I know, people change just like the weather

[fanoperator]

For the past months, it has been difficult for Huaisang to view his return with anything but grief.

He’s been grateful to still have the memories of his time in Duplicity, the love and laughter and frivolity of those years, but the memories are all that remain to him. The scar of his navel piercing is gone, his jewelry is gone along with the charms that had been bound with it, and his lovers are lost to him.

He steps back into his life as though he had never left. Qinghe runs with or without him, because he leads the way he always has: the practicalities and bureaucracy are put in the hands of capable and intelligent people, and Huaisang handles the diplomacy himself. Systems of grain storage and mining and civil defense function without his oversight, and the fussing of the nobles can just damn well wait. It’s a relief, at least, to no longer need to play at stupidity and ignorance, though he still makes use of it when it suits him. In Duplicity he grew comfortable in power and confident in himself, but now he must set aside so many of those trappings. His robes are fine quality but unobtrusive, and he wears no jewelry except the silver guan in his hair and the plain gold ring on his finger. It isn’t the same ring, and no matter how many times Huaisang tries to activate it with a spark of magic it will never summon his husband.

Alone at night, he weeps, curled up tight into himself and mourning everything he’s lost. By day, he makes himself hard and unyielding as steel—just like his brother and father before him. He handles others as gently as ever and rewards loyalty with silver and praise as generously as ever, but his walls are back up, locking his heart and emotions tightly away. When he can, he spends his hours in the library, studying and practicing his cultivation, anything to try and build a bridge between the worlds and draw Javert home to him, but every effort is empty and fruitless, leaving him exhausted and lonelier than ever.

He’s in the midst of a mind-aching discussion with several of his officials over how to get more bureaucrats with high enough aptitudes, but they can’t be tested for aptitudes if they don’t have enough education to test, and they can’t be educated if they don’t have the time or money to acquire that education.

“Why can’t we just … subsidize it,” Huaisang groans, rubbing at his face and slumping further in his chair. “I don’t know. Teach every eight year old to read, then test them after a year.”

“And where do you want to take money away from in order to subsidize such an enormous undertaking?” Toutong asks him, maddeningly deadpan.

“I don’t … I don’t know.” Huaisang whines petulantly, knowing that his seneschal will endure it with seemingly endless patience and continue tirelessly keeping Huaisang’s government running. “Don’t ask me anything, I don’t know.”

A clerk comes into the room, walking swiftly and looking flustered. “Sect Leader Nie. There’s … a foreigner asking for you.”

Blinking with bewildered curiosity, Huaisang gestures encouragingly at the clerk. Even though Nie Sizhe is younger and less experienced, he normally would know enough to extract the necessary details of who and what from anyone trying to get an audience from the Sect Leader. “And?”

“And … that’s it. He seems to be a beggar. Perhaps deranged. He doesn’t seem to understand any questions and he won’t say anything but your name or some babbling in his foreign tongue.”

Huaisang gives a snort at the absurdity of it. “Have we already tried feeding him and sending him on his way?”

“Yes, of course. He keeps asking for you. Just Nie Huaisang. Nie Huaisang.”

Sighing, Huaisang sits up properly and smoothes his skirts, trying to look a bit more like a sect leader. “And did we try giving him some mulberry leaves? Silkworms? Silk?”

“Oh.” Nie Sizhe blinks a few times at this, surprised to consider taking the request more literally, that perhaps the stranger meant the words to hold mulberry leaves rather than the sect leader’s name. “Should I try that?”

“No, just bring him in. I’m curious now. And if he doesn’t actually know who I am, we’ll figure out his babbling from there.”

“With guards,” Nie Toutong added. “He might be an assassin.”

Huaisang rolled his eyes, but gestured yes do that, and Nie Sizhe scurried away to obey.

Comments

[policier]

Javert always believed that he and Huaisang were fated to be together, that their paths were meant to cross and they were destined to spend the rest of their lives together. He cannot be certain that this is the same world, the same China, the same Qinghe that Huaisang spoke so fondly about. All that he can do is hope. Every night he prays that God will send him on the right path — he, who had never had any reason to pray for anything before. He does not know if he can go on without him.

Even if Huaisang does not recognize him, if he has lost his memories like everyone else who leaves Duplicity — it will be enough just to see him. He will be happy just to catch a glimpse of him on the street, to look upon him and know that he is well and taken care of. That is all that matters to him. He will endure whatever hardships he has to get there.

He discards his uniform as soon as he is able to, trading his wool and buttons away for a set robes and a sash. He looks very much like a peasant, a man without a coin to his name — and that is not too far from the truth. Javert said he would become a farmer when he quit the police, when he begged M. Madeleine to dismiss him from his post. He farms, he does whatever work he can to pay for his next meal, a roof over his head or a bed to lay in.

He speaks Huaisang's name like a litany, asking about him to anyone who will listen. Many of them think him crazy, a little mad and strange — Javert tries to soften that impression by being polite and submissive. Even when he has made it all the way to Qinghe, to the mountains Huaisang illustrated to him with paintings and words, he is just as demure, just as polite and stiff as he always is. He cannot speak the language, and that frustrates him more than he will admit.

"Nie Huaisang. I must see him." He knows the only words they will understand is the name, but that is enough. Javert remains where he is, unwilling to leave until the clerk does as he asks. There are guards on either side of him, appearing before him with serious and menacing looks. Javert doesn't pay them any mind. He's not here to cause trouble.

He enters the room as quietly as he can, keeping his head bowed and his eyes lowered. Waiting for the clerk say his piece. Javert knows that he should bow, get down on his knees and show deference to their clan leader, but once he raises his eyes, he is lost. He could not be more shocked than if a bolt of lightning struck the floor in front of him. He stands with his feet rooted to the ground, his entire body shaking with the effort to keep himself still.

"Huaisang." It's me. I've found you. He speaks his husband's name with reverence, searching his face for some sort of recognition.

[fanoperator]

Huaisang's attitude is all lazy impatience when they bring in the old beggar, gray hair cut short like a criminal, and seeing Javert is so unexpected that it takes his brain a moment to recognize the possibility. He sits up quickly, eyes widening, and then rises to his feet, brain whirling as to how he can handle this.

"I know him," he states, gesturing with a splay of fingers to indicate that the guards can take a step back. "Leave us."

Nie Toutong immediately took a step forward, concerned at his Sect Leader's casual willingness to be along with a dangerous foreigner, possibly a criminal. "Nie-Zongzhu."

"I know him," Huaisang repeats, firmly, giving Toutong a look to let him see the certainty in Huaisang's expression, then takes a step forward, eyes returning to his husband. "Javert," he says, then folds his hands one over the other, bringing them up toward his forehead and lowering his head in a shallow bow to demonstrate what he wants, since they've already told him that Javert doesn't seem to know civilized language. Then he points at the floor at his feet, expecting that his husband will remember how to perform the kowtow the way Huaisang taught him for their wedding.

[policier]

Javert doesn't understand a word that's being spoken between the two of them, looking from Huaisang to the clerk and then back, following their reactions with his eyes as if to ascertain their meaning. When Huaisang addresses him, Javert stands fully at attention, his back straight and rigid, in a soldierly-like attitude befitting a man from the 19th century. Out of time and country, just as he had been in Duplicity.

He bows precisely as Huaisang taught him to, placing his hands in front of him and bending down at the knee. His movements are practiced and certain, his forehead pressing against the floor and it is only then when he lets out a sigh of relief. Huaisang knows his name. He recognizes him. Everyone who said that such a thing was impossible was wrong.

He stays on his knees for a little while longer, not getting up until he feels it acceptable to do so.

[fanoperator]

"I know him," Huaisang repeats, nodding toward the door. "Leave us."

Nie Toutong hesitates a moment longer, though the old man's obedience and show of respect has helped ease his doubt a little, as Huaisang intended it to.

Huaisang repeats himself once more, putting a note of irritated authority into it, and his clerks and guards trail out of the room, though Huaisang doubts whether they'll go any farther than the hall outside.

As soon as they have gone, Huaisang drops to his knees in front of his husband, gently lifting him from his bow and then wriggling into Javert's arms, clinging to him with desperation and immediately bursting into tears on his husband's shoulder. "Javert. Javert. Emile."

[policier]

"Huaisang." He speaks his husband's name with just as much reverence as before, his arms wrapping instinctively around the other man's shoulders. Holding onto him as if he will never let him go, his fingers curling into his sides and clutching him possessively.

"I told you I would find you," he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into Huaisang's hair. He knows the other man won't be able to understand him, not anymore than Javert can understand Huaisang. There are no words that need to be spoken between them. They both know each other ⁠— they can guess one another's thoughts. Javert kisses the top of Huaisang's head and speaks to him gently, hushing him a little when his tears become a little too much. "I never stopped looking."

[fanoperator]

Any hope Huaisang had of still being able to understand his husband slips away as he speaks. The words are lovely, like water in a stream, but they mean nothing to Huaisang's ears. Still, he knows the sentiment behind them, the love and devotion.

"I love you," Huaisang says, sitting up a little but staying within the safe warmth of Javert's arms. He shows his own ring, though it's not the same one. "I had to replace it." He turns it, sending a visible little spark through it, but it does nothing, because this one has never been charmed. Then he reaches for Javert's hand to see whether he still has the ring or whether his will also need to be replaced.

[policier]

Javert offers his hand out to him, rough and calloused and far more worn than they ever were in Duplicity. There's no golden ring on his finger, and that plunges Javert even further into despair — his face painful and distraught when Huaisang realizes his gift is no longer there.

"Forgive me," he says, his voice trembling a little with emotion. "I seem to have lost mine as well."

He cannot say how many times he's reached for it, how many times he's woken up in a panic because his husband was not next to hom and his ring was no longer on his finger. He takes Huaisang's hand and kisses it reverently, his eyes closing with sorrow and relief at having found him.

[fanoperator]

Huaisang takes off his own ring to slide it onto Javert's finger. He tries the ring finger first, then feels foolish when it doesn't fit. It fits well enough on Javert's pinky, at least, so Huaisang puts it there and then kisses it, pressing Javert's hand to his cheek to cherish him. He will get a proper replacement for Javert later, and then take back his own. "我愛你," he says, with intent, and repeats it, "wǒ ài nǐ," then looks expectantly at Javert, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze. If Javert doesn't repeat it immediately, he'll try a third time, eyes hopeful.

[policier]

Javert watches silently as Huaisang places the ring on his finger, fumbling a little until he gets it to fit. His expression takes on a look of distress, as if he wishes to apologize again for losing it.

Huaisang speaks those three words to him, adamantly and with so much love in his expression, Javert cannot help but guess what they mean. He repeats the words with a bit of trepidation, wanting desperately to get it right, to not make a fool of himself as he speaks to Huaisang in his language.

"Wǒ ài nǐ," he says, and then he says it again, until his pronunciation is a little better. "Wǒ ài nǐ, Huaisang."

[fanoperator]

"I love you," Huaisang echoes again, happy and grateful. He kisses Javert again, fierce and longing, but he doesn't let it linger this time. Wiping his tears, Huaisang straightens himself up, expression distant for a few moments as he sorts out the story he's going to tell his aides. He knows he can't delay. The situation is too strange, and they must all be deeply concerned. But he has to have the right explanation for them and adequate certainty in his own story. When he has it, he nods and gets to his feet, helping to pull Javert up.

Pressing a hand to Javert's arm to get him to stay in place, Huaisang gives one last peck then calls for his aides, not at all surprised when all of them immediately spill back into the room.

All calm confidence now, Huaisang explains that he had seen this person in a dream, a sort of priest who had dreamed of Huaisang in return and was coming to serve him. Huaisang has never before had prophetic dreams, but here is the proof of this one in front of him. Even if this one doesn't speak a word of Chinese.

"Take him down to the baths first and have him washed," Huaisang instructs one of his junior aides, gesturing for him to take responsibility of Javert. "Dress him as an acolyte and then take him to the barracks and have him introduced. He will begin training as a member of the Nie Sect but he will not sleep in the barracks. He has been sent by the gods to protect me, so I will have him at my side. Set up a cot in my chamber."

There were vociferous objections to that last part, but Huaisang stormed them down with pure force of will, and they all yielded to him. Here, just like in Duplicity, he commanded intense loyalty, and his people trusted his judgement.

He gestured for the junior aide to go, dismissing Javert with nothing more than a nod. He feels as though he's going to shake apart at the misery of sending his husband away so quickly after getting him part, but he's spent half his life hiding his emotions under a frivolous veneer.

Then he answers dozens of questions upon his 'dream', filling it in with true details from Duplicity and invented details as necessary. He doesn't let his mind drift to thinking of Javert taken down into the hot springs inside the mountain to wash and recuperate.

Surviving the next few hours is agonizing, and Huaisang cancels everything he can, retiring early with a headache and curling up in his room in a daze of impatient yearning. He trusts his people and knows that they will obey his instructions, but he still has to painfully restrain himself from going recklessly in search of what they're doing with Javert. The story of being fated from a dream is the best he can do, and thus it will take him months or years before he can make his people accept Javert openly as his husband. As it is, he suspects that the guard outside his room will be doubled for the night out of concern for what this stranger might try to do to their beloved Sect Leader.