The Wandering God

47 Only When the Year Grows Cold 3/3

歲寒知松柏
Suì hán zhī sōng bǎi
Only when the year grows cold do we see the qualities of the pine and cypress.
Adversity reveals virtue.

*~*~*~*~*~*

We returned to the stable and I built a fire, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. Ignoring the pain in my hand and my heart.

I built it high, so the dark stables were merry with light. Then I helped Zakhar settle on the pile of hay, using the bedrolls and the bearskin I had carried north with me.

"Thank you, Ao," he said, as I tucked the blanket around him.

I smiled, but could not meet his eyes. They held so much warmth. I could not stand it.

I talked to Zakhar throughout the evening as I went about preparing a meal for us. Light things, happy things, to distract him. Stories of me and Ermi at the university, stories of Liang'yi and her antics when I had been at rabbit run. Stories of things Sanli or Kageyama had done I thought he might find funny.

I tried to get him to talk about himself too.

"Haha, I rather not," said Zakhar, carefully taking the bowl of gruel I held out to him. "Never much liked sad stories."

I bit my lip and looked away.

Zakhar ate a spoonful of the gruel and winced. I wasn't sure if it was because of the temperature or the taste.

He set his bowl beside him. "You still haven't told me your story yet, Ao."

I said nothing, just stared down at my own gruel. The mixture was a lumpy grey.

Zakhar lay back on the hay. "I saw you that day, you know. After we had left Mengxiang. You danced in the rain, like a mad person. Got soaked. We camped afterwards, in the cave, and the next morning you showed me that picture of the dragons and told the story about how Liu Zhua killed them all."

Zakhar reached out, trying to hide his wince at the pain from his injuries. His big, ink covered hand carefully tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, a gesture I had come to love as much as his kisses.

"I think, deep down I knew since then, who you were," Zakhar said, blue eyes bright in the firelight. "Though it took me a while to really believe it."

I held my breath in surprise. "All that time?"

"All that time."

You know the stories, I thought. But do you know me?

As if he could read my mind, Zakhar asked, "Ao, will you tell me your real story?"

I stared down at my gruel, pretending to consider Zakhar's request, though I already knew I could not deny him.

"Fine, but I'll have to start at the beginning, or else I sound like the villain."

"Aren't you?" He grinned.

I slapped his shoulder, gentler than usual. "I am, but just listen."

I set my gruel aside and settled on the bed of hay beside him, shoulder to shoulder. I pulled the furs over us both, careful of the Zakhar's injuries.

"The first thing I remember is the ocean..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

I told Zakhar everything of me. My past, my history, and more. Secrets and hopes that I had never told anyone before. Even Lu.

Zakhar took it all, my bad, my good, little surprising him, though I suspected that had to do with the end we both knew was drawing near.

When death looms, little about life surprises you.