Archive of Our Own ^beta

The pain of iron rods pierced through his palms ears away You Miao’s consciousness. Noises fade in and out, he hears laughter and mocking in a language he doesn’t understand. Someone is crying. 

The wind against his face feels rough and it carries dust he cannot wipe away. He’s not certain he can still feel his body. 

“... please,” that sounds like Li Yan and a part of You Miao cannot help but feel touched. Certainly, Li Yan hopes the ransom for You Miao may save his life, but to beg so insistently - 

Perhaps they’re not just fair-weather friends in the end.

There’s a dull thud and more laughter. The pleading stops. You Miao’s gaze wanders to the sky; blue and vast and cloudless. It reminds him of Li Zhifeng, and his heart aches.

If he could have seen him. Just once again. Just for a moment. 

But the wind only carries voices and footsteps disappearing into the distance. You Miao knows they’re leaving - and he’s being left to die. 

It’s … not terrible. He won’t last long; the blue sky isn’t a bad companion. The cold no longer touches him, the pain faded. Only a faint regret lingers in his heart. 

Consciousness comes and goes. You Miao watches the sunset paint the sky in fiery colors and wonders if this is a small blessing. Temperatures drop; he will not see the sun rise. 

Once the first stars rise, You Miao closes his eyes and waits for death.

"You Miao, You Miao, wake up.”

Someone whispers. Hands shake him, but they are gentle, as if afraid to hurt him.

“You Ziqian. Open your eyes! Please!” 

The voice cracks on the last plea, and You Miao returns to himself. Stars sparkle overhead, diamonds against a vast expanse of darkness. His breath catches, and the other person abruptly freezes.

“... You Miao?” 

His throat is too raw to answer, but You Miao manages a small noise and to turn his head. Zhao Chao’s face is hidden in shadows, but he hears a choked sob, and watches Zhao Chao’s shoulders shake.

Hands, callused and warm, brush over his face, wiping away dried blood and dust and dirt. The touch is so gentle, something hot wells up in You Miao’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Zhao Chao whispers brokenly. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.” He bends down, forehead nearly touching You Miao’s chest. “I didn’t … the horse, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t mean to leave you, I -“ His voice vanishes, too choked and hoarse. 

You Miao can’t soothe him, but he knows. He understands, and had understood then, had hoped for Zhao Chao to make it. 

That he turned around for You Miao -

“I’m getting you out of here,” Zhao Chao whispers, and roughly wipes the tears from his own face. “Don’t be afraid, I’ll save you. This time I won’t let you down.”

He sets to work, and You Miao blacks out when the iron rods get pulled from his hands. The pain barely registers yet his body has grown too weak to withstand further shocks. Zhao Chao doesn’t mind, doesn’t complain when You Miao’s legs refuse to carry him but quietly lifts him in his arms and holds him close to his chest. 

The warmth makes the bruises and wounds on his body sting, but You Miao burrows into it. He can barely lift a finger, yet he hopes Zhao Chao understands - no matter how this night ends, You Miao will never regret these few moments of tender warmth. He curls against Zhao Chao’s chest and clenches his teeth as the movements jar his wounds. Not a spot on his body does not hurt, and he blacks out several times while Zhao Chao wrestles them both on a horse. 

“Ziqian?” Hot breath tickles his ear, an arm curls around his waist and holds him tightly against a broad chest. The horse moves slowly, and a distant part of You Miao’s mind registers that Zhao Chao’s escape hinges on not attracting notice by passing as a herdsman. The rough furs he wears obscure You Miao from view, but still the utter darkness and the tartar’s overconfidence most work for them. 

“You Ziqian, you still here with me?” Unease swings in Zhao Chao’s voice, and You Miao manages a weak noise. 

The grip around his waist tightens, and Zhao Chao’s head slumps forward. He doesn’t dare to lean on You Miao, not he cannot see how bad the injuries are, but every time the figure in his arms grows quiet, fear surges. 

“Please don’t … please hold on a little longer,” Zhao Chao pleads. “I know… I know you must hurt and I’m sorry. I’ll get you somewhere safe, soon. But don’t close your eyes, don’t … don’t leave, do you hear me?” 

If he had any strength, You Miao would take his hand and hold it. But his own hands are useless lumps of flesh, and he doesn’t know if they will ever hold a brush or a teacup again. In truth, he cannot promise Zhao Chao anything - the distant pain, the way his mind floats, he knows he may not survive. 

But with Zhao Chao pleading - with Li Zhifeng out there still - You Miao can only cling onto life with all the strength he has left. 

Outside of Da’an, Li Zhifeng stares at the ground. Wind and sun haven’t yet carried away the distinct shadows of dried blood, and other bodies rot not too far away. None of them is You Miao, Li Zhifeng checked. 

“We left him here,” one of the guards at his side says. “He was gone this morning.” 

Li Zhifeng stares. 

“Perhaps the wolves got him. Usually they don’t take whole bodies, but it’s not as it hadn’t happened before.” The guard shrugs, unconcerned. Li Zhifeng’s blood runs cold, but his mind whirls. 

Wolves leave traces. Torn clothes, flesh, blood. Signs of a struggle. 

There is nothing here, and Li Zhifeng can only hold his breath and hope.

Three days they ride through uninhabited mountains. You Miao develops a fever, struggles with nightmares and hallucinations Zhao Chao is helpless against. At night he melts snow for You Miao to boil a weak broth with whatever herbs he could scavenge. One lucky day, they encounter a sheep which must have strayed from its flock - it’s too weak to escape, and there’s barely any meat on its bones. 

It’s the most delicious thing he ever tasted, but You Miao cannot take more than two bites before his stomach clenches and pain flares up. He weakly pushes Zhao Chao’s hand away. “You eat…” 

Grief flashes over Zhao Chao’s face. “Ziqian…”

You Miao manages a weak smile. “One of us needs to be strong.” 

Zhao Chao sets the meat aside and pulls You Miao into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, fighting tears. “I promised to keep you safe … just hold on a little longer. Please.” He gently rests his forehead against You Miao’s, feeling the fever that won’t leave. His heart aches for all the things he cannot do - 

That first night he found a safe place and tried to dress You Miao’s wounds. But without medicine or bandages all Zhao Chao could do was wipe away the blood and dirt and wrap You Miao in a stolen fur robe. 

“Just a little longer.”

You Miao nods weakly. As long as he can, he will. 

When he first spots the group of tents dotting the snow-covered landscape surrounded by horses and cattle, his heart leaps into his throat. Fear makes him try to straighten, urge Zhao Chao to turn their horse around and hide. But Zhao Chao tenderly tugs the fallen furs over You Miao’s shoulders and tells him everything is fine. 

Relief swings in his voice. 

You Miao doubts it, body high-strung with tension and each step taking them closer to the settlement makes new worries bloom. Perhaps Zhao Chao, too, is too hurt, too fatigued to tell friend from foe any longer? And only You Miao never noticed?

Yet as they draw close, they are greeted by the nomads in broken Chinese, and the clan’s healer waves them toward a tent. This group, You Miao learns, has lived along the border in peace for many years. During summer they migrate south, trade with the villages on the other side of the border. Far away from all larger towns and politics, relations are good - which is why this group saved Zhao Chao and now risks their own lives to hide the two of them. 

Astonishment keeps You Miao wide awake those first hours. But then his injuries claim their due and he spends a long time dazed and confused. Someone treats his hands, cleans the wounds and bandages them. His clothes are stripped, changed; hair washed and brushed. The fur blankets around him are soft and warm, and sometimes someone strong and warm carries him outside for sunlight. He’s cradled like something precious, fragile, and while once You Miao might have protested this treatment, he now leans into that chest, soaks up the familiar scent, and allows his stressed soul to rest. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes until his mind clears. 

The wounds on You Miao’s body are slow to heal. Although the clan’s head healer does not speak Chinese, Zhao Chao gleans it from his expression. The worst passed, but You Miao’s condition remains dangerous. Weight and muscle lost, grievous injuries, yet what the healer worries most is their sum. And Zhao Chao knows because he has seen less brutal experiences kill stronger men. 

But You Miao wakes up and though dazed, retains himself. A spark of curiosity lights his eyes when he is awake to take in their surroundings, he asks Zhao Chao more and more questions, and struggles to stand on his own feet. Zhao Chao would rather he not force himself - he’ll carry You Miao for the rest of his life if need be - but You Miao won’t have it. 

“We cannot wait for the spring migration,” You Miao tells Zhao Chao. The herdsmen will move in spring, bringing them close to the border where You Miao and Zhao Chao might slip across unseen. 

Zhao Chao purses his lips, unhappily. He understands, he knows his duty. There is an unspoken guilt of having chosen to rescue You Miao when he knew his brother and father were kept in the same city. A thousand of good reasons why he could not rescue them - but in the end Zhao Chao knows that in his heart this guilt is not as heavy as it ought to be. 

“When you are better,” he tells You Miao, reaching out to stroke his hair. (Zhao Chao would not mind staying here, among the herdsmen. He doesn’t mind the physical work, doesn’t mind doing it all. But You Miao will not remain here). 

You Miao lowers his eyes. “I am keeping you here. You should -”

“You Ziqian,” Zhao Chao interrupts sharply. “Do not ask me to leave without you.” 

A wry smile steals over You Miao’s face, and Zhao Chao’s heart settles in his chest. The horror of seeing You Miao fall off the horse, arrow in his shoulder, still chills his heart. 

“Alright,” You Miao agrees. 

More days pass, but in truth it is not even half a month between their escape and the arrival of a lone rider. The herdsmen tense, instructing Zhao Chao and You Miao to hide themselves. If it’s an envoy from Da’an, he cannot discover their presence. 

Yet the voice asking in broken local dialect after one or two Han is familiar. 

You Miao’s heart surges. Disbelief and joy war in his chest as he staggers to his feet, forgetting about the pain and unsteadiness. He rushes outside, head swimming from elation and dizziness. Several people call out; surprise and shock and if he guessed wrong, he’s ruined them all - 

But You Miao did not err.

Clad in dark furs, Li Zhifeng looks at him like he’s seeing the sun for the first time after a long winter. Shadows line his eyes, and there is a haunted look to them You Miao wants to soothe away. He doesn’t know what he shouts or if his throat manages a sound at all, but Li Zhifeng rushes forward. 

And then strong, familiar arms close around You Miao and hold him tight. He presses his face against Li Zhifeng’s chest, soaking in his scent and heat and the world beyond fades from his notice. Li Zhifeng holds him tight enough his legs no longer need to carry his weight and before long has lifted him, cradled him, and around them the shock has turned into a pleased sort of confusion. 

“I found you,” Li Zhifeng murmurs, voice so quiet perhaps even You Miao isn’t meant to hear those words. “I finally found you.”

You Miao feels his eyes burn. “You did,” he mutters and allows the loneliness and longing of those long, terrible months to drain from his body. The fragmented pieces of his heart settle in place, and maybe tonight he will no longer see nightmares. 

Zhao Chao strolls from the tent, a heartbeat behind You Miao. He sees their reunion and cannot begrudge them. A sting in his heart, but in these times, he welcomes Li Zhifeng. Yet he doesn’t disturb them, and it is a long time before Li Zhifeng finally turns to him. 

Li Zhifeng holds You Miao in his arms and Zhao Chao doesn’t know if You Miao passed out. Perhaps Li Zhifeng will stalk past him and settle You Miao into the tent, stay at his side and tend to him, and Zhao Chao will not protest. He was there when the city fell and could not save You Miao. Nor could he save him when they fled, and when Zhao Chao finally accomplished the deed, it was only luck which kept You Miao alive. 

If Li Zhifeng begrudges him those failures, Zhao Chao will not protest. 

To his surprise, Li Zhifeng’s footsteps stop. Zhao Chao raises his head, looks away from where he’d lost himself, staring at the snow at his feet. Li Zhifeng meets his eyes and they carry a silent respect Zhao Chao thinks had not been there before. He can’t make sense of Li Zhifeng’s expression, and then Li Zhifeng inclines his head. 

“Thank you for saving him.”