Work Text:
0.
It starts with small things: the emergence of lingering touches and soft smiles when they think nobody will notice, the way Chu Shuzhi jumps to Guo Changcheng’s defense with even more dogged persistence than usual, the quiet adoring looks that the younger casts across the table during team debriefings every time Chu speaks up. Nobody thinks too much of it, at first — if anything, there’s a sense of palpable relief that the stoic, untouchable Chu Shuzhi has finally softened up, even if he’d die before admitting it. In any case, Guo’s obvious admiration — along with his wide, childlike eyes — makes the team sympathize with Chu Shuzhi, just a little.
Little by little, it takes over the SID office gossip mill.
Dixing intruders have been few and far between, lately, and when their department chief has been taking an awful amount of time off on “patrols” and “diplomatic meetings” with Shen Wei — well, there’s not much better to do, besides update the office betting pool hidden behind the chalkboard on when Chief Zhao and Professor Shen will finally get married, every time they conveniently disappear.
“H-he’s like a puppy,” Sang Zan stutters, glancing across the room to where Chu and Guo sit, huddled over the long meeting table. Guo’s phone lays on the table, and he has a bright smile on his face, a stark contrast to Chu’s bemused frown. Faintly, Lin Jing hears the sound of an overplayed Tiktok video carry across the room, and snorts. The rest of them are huddled around the desks near the door, occasionally sending the two appraising looks.
Da Qing frowns, clearly dissatisfied with the analogy. He mutters a soft, “Kittens are cuter,” under his breath before Zhu Hong kicks him in the shin.
“I never thought I’d live to see the day when Chu Shuzhi, heir to the infamous Chu puppet masters of Dixing, would be here — browsing memes with Xiao Guo,” Lin Jing says, slightly disturbed.
“It’s nice,” Wang Zheng says, demure smile tugging at her lips. She leans over against Sang Zan’s side, shrugging. “I never thought I’d see Lao Chu so… relaxed? And Xiao Guo looks so happy, these days. You know, the other day, Lao Chu even cooked lunch for him?”
Da Qing perks up at that, disbelief and interest mixed in his face. “Chu-ge cooks?”
“Apparently,” Zhu Hong confirms, twirling a pen between her hands.
Lin Jing wheels his chair closer, furrowing his brows. “I don’t like it. When’s the last time Lao Chu smiled like this, anyway?”
“There was that one time, with the personality—“ Da Qing starts, before Zhu Hong fixes him with a threatening glare. Everyone else looks vaguely nauseated.
“We agreed to never, ever, bring that up again,” Lin Jing intercepts, a palm raised in a silent plea. A shared shudder ripples through the group, Zhu Hong rubbing her temples to fend off the unwelcome memories.
“Fine,” Da Qing says, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. “There was — there was that time he almost killed that escaped Dixing criminal, remember? The one who could, like, feed off of fear?”
Lin Jing raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “For one, that was after he all but tortured Xiao Guo — and more importantly, I’m not sure you would call that a smile. That guy when he gets mad — I swear, his thirst for blood is worse than—“
“Don’t slander a teammate,” Wang Zheng chides, voice getting quieter as she casts furtive glances across the room. “We all have our faults.”
They sneak a quick look back across the room, but Chu’s attention is still fixed on Guo, who seems to be telling a story, eyes wide and hands moving animatedly in exaggerated gestures. There’s a soft, fond smile painted on Chu’s face, and everyone quickly turns back to the conversation at hand.
“I’m not sure a fault is sadistically laughing while systematically breaking someone’s bones,” Lin Jing mutters, but shuts up quickly when Wang Zheng fixes him with her patented monthly-bonus-threatening smile.
“Anyway,” Da Qing says, leaning back on the desk where he’s perched, legs crossed on the table. “That was only because Xiao Guo was hurt. Chu-ge, seriously — he looks so tough, but where Guo Changcheng is concerned? It’s hard to believe that he’s the same guy.”
“Right,” Lin Jing quickly follows up, wagging a finger in the air. “The other day, Xiao Guo was eating from Lao Chu’s bag of snacks — the last time I tried to take his snacks, he grabbed my hand with his strings and threatened to cut it off!”
Nobody looks sympathetic, except for Sang Zan, who sends a concerned look at Lin Jing’s wrist. Lin Jing, dismayed at the lack of support, droops like a wilted flower — Da Qing, half-heartedly, gives him a pat on the shoulder.
“It’s understandable,” Wang Zheng says, finally, breaking the silence. “You know, with Chu-ge’s brother, and all…” Sang Zan nods vigorously where he sits next to her. Lin Jing looks unimpressed, as if he’s about to say something, but Wang Zheng sends him an icy glare, and he gulps, leaning back.
“I don’t know,” Zhu Hong says, thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t know if I like it.”
“What, Chu-ge being this — happy, all the time?” Da Qing asks, turning slightly to look over at the two across the room again, eyes squinting.
“No, that’s not it,” Zhu Hong starts, before she’s interrupted by a quiet, feline hiss.
“Oh my god,” Da Qing yelps, horrified. Everyone turns, alarmed.
“What’s wrong?” Wang Zheng asks, but Da Qing’s eyes are fixed on where Chu’s hand rests on the curve of Guo’s neck, possessively. Da Qing’s face goes very pale, and Lin Jing waves a hand in front of his face. Da Qing stutters a few times before swatting Lin Jing on the shoulder, eyes panicked.
“What, that? Chu-ge does it all the time, now,” Zhu Hong says, clearly irritated at being interrupted, but Da Qing cuts her off again.
“Lin Jing, camera,” he says, in a rush. Lin Jing sighs, dropping his hand before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny metal camera, barely the length of his thumb — a state-of-the-art, long-distance surveillance tool meant for covert operations, recently co-opted by the ever-watching eyes of the office paparazzi.
Cong Bo would be proud, he thinks, lamenting the waste of precious government research funding.
When he turns back to the computer screen in front of him, though, Lin Jing’s eyes widen, hand coming to cover the undignified whimper of horror before it can escape his lips. He whispers a soft, “No,” eyes sweeping to the side to meet Da Qing’s.
“What is it?” Sang Zan says, clearly tensing for a coming threat. Lin Jing closes his eyes, silently counting to three in his head, before he swivels the computer screen around to show the rest of them. Wang Zheng gasps, scandalized, clutching Sang Zan’s arm, and even Zhu Hong looks shaken.
“Teammates,” Lin Jing says, solemnly, gesturing at the screen, “we have a problem.”
Blown up on the monitor in glorious full-screen resolution is a picture of Chu’s hand on Guo’s neck, thumb resting at the edge of a clustered bloom of red-purple marks barely peeking out of Guo’s high collar.
“Oh my god,” Wang Zheng murmurs, alarmed.
“Are those—“ Zhu Hong starts, swallowing.
“Those are definitely love bites,” Da Qing whispers, eyes glazing over. “And — and that — that explains the way Chu’s scent has been all over G—“
“Please, don’t,” Lin Jing all-but yells, interrupting him. Chu and Guo pause, glancing over at them, and Lin Jing coughs, shaking his head vigorously and wiggling his eyebrows insistently. Everyone else freezes, bracing themselves.
“Please, don’t up the bet on who tops,” Lin Jing continues, loudly, in a stage whisper. “It’s clearly Professor Shen.”
Across the room, Guo turns bright red, and Chu curses before dragging Guo from the room, shooting Lin Jing a disgusted glare.
Lin Jing turns back to a crowd of unimpressed gazes. Da Qing looks as if he’s about to have a breakdown.
“Please,” Da Qing whispers, very carefully, “never mention Chief Zhao’s sex life in front of me ever again.”
“Don’t you live with him?” Lin Jing asks, raising a brow. A shadow passes across Da Qing’s face, and his eyes grow distant, haunted.
“Yes,” Da Qing replies, barely audible. Lin Jing’s about to pry when Zhu Hong walks up and slaps him across the face, shaking her head. He yelps in pain, clutching his cheek, betrayed.
“Let’s get back to the issue at hand,” she says, voice already collected, fully in case mode. Lin Jing tucks away his wounded pride before he nods, waking up the monitor that’d gone into sleep mode during the chaos. Another collective hitch of breath goes through the group, and Da Qing looks like he’s about to faint.
“Xiao Guo,” Wang Zheng says, voice breaking in what’s almost a sob. There’s a long moment of silence, and Sang Zan gently rubs Wang Zheng’s arm soothingly.
“We need to do something,” Da Qing says, finally. Lin Jing nods, decisive, standing up and putting on his best impression of Chief Zhao.
“Esteemed members of the Special Investigations Department, one of our own is in danger. Our mission: to protect our Guo Changcheng’s virtue — and his heart — from being corrupted by that traitor, Chu Shuzhi.”
Zhu Hong mutters something biting about the irony of the word “traitor,” given the recent circumstances, a comment that Lin Jing, in his infinite mercy, magnanimously ignores.
“We can’t just stand by and watch anymore, my comrades,” Lin Jing says, darkly, slamming his hands down on his desk. “This is an urgent situation — we have to take action before it gets worse. I thought I could trust Chu Shuzhi, but clearly, this shows that I was wrong: that heartless Dixing man is taking advantage of our very own Guo Changcheng.”
Da Qing nods, fervently. “Lin-ge, you’re completely right.”
Lin Jing puffs up a little bit at the praise, until he shrinks back under the force of Zhu Hong’s glare.
She sighs, rolling her eyes. “How — how do we know Lao Chu is taking advantage of him? For all we know, it’s not him who did — that — to Xiao Guo.”
“I know,” Da Qing chokes out, and Zhu Hong swallows, thickly.
“Guo Changcheng isn’t a child,” she tries. “He can… he can make his own decisions, can’t he?”
Her words sound unconvincing, even to herself, and Zhu Hong sighs, clenching her fists at her sides. “But, now that I think about it… that Chu Shuzhi… always laughing at me behind my back when I — about me and Chief Zhao, when all this time, he —“
She takes a steadying breath, eyes burning red. “I won’t forgive him.”
“It’s a plan, then?” Lin Jing’s eyes sparkle with mischief, even as his jaw sets in resolution. Everyone else nods, and immediately the atmosphere of the SID settles back into its normal, frenetic rhythm — there’s a case to be solved.
i. wang zheng & sang zan
Everyone agrees that the first one to take a stab at it should be Wang Zheng and Sang Zan, for a multitude of reasons. For one, they have the power of numbers — with Sang Zan cornering Guo while Wang Zheng goes on the offensive with Chu, they stand the best chance at managing to talk sense into the two of them, without Chu’s uncanny ability to show up the minute Guo needs him getting in the way.
Perhaps more importantly, Wang Zheng is only one of them who is, unequivocally, not scared of Chu Shuzhi.
“I’m already all but a ghost,” she says, airily. “What will he do, kill me again?”
Sang Zan is less excited by the prospect — but then again, he’s not the one facing down Chu Shuzhi, so he accepts the proposal readily.
The rest of the office squad laughs nervously, before wishing her and her spectral lover the best. They float off, focused on the mission at hand.
“Fight fire with fire,” Lin Jing says, watching them as they go. “Romance is overrated, anyway — a conspiracy to entrap the healthy youths of the world in a lifetime of suffering and consumerism.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re single,” Zhu Hong says, filing her nails. Da Qing snorts in the background, yelping when Lin Jing whirls around to whack him on the shoulder.
“Don’t enable her,” Lin Jing hisses.
“She’s right, though,” Da Qing replies, as Lin Jing buries his hands in his hair.
Wang Zheng and Sang Zan find them in the library, as expected. Guo has his nose buried in a book, head resting on the table atop crossed arms. Next to him, Chu scrolls absently through something on his phone, free hand resting on Guo’s head, stroking through his hair absently.
“I should have suspected something earlier,” Wang Zheng whispers, dismayed. “I should have known, when that Chu Shuzhi stopped being able to get through a shift without putting his hands on Xiao Guo.” Sang Zan shakes his head solemnly, raising a comforting hand to touch Wang Zheng’s back.
“N-none of us could have — could have seen this coming,” he says, and Wang Zheng nods, determination in her eyes.
They walk out from behind the shelves in unison, Sang Zan in the lead. Chu and Guo turn at their approach, but neither move, Chu’s fingers tracing vague patterns across Guo’s neck.
“Xiao Guo,” Sang Zan calls, and the boy perks up at his name. Wang Zheng strokes his arm fondly, doing her best impression of a doting, supportive girlfriend. She is, though, very proud of him — he’s finally getting the hang of Mandarin, and in such a short time, too.
“Oh, Sang Zan! What is it?” Guo straightens up, hand already moving to fold the corner of his page.
“Could — could you help me with something on the computer? The archive, uh…” Sang Zan furrows his brows in the perfect impression of confusion.
“Software,” Wang Zheng chimes in, helpfully, squeezing his shoulder supportively.
“The software,” he says, nodding. “It’s not working, and Lin Jing is t-too busy messing around with something in the lab…”
“O-oh, of course!” Guo says, with a small smile. He seems unused to anyone asking him for help, really, but he rises enthusiastically from his seat, eager to assist. Guo meets Chu’s eyes and they share a quick glance before Chu huffs out an amused breath and watches as he scuttles off with Sang Zan, amazed praises of Sang Zan’s speech fading as they walk away.
The minute Sang Zan leaves, Wang Zheng’s gaze turns steely, locking eyes with Chu, who sits there, expectant.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, after a beat of awkward silence. Chu leans back in his seat and crosses his hands behind his head, stretching his legs up onto the library table leisurely.
Wang Zheng nods, pointing an accusing finger at the black-robed man getting his boots all over the table. “You.”
Chu raises a questioning brow, raising a finger of his own to point at himself. “Me.”
“You and Xiao Guo! Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Wang Zheng’s hands clench into fists at her side as Chu furrows his brow, eyes flitting to the side in obvious confusion.
“Going after such an innocent boy’s virtue,” she continues, tone horrified and angry. “I didn’t want to believe it, what they said, but you, Chu Shuzhi, really are a monster…”
Chu’s eyes widen in sudden realization, and emotions flicker quick across his face, too fast for Wang Zheng to catch. He suddenly gives her a dark smirk, stretching languidly and fixing Wang Zheng with a glare, one eyebrow raised in a challenge.
“I didn’t know that it’s any of your business,” he said, flatly.
“Xiao Guo is a valued member of our team,” she insists. “His wellbeing is clearly my business. And, I thought, it would have been yours, as well.”
“What are you saying?” Chu growls, sitting up. Wang Zheng stands her ground.
Wang Zheng frowns, shaking her head. “Xiao Guo is so delicate — if you take advantage of him or break his heart, Chu Shuzhi, I swear, I will haunt you from beyond the grave. What are you planning?”
Chu seems to find something ironically funny, but he swallows down the beginnings of the mocking smile that’d crept up onto his face. “I’m not planning anything.”
“Then explain,” Wang Zheng demands, crossing her arms. Chu scoffs, but his eyes go distant, fingers tapping a syncopated rhythm against his thigh.
“Changcheng,” Chu murmurs, considering, his expression going soft and unguarded for a split second — and Wang Zheng freezes, because she knows that face, the very same one Sang Zan makes on a daily basis. For a heartbeat, Chu Shuzhi looks like a man in love.
It passes quickly, his expression falling back into his default look somewhere between murderous and impassive, but the damage is already done. The pit of Wang Zheng’s stomach grows warm, because — who would have thought? It must show on her face, because Chu suddenly swallows, the shadow of a blush rising to his face, and the world must be ending, because Chu Shuzhi is embarrassed.
The vindictive streak that’d run through Wang Zheng settles into something appraising, thoughtful.
“I don’t have to explain anything to any of you,” he grits out, finally, pulling his legs back off the table and getting up. “And you two planned this, didn’t you? Which means Changcheng is—“
Some of the blood drains from his face, and Chu’s jaw clenches as he stomps away, Wang Zheng drifting after him with an aborted cry of, “Lao Chu, wait!“
Chu marches across the library, steps stilling as Guo’s voice sharpens itself into clarity as they approach.
“…it’s really not like that, Sang-ge!” Guo’s voice is sheepish, but there’s a smile in it. Chu stops in his tracks, eyes shuttered and unreadable, and Wang Zheng studies his expression closely. “Chu-ge isn’t — ah, well, he…”
Chu tenses, eyes locked on the floor.
“He really cares about me,” Guo says, suddenly, in a soft voice. “Even though I’m just, well — me — he treats me like I’m…”
Chu relaxes, his eyes going gentle before he strides decisively out of the bookshelves that hide him, Wang Zheng following closely behind him.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Chu asks, sarcastically. Sang Zan gulps, shaking his head, and Chu scoffs, pacing over to Guo’s side.
“Chu-ge,” Guo squeaks, the ghost of a blush rising to the tips of his ears.
“Idiot,” Chu says, but it’s fond. He pauses, making pointed eye contact with Wang Zheng before ducking in to press a kiss to Guo’s temple, eyes challenging. Guo goes very still, face flushing as he drops his head down, covering his face with his hands.
Wang Zheng can take a hint.
“We’ll leave you two to it, then,” she mutters, grabbing Sang Zan’s hand as she begins to back up. Sang Zan goes with her easily, turning and leading her away.
“Well,” she sighs. “What do you think?” Sang Zan smiles, some of Guo’s infectious happiness spilling out from over his lips. Wang Zheng feels an answering warmth bubble up under her skin at the sight of it.
“I t-think,” Sang Zan starts, “that they’re in love.” Wang Zheng breathes out a laugh and bumps Sang Zan’s shoulder amiably. He turns to look over at her, and they stop walking, Sang Zan’s hand coming up to tuck a strand of Wang Zheng’s hair behind her ear. “And I can understand Chu-ge’s feelings.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, meeting Sang Zan’s eyes. Something sad passes through them, and he pauses, hand drifting down to cup her cheek.
“D-doing terrible things for the people you love,” Sang Zan murmurs, and Wang Zheng feels her chest twist in century-old grief. She shakes her head, leans in, and kisses the sadness off of his lips.
“Let me get this straight,” Lin Jing says, squinting distrustfully at the couple lounging together on the sofa. “You don’t think Chu Shuzhi has any bad intentions here?”
Sang Zan shakes his head, and Wang Zheng gives an assenting nod.
“Are you sure you two aren’t — biased?” Da Qing asks, gingerly. Lin Jing nods furiously, adding, “Not all couples are as happy — or healthy — as you two, you know!”
“Lao Chu is clearly head-over-heels for Xiao Guo,” Wang Zheng says, pouting at the distrust in Lin Jing’s eyes. “What more do you want me to say?”
“Evidence! Reasoning! Anything more than ‘the sappy look in his eyes,’” Lin Jing exclaims, hands forming mocking quotation marks in the air. “Have we forgotten how to run a proper investigation in Chief Zhao’s absence?”
“Since when has Zhao Yunlan used objective evidence to do anything,” Zhu Hong mutters, with a scoff. Lin Jing drums his fingers on the table, casting looks around the room, exasperated. Suddenly, he straightens, clearly hit by a sudden stroke of genius. He snaps his fingers, pointing a finger at Da Qing.
“Please, no,” Da Qing whimpers, when Lin Jing looks at him, manic.
“Cats are best at shadowing,” Lin Jing says, triumphantly, as all the blood begins to drain from Da Qing’s face.
ii. da qing
“How did I get talked into this?” Da Qing mutters to himself, padding stealthily down the streets of Dragon City. “I’m the King of Cats, top of the food chain and proud—“
And here he was, tailing Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng home. He could have been in bed by now, lounging around and eating dried fish. Damn Lin Jing, he thinks viciously.
Chu and Guo had clocked out early, Chu citing Chief Zhao’s continued absence as a heavy-handed excuse, all but dragging Guo out the door after him. Guo had smiled and waved on the way out, with a peppy, “See you tomorrow, everyone!”
Da Qing’s fur bristles when he thinks of that innocent smile, put at risk by a certain stoic Dixing puppeteer. From the side alley that he’s hiding in, Da Qing peeks out over the side of the wall and spots Chu and Guo, walking down the main market street. Guo has his arm loosely around Chu’s elbow, free hand pointing at different stalls as they walk by them — occasionally, Chu stops to inspect some of the goods, picking up a vegetable or two before taking out his wallet and paying the stall owner. There’s a steadily growing assortment of bags by his side for what Da Qing can tell will be a veritable feast — his mouth waters, just thinking of the smell of freshly cooked food.
He’s almost too distracted to keep up, but quickly snaps himself out of his steamed-fish-fueled daydream and stalks after Chu and Guo as they turn a corner, tail lashing behind him as he ducks behind barrels and benches in his pursuit. His ears twitch a little as he steps in a puddle of what seems to be oil, cursing Lin Jing and all of his descendants.
I’m never getting this out of my fur, he thinks, despondently.
Ahead, the crowd of people from the market thins out as Chu and Guo wind their way through the narrow streets. Guo’s smiling at something Chu’s said, looking up at the sky, when Da Qing spots a bicycle coming at them from behind. As Da Qing watches, Guo — with his infinite reserve of attracting bad luck — trips over a loose stone just as the bicycle zooms by, hitting him in the shoulder as it passes. The only thing that keeps Guo from completely falling on his face is Chu’s arm that comes quickly out around his shoulders, steadying him protectively.
Da Qing sneaks closer, ears swiveling to make out their conversation, taking advantage of their distraction to get ahead of them, where he can look back from his alcove to see their faces.
“Changcheng,” Chu murmurs, worriedly, but Guo just flashes him a smile and rubs his arm with a wince.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Chu frowns, looking over to the side and sending a frosty glare at the retreating bicyclist, fingers clenching into fists.
Here we go, Da Qing thinks. There’s no stopping Chu Shuzhi once you’ve pissed him off.
“Chu-ge,” Guo calls, hands coming around Chu’s, insistent. Chu snaps his glare back over to Guo, who shrinks a little but stands his ground — and Chu instantly swaps the murderous look on his face for an apologetic one, hands opening and turning to clasp Guo’s.
“Sorry,” Chu mutters, and Guo just shakes his head with a relieved smile. Something dark passes across Chu’s face that Da Qing can’t interpret, but Guo huffs and leans in to kiss the corner of Chu’s mouth.
“You don’t scare me,” Guo says, softly, hands coming up to cup Chu’s face. Da Qing watches in horrified fascination as Chu all but melts into the touch, raising his free hand to cover one of Guo’s hands with his own, bags of groceries still clutched in his other arm. Chu sends him a small, wondering smile — so out of place on his normally-stoic face — before leaning down to kiss Guo, who gives a satisfied hum and presses back against him.
When they pull away, foreheads touching and still sending saccharine looks at the other, Da Qing suddenly remembers that he has something very urgent to do, very far away from here. He carefully tiptoes away, silent and practiced —
— until he knocks over an empty can and it clangs as it rolls, straight into the street and into Chu Shuzhi’s line of sight.
Da Qing freezes, feeling a jolt of pure fear run through him, and he sends up a desperate prayer for his feline ancestors to keep him from being noticed.
His hopes are shattered when he feels a rippling blue cord of energy slither into his hiding spot and wind its way around his body, dragging him out.
“Meow,” he tries, pathetically.
“D-Deputy?” Guo says, taken aback.
“Da Qing,” Chu says, icily.
Da Qing gulps, fur fluffing up in fear before he transforms back with a puff of dark energy, dissipating like black smoke into the evening air. “Funny seeing you guys around, huh?”
Guo blinks. Chu marches forward, grabbing Da Qing’s collar and lifting him off the ground with the force of his grip. “You were trailing us.”
“Now, now — when you put it that way,” Da Qing says, raising open palms in a placating gesture, “that sounds much worse than it is.”
“And what, exactly, is ‘it?’” Chu grits out, and Da Qing gulps.
“Xiao Guo,” he yelps, in fear. “Help your deputy chief out!”
Guo makes a questioning noise before realizing Da Qing’s meaning, scuttling forward to pat at Chu’s arm where it keeps Da Qing’s collar in a death grip. “Chu-ge, let go of him.”
“Good boy,” Da Qing tells him, before Chu all but throws him to the ground, disgustedly.
“Deputy Chief!” Guo moves forward to help Da Qing to his feet, fussing over him until Da Qing waves him off.
“I’m fine,” Da Qing says, dusting off his overalls and shooting Chu a glare. “No thanks to him.”
“What do you want,” Chu says, voice devoid of emotion. Da Qing stammers, looking for an excuse and finding none. Drawing up the reserves of his bravery, he steps forward and meets Chu’s glare, taking a steadying breath before jabbing a finger into Chu’s chest.
“I’m here to find out exactly what you’re doing with Xiao Guo,” Da Qing asserts. Behind him, Guo wrings his hands at the tension in the air, words hurriedly falling from his mouth.
“Chu-ge was just buying groceries with me,” Guo says, quickly, before Chu stops him with a wave of his hand, glancing at Guo before turning back to Da Qing with a level stare. Da Qing locks eyes with him, standing his ground.
Finally, the moment is broken when Chu lets out a wry huff of amusement, shouldering past Da Qing to Guo, who clutches at his arm almost instinctually, gaze questioning.
“We’re dating,” Chu says, flippantly, even as Guo turns red beside him. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
Chu turns to Guo, murmuring a soft “Let’s go,” pulling him off even as Guo looks back over at Da Qing with a soft complaint of “What about Deputy Chief?”
Da Qing stands there, frozen, as they walk away.
“Dating?” Lin Jing’s voice rises to a screech over the phone, and Da Qing flinches at the sudden volume, holding the speaker away from his ear.
“That’s what Lao Chu said,” Da Qing says, for the fourth time. Lin Jing makes a wordless noise of frustration over the phone, and Da Qing scoffs. “I didn’t want to follow them any further — Lao Chu looked like he wanted to kill me already, and who knows what they would’ve done when they got home.”
He suppresses a wordless shudder.
“Anyway, maybe Zhu Hong was right, Lin Jing,” Da Qing mutters. “Maybe you really are jealous.”
“Our office is being torn apart,” Lin Jing laments. “Soon, Dixing intruders will flood the city when we least expect it, and there’ll be nobody to stop them because the SID is too busy going on dates and anniversary dinners.”
“Sounds like somebody’s lonely,” Da Qing says with a smirk, and he hears Lin Jing’s answering huff of breath over the speaker, crackling and loud.
“As if,” Lin Jing snaps, hanging up.
iii. lin jing
As usual, it falls to the nation’s scientific heartthrob to take things into his own hands.
His own remote-controlled, untraceable, as-far-from-Chu-Shuzhi-as-possible hands.
It’s his new invention, a remotely transmitting microphone mounted securely in a tiny bug-bot, the size of a mosquito. He activates it and it buzzes in his hands, live feed springing to life on his screen. Lin Jing gives it a doting smile, petting it gently with his finger before turning to the task at hand, setting it down on the table and grasping the repurposed drone controls with both hands, taking a deep breath.
It’s time for work.
He pilots the tiny bug expertly into the pocket of Guo’s cardigan, where it tucks itself away between the worn seams at the bottom.
Bullseye.
He bides his time until people start clocking out, one by one — the minute Chu and Guo leave together, he turns on the feed, grabbing the headset and putting it on. From the hallway, Da Qing trots over to him with wary paws before he reforms into his human body with a flourish, dropping himself onto the lab stool next to Lin Jing.
“Lin Jing,” Da Qing calls, frowning at him. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, anymore.”
Lin Jing shushes him sharply, sending him a betrayed glance. “Our ranks may be dropping, one by one, but I’m in this until the end. I’ll prove that Chu Shuzhi has something up his sleeve — he may act all lovey-dovey in the office, but I bet he’s a different person when they’re away from prying eyes.”
Da Qing looks like he’s remembering something traumatizing, and he insistently wraps a hand around Lin Jing’s wrist. “Seriously, if you hear something you don’t want to, it’ll never leave you,” Da Qing says. “Trust me.”
“That’s your own fault,” Lin Jing says with a snort. “Nobody told you to live with Zhao Yunlan, did they?”
Da Qing pouts, sending Lin Jing a glare. “I was there first! Shen Wei usurped my position.”
“As what, Chief Zhao’s freeloader?” Da Qing swats him, and Lin Jing lets out a panicked cry, quickly righting his headset.
“This headset,” Lin Jing says, calmly, “costs more than your life.”
Da Qing shoots him a cold look, crossing his arms and leaning back on his seat. “Fine, fine. Are you even getting anything through the feed, yet? Everyone else is gone, you know, so you could just play it out loud.”
Lin Jing hesitantly agrees, pulling the headset down to rest on his neck and fiddling with his audio settings before the feed starts to play over the speakers, the sound of faintly muffled rhythmic steps echoing through the lab. Da Qing shifts, leaning over onto Lin Jing’s desk and burying his head in his hands.
“This is going to be a disaster,” he mumbles. “I can feel it.”
“Shut up,” Lin Jing fires back.
Over the speakers, the steps stop, and the sound of a door unlocking and closing behind Guo plays.
“Chu-ge,” calls Guo’s familiar voice. There’s an answering grunt, questioning.
“Why do you think everyone in the SID has been following us around lately?” Distantly, Chu breathes out a dark laugh.
“I’m sure they think I’m a bad influence,” Chu says, with a self-deprecating tilt to his voice. “They’re probably just worried.”
“Damn well we are,” Lin Jing growls. Da Qing just raises an eyebrow, turning back to concentrate on the audio feed.
“About me?” Guo asks, confused. “But why…?”
“They think I might be taking advantage of you,” Chu explains, patiently.
“Taking advantage of me? For wh—“ Guo cuts himself off, and there’s a pause before Guo squeaks out a sheepish “Oh.”
Chu’s answering wicked chuckle makes Da Qing want to melt into the floor.
“No doubt they also think I’ll hurt you, or corrupt your virtue,” Chu says, airily, faux nonchalance thick in his voice. There’s a rustling over the mic and quiet steps, a shift of position, before Guo speaks again.
“Do you think that they’re right?” Guo asks after a long pause, something sad in his voice.
Chu doesn’t respond.
“Chu Shuzhi,” Guo murmurs, open and honest. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since joining the SID, you know that?”
Chu mumbles out a choked “Yeah,” and there’s a harsh scrape against the microphone and a long period of silence.
Lin Jing frowns, turning up the audio sensitivity on the mic — still, nothing comes up but the faint sounds of breathing.
“Lin Jing,” Da Qing chokes out. “Turn the mic off, now.”
“Why—“
Over the speakers, Chu Shuzhi lets out a quiet groan and a whisper of Guo’s name, and Lin Jing almost slams his fist into his keyboard with the urgency of his force-quitting. Da Qing’s face is bright red, horrified, and Lin Jing suspects that there’s a similar expression on his own face.
“I told you,” Da Qing squeaks, eyes squeezed shut as if he’s trying to dispel the memory.
“I didn’t know,” Lin Jing says distantly. “I never want to hear Lao Chu make that kind of sound again.”
“Seconded,” Da Qing says, grimly.
“Anyway, do you believe us now? They’re in a perfectly normal, healthy relationship,” Da Qing continues, even as his face contorts into a grimace.
“I — I, uh —“ Lin Jing stammers, looking down at his hands as if the world’s come crashing down.
When he looks up again, there’s a suggestion of tears in his eyes, and Da Qing sends up a prayer for strength.
“How can Guo Changcheng be in a relationship when I’m still single?!”
iv. zhu hong
Zhu Hong comes into work the next day, immediately noticing the awkward tension in the air. Lin Jing won’t meet Da Qing’s eyes, and both of them stare blankly at their screens with only half-focus, haunted by the same memory.
She really doesn’t want to know.
Neither Zhao Yunlan nor Shen Wei are here yet, either, and somehow she feels like she really, really doesn’t want to know the reasons behind that, either.
She glances around — Wang Zheng and Sang Zan are tucked away upstairs in the library, as usual, and she spots Guo Changcheng and Chu Shuzhi up on the catwalk, sorting through old boxes. Zhu Hong smirks to herself, keeping a keen eye on their backs as she bides her time, a serpent poised to strike.
The minute Zhu Hong sees Guo timidly run off to the bathroom, she moves. Prowling up the stairs and approaching Chu’s crouching form, she slides down next to him, glancing into the box he’s rummaging through.
“Lao Chu,” she practically purrs, scooting closer, voice dropping low, threatening. “Hong-jie’s heard some things about you and Xiao Guo, hm?”
Chu barely bats an eye, continuing his work without even turning. It sends a flare of frustration through her, and she takes a deep, calming breath. She, unlike all her useless teammates, had done her research well.
“It’s unfair, you know. To Xiao Guo.” Chu stills at that, casting his gaze upward to meet her eyes.
“What?” His tone is brusque. In his hands, his fingers clench around an old brass lockbox, the hinges creaking faintly in complaint.
“If you’re using Xiao Guo as a replacement,” she says, carefully, “for your little brother. That’s not fair to him.”
“And what,” Chu says, voice deathly quiet, “would you know about my brother?”
“I don’t need to know anything,” Zhu Hong fires back. “But Xiao Guo deserves better than someone who only sees him as half a person and half a ghost.”
“I don’t—“ Chu starts, head dipping. His jaw clenches, and Zhu Hong can see his veins pulse with the strength of it, anger and shame alike flickering through his eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“It isn’t?” Zhu Hong asks, crossing her arms. I’ve got him, now. “Then tell me, Chu Shuzhi — how exactly is it?”
Chu is quiet for a long time before he speaks, each word hesitant, drawn out. “I saw Nianzhi in him, initially, but—“
He drops the metal in his hands back into the box with a clang.
“I would do anything to protect him, who he is, now.” Chu swallows, grief clouding his eyes for a heartbeat before it fades and he continues, softer than Zhu Hong’s ever heard him. “I don’t need — I don’t want him to be my brother.”
Zhu Hong smiles, finally, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Does he know that?”
Chu doesn’t respond, and Zhu Hong stands, patting him on the shoulder. Chu tenses at the contact, but doesn’t react.
“You’re a good man,” Zhu Hong says, before she walks away, leaving him. She passes by Guo on the way down, and shoots him a wink. He blinks at her, confused, before his mouth forms a tiny “Oh,” and he practically runs up the stairs the rest of the way back to Chu’s side.
Zhu Hong slithers her way back to her desk, where the rest of the office squad has reunited, already commiserating.
“Tell me you used your — your snake powers,” Lin Jing says, taking off his glasses.
“No,” Zhu Hong says, brushing him off as she returns to her seat.
“Zhu Hong,” Lin Jing begs. “You’re our last hope.”
Da Qing snorts, swatting Lin Jing over the head.
“Don’t try to break up the happy couple just because you’re sad and single,” Da Qing teases, to Lin Jing’s horror.
“That’s not why,” Lin Jing hisses back, and Zhu Hong rolls her eyes as she tunes them out, resting her head in a hand, elbow propped on the table. Boys.
Her train of thought drifts back to Chu Shuzhi, voice vulnerable and eyes full of uncertainty, looking only superficially like the hardened Dixing criminal she’d taken him for when he’d first walked into the office, three years ago. Over the span of their time together at the SID, she’s seen him angry and scared and everything in between — but never this, this recent wave of quiet acquiescence that seems to have overtaken him around Guo, content to follow in the boy’s wake and guard him from the dangers of the world without a second thought.
It’s almost like the way Professor Shen hovers around Zhao Yunlan, she thinks, but not quite — despite their obvious, all-consuming love for each other, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan still have responsibilities that weigh on their shoulders, the burden of self-sacrifice ingrained into their core. If it came down to it, she knows, they’d give up what they have for the greater good. It’s the kind of ridiculously selfless people they are, as frustrating as it is for Zhu Hong to see them continually put themselves at risk for the sake of complete strangers.
Chu Shuzhi, though, Zhu Hong thinks with an amused quirk of her lips, is selfish. Guo Changcheng may be one of the kindest souls on the planet, but the Dixing man that follows him like his shadow is anything but. The selflessness, the dedication to his mission, the sense of duty — these things Chu Shuzhi has in spades, but Zhu Hong has a feeling he’d let the rest of them go if it meant he’d keep Xiao Guo by his side.
What a pain, she thinks, already imagining all the scenarios in which this’ll undoubtedly drag them down during missions.
She sighs, shaking her head. At least now, with the Black-Cloaked Envoy within arm’s reach like Chief Zhao’s guardian angel, their job has boiled down less to fighting and more to cleaning up after other people’s messes, but Zhu Hong can’t tell if the recent change is a blessing or a curse.
While Chu Shuzhi might have it easy, with his main job being to knock people unconscious and look intimidating while doing it, the speed at which cases have been flying by means that the stack of paperwork on her desk never stops growing. Zhu Hong curses the damned Haixing Department of Supervision, grabbing the folder on top of the pile and viciously slamming it down on her desk, opening it up and squinting at the papers inside.
“…you’re one to talk, anyway! You’re the one that’s been alive for thousands of years, and you still haven’t scored a girlfriend?” Lin Jing’s voice drifts back over to Zhu Hong as she tries to read the report. Are they still on this?
“Shut up,” Zhu Hong hisses at them, eyes cutting from Da Qing to Lin Jing, who swallows and flinches. “If the two of you are so pathetically alone, why not just date each other?”
Both of them instantly pipe up with complaints about the other, to which Da Qing bristles and Lin Jing glares, and before she knows it they’re arguing with each other, loud voices distracting her readily from her work.
Spirits, send me strength, she thinks, letting her head drop down onto the table with a dull thunk.
v. zhao yunlan & shen wei
Their conversation, really, is comically short.
Shen Wei sits Chu Shuzhi down and spells out, very clearly, what his punishment would be if he, as a convicted Dixing criminal, ever laid hands on an innocent human — especially, the Envoy emphasizes, one as vulnerable as Guo Changcheng.
“I will not hesitate to execute my duties as Envoy,” he says, voice frosty.
Chu Shuzhi stares, half-terrified and half-exasperated, before bowing his head. Distantly, he wonders if Chief Zhao’s put him up to this, and he shudders at the thought of the Black-Cloaked Envoy, brought low by someone like Zhao Yunlan.
“I understand,” he replies.
“Good,” Shen Wei says, with a small, chipper smile. Chu stares, still hit with a wave of cognitive dissonance every time he has to reconcile the awe-inspiring intimidation of the legendary Black-Cloaked Envoy with the mild-mannered, lovestruck professor.
“Lord Envoy,” he says, hesitantly, before he can regret it. Shen Wei raises an eyebrow, waiting.
“How…” How can you stand it? Loving someone you know you’ll lose. Chu swallows, shaking his head and meeting Shen Wei’s eyes. “Is it worth it?”
Shen Wei pauses, before a genuine smile overtakes him, eyes crinkling at the edges. It’s an expression he’s seen before, but only ever at Zhao Yunlan — Chu has to begrudgingly admit that the Envoy is breathtaking, brilliantly attractive and seemingly eternally youthful.
“It is,” Shen Wei replies, with conviction. “If you love him, then it is. It always will be.”
Chu Shuzhi takes a breath, nodding, before bowing deep. The Envoy steps forward, gesturing for him to stand with a gentle touch on his shoulder.
“Take care of him,” Shen Wei says, mirth sparkling in his eyes, and Chu Shuzhi replies with a small smile of his own.
“I will, my lord.”
Chu Shuzhi has never been one to disobey orders.
Their conversation, on the other hand, is painfully and dreadfully long.
Zhao Yunlan seems to take gleeful, malevolent pleasure in Guo’s discomfort, letting long moments of awkward silence descend upon the room while sucking thoughtfully on his ever-present lollipop.
“Chu Shuzhi,” he says, thoughtfully, casting his eyes sideways at Guo, who gulps and nods.
“T-that’s right,” Guo stammers. Zhao raises an eyebrow, and Guo quickly appends, “Sir.”
“You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?” Zhao drawls, mischievous amusement clear in his eyes. Guo feels like a prey animal, trapped under Chief Zhao’s steady gaze. “I never would have thought. So easily scared, and he goes and gets into a relationship with our department’s only convicted felon.”
“Chu-ge isn’t like that!” The words escape Guo’s mouth before he can help it, and he quickly shrinks back in his seat when Chief Zhao gives him a surprised, appraising look. “I mean, w-with all due respect, Chief Zhao, he may have done some bad things in his past, but—“
He would never hurt me, Guo thinks, twisting his hands around the strap of his messenger bag. He’s been one of the kindest people to me.
“He has a good heart,” Guo finishes, softly. “And I — I don’t think we should let any of our pasts define us!”
Zhao Yunlan stares at him for a beat. Guo starts to sweat.
Suddenly, the silence is broken by Zhao Yunlan’s dry wheezing laugh, as he shakes his head.
“I know,” Zhao Yunlan says, leaning back. “Chu Shuzhi — he pretends to be all tough, but he’s a good man — albeit one too used to solving problems with violence.” The last part is more of a mutter, but Guo hears it regardless, frowning to himself.
“It’s what he knows,” Guo says, wistfully, before he looks up with conviction. “But it shouldn’t have to be.”
“No,” Zhao Yunlan says, the hint of a wry smile at the corner of his mouth, “It doesn’t.”
Zhao sighs, shrugging. “I’d threaten Lao Chu, but he’s outside my jurisdiction.”
Distantly, Guo imagines Chu, getting the shovel talk from the Black-Cloaked Envoy himself, and shivers in sympathetic fear.
They lapse into a comfortable silence, and after a moment Guo leans forward again.
“Well, if that’s all, sir—“
Zhao Yunlan raises a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down and get comfortable.
“On the contrary, my dear Xiao Guo. I’ve been reliably informed that you,” he says, waving a hand loosely at Guo, “were raised by your uncle and aunt. Which means, of course, that the burden of parental education seems to fall onto me, your beloved Chief Zhao.”
He lifts his hand dramatically to his own chest, gesturing at himself, and Guo feels the blood drain from his face.
“Y-you don’t mean,” Guo squeaks out, face heating up.
“Yes,” Zhao replies, gravely, though the beginning of a wicked smirk plays on his face. “It’s time for the talk.”
( + extra: chu shuzhi & guo changcheng )
“Come here,” Shuzhi murmurs, the minute they’re finally out of sight of any prying eyes and safely in his apartment — there’s a warm meal sizzling its way to fruition on the stove and the person he loves at his side, watching him cook with admiration in his eyes, and Chu Shuzhi breathes the moment in, feeling for the first time in decades like he’s coming home.
He moves forward, gently pulling Changcheng in by the neck. His eyes widen, but he lets Shuzhi move him, silently leaning closer until their foreheads are touching, breaths fanning out in their shared space. Shuzhi cups Changcheng’s cheek, thumb stroking over his jaw, his bottom lip, before Shuzhi breathes, “Can I,” and Changcheng nods instinctively, eyes wide, before Shuzhi leans in and kisses him soft, chaste. He pulls back after a few heartbeats, relishing in the way Changcheng’s breath hitches when his brain catches up to his body, the way the boy’s face blushes crimson.
Changcheng swallows, lifting a hand to touch his own lips before raising nervous eyes to meet Shuzhi’s.
“Chu-ge,” he says, and it’s half a question, a tremble making its way into Changcheng’s voice despite his best efforts. Shuzhi stills, waiting, his heart in his throat, before Changcheng moves, hand falling from his lips to reach out instead. His hand rests on the side of Shuzhi’s neck, fingers stroking slow across tanned skin. Changcheng smiles, radiant, and Shuzhi swears Changcheng should be able to feel the stutter of his pulse under his hands. Shuzhi ducks his head, pressing kisses to the corner of Changcheng’s smile.
He feels like Changcheng’s happiness is infectious, like his heart is full with the weight of it. Shuzhi can’t remember the last time he felt like this, and it must bleed out through his eyes, because Changcheng looks away, sheepish.
“D-do that again,” Changcheng whispers, already scrunching up his face, eyes closing. Shuzhi laughs, a quiet puff of breath, smoothing his fingers over the wrinkles in Changcheng’s brow before obeying, leaning in to capture Changcheng’s lips again in a languid kiss, hand dropping to smooth comfort into the nape of Changcheng’s neck. Changcheng makes small, aborted sounds of satisfaction in his throat that do strange things to Shuzhi’s chest, urging to press in further, deeper. Shuzhi wants to pull Changcheng in, wants to inhale him into his lungs. He makes a low, dark sound in the back of his throat, and feels Changcheng shudder in response — it makes him smirk, dark smile tugging at his lips as he pulls away.
Changcheng’s eyes are dazed, and Shuzhi watches, rapt, as he blinks away the glaze over his eyes, eyes coming back to glance at Shuzhi’s lips for a split second before meeting his gaze. Changcheng’s eyes are filled with warmth, and it softens Shuzhi’s smirk into a genuine smile, one that Changcheng reaches up to trace with a thumb.
“You should smile more,” he tells Shuzhi, an answering smile already spreading wide on his face. Changcheng drops his head to rest along the curve of Shuzhi’s neck.
“Chu-ge,” he says into the curve of Shuzhi’s shoulder, barely audible. Shuzhi can feel the flutter of his eyelids against his neck and the crinkle of his brow against his skin.
“Dumbass,” Shuzhi murmurs, fondly. “What are you thinking so hard about now?”
Changcheng doesn’t reply immediately, just shaking his head minutely. Shuzhi huffs out an amused breath before turning to his side, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Changcheng’s head.
“Chu-ge is too good to me,” Changcheng mutters suddenly, in a rush. “Even though I don’t have anything to offer, not compared to other people, and—“
“Stop,” Shuzhi says, cutting him off with a stifled groan. “You’re really an idiot sometimes, aren’t you?” Changcheng drops his gaze, expression ashamed, and Shuzhi reaches down to lift his chin with insistent hands. “Hey. The one I like is you, and not anyone else.”
Changcheng’s ears blush red, and he twists his hands in Shuzhi’s shirt out of nervous habit. Shuzhi feels an echoing warmth pulse under his skin, through his veins, and smiles, small. All the centuries of unrest and war fought over the warmth of the surface world, but Shuzhi feels like Changcheng’s smile shines brighter than sunlight on his skin — he feels like he could go the rest of his life without seeing blue skies again, so long as he has this boy by his side.
Shuzhi’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss Changcheng on the forehead. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”