Chapter Text
He couldn't remember what the world felt like.
There was pressure in his belly. A noise, insistent and shrill, drilled into his head. A hand gripped his left shoulder. A voice shouted in his ear.
Everything was loud. Everything was painful.
"…Yi, come on…"
His eyes fluttered open. Tried.
"…hen Yi, please."
He exhaled in response, breathless and imperceptible even to his own ears. It contributed nothing, merely scumbling the surrounding cacophony.
The hand and voice persisted, though, galvanized by his insubstantial response. The hand didn't shake, but the voice did.
"Damn it, wake up." Finally, an actual shake. But it was gentle, incongruous with the terse syllables that hammered his ears.
Shen Yi—it took a worrying beat too long to recall his name—opened his eyes.
Wrong. Everything was wrong. The air smelled scorched when he inhaled. The light moved, shadows flailed, color faded, and then flared too intensely. An oily, sour taste gathered on his tongue.
Shen Yi shuddered. Everything burrowed into his bones, filling the marrow with all of its wrongness.
"Shen Yi, look at me."
Du Cheng, his face smudged with soot, wavered in front of him—blocky and indistinct, an out-of-focus Cubist painting, but still recognizable.
"Welcome back," Du Cheng breathed. His hand dug into Shen Yi's shoulder. "Took you long enough."
The world restored itself one layer at a time. The shadowy background settled. An impasto formed shapes before him. The dabs of color filled in gaps to imitate the anemic light.
"Shen Yi?" Du Cheng squinted up at him.
That in itself roused Shen Yi further. He was the one who usually looked up.
Another shake. Just as careful. Just as ill-matched to his terse voice.
"Stay awake—no, don't close your eyes! Look at me!"
"I am," Shen Yi managed. He swallowed convulsively. Du Cheng's face was in constant flux, like an image struggling to focus. His mouth moved, but Shen Yi barely heard him. The continuous shrill beeping assaulted his ears.
"The angle's all wrong," Shen Yi complained weakly.
"What?" Du Cheng's brow furrowed. Du Cheng reached up with two fingers to Shen Yi's jugular. The grime on his face creased into worry lines. This close, Shen Yi saw the bruise that mottled the left side of Du Cheng's eye and cheekbone. Reds, purples, blues under smudges of ashy black.
Shen Yi wondered muzzily what Du Cheng counted; why he appeared unhappy—wait.
"Why am I upside down?" Shen Yi croaked. He wasn't. Not really. He's trapped in his seat, suspended in a way he shouldn't be. The inwardly bent passenger door clamped down on his right flank. The rest of him sagged into his harness. He felt like a fly caught in a web.
"We were in an accident." Du Cheng's hand remained under Shen Yi's jaw. "We rolled."
"Your jeep." The last layer settled over the surrounding world: the interior of Du Cheng's jeep. The jeep lay on the driver's side like a beached whale.
The incessant beeping at last drew a name. It was from a navigation system. Shen Yi's heavy head lifted towards the sound.
"Don't." Du Cheng's hand slipped over Shen Yi's jaw, but Shen Yi saw the distorted face crushed between his passenger side window and the other car. The car's dashboard valiantly warbled, "Collision alert." Red lights flashed feebly from within the ruin of the vehicle.
Du Cheng's set mouth answered the question Shen Yi didn't ask.
Something popped. Something hissed.
Du Cheng's face darkened.
"We can't stay here."
Du Cheng stooped awkwardly to fit on the driver's side. His boots creaked as they stood on the door. The steering wheel was against Du Cheng's hip, a buttress of leather and steel.
Something pulsed—muffled and dull—from his right side every time Shen Yi took a breath. He squirmed to look. Du Cheng barked out a warning—
Moving was a mistake.
The pressure on Shen Yi's right side erupted. He cried out—no, coughed—and when the haze lifted, Du Cheng's face was speckled with fresh red spots.
"You shouldn't be moved." Du Cheng's hand gripped Shen Yi's left elbow. Du Cheng's jaw worked. His eyes narrowed at something behind Shen Yi. They returned to Shen Yi.
"I'm cutting you out of your seatbelt. Shen Yi, do you understand me?"
Shen Yi nodded. Du Cheng's tightly reined voice demanded an answer. He couldn't remember why.
Du Cheng repositioned himself. Shen Yi's hands flopped onto the top of Du Cheng's shoulders. Shen Yi grimaced. Du Cheng murmured under his breath, maybe to Shen Yi, maybe to himself. Du Cheng guided his arms to loop around his middle instead.
It was an odd sort of embrace. Shen Yi's chin rested on Du Cheng's shoulder. Du Cheng's heartbeat thumped against Shen Yi's face.
The world shed more of its haziness and steadied. Everything sharpened in contrast, into something identifiable at minimum. Breathing was easier…sort of.
The crimson splatter on his window seemed to squirm.
"Shen Yi," Du Cheng said sharply. "Don't close your eyes."
"I'm not," Shen Yi mumbled over Du Cheng's throat. Du Cheng smelled of copper and sweat.
"Listen to me," Du Cheng said into Shen Yi's hair. "I need you to hold still."
A thin snick of a blade sounded distinctly among the noise. The pocket utility knife from Du Cheng's back pocket. Nylon hissed as it split.
Around them, something crackled louder. Smoke filled. It tickled Shen Yi's throat. Du Cheng coughed; he told Shen Yi not to do the same.
"Come on," Du Cheng muttered under his breath. He was a column, his broad shoulders a plinth, his breath measured and calm. But his heart pounded harder against Shen Yi's cheek.
Du Cheng swore abruptly. Whatever he attempted didn't work. Shen Yi jerked. His right side shrank tighter over his bones. He bleated weakly. It wasn't loud; maybe he didn't say it at all. But Du Cheng crowded closer, his arm tighter around Shen Yi's torso.
"Almost there."
Smoke pushed its way deeper into the jeep. Du Cheng vanished into the indistinct haze that reeked of fuel and metal.
Shen Yi's eyes widened. His arms quivered as they cinched tighter around Du Cheng.
"I'm still here. We're fine." Du Cheng's voice, now disembodied, remained relaxed. Du Cheng's heart continued to drum a frantic beat.
The soup of gasoline and smoke thickened around them. Acrid bitterness collected at the base of Shen Yi's throat. Don't cough. Du Cheng said not to cough.
"Damn it." Whatever Du Cheng did failed again. The strap crisscrossed Shen Yi's body jerked but did not release.
One tug suddenly yanked Shen Yi back into his seat.
"Shit!"
Shen Yi vomited. It tasted metallic when it dribbled out of his mouth.
Du Cheng dropped into a lower crouch. His face pressed uncomfortably against Shen Yi's throat. Du Cheng's arm returned around Shen Yi. His other arm wormed between the door and his trapped body.
Shen Yi's seat clunked back an inch from the jagged door. Suddenly, the vise on his right side was gone.
A biting heat flooded through Shen Yi. He whimpered.
Du Cheng swore again. The seatbelt tugged, moved, and hurt. He wanted to tell Du Cheng to stop, whatever he was doing, stop, please stop—
Thick braided straps yielded with a snarl. Bonds broken, Shen Yi tumbled into Du Cheng's hold. It was both reassuring and painful.
"I got you," Du Cheng grunted. He lowered them to face the cracked windshield. Red miniature starbursts reflected off the glass.
There was a kick. Another. Du Cheng sounded angry with each kick. And getting angrier.
Shen Yi blinked; his head lolled on Du Cheng's shoulder. He tried to reconcile the present world around him with the one in his memory. They didn't align completely. Some colors still mismatched, some shapes around him distorted into alien landscapes.
Smoke continued to fill the jeep. He couldn't see the shoulder he slumped against.
"Your jeep," Shen Yi mumbled.
Du Cheng shushed him. And kicked again.
With a crackle, the damaged windshield surrendered. The pebbled glass ballooned out, then flopped away from the frame with a crunching gasp.
"Hold on," Du Cheng said. Shen Yi wasn't sure why Du Cheng's voice was so close to his ear. Hold on?
Shen Yi's legs lashed out as Du Cheng dragged, pulled, crawled them out of the damaged vehicle. Du Cheng babbled—comprehension dissolved when the words reached Shen Yi's ears—they were almost out, I got you, shit, I'm sorry, Shen Yi, almost clear, sorry, shh, I got you, hold on—
When Du Cheng finally stopped, the world exhaled. Everything expanded outward.
Hands rolled Shen Yi into the recovery position on his left side. He blinked, his eyes half-mast, his limbs too heavy to move, at their new surroundings.
Suddenly, Du Cheng shouted before he bodily threw himself over Shen Yi.
The world shook. The ground beneath him vibrated as an explosion tore apart the jeep.
"Alright?" Du Cheng didn't wait for an answer. His hand slipped under Shen Yi's chin. Two fingers pressed on his jugular once more. Du Cheng frowned.
Whatever answer Shen Yi's heartbeat gave wasn't satisfactory again. Shen Yi wanted to apologize for whatever it was, but all he could do was lie there and pant.
Fumes roiled; ash hung above like a dark blanket. The asphalt under their bodies was hard and cool. The new blaze, fueled by gas tanks, cooked the air. His exposed skin felt sunburned.
"Sir! Cheng-dui! Shen-laoshi! Are you two alright?" A vaguely familiar voice was suddenly there. A petite woman in a faded sky-blue windbreaker crouched by them.
"Yee Meng, from Traffic. Off duty. I was driving home and saw what happened."
She was wide-eyed, with pink bow-shaped lips, and her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. She once lamented to Lao Yan about her wilted aloe plant. Even Li Han would be her senior.
"I need your belt." Du Cheng was blunt; urgency overrode courtesy. "Loop it around him. Under that thing. Be careful. I don't know how deep it's in."
Shen Yi squinted gritty eyes, first up to Du Cheng, then to where hands clamped around something that should not be there sticking out above his right hip.
A bar as thick as two of his brushes reached for the sky like a gnarled paw from his flesh. It…he wasn't sure what it was. Just that it didn't belong there.
"You're okay," Du Cheng said when Shen Yi made a noise—he tried not to, but that shouldn't be there. "It didn't go through to the other side. Just hold—Shen Yi, hold still."
Shen Yi gulped. He tore his eyes away.
"Yee-jingguan, situation." Either Du Cheng remembered her or did not have the patience. Possibly both.
"Four passenger cars behind yours. One tanker. The ambulances are two minutes out. Fire trucks are one minute out."
Du Cheng dropped a hand onto Shen Yi's head. His eyes were sharp and assessing as he surveyed the scene. Shen Yi saw the dichotomy: worry and duty that warred like two different portraits.
It was harder to draw in a breath to squeeze a word out. Something very large sat against Shen Yi's right hip. It grounded into his bones like a mortar and pestle.
His shaky hand brushed against Du Cheng's knee.
Go, Shen Yi mouthed. He tasted blood on his tongue. So he smiled, tight-lipped; he dammed the metallic taste collecting behind his teeth.
Du Cheng stared at Shen Yi, his jaw set, his mouth a thin slit across a bruised face. He nodded jerkily. He shrugged out of his jacket and tucked it under Shen Yi's head. Leather, smoke, and sweat filled his nostrils. Another jacket—Yee Meng's—covered his legs.
"Yee-jingguan, make sure he's in an ambulance as soon as they arrive."
"Stay awake," Du Cheng told him. It was an order and a plea. Du Cheng's hand dropped back on top of Shen Yi's head and caught Shen Yi's feeble nod.
Du Cheng heaved up to his feet. He towered over Shen Yi, the descending sun behind him casting his face in shadow. He stood there, his fists curling and uncurling, before he exhaled gustily. He pivoted around and staggered towards the burning wrecks.
Sirens rose higher. Not to be outdone, the cries for help pitched higher. Shen Yi watched with a detachment he vaguely thought should be concerning.
Yee Meng's eyes oscillated from him to their surroundings. Du Cheng pulled them far from the jeep, from everything. Far enough that the smoke smelled distant, as if it was happening somewhere else.
Karl Bryullov's The Last Day of Pompeii simmered before Shen Yi. No, wait, it made little sense. The world burned with fires, but not from Vesuvius. Another mountain raged.
Mangled vehicles formed a jagged range; it trapped the smoke in. The jeep writhed within the flames. Another car partially crushed the jeep. The vehicles locked in combat, metallic skeletons burning within the conflagration. Like everything else. The fire felt like it leaped into Shen Yi as well.
The sirens arrived, louder than the screams of fear and pain and the pounding of blood caught in Shen Yi's throat. He lost track of Du Cheng when he limped into the fray.
The ground under him was black. The sunset that gilded the sky red and gold retreated to the dark as well. The world blurred back into a canvas of oily strokes of fiery orange and suffocating black.
Du Cheng…He couldn't see Du Cheng.
Yee Meng's hand felt childlike on the side of Shen Yi's neck. He wondered if she could hear the frantic rhythm of his heart. It hammered fast and heavy; it was hard to draw a breath around it.
Shen Yi wanted to lift his head. All he managed was a blink. Pompeii thrashed within the flames and—no, not Pompeii, this, where was he?
His eyes zeroed in on a nut, or a bolt, something—perfect and unscathed, part of something but alone now. It lay between him and the chaos.
A new explosion in the distance bellowed more smoke, inciting more screams.
The bolt on the ground trembled.
Yee Meng's hand on his jugular shook. She craned her neck to search through the heavy, acrid smoke.
Du Cheng. Which way did he go?
Yee Meng's head snapped back towards him.
"Shen-laoshi, don't move!" She adopted Du Cheng's manner: her voice sharp, her hand the opposite.
"Shen-lao—Here! Over here!" Yee Meng waved to someone in the distance.
Another explosion. More smoke. More shouts. The bolt shivered as the ground under his body heaved.
No Du Cheng. His jeep? Was he—no, he got them out. Where was Du Cheng?
The metal piece beckoned, unblemished and sharp in its clarity. A compass point, to where his friend might be, where he vanished, hopefully nowhere near Karl Bryullov's Pompeii, the explosions, or the smoke. It knew answers. All he needed to do was reach for it.
"Shen-laoshi, stay still! You need to be—"
Whatever Yee Meng was about to say, with one hand clutching his wrist now, the other gesturing wildly at something beyond his sight, Shen Yi couldn't catch. The explosions, the fire, tunneled deeper into his body. Darkness ate the light until all that remained was the fulgent bolt. It reflected the fire. It glinted like a navigator's star. A heartbeat later, even that was gone.
Then, there was nothing at all.