7. Chapter 7

Zhao Yunlan is staring at the floor, where bits and pieces of the formerly-whole glass top of the coffee table are lying shattered. They glitter very prettily in the afternoon light coming in from the windows.

Shen Wei is standing up against the back wall of the office, his hands clasped lightly together in front of him, extremely bland expression on his face, for all the world looking like he’s there for a job interview.

Maybe he is.

“You could have mentioned this earlier.” Zhao Yunlan thinks his voice is steady. His heart is not, though, because it is breaking. There is no possible way he can marry Shen Wei if he’s Dixingren. That’s not even counting whether the Black Cloak Jackass would allow it — the treaty doesn’t allow for the Guardian to marry any Dixingren but the Black Cloak Envoy, he knows that already. No wonder Shen Wei had tried so hard to dissuade Zhao Yunlan from pursuing him.

He had planned to marry his beloved, damn it, because if he had to play consort to a ruthless Dixing war lord in order to just do his own fucking job, then by the gods he wanted to get something beautiful in exchange.

Living a long, loving life married to Shen Wei would have been beautiful, he thinks, his heart splintering into shards.

“Zhao Yunlan?” Shen Wei asks, not moving from his spot against the wall.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He takes a deep breath then picks up the broken wood of the former coffee table and sets it aside, ignoring the glass crunching under his boots. He feels a little bad about losing his temper but it was better to kick the table than go out and strangle his father. Speaking of…

“My father knows about you.”

Shen Wei nods, even though it wasn’t a question. Of course Zhao Xinci would know the identity of any Dixingren legally living in Haixing — he probably hated it. It also explains why he brought Shen Wei in from the beginning, though.

Zhao Yunlan runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “So tell me what’s changed.” He turns to face the man he clearly does not know at all and puts on his best cop face. Time to start the interrogation.

Shen Wei does not play the fool. “As the only current Dixing citizens who are here legally, Chu Shuzhi and I are the only ones who can try to contact the palace directly without it being assumed that it’s an act of war.”

“And you can’t do that on the down-low,” Zhao Yunlan nods in understanding.

“No, and also not without official permission from the Haixing government, outside of a natural disaster. Even with the portals closed and your position as Lord Guardian in question, the treaty stands.”

“Which I know. What I don’t know is why you didn’t make this request of our government on, say, day one?” Zhao Yunlan is trying to stay calm, he really is, he deserves a goddamn medal.

Shen Wei sighs. “I considered it. I discussed it with...ah, with the former Lord Guardian.”

“My father. Right. Son of a bitch.” Zhao Yunlan rubs his temples and considers taking up smoking again.

“We agreed that it might be more politically advantageous to approach the King with a solution prepared, hence the research marathon.”

“And the clock is ticking, because going more than twenty six Haixing days without a Lord Guardian installed nullifies the treaty.”

Shen Wei nods solemnly.

“Why twenty six days?”

“What?” Shen Wei, for once, looks wrong footed.

“That always stuck with me. Twenty six Haixing days. Not two weeks, not a month. Randomly, twenty six days. No explanations exist for that anywhere, it’s always been considered a big mystery; historians fight over it endlessly. Why twenty six days?”

Shen Wei looks aside for a moment. “I never considered...that is, it seems obvious to anyone from Dixing. A day for every year the war lasted.”

Ten thousand years ago, a meteor hit the planet and the resulting ecological catastrophe resulted in a war, and it is such a distant memory for Haixing that it is shrouded in myth and improbable legends, the setting for a million trashy wuxia dramas. Zhao Yunlan has seen wildly divergent estimates for the length of that war, but for Dixing the memory of it is enshrined in the treaty itself. Haixing scholars just never bothered to ask.

He is sometimes embarrassed on behalf of his own people.

“Thank you for your honesty, Professor Shen. I will let our scholars know,” Zhao Yunlan says and even throws in an archaic bow. They are on formal ground now, and despite what his father thinks, he knows protocol.

“Zhao Yunlan—” Shen Wei looks stricken.

“I assume you and Chu Shuzhi were going to contact the palace, somehow, and try to get the Black Cloak Envoy back here? Or try to get an answer from him directly?”

Shen Wei is silent for a long time, to the point that Zhao Yunlan thinks he might not answer at all. But then he shakes his head. “No.”

At Zhao Yunlan’s surprised reaction, he backtracks. “We were going to address the king directly with a solution in hand.”

“Which we don’t have.” Zhao Yunlan lets a bit of his frustration slip through his words, despite his best efforts.

It galvanizes Shen Wei, though, who stands up straight with a firm expression. “We do.”

“You don’t,” Zhao Yunlan states again, because if they did, he would know. Unless… “Wait. We do? Do you have a solution and my father knows?”

The silence is deep and damning. Zhao Yunlan kicks the remains of the coffee table and sends pieces of it across the room. Shen Wei once again steps backwards up against the wall and clasps his hands together, completely unperturbed. At least he’s respectful of Zhao Yunlan’s temper tantrums.

He would have been such a perfect wife, Zhao Yunlan thinks while half-heartedly kicking another piece of the coffee table.

He turns on She Wei and points as aggressively as possible. “Tell me. Now.”

“Lao Chu was working with the legal scholars. He is...he is older than he appears, and his family is an ancient lineage. He may not seem learned, but he was given a thorough courtly education, as befitting the son of a noble family, including the classics, so he was tasked with reading some of the more obscure ancient texts. In reviewing archaic translations of the treaty, he recently found what you call a ‘loophole.’”

“And?” Zhao Yunlan crosses his arms. He can almost sense the fact that Shen Wei is lying, or at least, not being fully honest. He just doesn’t know the form this next lie will take.

“Apparently, the earliest translations of the treaty simply stated that the Lord Guardian of Haixing only needs to be married to an official representative of Dixing. This has always, only, ever been the Black Cloak Envoy. But it—”

“It can be anyone officially appointed by the King?”

Shen Wei nods.

Zhao Yunlan sees where this is going, and hope flares in his chest, but the question must be asked: “Why can’t the Black Cloak Envoy just come back here so we can change his mind? Did we ever figure that out?”

Shen Wei looks shifty for a moment, which was not a look Zhao Yunlan thought the earnestly honest and pedantic scholar would ever wear. It makes him instantly suspicious again, but he has no idea what to ask to find out what might be going on behind that gorgeous face.

“We’re still not 100% sure, but based on some very ancient legal case files, we’ve pieced together a theory.” Shen Wei takes a deep breath. “In short, the word of the Black Cloak Envoy is absolute. It is, perhaps, something even he is not always aware of, but his power is intimately tied to the treaty via the Hallows. He said ‘no’ and intentionally meant or not, it was final. The Envoy cannot even appear in Haixing without either a Lord Guardian consort or a potential consort in place, even if he wanted to renegotiate with you. According to some texts, the dark energy of the Hallows is capable of nullifying his powers in Haixing until that time. Either another candidate is put forward, or we find a workaround, ah, I mean loophole.” He gives Zhao Yunlan a sympathetic look. “I am so very sorry, Zhao Yunlan, but you will never be the consort of the Black Cloak Envoy.”

Zheo Yunlan lets out a long, measured breath. “Thank fuck for that.”

Shen Wei eyes widen with shock. “What?”

“You know I have never wanted to be married to that ruthless, ageless war lord anyway. He sounds like a terrible person, this ‘Executioner of Dixing.’ He can go to hell, where he belongs.” Zhao Yunlan stalks up to a frozen-in-place Shen Wei. “You, on the other hand? You, I want to marry. You are perfect. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He reaches out and cradles Shen Wei’s horrified-but-still-beautiful face in his hands. “Let’s grab this loophole with both hands, baby. Marry me?”

Shen Wei steps backwards again, out of his grasp, his expression broken. “But that’s why we asked Chu Shuzhi here.”

“What?”

“Your father thought he would be a better match.”