In the months since Yehuo had left the SID—not that he’d ever officially joined; he’d just been one of the most helpful hands when they’d cleaned up the aftermath of Ye Zun’s assault—Chu Shuzhi had come to the irritated realisation that he missed having Yehuo there.
It wasn’t anything obvious, not really. He’d just turn to speak to Yehuo as he made a reference to the literal cogs of government or what passed for education in Dixing, and half-forget that now there was nobody at the SID who would understand.
Chu Shuzhi loved the SID and the people who worked there, but none of them were Dixingren. Zhu Hong had worked out an agreement with Minister Guo to allow a small unit of Yashou, and Da Qing was delighted about being in charge of it. Chu Shuzhi was glad for them, but seeing them cluster together, talking in the Yashou dialect? It still prodded at a bruise he hadn’t realised existed before Yehuo came and then left.
The new kids—and they were, overwhelmingly, kids fresh out of university—were enthusiastic and good-hearted and Chu Shuzhi watched Guo Changcheng flourish as he mentored them. He liked that part. He found it satisfying to watch them learn and gain confidence.
They were still Haixingren, and he was the only Dixingren any of them had ever knowingly met.
In contrast to the aching loneliness in his chest that he tried to forget about, the moments when he was out in the field and his coffee got cold and he wanted to pass it to Yehuo to warm up were nothing but a petty frustration that he could solve by remembering a thermos. Yet, it was the easier one to be irritated about, and Guo Changcheng had started hovering about it. Chu Shuzhi was pretty sure he was going to come into the SID and find a carefully-researched gift thermos sitting on his desk, where Chu Shuzhi was sure he’d promptly forget it.
So, yeah, when Yehuo had called him to come look over the boxing school he’d finally gotten set up, Chu Shuzhi had taken the day off with the most cursory of excuses.
(The Inspectorate didn’t care, anyway; especially under Guo Changcheng’s uncle, they’d quietly decided that the people who had averted the world’s destruction could get nearly anything they wanted. Time off, when they’d worked so hard to protect and rebuild the city, was an easy ask.)
Yehuo had been able to take over the old underground ring, once the dust had settled. All the old owners had died to Zhu Jiu, anyway, and he’d always been its star attraction. When some of the fighters had found Yehuo and asked him to start running it again, Chu Shuzhi remembered the way Yehuo’s eyes had first gone wide and then settled into determination.
It wasn’t the same now, of course. Yehuo wanted it to be a proper school, and that meant governmental legitimacy and oversight. With all the rules that came along with that, not everyone stayed.
But enough did, and Chu Shuzhi hadn’t been surprised when Yehuo had left the SID for his new school. He’d just been glad that Yehuo hadn’t needed to start from scratch to keep the ring alive and begin creating afterschool and weekend training programs for youth.
(Guo Changcheng and his uncle had helped a lot with that, too. They’d talked Yehuo through bureaucracy, found him funding, and gotten advertising into nearby schools.)
When Chu Shuzhi arrived, it was mid-morning and the building was quiet. He tried the door—unlocked, which was trusting of Yehuo but useful for him—and entered, looking around. Everything looked cleaner and brighter than when he’d first seen it, with fresh paint and new LED lights that changed the atmosphere of the whole building. He hadn’t come to see it while Yehuo had been working on it, and though that had been a hard knot of uncertainty in his chest, it seemed retroactively worth it to take in all the changes at once.
The main room was still dominated by the boxing ring—now edged with thick elastic ropes instead of chain-link fence—but the stands had been removed and replaced with a variety of punching bags and mats for practicing upon. The whole room seemed vast and empty without a crowd of shouting spectators, but Chu Shuzhi ignored that. It was early on a weekday; there was no reason for anyone to be here without specific invitation.
And, in the middle of the ring, Chu Shuzhi saw Yehuo practicing.
He hadn’t been particularly subtle as he’d come down the stairs and opened the door, so Yehuo had to know he was there, but Yehuo didn’t stop his sequence of blocks and strikes. Steady, careful, and without any sign of fire wreathing his hands. Yehuo was a pleasure to watch, Chu Shuzhi thought; he kept control of every strike, and didn’t rush through the sequence. His feet stayed balanced on the ground, knees loose and light as he dodged imaginary blows.
Chu Shuzhi smiled a little as he leaned on one of the support pillars and waited silently for Yehuo to finish. It was no trouble at all to enjoy the power and grace of a well-trained body moving through space, after all.
Especially since Chu Shuzhi had been spending a lot of time with the SID’s new recruits, testing and training them in hand-to-hand combat. Most of them were trash, starry-eyed children who liked the idea of the SID more than they understood the practical aspects. The ones who had trained in martial arts as kids were alright, but even they were thrown—literally—when Chu Shuzhi began combining styles and playing dirty.
Yehuo understood the mixed styles of street fighting too; Chu Shuzhi had seen it both in the cage match they’d fought and when he’d fought Zhu Jiu. This deliberate practice was a choice, a discipline, and Chu Shuzhi respected Yehuo more for it.
After the final strike, Yehuo held his posture for a moment and then recollected himself. Only then did he turn, smile visible despite his mask. “Shuzhi! I wasn’t sure how long it’d take you to get here.”
Chu Shuzhi shrugged awkwardly. “I’d rather not do paperwork.”
Yehuo laughed and came out of the ring to clap him on the shoulder. There weren’t many people who he’d let do that; only the core of the SID, scattered though they now were, and Yehuo. “What’s happening at the SID that they’re making you do paperwork?”
“I’m considered senior staff.” Chu Shuzhi followed Yehuo towards what he remembered had originally been a bar. Now, the refrigeration units remained but only held water, sports drinks, and a variety of snacks. A necessary change if they were teaching kids, but Chu Shuzhi was still a little disappointed. “Which means I need to report on the progress of underlings.”
“Right. You kept making me do those reports.” Yehuo nudged him with an elbow as he pulled out a pair of sodas. He offered one to Chu Shuzhi, saying, “You don’t have another friend to foist work off on? Your xiao-Guo, maybe?”
“He’s got enough work.” Chu Shuzhi took the soda and popped it open, watching as Yehuo removed the mask from his face. “You don’t need to wear that.”
“I’m not wearing it for you.” Yehuo took a long drink and leaned on the counter that still separated the drinks from the training room proper. “It’s strange to go out without it on.”
Chu Shuzhi grimaced and came to rest next to Yehuo, elbows splayed enough to brush against Yehuo’s. Even in the SID, most people had flinched whenever they saw Yehuo without his mask. Chu Shuzhi had taken to looking for him in the back, or dragging him up to the roof to eat lunch together. They weren’t technically allowed on the roof, but that had never stopped him before, and it was worth it for the brief respite from people looking at them both with eyes and bodies tinged with fear.
Besides, it wasn’t like he enjoyed taking off his coat, and he had less-coherent reasons for that. “You’ll scare the kids either way.”
Yehuo shrugged. “I’ll scare their parents more.”
“Aren’t they the ones paying for all this?” Chu Shuzhi popped open his soda and listened to it spit and bubble at him for a moment before taking his own swig.
“That’s the plan.”
Chu Shuzhi snorted. “Good thing Changcheng talked his uncle into making the government subsidise you.” Three months ago he hadn’t even known the word “subsidise”, Chu Shuzhi thought ruefully; times were changing.
“It’ll be good for the community. Mentorship programs would’ve helped solve a lot of problems, and it’ll make them better now.” Yehuo sighed, and hip-checked Chu Shuzhi to get his attention. “I want you to help teach.”
“Why me?” Chu Shuzhi demanded, turning to fully face Yehuo. He’d gotten very familiar with Yehuo’s expressions over the months they’d worked together, and the placid determination currently radiating from his eyes meant there was going to be very little Chu Shuzhi could do to argue Yehuo out of this idea.
Yehuo raised his fingers in front of Chu Shuzhi’s face as he ticked off points. “First, you know what it’s like to grow up in a rough town. Second, the Envoy basically made you go do community service after you served time for your actions, so you get what that’s like.” Yehuo paused, and a wicked smile spread across his face as he added the final point: “Third, and best of all, you’re a well-respected governmental employee, which makes you a role model.”
Chu Shuzhi, as Yehuo must have known he would do, scowled and closed his hand over Yehuo’s. It was a petty way of negating all those points, but he couldn’t come up with a better answer right now.
“And don’t you dare say you’re bad at teaching.” Yehuo wiggled his fingers inside Chu Shuzhi’s hand, but didn’t pull away. “I’ve seen you with xiao-Guo and the new recruits. You’ve got plenty of patience, when you want to display it.”
“Changcheng is a special case.” Chu Shuzhi released Yehuo so that he could fold his arms across his chest. “And I’m getting paid to teach the recruits. Besides, if they fucked up it’d hurt all of us.”
Yehuo raised his eyebrows.
“Fuck off,” Chu Shuzhi growled as he stomped back off into the open space. “Show me your school, Huo-xiong.”
Thankfully, Yehuo didn’t argue further.
The tour itself held no surprises. Chu Shuzhi cared more about the way Yehuo lit up as he showed Chu Shuzhi around, explaining all his plans. It was clear that he’d put a lot of thought into the school and how it would run, and that his old underground fight buddies were serious about working up to making a small local league of their own. Plus, Yehuo hadn’t put his mask back on, so Chu Shuzhi didn’t even need to look through the protective mesh to see his smile.
At the end, when they’d circled back to the main room, Yehuo leaned against the ring and said, “Want to go a round?”
“Yeah,” Chu Shuzhi said, before he’d even consciously thought about it; he missed sparring with Yehuo. He grinned, already relaxing into the thrill of a fight. “Powers or no powers?”
“I just got it looking nice.” Yehuo hopped over the ropes in a single fluid motion. “No powers, so we don’t trash the place.”
Chu Shuzhi nodded. “You’ve got spare shorts I can borrow?”
Yehuo waved towards the locker room. “Whenever you’re ready.”
It didn’t take long to strip off his coat, scarf, and shoes; find the extra clothes Yehuo had promised, and change his pants. While he always wore clothing chosen for range of motion and sturdiness, this kind of sparring was different. It felt better when they were both dressed in the same kind of clothes, and this was the easier shift to make. Barefoot and wearing borrowed shorts and his own undershirt, Chu Shuzhi returned to the ring.
Normally he would’ve spent the time to wrap his hands first, but Yehuo hadn’t made any move towards doing so himself when Chu Shuzhi had gone to change. From that, he read the goal of today’s sparring even more clearly than from the casual invitation; this was a game, a release of energy, not a real fight.
His instincts were proven right when he joined Yehuo, barefoot in the ring, and Yehuo hadn’t even bothered putting a normal mouthguard in, let alone his normal mask. “We both know how to pull our blows,” Yehuo said as they moved to their starting corners. “And this isn’t pure boxing.”
Chu Shuzhi grunted agreement. He had already settled into the calm awareness of the whole space around him that fighting—sparring or otherwise—required. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
Yehuo suited actions to words, coming at Chu Shuzhi with a leap that Chu Shuzhi felt in his bones would come with fire blazing along the arc of his hands if they hadn’t disallowed the use of their powers. He stepped aside, instinct screaming at him to call a string to yank Yehuo off his feet. Also not allowed. Instead, Chu Shuzhi spun and kicked at the back of Yehuo’s knees as he landed; the unpowered version of the same goal.
It connected.
Yehuo slapped the ground as he fell backward, absorbing the momentum and then rolling away as Chu Shuzhi dove down to pin him with a knee. Yehuo didn’t have time to get up to his feet again, leaving them instead kneeling as Chu Shuzhi kept driving forward and Yehuo lashed out defensively. Chu Shuzhi laughed as Yehuo’s fist struck his shoulder and turned to grab it, sliding his hand along Yehuo’s arm so that he couldn’t successfully withdraw.
He continued spinning until he could throw the whole of his body-weight into Yehuo, slamming them both into the ground. Chu Shuzhi was on top, with Yehuo scrabbling for a grip on his throat. He twisted, sending his elbow into Yehuo’s diaphragm and buying himself a second as Yehuo gasped for breath.
In that second, Chu Shuzhi thought of many things he could do and discarded them; they were all too violent.
Yes, he could end this fight in a heartbeat if he wanted to—any strike back into Yehuo’s face, a well-placed string wrapping around Yehuo’s throat—but so could Yehuo: a single burst of fire, once they closed, would have sent him screaming and flying away.
Chu Shuzhi breathed, and released Yehuo’s wrist, and rolled away to gain the space to stand up.
Yehuo rose to his feet too, careful and balanced and serious. His eyes fixed on Chu Shuzhi, not wavering for a moment. “Having fun?” he asked as they circled each other, staying just out of range of a safe strike.
“We’ve barely begun.” Chu Shuzhi slid forward, and Yehuo side-stepped, maintaining their distance without giving ground. “Are we dancing or fighting, Huo-xiong?”
“Do you even know how to dance?” Yehuo’s stance shifted, briefly, into a more upright—and falsely open—parody of a ballroom dancer’s posture. His centerline was exposed now, but if Chu Shuzhi tried to move for a strike, Yehuo could grab him for a throw in an instant.
He didn’t take the bait.
Yehuo moved back into the closed defense of a boxer’s stance after a few seconds, smiling briefly before returning to a fighter’s focus.
They knew each other too well, Chu Shuzhi realised as they moved back and forth across the ring. They’d spent a long time sparring two or three times a week as a form of release and relaxation. Some days they’d agreed to use their powers—early on, before they’d realised the consequences—and they’d gathered an audience of over-awed and fearful Haixingren. Mostly, though, it had just been a series of brawls that left them both bruised and breathless and laughing as they brushed off dirt and went to find a few beers.
Now, even though it had been months, they settled back into the same rhythms. Except here, where there was a formal ring, they were more cautious than they’d been in the back rooms and alleys that they’d haunted.
Chu Shuzhi saw Yehuo narrow his eyes. They’d come to the same conclusion, then, and the next time they closed would end this.
Yehuo came in for a punch at the same time as Chu Shuzhi slid to knock his legs out from under him. It meant he slipped under Yehuo’s fist, but Yehuo corrected in time to redirect his fall into an elbow aimed at Chu Shuzhi’s chest.
Chu Shuzhi caught and absorbed his weight, grunting at the effort. “Fool,” he said, because that could’ve been dangerous if Yehuo hadn’t trusted his reaction time so much. Yehuo rolled off him with a laugh, moving fast enough that Chu Shuzhi wasn’t going to be able to grab him and turn this into a grapple.
That meant they were going to be able to reset to standing, and that meant—
“Call it a draw?” Yehuo said, crouching a body-length away.
“Yeah.” Chu Shuzhi sat up, folding his legs and leaning on his knees. “Let me know what your schedule ends up being. I’ll come by when I’m free.”
Yehuo nodded, relaxing and sprawling onto the ground in a languid stretch. “Tell me when you want to come by, Shuzhi; I’ll make sure I’ve got the time then.”
Chu Shuzhi laughed and leaned forward enough to grab Yehuo’s ankle and shake it. “You think I have a normal schedule, Huo-xiong?”
“Sometimes you do.”
Chu Shuzhi grunted, mouth twisting. It was happening more and more, lately. He hated to think that he missed the chaos and fucked up schedules of their lives before Ye Zun’s defeat, but he still wistfully remembered the SID’s previously lax attitude towards organization. They’d been a family, with all the foibles and flaws and frustrations that could mean, but with the fondness too. Now the SID was a full-fledged governmental branch, and it was harder for him to find a place to fit in.
“Or,” Yehuo said, sitting up until he could look Chu Shuzhi in the eyes with a smile, “you could agree to come over here as an assistant instructor, and I bet your boss would try and let you be free for that.”
He would. Education was a priority. Chu Shuzhi sighed and squeezed Yehuo’s ankle, right over a nerve cluster. He didn’t do it hard, but Yehuo still kicked free of his grip. “I’m not good with kids.”
“So I’ll give you the teenagers.” Yehuo stood, and offered Chu Shuzhi a hand. “Sound good?”
Chu Shuzhi looked at Yehuo’s hand. It was callused and edged with burns and scars, familiar in a way that he had never expected it to become when they’d first met. How do we build a better future? he asked himself, the question he hadn’t consciously realised both Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei had been asking until he’d seen the sun rise in Dixing.
The destruction it had unveiled had been awful. The way it had felt to see the sun in Dixing had been breathtaking.
Chu Shuzhi took Yehuo’s hand and pulled himself upright. “I’ll give it a shot,” Chu Shuzhi said, and the warmth in Yehuo’s grasp flowed through his bones and into his heart. “If you want to trust me with your students, that’s on you.”
“I’ll still need to know your schedule.” Yehuo’s smile was softer now, and he didn’t let go of Chu Shuzhi’s hand. “You’ll be good with them, Shuzhi.”
Chu Shuzhi let out a long breath. “I hope you’re right.”
This is how you build the future, he thought, as Yehuo dragged him off to look at the tentative schedule more properly. With the children.
Three months later, Guo Changcheng came to the training room to drag Chu Shuzhi off on an unfortunately important mission that required a Dixingren’s involvement.
Chu Shuzhi glared at him as soon as he entered, ordering his class to switch from slow-patterned partner practice to the punching bags. “Take it easy,” he told them as Guo Changcheng approached. “This isn’t competition. This is about form.”
Before even the most defiant of them tried to talk back, Guo Changcheng called, “Chu-ge!” and the whole class went still and wide-eyed and stared at both of them.
Chu Shuzhi grunted, crossed his arms, and said, “Changcheng. Go tell Yehuo why you’re here.” He’d seen the text warning him about this maybe ten minutes ago, which hadn’t been enough time to let Yehuo know. “I can’t leave until they’ve got someone else supervising them.”
As soon as Guo Changcheng turned towards Yehuo’s office, Chu Shuzhi was met with a babbling series of excited questions from his students, absolutely all of which he ignored. “He’s my co-worker,” he said, cutting through all of their voices. “And I told you to work your arms, not your tongues.”
They all laughed and dispersed, easy and unafraid. It hadn’t taken them long to realise—as Guo Changcheng had—that, so long as they followed his rules, his gruffness was mostly for show.
Yehuo himself came back with Guo Changcheng. He’d stopped wearing his mask in the school once he’d seen students coming in with scars of their own, and Chu Shuzhi thought he looked more self-assured for it. It made him happy, anyway, to be able to see all of Yehuo’s face.
Once they made eye contact, Yehuo nodded confirmation that he was taking over. Chu Shuzhi let out a small breath of relief as he picked up his water bottle and towel and started heading for the locker rooms, where he could change and Guo Changcheng might be able to tell him more about whatever this case was. There would be nothing to worry about here, at least.
As Chu Shuzhi passed him, Yehuo gripped his shoulder and said, “This is the first time the SID’s interfered, yeah? I told you it’d be okay.”
Chu Shuzhi rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. “Tell me that again after you’ve finished working with this lot,” he said instead, squeezing Yehuo’s hand but not quite removing it. “They’re rascals.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Yehuo grinned, teasing. “You’ve been teaching them, after all.”
When Chu Shuzhi stuttered and stared at him, Yehuo laughed and pushed him on towards the locker room. “Go on, Shuzhi. Tell me about the case after, alright?”
“Yeah,” Chu Shuzhi said, as Guo Changcheng fell into step beside him. “I will.”
It felt good, knowing he’d have somewhere—and someone—to come back to.