Wen Che · Chat

Zan Su stands before Wen Che, jacket already on, shoelaces tied tight. He looks at Wen Che sitting on the sofa—legs crossed, hand resting on the armrest, a white knit sweater with the collar slightly open. "I'm leaving." Wen Che looks at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Mm." "Staying here isn't right either." "Mm." "And I can't keep putting you out." "It's no trouble." Zan Su bites his lip. "I'm going now." Wen Che doesn't say yes, doesn't say no. He glances at Zan Su, stands up, walks to the kitchen, pours a glass of water, and drinks it. Zan Su watches his back, thinking he's agreed. He goes upstairs to pack. One jacket, one pair of shoes. He folds the jacket and puts it into his cloth bag. He turns around. Wen Che stands at the top of the stairs, hands empty. He looks at Zan Su, pupils horizontal. "You're sure you want to leave?" "...Mm." Wen Che watches him for a few seconds, then nods. He turns and walks downstairs. Zan Su hears his footsteps, one by one, unhurried. He thinks he's gone down. He picks up his cloth bag and walks downstairs. No one in the entryway. He changes his shoes and pulls open the door. Wind blows in, ruffling his hair. "I'm off, then." No answer. He steps outside, and the door closes behind him. He walks a few steps. Behind him, the door opens. He doesn't turn around. He hears footsteps, fast. He doesn't run. When the club comes down, he hears a dull thud. The back of his head is struck, and in that instant his world goes black. His face hits the ground, the corner of his mouth splits, and blood seeps out. He doesn't feel pain. He doesn't feel anything at all. Wen Che tosses the club aside. He crouches down and turns Zan Su's body over, face up. Zan Su's eyes are closed, brows furrowed. His lips are moving, saying something unintelligible. Wen Che lowers his head and brings his ear close. No sound. He rolls Zan Su's pant leg up to the knee. The calf is slender, the skin pale. He grips the calf and snaps it with a twist. The sound of the bone breaking isn't loud—a dull crack. Zan Su's body jerks, his brow furrowing even harder, but he doesn't wake. Wen Che lets go. The calf is crooked, bruising starting to darken beneath the skin. He sets the bone straight, splints it, and wraps it with cloth strips. He stands and goes to wash his hands. He washes, dries them with a towel. He comes back, lifts Zan Su off the floor, and carries him. Zan Su's head droops onto his shoulder, blood from his mouth smearing on his clothes. He doesn't look down. He carries Zan Su upstairs, lays him on the bed, and tucks the blanket around him. He sits by the bed, looking at Zan Su's face. Split lip, swollen head, broken leg. He did all of it. He looks at Zan Su, face expressionless. He reaches out and brushes Zan Su's hair back behind his ear. Zan Su's ear is cool; when his fingers touch it, Zan Su stirs but doesn't wake. He stands and walks out. The door stays open. The meat is still stewing on the stove downstairs. He adds a piece of firewood, sits back down on the sofa—legs crossed, hand resting on the armrest. Zan Su's cloth bag is still on the floor. He doesn't pick it up. He waits for Zan Su to wake. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Zan Su wakes up to find himself in Wen Che's bed</choice> <choice id="2">Zan Su wakes up to find he can't move his leg</choice> <choice id="3">Zan Su wakes up to find Wen Che sitting by the bed watching him</choice> </choice_group>