is well!

Yujin put down the letter and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "She didn't really."

"She really did," Jingrui sighed. "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm at all, she just doesn't think things through sometimes."

Yujin found that a little rich, coming from Jingrui. Though Jingrui had been getting better. Maybe it just ran in the family? He stifled a groan over how much coaxing was likely going to be required to get Nian to stop this—especially when she could, with at least a small amount of justice, insist that she was betrothed to an Imperial prince and could write to Imperial officers if she wanted to—and glanced down the rest of the letter. He froze when his eyes got to the last fold.

"Yes," Jingrui said, tone suddenly flat and grim again. "That part."

The last bit was written in a different hand, smaller, as if it had been added as an afterthought. Or, more likely, without the Princess' knowledge.

We always welcome news from you, and you rise higher in my cousin's esteem all the time. One hopes that Da Liang values such a perceptive officer as he deserves.

Yuwen Xuan, Prince Ling

Yujin had found out more about the court of Southern Chu, after Jingrui had left to visit there. Their current king, Jingrui's father by blood, was said to have mellowed a little, as he aged, and was currently concentrated on assimilating Chu's recent conquests rather than expanding the borders again, but no one believed that would last long. Many of the younger nobles, Prince Ling vocal among them, were in favor of new forays to bite off land to the north. And now Prince Ling had found a path to communicate with an ambitious officer within the Imperial Guard of Da Liang. He'd most likely been the one to provide the Princess, his cousin, with a way to send secret letters north in the first place, and the one who had, almost certainly, given that phrasing, sent this letter on its way with some token of his own 'esteem'.

In short, the one who was trying to suborn a Commander of the Imperial Guard.

Yujin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the letter. What a mess. "Well, first we need to convince your sister to stop writing to Wan Fa."

Jingrui surged up off the veranda and stalked back and forth across the small garden below it, scowling. "No, the first thing we have to do is report Wan Fa! No matter how foolish Nian-er is being, it's Wan who's passing information to the prince of an enemy nation!"

"We don't know that!" Yujin said, sharply, trying not to think about all the gruesome things Dong-jie had let slip, over the years, about how investigations around the Palace usually went. He would have expected Jingrui to be the one most against risking any such thing. "We don't know that he's done anything more than send news of you, personally."

"Which means Wan is passing on information about a Commander of the Imperial Guard. And probably more that was addressed to Prince Ling separately. You saw what he wrote! Admiring how 'perceptive' Wan is." Jingrui's mouth was tight, and his eyes hard. "And Wan is using my sister to do it, just as much as Yuwen Xuan is."

Yujin bit his lip for a moment. Now Jingrui's anger made sense; he'd become doubly protective of his family ties after losing so many of them. "But Jingrui... if we report this officially, the Emperor will hear of it."

That stopped Jingrui's furious pacing, at least for a few breaths, though his eyes were still dark. "We can just report it to the High Commander, then."

"Who's sworn directly to the Emperor!" Yujin threw up his hands, exasperated. "Do you know what would happen to him as soon as the Emperor got the tiniest hint of him withholding information?"

Jingrui's temper sparked again. "So we'll tell the Crown Prince! You can't tell me he can't keep a secret from the Emperor!"

Yujin made an inarticulate sound of frustration. He knew Jingrui didn't always think things through, and it was clearly a family trait, but he had to know better than that. "Like the Crown Prince taking direct action to discipline a Guard Commander isn't going to be talked about?!"

"We have to do something!"

Frustration pushed Yujin to his feet as well. "If you'll just stop for a minute..."

"No," Jingrui said, harshly, eyes burning, hand sweeping up as if to strike Yujin's words aside. "Not this time!" He started to storm past Yujin, and Yujin reached out to catch his arm, frustration suddenly sharpening into fear, fear that Jingrui would push himself into the Emperor's notice after all, and all the risk of destruction that notice brought with it.

"Jingrui...!"

Jingrui half-turned, sharply, throwing off his hand.

Yujin felt his face turn cold and stiff as blood drained from it, felt his eyes widening, felt his breath stop in his lungs for a long moment as he stood, hand still stretched out toward Jingrui. When he managed to take a breath again, his knees shook, along with the air in his chest, and he stumbled down to the edge of the veranda again. "Jingrui?" This time it was barely a whisper.

At least Jingrui had stopped. At least that.

After a long moment, Jingrui sighed and stepped back toward him. "Sorry. But I can't just stop this time, Yujin; I have to do something."

"All right." His voice was still rough, and all the fear in him had turned over, turned inward, turned sharp and cutting to hear Jingrui say only I. He reached up to catch Jingrui's sleeve, fingers closing white-knuckled in the fabric. "All right, we will, just..." the words pushed out, and he was shaking too much, inside, to stop them, "don't leave."

"I wasn't... I mean, not leaving leaving. You know that." Jingrui took another step closer, frowning down at him a little, puzzled. "Yujin?"

"No, it's fine." Yujin tried to pull himself together, to brush the spike of cold panic off with a smile, but he could feel it waver, unconvincing.

It probably didn't help that he couldn't make himself let go of Jingrui. But Jingrui had left once, even if he'd come back. And he'd been going to leave for the same cause this time, hadn't he? Family, it was always family with them, and this time it had caused Jingrui to show Yujin his back, just like Yujin's father always had, for so long. Shouldn't he be afraid, then? He felt like his thoughts fractured on that question.

"Yujin." Jingrui sat down again, beside him, hand covering his, still fisted in Jingrui's sleeve. The warmth of it cut through the tangle of Yujin's thoughts, and he looked up to see Jingrui looking more concerned than angry. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, really." Yujin felt like this smile was maybe a little more successful. "I'm just... I don't..." It would be better if he could get his words out in order, but he wasn't even sure, himself, what they should be. "I didn't mean to say I wouldn't help." That was better.

Jingrui ducked his head a little, looking penitent. "No, I know. I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, thumb running over Yujin's still-white knuckles, and he was frowning when he looked up. "Yujin?"

Yujin finally managed to force his fingers open, glancing away as he retrieved his hand. Or, at least, tried to. Jingrui's fingers caught his again, half way. "Tell me what it was you were thinking of doing, then," Jingrui said, quietly.

Yujin swallowed to get his heart back down out of his throat, not looking down to see his hand folded with Jingrui's. "Well. If Nian stops writing, then that gets her out of the line of fire, on the Chu end. And Wan Fa will already have had a scare, when he can't find that letter. If we let him know that we'll have to report any further communication, I think that will stop him. Without any of this getting back to the Emperor." He looked back at Jingrui, intent and serious. "Because if the Emperor gets any hint of collusion with an enemy state, we don't know how many he might order executed, and you're right in the middle of it."

Jingrui's eyes widened, and he flushed red. "Yujin." He reached out and pulled Yujin close, hands closing tight in the back of his robes. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

Yujin leaned into him, nearly shaking with the sudden release of tension. "Yes," he managed, against Jingrui's shoulder, a little husky. "You are. But that's okay, that's what I'm for."

Jingrui's huff of laughter against his ear, light and teasing, nearly made him melt with relief. "Are you sure? I thought it was for the comic relief."

Yujin elbowed him, finally managing to laugh, himself, and they both sat back, smiling.

That was all he needed, really.

Jingrui had felt like the worst friend imaginable, when he'd finally realized what Yujin's real concern was, and all the more so because Yujin's plan worked. Wan Fa was applying himself strictly to the business of his battalion and had started fading to the back of any gathering that included Jingrui or Yujin with nervous, sidelong glances at them. And perhaps Jingrui's own guilt over his temper was what made him pay a little more attention than usual. He kept remembering the white-knuckled clench of Yujin's hand on his sleeve. For whatever reason, he'd really scared Yujin, and he had no wish to do it again.

The reason had finally clicked, for him, a week after they'd all returned from the Fall Hunt, when he'd stopped by the Yan Manor in the morning, to ride in to the Palace complex together.

Yujin had been coming down the stairs of the inner hall, as Jingrui passed through the first courtyard, and he'd laughed and called, "You're actually out of bed early! Should I mark the date specially?"

Yujin had elevated his nose. "A gentleman maintains moderation in everything. Besides, Father wasn't here for breakfast, today."

There'd been a flicker of darkness in his eyes, and it had come to Jingrui, abruptly, that it was the same darkness he'd seen when Yujin was staring at him, stiff and pale, that day. The same darkness Jingrui had seen Yujin push so determinedly away for years, whenever his father came up. The darkness of an empty house, echoing around them, and nobody in it but them and the servants. That was the moment it had come to him that he'd nearly walked away from Yujin, nearly left him in a literally empty hall, that day.

The worst friend ever.

So he tried to stay closer, for a while, to stop in after drills to ask whether Yujin had taken over any more ministry paperwork, yet; to glance at Yujin's schedule to be extra sure they'd meet in the training yard to spar together; to wrap an arm around Yujin's shoulders when he pulled his friend toward the gates in the evening, to head home (where, more often than not, he'd stay until Marquis Yan also arrived home). And, perhaps because he was paying extra attention, he'd noticed the thread of tension, in Yujin, that seemed to ease every time Jingrui touched him. Noticing that, of course he'd done it more often, let his arm lay there longer, and taken satisfaction in feeling Yujin's shoulders drop just that little bit.

Which had gotten them to today.

A late autumn storm had chased everyone indoors who could go, and after making sure that the men had cleared all the equipment off the drill grounds, Jingrui and Yujin dashed for the Guard offices, though the cold rain, piling inside on each other's heels. Jingrui's arm found its way around Yujin's shoulders out of growing habit, and they leaned against each other, breathless from cold and laughing a little. Yujin wiped rivulets of rain off his face, leaning into Jingrui more firmly for a moment as he tossed back his head, hands sweeping the wetness back over his hair. Jingrui sputtered as a few drops hit him in the face.

"Yujin!"

Yujin grinned up at him, bright and teasing. "Hm? Was there something?"

And Jingrui felt his heart turn over, at the same time his awareness of Yujin's body against his escaped his control and unfurled like eager spring leaves.

"Only the honorable Commander Yan's lack of manners," he shot back automatically, and Yujin's laugh shivered down his nerves, made him tighten his hand on Yujin's shoulder. Yujin leaned back into him, easy and relaxed, and Jingrui had to swallow a little hard.

Probably the only thing that kept him from doing something rather rash right there in the entry room was the pointed clearing of a throat behind him. He and Yujin finally broke apart and stepped further in, to let Li Gang get inside after them. Jingrui gave his sergeant a slightly sheepish smile in return for his dryly raised brows, and the moment passed.

For now.

Jingrui retreated to his writing table to stare at the patrol rosters blankly, thoughts in complete disarray. He'd thought, for years now, that Yujin must not have any interest in men; if he had, well, surely Jingrui would have heard about it, wouldn't he? He'd teased Yujin, often enough, about the time he spent flirting with shop girls and courtesans alike. So he'd turned his thoughts away from the idea of ever having Yujin like that, sunk himself deeper into the oneness of heart, between them, and refrained from touching too much. But the easy way Yujin leaned into him... was Jingrui deceiving himself, that there was acceptance, and maybe even hunger, in it?

The thought lodged itself in the back of his mind with a firmness that said he wasn't going to be able to just ignore it any more.

So perhaps... perhaps he could test it, a little, instead? Carefully, of course, but if he was right, if Yujin did welcome his touch, then just maybe...

Jingrui smiled and picked up the top report, bending over it with a better will than usual.

"This is your fault; you jinxed us."

"I did not!" Zhen Ping looked over his shoulder at where their Commanders had their heads together over a plan for cavalry drill. Yujin had his whole body oriented on Jingrui, and Jingrui was stealing soft little glances at Yujin whenever Yujin wasn't looking. "This is not my fault," he muttered.

"The heavens were listening." Despite this contention, Li Gang held out a flask to him. "Drink?"

"We're on duty," Ping said, not with a great deal of conviction.

On the other side of the Guard offices, Yujin elbowed Jingrui indignantly for whatever he'd just said, and Jingrui threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing, pulling him close for a breath. For the space of that breath, Yujin relaxed against him, grin softening.

Li Gang gave Ping a speaking look and shook the flask invitingly.

Ping accepted it with a sigh, and took a long drink.

For the most part, Yujin was pleased with his life at the moment. Palace duty had ended, and he'd left behind a legacy of reporting procedure for all Guards on escort duty. He was fairly sure Lin Shu had been the one to insist it be continued, which he tried not to blush like a little boy over. The Jin army's field drills, battalion against battalion, had arrived as promised, which was fascinating. Yujin was not a fan of battles, or the idiocy that seemed to lead up to them, but the strategy of maneuver caught his imagination.

Unfortunately, being out in the field, beyond the city, seemed to have revived one of what Yujin personally considered Jingrui's worst habits—waking him up early.

Yujin was not, by nature, an early riser. Jingrui, however, was, and when they traveled, he sometimes decided that Yujin should be as well. Yujin invariably got revenge, one way or another, but apparently it had been too long since he last did, because Jingrui had taken to visiting his tent at ridiculous hours to wake him.

At the first whisper of canvas being pushed aside, Yujin pulled the covers over his head.

"Commander Yan," Jingrui called, light and teasing. "Good morning!"

Yujin made a wordless sound intended to convey that it was not morning, yet.

"Time to get up," Jingrui declared, in defiance of all reason, coming to tweak the covers down.

Yujin yanked them back up by reflex. "Still dark," he mumbled.

"Of course it's dark, with the covers over your head." Jingrui yanked them down again.

Yujin swiped at him without opening his eyes and snatched the covers back, diving under them with a growl.

Jingrui had the gall to laugh. Yujin stayed stubbornly still for as long as he could before admitting that he was actually awake, but eventually he had to give in. He shoved the covers back and glared up at Jingrui. "I will kill you slowly," he declared.

Jingrui positively grinned down at him, eyes sparkling, entirely too awake for not-quite-sunrise. "After breakfast?" he suggested.

"I will poison your food," Yujin threatened, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Once you're awake enough to," Jingrui taunted, and then chuckled as Yujin pushed himself upright. "You're a mess, after fighting with the covers like that."

He ran a hand over Yujin's hair, hopefully smoothing it down a little, and Yujin was still drowsy enough to lean into it. "Mm. Whose fault is that?" He took a breath and blinked himself a little more alert, only to realize that he was still leaning into Jingrui's hand, which had settled along his cheek. "...Jingrui?"

Jingrui colored and drew his hand back. "Sorry. Should I not?" He looked disappointed, Yujin realized, slowly.

Yujin was going to blame the way he caught Jingrui's retreating hand on not being awake, though that wasn't the whole truth by any means. "No, it's fine, I just..."

Yujin had been perfectly aware of the silent apology in Jingrui's increased tendency to touch, to drape an arm over his shoulders, to lean against him. To be honest, he'd been enjoying it very much. But this was different; this was starting to spill over into the kind of thing he'd never expected from Jingrui. At least, not directed at himself.

"I thought it was Lin Shu ge-ge, with you," he finally said, quietly, trying to stifle any urge to hope. "I mean... even when we didn't know it was him..."

Jingrui just blinked at him, sitting back on his heels beside Yujin's bed, hand resting easily in Yujin's grip. "Well, but that's different." Yujin raised both brows, because he remembered very clearly the way Jingrui had always tagged after Lin Shu, with shining eyes, and dragged Yujin along. Jingrui ducked his head a little and added, "It's you I never wanted to be apart from."

The way he smiled, sweet and open, made Yujin's chest squeeze tight, made him breathless with the dawning realization that this wasn't a mistake or the result of wanting so much that he saw what wasn't there. "Oh." He took a breath and reached up, fingers shaking just a little bit, to touch Jingrui's cheek. "Me too."

Jingrui's smile turned brighter at that, so simply and openly happy that it made Yujin forget to breathe for a moment. "I'm glad." Jingrui turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Yujin's fingers.

Yujin made a small, wordless sound, at that, unable to catch it back, not when everything he'd thought was too much to ask for had fallen suddenly into his lap. Jingrui looked back at him, chewing his lip for a moment, before taking a breath and leaning in. His glance was a little shy, under his lashes, but hopeful, and Yujin was as helpless as he'd ever been to resist that. He leaned forward to meet Jingrui, and the brush of Jingrui's mouth over his made him close his eyes, every sense narrowing down to this touch, this moment.

"Oh," he said, softly, as their lips parted, feeling the reality of it all settle into his heart.

"Yes," Jingrui answered, just as soft.

They sat there, smiling breathlessly at each other as sunrise finally lit the walls of the tent white.

The last exercise, in this year's field drills, set double battalions against each other, as if they were vanguards clashing in the first engagement of a battle. It was the kind of exercise that was, honestly, more to Jingrui's taste than maneuver of huge blocks of soldiers, even if he knew that maneuver was preferable to engagement, if it could be managed. This was practice, though, he told himself virtuously, as he urged his horse to the front of their running line, and he needed more practice converting his sword form to the balance of horseback. And also in not letting himself get too caught up in trying to convert everything.

Or, as Li Gang had succinctly put it, after Jingrui's first few horseback drills, "Less dueling, sir, more hacking."

And, best of all, today he was paired with Yujin again, could see Yujin's quick-footed black coming up beside him, from the corner of his eye, could catch the way Yujin was shaking his head but still grinning.

And then it was time to close his knees tight around his horse, shift his weight forward with the sweep of his sword and the momentum of their gallop, and bash one of the other side's company Captains soundly out of the saddle. It registered, in the back of his head, that with anything but the blunted wood they were given for the drill, it would have been a disemboweling cut, but the thought was distant, subsumed in the urgency of another target in front of him, and then another, the press of horses lunging against and between each other—

—and, abruptly, the awareness that he'd outpaced his own men just a little too much.

He ducked under the jab of a spear from one side while blocking the swing a sword on the other, tried to send his horse forward so he could get space to turn, but he was hemmed in too close. This, the back of his head informed him, was why Li Gang kept looking disapproving of how fast Jingrui went during horseback drills. Jingrui gritted his teeth and heaved against the swordsman on his right side, swung his sword around to strike down another jab from the spear, risked pulling one foot free of the stirrup to kick the swordsman solidly in the hip, and that was one side about to be open...

A completely unorthodox but painfully effective sideways sweep from the spear hit him in the ribs and swept him right out of the saddle. The ground smashed the breath out of him, and for a long moment he could only gasp for air and be grateful that his horse was stepping to the side rather than on top of him. A furious shout rang out above and behind him, and he hauled himself up to his knees just in time to see Yujin sweep past him, cutting down the spearman, and the swordsman behind him, with two brutal strokes, barely a pause between them. Zhen Ping galloped past on Yujin's heels, both swords out, guarding his back as Yujin set his position and two charging soldiers broke against it, one down and the other pulling his horse around to retreat. Jingrui grabbed at his horse's stirrup to pull himself further up, staring. And perhaps he'd banged his head on the way down, but what was floating through his mind right now was something Zhen Ping had said months ago, when they were all still on duty at the Palace.

He'd been teasing Yujin about how Vice-Commander Sun might take his proposed improved patrol routes, and Yujin had been insisting roundly that the logic of them would be obvious to anyone. Jingrui had actually been a little rueful about not being able to see it, himself, before Yujin had explained it, and apparently their sergeants had caught that fact.

"You'll probably start to see it soon, sir," Zhen Ping had said, looking up from the gear he'd been cleaning. "You see it clearly on the smaller scale already, don't you? Where your opponent is likely to step or cut next."

Jingrui had cocked his head, curious. "You think it's the same thing?"

Zhen Ping had smiled a little, wryly. "The Vice-Marshal always said it was, and the way he talked about seeing the movement of a battle... I think he's right. I can't do it with more than a squad, myself, but it really did sound like the same thing."

And now, watching the brief, clear wake Yujin's savage attack left, watching the way the other vanguard was drawing back toward the right like a swordsman shifting his weight, the swift gathering of horses like an arm drawing back to strike, Jingrui did see it. Saw it and saw how it would sweep over Yujin's position, the opening he'd made, and threw himself back up into the saddle, hauling in a deep breath.

"Third Company forward! Now!"

He heard the horn repeat the order, behind him, saw the company to his left start to move, like his own sword sweeping in to meet the opponent's, and kicked his horse forward to join Yujin, ignoring the painful jar of bruises. After all, it was the two of them who were going to be the hand that pushed the opponent back off balance.

Yujin looked around as Jingrui came up beside him, Zhen Ping sliding to the side to let him through, and the set, furious darkness of his expression lightened. Jingrui leaned out to clap a hand on his shoulder. "One more push forward?" he called, and was glad to see Yujin's head come up, turning to take in the field around them, before his friend gave him a firm nod.

Jingrui was grinning as their horses leaped forward again, together this time.

Lin Shu had already gotten reports from both Li Gang and Zhen Ping, so he was unsurprised to hear Vice-Commander Sun's voice raised, as he approached Meng da-ge's offices.

"...never putting them on the same side of an exercise again! The physicians are nearly in revolt, half of Eighth battalion is terrified of Yan and the other half is enamored of Xiao, and thanks to the fact that they won I'm going to have to deal with idiots trying to imitate them!"

"Bear with it for a handful more years, if you'd be so kind," Lin Shu said, stepping into the room and exchanging nods with Meng da-ge, who was looking wryly amused and possibly a bit envious of the fun the boys had had during the field exercise. Sun Wen, on the other hand, looked suspicious.

"And what is it that will happen in a few years, Vice-Marshal?" he asked, a little stiffly. Lin Shu mentally marked down another who was uncomfortable with his lack of a clearly defined position, here in the capital.

"In another few years, I expect Xiao Jingrui will be promoted." Lin Shu raised inquiring brows at Meng, who nodded, judiciously. "When that happens, Yan Yujin will retire—from the military, at least. He won't be able to protect Jingrui without a political position, at that point, and he's spent far too long guarding Jingrui from politics for it to be imagined that he'll give it up, now."

"I can't argue that he's fiercest in Xiao Jingrui's defense," Sun Wen said, slowly. "That's where a quarter of the broken bones in the vanguard exercise came from." He gave Lin Shu a long look. "Are you saying you want us to encourage that, in someone going into politics?"

Lin Shu turned one hand palm-up with a little shrug. "It is what it is, Vice-Commander. I'm saying nothing any of us do will change it. Therefore, the best course of action is to place the two of them where it will be most beneficial. Jingrui's leadership and example, his sense of loyalty and righteousness, will be of great benefit in the Imperial Guard, and his presence there will ensure that Yujin's efforts are bent toward maintaining the integrity of our armies and preventing internal strife." Sun Wen was looking increasingly sour as he listened to this, and Lin Shu smiled faintly, adding, "It's also where they'll be happiest. They wouldn't stay there, if it weren't."

Sun Wen sat back, at that, eyeing him. "I trust you'll excuse me if I still try to reduce Yan's tendency to extreme action, while I have him," he said, at last, rather dryly.

"Not at all." Lin Shu tapped one of the taller stacks of report folios on Meng's writing table. "You might also consider keeping him busy by putting him in charge of some intelligence and analysis."

Meng da-ge snorted, obviously remembering Yujin's rotation at the Palace, and the new reporting structure that had resulted from his boredom, very clearly. "I'll approve that."

Lin Shu smiled, satisfied. Yujin needed a new information network, now he had less time to spend in the capital's social circles. This would be a good start. In another handful of years, Yujin would enter Ministry politics well equipped. And, once he had more leverage in the political arena, perhaps Yujin would calm a little from his fever-pitch of protectiveness.

They could hope, at any rate. After all, it had worked on Lin Shu, when he was thirteen and furious over Jingyan going into the field without him.

"...and Zhang Ying will be back on duty next month."

Jingrui made a quick note on his roster of those injured in the field exercises. "Good; I hoped that wouldn't be a bad break." Reminded, he frowned and glanced up at Li Renshu, captain of his Sixth Company. "What about Wu Shen?"

Li looked gratified that his fourth squad leader had been remembered, which Jingrui was pleased to see—six months ago, he'd have been surprised. Every now and then, Jingrui was still possessed of an urge to hunt down these men's previous Commander and kick him soundly in the behind. Not for the little cravenness of following questionable orders, but for leaving these men so uncertain of their purpose and worth that the smallest gestures reassured them so.

"He won't be cleared for full-length drills for another few weeks, but he's back on his feet, Commander."

Jingrui sat back from his table with a satisfied smile. "We'll be back up to full strength, then. Good. Is there anything else I need to know of before I write up the battalion's monthly report?"

His company captains shook their heads with murmurs of "No, sir," and "No, Commander," and Jingrui nodded approval and dismissal. He jotted down one last note, as they filed out, and stretched his arms over his head, glancing at the water clock. It was definitely time for him to head home.

The way from his office, through the barracks that housed his battalion's soldiers, and around their drill field, was familiar by now, and Jingrui absently noted to himself the old planking he'd been meaning to ask to get repaired, nodded to the squads changing watch as they stood aside for him, paused to raise an eyebrow at the wrestling competition that spilled off the edge of the drill grounds into his path, trying to stifle the grin that really wanted to break free. He thought his men might have seen it anyway from the sheepish but unalarmed way they ducked their heads as they scrambled back out of his way. By the time he reached the gate to their block of the ward, his horse was waiting for him.

It felt comfortable, to have his battalion around him. Welcoming and stable, in a way he hadn't really felt for three years. His mother's manor still echoed with the breaking of his family, if only because she was there and still mourned. When he traveled outside the cities, he was always a little tense, part of him always watching out of the corner of his eye for any sign of his other family, and flinching every time he caught himself at it, because he had no right. Here, though, he could feel again that loosening in his chest, the complete ease of his breath, that came from knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he belonged to these men, and they to him.

And here, of course, he still had the one constant that had been his all his life, still so one in thought that he wasn't at all surprised to see Yujin turn onto the central road just ahead of him and rein in to wait for him.

"I bet your monthly report is finished already," he said, in greeting, and Yujin laughed as he nudged his horse forward again.

"Of course it is. Unlike some, I know how to be efficient. That's how I caught up with you so easily, despite being born later."

"Ah," Jingrui nodded, wisely. "This is what they call the genius of laziness, I see."

The guards on the east gate of the quarter were stifling grins as they stood back to let Jingrui and Yujin pass. Out of the north-west quarter, the roads were too busy for much conversation, and they rode in companionable silence until they reached Yan Manor. Yujin glanced sidelong at him.

"Will you come in?"

Jingrui's breath hitched a little at the heat and uncertainty in that look, so close a match for his own feelings, of late, that he couldn't help the rueful smile that tugged at his mouth. "Yes," he answered softly. "I'd like that."

He'd grown up as much in Yan Manor as in his own house, but today he found himself not quite knowing where to step, what to do with his sword, what to do with himself once the doors of the east wing were closed behind them. He looked over to find Yujin looking back, chewing on his lip. Their eyes caught, both wide and uncertain, but as one moment and then another slipped by, Jingrui saw Yujin start to smile, felt his own answering smile spreading, and then they were laughing, reaching out to each other as easily as ever, and when he caught his breath again Yujin was folded tight in his arms and he could feel the solid strength of Yujin's arms around him.

From there it only made sense to lean in and kiss him.

Yujin's arms tightened around his ribs, and his mouth opened against Jingrui's, turning the kiss softer, hotter—a wet, hungry slide of lips and tongue that put a shiver down Jingrui's spine. When they finally drew back a little, though, Jingrui had to take a moment to understand what he was seeing. Yujin's lips were parted in a way that made Jingrui want to dive right back into the kiss. But his eyes were wide, soft, wondering, and that made Jingrui stop. He was fairly sure that, of the two of them, Yujin was the more experienced in this kind of thing. Why wondering, then? "Yujin?" he asked, softly.

Yujin shook his head, and this laugh was barely there, just an unsteadiness in his breath. "I never thought..."

There it was, again, and Jingrui freed a hand to touch his cheek. "Why not, if you wanted it?" He had a hard time imagining anything he would deny Yujin. Surely the one person he'd shared the whole of his life with didn't think a crush Jingrui had always known was hopeless would really stand in his way?

Now Yujin looked exasperated and pummeled him lightly on the shoulder. "Because I thought you were in love with someone else. That you've been in love with him since we were barely old enough to know what that meant!" He looked down and added, low, "And I didn't want to come second."

That closed around Jingrui's heart like a fist clenching, and he pulled Yujin tight against him. "Yujin..." He could feel the tension in Yujin's body, against his, and stroked open hands up and down his back, trying to soothe it. Yujin pressed close, silent, and he spoke quietly, against Yujin's ear. "I suppose I always have been a little in love with Lin Shu ge-ge. But I'm not actually blind, and I always knew there'd never be anything there, not for me. You..." he leaned his forehead against Yujin's. "You've always been there for me, Yujin. You're like my breath, my heartbeat." He laughed, a little unsteady in his turn, arms tightening. "I don't even know how to speak of love, to you, because you're so much, to me. You could never come second to anyone."

He could hear the way that made Yujin's breath hitch, sharply, feel the tremor that went through him. "Why didn't you speak, then?" Yujin asked, husky.

"Well, I didn't think you liked men that way!" Jingrui protested. "I mean it was always the shop girls you were flirting with."

Yujin dissolved into laughter against his shoulder, and took a while to stop. That was all right, though, because he didn't let go the entire time. When he lifted his head, Jingrui wasn't surprised to see wetness on his cheeks, but there was a familiar smile, too, bright and rueful. "Well, I didn't want to put you off, if you ever did decide to get over him and speak up." He grinned at Jingrui's exasperated sound and scrubbed a palm over his cheek.

Jingrui smiled, soft and helpless, and reached up to wipe away the wetness on the other side, and then had to catch his breath at the way Yujin's whole face softened, expression turning open and unguardedly happy as he turned his head into Jingrui's hand.

"It's easier for me to see women's beauty," Yujin said, softly, lifting a hand to lay over Jingrui's. "But I can see the beauty in men, too." He looked up to meet Jingrui's gaze, eyes dark. "I've seen it in you, for years."

Jingrui had to swallow at the curl of deep, soft warmth that sent through him, and now he thought he understood the wonder a little better. "Yujin..."

This time, it was Yujin who leaned in to kiss him, hands sliding up over his shoulders to close around his face, and Jingrui was entirely content to relax into that gentle hold. Yujin kissed him again and again, soft little sips of kisses that made Jingrui open his mouth against Yujin's, tongue darting out to stroke against his and coax him deeper. It seemed to work, because Yujin relaxed against him, and he was smiling when he drew back.

"Jingrui. Let me try something?"

Normally, those words, matched to the sparkle in Yujin's eyes, might have made him a little wary, but here and now Jingrui couldn't imagine anything he wouldn't be happy to let Yujin do. "Of course."

Yujin laced their fingers together and tugged him through the outer rooms, toward Yujin's bed. Another sidelong look, questioning and a bit shy, made Jingrui smile, tightening his hold on Yujin's hand before reaching for his own sashes to undo them. Yujin only let him get his outer robe untied, though, before coming to him, his own inner robe still trailing off his shoulders, and laying his hands over Jingrui's. Very softly, eyes steady and serious, he asked, "Let me?"

Jingrui's breath drew in swiftly, a tiny shiver running over him at the earnestness of that question. He had to swallow hard before he could answer, and his voice was husky when he said, "Yes. Always."

Yujin smiled, quick and brilliant as a lightning strike, and it stole Jingrui's breath all over again, to see how much it meant to Yujin, that Jingrui would welcome this small intimacy, would promise it to Yujin's hands and care. He stood quiet while Yujin undressed him, turning with his gentle nudges. Yujin's hands were so careful, on him, that it made Jingrui have to blink back wetness in his eyes. When he was finally bare, and Yujin had come to stand in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders, the soft satisfaction in Yujin's smile finally crystallized what this was telling Jingrui's heart.

"You've always been taking care of me, haven't you?" he asked, softly.

"As well as I could," Yujin answered, simply.

Jingrui had to swallow again, but he was smiling when he reached out and slid his hands down the open collar of Yujin's robes. "Will you let me take care of you, now?"

Yujin blinked, very much as if the notion had never occurred to him, but then he smiled, small and pleased, ducking his head a little. "Yes. If you like."

"Of course I like." Jingrui tipped his chin back up and kissed him, softly, promising again, against his mouth, "Always."

Yujin's breath caught, and Jingrui kissed him one more time, gentle, before setting about divesting Yujin of his inner robe and undergarments, just as carefully, as tenderly, as he could, hoping to ease the fragile edge on the hope in Yujin's face. When he was done, he gathered Yujin tight against him, and repeated softly, against his ear, "Always." The fierce tightening of Yujin's arms around him was enough to drive his breath out, and he would have pursued the issue further—surely Yujin knew they were for always?—but Yujin drew back and tugged him down to the bed.

"Let me?" he asked again, pressing Jingrui back against the stacked pillows.

"Of course. Anything you... want..." Jingrui's answer ended rather breathlessly, as Yujin nudged his knees apart and settled between them, leaning on his elbows. Yujin looked up at him under his lashes, with that wicked sparkle back in his eyes. Jingrui made a wordless sound that was definitely not a squeak, as Yujin leaned down—a sound that dissolved into a moan as Yujin's tongue ran up the length of him, hot and slick. Yujin made a pleased sound of his own and leaned down further, wrapping his mouth around Jingrui.

Jingrui had already been most of the way hard, just from touching as they'd undressed each other, but now it felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to fill his cock. He could feel every movement of Yujin's lips and tongue, against him, and each soft, wet stroke sent a thrill of pleasure up his spine, leaving him gasping. "Yujin..."

"Mmmm?"

The vibration of Yujin's mouth around him wrung a groan out of him, hot sensation bursting wildly down his nerves. Jingrui clutched at the folded covers under him, completely unable to stop the little upward jerks of his hips. After some hesitation, Yujin finally folded his arms over Jingrui's hips and leaned his weight on them, making a pleased sound as he slid his mouth back down and Jingrui found himself without enough leverage to move. Jingrui moaned out loud at the way that sent heat twisting through him, tight and sweet, and when Yujin sucked on him, hard, it all came undone in a wild rush of pleasure uncoiling. "Yujin!"

He felt Yujin's fingers tight around him, stroking him through it, and looked up to find Yujin watching him, eyes dark with heat, mouth red, and that wrung him out yet again, until he moaned, breathless. When he finally lay quiet again, undone and panting for breath, Yujin slid back up to wind around him, settling close with a satisfied smile. Jingrui wound slightly shaky arms around him, and laughed. "Have me where you want me?" he asked, husky.

Yujin smirked and snuggled closer. "Pretty much, yes."

After a few quiet minutes of cuddling, Jingrui regathered enough of his thoughts to stroke a hand down Yujin's body, a little shyly. "Let me, now?"

Yujin looked up from his shoulder with a smile that had the same edge of shyness in it. "Yes."

Jingrui gathered him closer and turned them, settling Yujin back against the now-disordered pillows. A little wryly, he added, "Though I'm not sure if I'm ready to try exactly that, just yet."

Yujin settled back with a small, contented sound, and reached up to brush back Jingrui's hair. "Of course not. I don't think I'd have tried it myself, yet, if I hadn't had advice."

Jingrui stopped quite still for a long moment. "...advice?"

Yujin's eyes were sparkling again. "Mm. From the ladies I visit. They thought it was sweet, that I asked."

Jingrui sputtered. "You... you asked... Yujin!"

Yujin laughed at him, reaching up to pull him down and hug him tight. When Jingrui had given up and stopped sputtering, and Yujin had finished laughing, he added, softer, "If it ever happened, I wanted to get it right."

Jingrui gave over and held him close, helplessly tender. "Then thank you." When he lifted his head, he could see Yujin was blushing at that, and cradled him closer, kissing him softly, coaxing. The way Yujin answered him, so open, so willing, made it easy to run his hands down Yujin's body, slow and caressing, glad to have an answer for the hunger in him. When he wrapped his fingers around Yujin's length and stroked him, the shaky edge to Yujin's moan made heat curl through him in response. The knowledge that Yujin wanted this, wanted him, so much, settled warm in his chest, and he worked his hand over Yujin, slow and firm, attending to what made him gasp or arch up against Jingrui.

Yujin liked to be touched firmly. He liked to be kissed while Jingrui rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock. And when Jingrui bit gently at his lower lip, hand tightening on him, Yujin bucked up sharply into his hand, moaning out loud, hands tight on Jingrui's shoulders as he came undone. Jingrui smiled, pleased, and swallowed the sounds he made in a deep, fierce kiss, stroking him until he stilled.

"Oh," Yujin said, softly, eyes a little dazed when he looked up at Jingrui. Now Jingrui understood the satisfaction in Yujin's smile perfectly, and cuddled Yujin close with a contented sound. When Yujin curled into him, relaxed and easy, Jingrui thought he might be perfectly happy to stay this way for always. At some point, no doubt, food and work would get them out of bed again, but for now at least, they could stay here and he could soak in the feeling of Yujin, warm and close in his arms.

Jingrui pressed a kiss to Yujin's now-mussed hair, and smiled.

Contrary to the image he'd cultivated over the years, Yujin was actually quite well-versed in self-control. A seamless social front was not achieved through lax control, and even less by ignoring the unspoken rules of one's environment. Nevertheless, he had to admit that it was extremely tempting to ignore them for just long enough to lean over the writing table that held their latest plans for interior drills, and kiss Jingrui. From the way Jingrui was grinning sidelong at him as they sorted lists of archers to decide who got the fixed position and who got to sortie, Yujin was fairly sure he was aware of the urge, which did nothing to discourage the idea. Rather the reverse, actually.

Just as he was about to abandon the personnel lists and kiss that curve off Jingrui's lips, though, there was a brisk rap on the door frame and Yujin looked up to see Lin Shu standing in it. From the way the corners of his mouth were curling up, he probably knew just what they'd been about to do, also. Yujin sighed; this was what he got for letting his guard down, he supposed. "Lin Shu ge-ge. Hi."

Jingrui promptly blushed and straightened up with a self-conscious look. Yujin shook his head, smiling helplessly. Jingrui was so transparent. It was adorable, when it wasn't alarming him.

Lin Shu chuckled and stepped in, taking the seat Jingrui hastily cleared off. "Good afternoon to you. I'm glad I caught you both here."

"Was there something you needed..." Jingrui hesitated and glanced at Yujin before finishing, more formal than usual, "sir?"

Yujin tried not to let that little bit of thoughtfulness make him smile too foolishly, and settled himself to attend to their cousin.

"Just some clarification, really. We're finally ready to start clearing out the problems among the lower ranks of the armies, and that overlaps your own work in places." Lin Shu gave Yujin a level look. "Did you want to keep working on Wan Fa, yourself?"

Yujin froze, reflex panic flashing cold down his nerves; if they knew about Wan Fa, they knew about Jingrui's involvement...

"Only Jingyan and I know," Lin Shu said quietly. "We have not spoken of it, even to his mother or wife." Just as Yujin was starting to take a full breath again, he added, "Not yet." He sighed and shook his head at Yujin's hand, suddenly clenched around the list he'd been holding. "Yujin, think. Lady Jing, at the very least, will need to know of this when Yuwen Nian marries Prince Ning, if only to guide her against any repeat." A little more gently, he finished, "And you have to know you won't be able to keep Jingrui entirely in the background any longer, now you both have positions in the capital."

"What are you talking about?" Jingrui was frowning. "Yujin has never..." He stopped at Lin Shu's raised hand, but he was still frowning, still puzzling at the words, and Yujin took a long breath, trying not to glare at their cousin for letting on so much. That wouldn't help.

"We're only Commanders. There's no reason for anyone but Vice-Commander Sun or High Commander Meng to take notice of us, is there?" he asked, tightly, more a demand than a question, really.

"For now," Lin Shu agreed, so easily Yujin was already wary when he added, "But the two of you are bright and skilled. You can't imagine you'll go very long without being promoted." He leaned over the table, eyes turning sharp. "Especially when we need exactly that, in our officers."

Yujin bit his lip. He didn't need Lin Shu to draw it out for him, from there. If there was need, then of course Jingrui would be promoted, quite possibly into Sun's position; the Vice-Commander had made no secret of his desire to get back to his retirement once the Jin army was back on its feet. And a Vice-Commander of the Jin army was too high and too close to the Palace to be ignored any longer. The first minister who happened to be nearby the next time Jingrui was irritated over some remnant of corruption that affected his men or their duties would know the kind of vulnerability Jingrui's idealism could provide, likely before Jingrui got to the end of his sentence. And, at that point, Yujin wouldn't be able to stop whoever it might be from using Jingrui as a lever or a tool, from blackmailing him with the threat of reporting disloyalty to the Emperor, from using him as an unknowing conduit to the Crown Prince's ear, from using Jingrui's easy friendship as a counter in the games of court, not unless...

"So," Lin Shu said quietly. "Knowing what is coming, do you wish to keep working on Wan Fa yourself, or shall I deal with this, for now?"

Yujin closed his eyes. Now he knew what Lin Shu was really here to find out. "I'll keep this one," he answered, low. The sooner he got started building his contacts and reputation, the better.

A warm hand covered his wrist, and he opened his eyes to see Jingrui leaning over the table toward him, eyes sharp and rather fierce. "Yujin, what are you talking about?"

Yujin chewed on his lip, looking back. He'd never actually told Jingrui what it was he did. Jingrui had been so angry and upset over the little they'd understood of the fall of Lin and Prince Qi's household that Yujin hadn't thought he'd go along with it, and that had never quite changed. But there was trust and belief looking back at him, now, in Jingrui's level gaze, and he couldn't betray that.

"Yujin," Jingrui said again, softly, hand tightening. "You're about to do something dangerous, aren't you? Tell me. Let me help."

Yujin's mouth quirked. As much as Jingrui didn't usually pay attention to social (or political) nuances, Lin Shu's very presence was surely enough to tell him this was dangerous, yes. "I..." He sighed, leaning both elbows on the table. "Ever since the Chiyan case, I've tried to keep you away from politics."

Jingrui blinked at him for a moment, but then, slowly, nodded. "Because you thought it would be dangerous?"

"Because it was dangerous," Yujin said, flatly. "Idealists die in our court. It's just what happens. I think..." he looked down at his hands. "I think that's why my father withdrew to the temples, as much as he could."

"It was," Lin Shu put in, softly, and Yujin nodded.

"So I listened, at parties and events, for the names of the people who were playing court games, and I tried to keep you from getting involved, sidetrack you however I could. Which didn't get any easier when the Marquis started playing both sides," he added, disgruntled just remembering how much that had complicated his life.

"That was why...?" Jingrui huffed a soft laugh. "Oh, Yujin." He let go of Yujin's wrist and laced their fingers together instead, gently. When Yujin looked up, he was smiling. "Thank you. For taking care."

That gentleness pulled words out of Yujin before he thought to stop them. "Of course I took care. You and my father were all that was left."

The slow widening of Jingrui's eyes made him tense again; had that been too much to admit, too much to ask for (again)? But Jingrui's hand tightened on his, holding him. "Yujin..." Jingrui took a breath and said, steady. "I'm sorry."

Yujin blinked, caught flat-footed by that, and Jingrui smiled a little, ruefully.

"I'm sorry I didn't see. I made life harder for you, didn't I?"

Yujin shook his head. "It was something I chose to do on my own." Jingrui's grip tightened again for a moment, stilling him.

"If we're promoted... it will be harder again, won't it?"

Yujin took a breath and shook his head again, feeling certainty settle in his chest. "No more than usual. Not if I'm in the ministries."

Jingrui took a breath to protest—Yujin knew it was going to be a protest—but then he stopped. Slowly, watching Yujin carefully, he asked instead, "Will you be happy, doing that? I know you're good at it. I know you can. I know you think you need to. But will it make you happy?"

Yujin opened his mouth only to close it again, a little nonplussed at how thoroughly Jingrui had closed down all the answers he'd normally have used to dodge the actual question. Jingrui's smile, a little chiding and a little coaxing, said he knew it, too. "All right, all right," Yujin huffed, but had to smile back. "Yes. I think it will." He waved a hand at his writing table, stacked with more reports than any other Commander in Jin willingly invited, all in the name of knowing what was going on. "It seems to be what I do."

"All right then," Jingrui agreed, softly, and lifted their hands to press a kiss to Yujin's fingers.

Yujin turned very red and shot a quick look at Lin Shu, who was, thankfully, pretending to look at the shelves and not notice. "Jingrui!" he hissed.

Jingrui just laughed, not letting go of his hand, and Yujin gave him a long-suffering look. He didn't pull away, though.

"Well, if that's settled," Lin Shu murmured, looking very entertained, "think about where you'd like to enter, Yujin. Either State Revenue or the Bureau of Discipline would be easy to fit you into, but if you have your eye on another route, tell me."

"Where are you expecting those routes to go?" Yujin asked, a little cautious. He had cause to trust Lin Shu's ability to plot these things, and that he was well disposed toward them, but he also had a lively respect for his cousin's ruthlessness. And however much affection Lin Shu ge-ge had for them, he was the Crown Prince's man, now. Whatever he did would serve Jingyan's ends first of all.

Lin Shu rose, shaking his robes straight, and smiled down at them. "Yan has produced two Chancellors, for this nation. Perhaps it should be three, hm?"

Jingrui's eyes widened, but Yujin smiled, even as he felt his face heat again at that casual vote of confidence. He'd been seen, and seen clearly, and for once he thought he didn't mind it—not when it meant Lin Shu understood how far Yujin would go to keep his own safe, and was willing to support him in that. "If you think so."

"I do."

Yujin ducked his head, honestly flattered by the firm certainty in his cousin's voice, and Lin Shu ge-ge patted his shoulder as he stepped past, toward the door. Yujin sat back as he swept out, and tightened his grip on Jingrui's hand, feeling more settled than he had in a long time.

This was his, and this he would guard.

The year had turned, and all through the city families celebrated whatever fortune had favored them, hoped for more in the new year, gathered to drive out the winter darkness and welcome in the new life of spring.

Jingrui wandered through the soft, colored brightness of the Lantern Festival at Yujin's side, as they'd done so often over the years. This year, though, he found himself suddenly more aware of some things. He'd always teased Yujin about how much attention he tended to attract, during the festival, but this was the first time Jingrui had gotten personally annoyed by the number of matrons and chaperones and matchmakers who found a moment to pause their party by Yujin and Jingrui, and have a few smiling words with the son and only heir of the Yan family. This year, he had to stop himself from 'accidentally' stepping between Yujin and the next party they saw that included a girl out for a promenade at the festival.

No sooner did he notice the urge, though, then he also noticed something else. Yujin looked like he was flirting; he smiled and flattered the older women, and said kind things about the young women, loudly enough to be overheard. But he was also, unmistakably, turning them away. It tugged at Jingrui's attention more and more as the evening drew on, and once he started really watching, he could see that Yujin's body language turned reserved, straightening into a quiet restraint, every time another party approached them. Without a word spoken directly, one mother or matchmaker after another patted Yujin's arm and passed on, sweeping the girls along without a backward glance.

And then Yujin would relax, and lean against his shoulder, and laugh openly again.

The more Jingrui saw, as they wound past the stalls of lanterns and the bright-glowing fronts of the capital's mansions and pavilions, the more he thought back over other festivals or parties or outings he'd seen Yujin at, always smiling and laughing—what else had he been doing, all that time, that Jingrui hadn't noticed?

Not that he really needed to ask, after Lin Shu ge-ge's recent visit. Still, when they fetched up at a grove on the edge of the east district's pond, quieter and a bit darker than the streets if still fairly crowded with strolling groups, he drew Yujin closer and asked softly, "How much of that have you been doing, all this time?"

Yujin's dark eyes looked bottomless in the evening's soft glow. "As much as seemed necessary," he answered, low.

"Necessary," Jingrui repeated, slowly, turning over the things Yujin had said during that startling meeting. "To keep me safe."

Yujin just nodded, as if it were perfectly self-evident, and Jingrui couldn't help laughing, soft and more than a little stunned. "All that... all this time..." Jingrui swallowed hard and reached out, careless of who might be watching, and pulled Yujin close, holding him tight.

"Thank you," he whispered against Yujin's ear.

Yujin made a dismissive sound, but his arms wound tight around Jingrui. Jingrui leaned back far enough to look him in the eye, and closed his hands around Yujin's face, gently, to make sure of it. "Yujin, listen. I'm yours, all right? Whatever happens, whatever it is we do with our lives, I'm yours. Just like you're mine. You have my word." He could feel the tremor that went through Yujin, at that, though the only visible sign of his reaction was a little widening of his eyes, and nodded to himself. He thought he was figuring out how to read Yujin properly again, the way he hadn't, perhaps, since they were much younger. Since before the fall of Lin and Prince Qi.

Thinking that, he listened to the way Yujin's body swayed just a little towards him, and leaned back in to kiss him, slow and sure, in the warm light of the lanterns—kissed him until the quick clench of Yujin's hands in the back of his robes eased, until Yujin's mouth against his softened from the first desperate hunger.

Then, at last, he drew back and rested his forehead against Yujin's, smiling. "So. Go ahead and take over Jingyan ge-ge's government, if it will make you happy, and I'll see to his soldiers. And let me guard your back, as you guard mine."

Yujin smiled back, brighter than all the lanterns in the streets behind them, and answered, softly, "Yes."

"Good." Jingrui stepped back, sliding a hand down to tangle their fingers together, and tugged Yujin back toward the brightly lit streets. As they plunged back into the light, even when Yujin's grip on his hand eased, as if to obey propriety and reserve, and let go, Jingrui only tightened his hold.

He would never let this go, again.

End