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“Ah, I need to make sure I prepared the remedy for Yicheng—”
“You did, about four times. Here’s your hair stick.”
“Ah, thank you… Changsheng. Say, did I—”
Hair rustles as its wound around the wooden stick, and Changsheng releases a sigh. “Yes, you’ve already counted the stock of feverfew and left the shelving in the reliable hands of Herbalist Gui. No, don’t—oh, hold on a moment.”
Paper – covered in awful handwriting, detailing instructions for the day – crinkles beneath her belly as she slides her way over to his arm, which hangs awkwardly in the air for a few moments. Changsheng harrumphs, and the absent-minded doctor jolts as he stretches out his arm for her to climb up.
“Bring me closer to your hair. Not that close! Yes, there.”
“I’m sorry,” Baizhu tells her, guileless.
Changsheng may have his eyes, but she lacks the muscles to be able to roll them, so she settles for slipping through his hair as she tries to plait it the way he usually wears it. “Do not apologize to me,” she says, perhaps a touch haughty, “until you are in your right mind and know exactly why you must beg my forgiveness.”
Arrogance is a trait most prevalent in Baizhu – for what could cause a man to decide he would rescue everyone, immortalizing himself for the good of all, if not the arrogance of humankind? – so it’s no surprise that he asks knowingly, “It’s because of my amnesia, isn’t it? I think I can understand why my condition is causing you trouble.”
Changsheng pulls back, hissing, “Tie the end.” Once he obediently begins to tie off the hair, which is a little looser than his usual tight braids – just a little, that’s all! – she says, “While that is certainly a negative consequence, that is not the issue.”
“No?” He brings his arm around and peers at her, recognition lighting in his eyes. Recognition, and respect, but nothing more. He looks at her with the eyes of a young apprentice gazing at his master from afar. “If it’s not how I’m bothering you, then what could the problem be?”
Ah, there’s an awful, nauseating feeling in her belly. Changsheng would like nothing more than to simply drop from his arm and go to sunbathe by the window of this lonely little room, but she can’t send this bumbling fool off into the world by himself in good conscience. With effort, she pulls herself onto his shoulders and settles into a familiar coil.
“What indeed,” she says. “Once more, withhold your apologies. Have you applied your makeup yet? I’m afraid I have hardly as deft a hand as you for it, so you’ll have to do it yourself.”
“Oh, yes. I’m still learning, but hopefully my muscle memory will kick in? Seeing as its been years in the making.” Baizhu smiles at Changsheng, the red of sorrow stark against the rest of his flushed skin. Tear tracks still shine, even now as they dry on his cheeks. “What color do I wear?”
“Just red on your eyelids,” Changsheng answers, looking away. “Makeup is in that drawer.”
“Ah. I stuck with what I knew, then.”
“Simple and efficient, I would think. The life of a doctor isn’t full of time.”
Baizhu exhales, timorous. He does his best to hide it, but the memory of the boy he was did not yet know how to control his tears, and Changsheng has the advantage of knowing him as an adult adept at hiding his pain. “No. No, I suppose it wouldn’t be.”
She lets him turn to the mirror in silence. Changsheng doesn’t know what to say to the boy he thinks he is. Changsheng doesn’t even know what she would say— will say to the man he will remember being. She hardly ever knows what to say when he’s in pain.
What a joke of a healer she is, tongue-tied the moment she tastes the salt of tears in the air.
Eventually, Baizhu turns back to her and asks, “How do I look?”
“Well, I suppose you could be worse.”
“I will take that as a compliment.”
“Do as you like. Now, let us be off! You’re a very busy man, Doctor Baizhu. No, no, don’t rush without bringing your to-do list! Ahh, were you always this rash as a mere apprentice?”
Baizhu laughs, the only red visible on his eyes made of cosmetic powder, and he steps out to greet the hustle and bustle of Liyue.
It hardly takes more than five minutes into the workday for them to bump into Qiqi.
“Oh,” the girl says, her small, pudgy fingers touching her forehead. “Good morning, Doctor… B, Ba-i, Bai. Doctor Bai.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says instead of returning the greeting. Baizhu kneels down, a hand hovering uselessly over Qiqi’s forehead instead of patting her comfortingly. “Did I… hurt you?”
Ah. Perhaps Changsheng neglected to inform him of something crucial.
Feeling the need to rectify her mistake, Changsheng makes a show of yawning, and says, “My, but the heat today is positively sleep-inducing! Oh, but I imagine it’s none-too comfortable for a zombie like you, Qiqi. Perhaps you should remain indoors today, let Gui handle the front desk and outer shelves.”
Baizhu’s peer at her, Changsheng can tell, but she keeps her concentration focused on Qiqi.
“It’s alright,” Qiqi says, squinting slightly. “I did my stretches so the rigor mortis has been staved off, so I just feel the barest sense of ickiness. Nothing too big to… slow me down.”
“If you say so. Just be sure to go indoors if it gets too bad, hmm?”
Expression becoming suddenly focused, Qiqi says, “I’ll give myself the order. If… Qiqi starts to feel awful due to the heat… seek cold shelter immediately… done.”
Well. Whenever Qiqi speaks in absolutes for orders, it always makes Changsheng nervous, but she doesn’t think Qiqi said anything wrong during this particular command. It should be fine. “Wonderful to hear. Go back to your work then.”
“Right.” Qiqi bows and heads off into the back rooms, no doubt in search of a prescription.
Left alone, Baizhu finally turns his head to properly look at Changsheng.
She yawns once more. “That was Qiqi, the resident zombie.”
“You seem to have forgotten to mention the part where she is undead.”
“I can hardly be blamed for forgetting to mention such a trivial detail.”
“I daresay it’s a little more than trivial.”
A few laughs slip out as Changsheng says, “Because it is! The sight of you becoming so clueless in the presence of your ward is alien, let me assure you. And great fun!”
Baizhu, instead of chiding her for being so terribly mean, or even poking fun at her nonchalant performance, dips his head. “A ward,” he murmurs, mouth stretching into a thin smile. “I am old enough to become your contractor and take in wards of my own. Heh, isn’t that a little funny? How time passes so inevitably.”
No, Changsheng thinks as she looks down. This isn’t quite so funny anymore.
Neither of them end up doing anything to break the silence, so Baizhu continues to walk.
“Ah, Doctor Baizhu,” Gui says, his greeting placid and sure. “Yicheng has already come by for his remedy. I’ve relayed instructions for him to come back within three to four weeks if it doesn’t work again this time. We’ve also sold some violetgrass, qingxin, and candytuft.”
Baizhu manages to pull himself together and says, “Glad to hear it. And, any reports on the patient from last night?”
“The soldier?” Gui blinks. “Well, he hasn’t returned. We already made sure his memory was back completely intact, and he was sent off with medicine to treat his head wound, so I doubt he should be having any issues now. I’ll be sure to let you know right away if he comes back.”
“Please do.”
“I have to say, Doctor Baizhu.” Gui’s features brighten with something like excitement, and he leans some of his weight against the front desk. “I’m terribly curious to know how you did it. To my knowledge, cases of memory loss usually take time to conclude, and some never even recover their memories. Yet, you had this soldier in and out within two hours, somehow treating both his head wound and memory loss! It’s almost a miracle, really.”
Changsheng lifts her head, and from this close she can feel the heat radiating from Baizhu’s cheeks. Or rather, the lack thereof.
“Who’s to say it wasn’t?” she says, enigmatic.
Gui, however, has known her long enough to know she’s merely teasing. Curbing his excitement, Gui says, “I know, I have a long way to go before I can learn the art. Though, is it so bad for me to be in awe?”
Oh, if her Baizhu—
Changsheng blanks.
…
Oh, if the adult Baizhu had heard that, he would be smiling with such pride, one would never think he was desperately hoping Gui would remain ignorant of the art forever.
As it stands, this regressed Baizhu can’t help how his smile recedes. A little obviously so, judging by how Gui’s expression morphs into one of mild concern.
“Doctor Baizhu? Are you feeling alright?”
“Nothing more than a minor headache,” Baizhu says, turning in his heel. “I’ll go and prepare whatever remedies are not yet made. Let me know if anything important happens, alright?”
“Uh, of course.”
Baizhu – perhaps as a result of his headache, or, more likely, because of the fear he has of the march of time – is colder than he should be.
Perhaps, if Changsheng had been warm-blooded, she could press against his cheek and share some badly needed warmth with him.
But she’s cold-blooded, so touching him would be useless.
Changsheng can do nothing.
Qiqi begins to overheat outside, and, as her order states, she immediately seeks shelter within the pharmacy.
The issue is that she was in the middle of running away from Hu Tao.
Hu Tao, who shifts from a friendly if quirky oddball to an irate cat baring its teeth the moment she stands before Baizhu.
And Baizhu is currently unprepared, bereft of his usual wit and patience, to deal with the force she becomes.
Since Qiqi suddenly stopped using her head to try and avoid Hu Tao, body giving way to her mindless order and walking a predictable path, Hu Tao is able to easily catch and pick her up.
“I need to get inside,” Changsheng can hear Qiqi pant. “It’s too hot. Qiqi needs to find shelter from heat immediately.”
“We need to get down there,” she hisses to Baizhu. The panic in her voice startles him into hurrying down the steps, making his way over to where Hu Tao stands by the lotus ponds.
“Unhand the child!” Changsheng calls.
Sure enough, the moment Hu Tao spots Baizhu, her smile twists into something poisonous. Almost villainous. “Really, I must insist that you allow me to take her,” she says, cold. “As Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, I cannot allow for this to continue any longer.”
“You would allow the child’s body to be desecrated by the sun?” Changsheng snipes back. “Let her be embraced by the cold of death, rather than forcing her to rot beneath this unforgiving sun.”
Hu Tao becomes the villain the moment she steps foot onto the territory of Bubu Pharmacy, but Changsheng understands that it’s simply because of the difference between their beliefs. Hu Tao is not actually so cruel as to torture Qiqi.
It’s the moral heart within Hu Tao that ends up compelling her to sigh and release Qiqi. “I’ve never known you to be so silent,” she can’t help but say, eyes focused on Baizhu. “No words to defend the ward you so recklessly took in?”
Changsheng opens her mouth—
—and suddenly she’s flying, thrown into motion, halted only when Hu Tao yelps and catches Changsheng’s body.
They both splutter in unison as they watch Baizhu dive into the lotus pond. When he resurfaces, he’s holding a drenched Qiqi in his hands.
Water probably isn’t going to be good for a corpse’s body, Changsheng thinks. Baizhu has thrown her to rescue Qiqi from her ill-advised attempt at cooling down. Into the arms of Hu Tao.
Hu Tao reeks of death.
“You have an aura of utter abundance,” Hu Tao says, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
The feeling is mutual.
“Qiqi needs to get to a cold shelter,” Qiqi says, squirming. Even stricken by heat, it’s obvious Baizhu is no match for Qiqi’s strength. His arms shake as she tries to pry them away, and he looks at Changsheng, panicked.
She doesn’t want to tell him how to stop Qiqi, not when Hu Tao is here and could end up using that information to her advantage. But Qiqi is beginning to succeed in her attempts, and, while she likely won’t succumb to her condition, Qiqi won’t be feeling great for a while after this—
“Wait, Qiqi,” Baizhu says, suddenly sure, and turns away. He hunches down, and though Changsheng can’t hear what he says, she knows his words – I love you the most – when she sees Qiqi’s efforts slowly cease.
He climbs out of the water, lips still moving as he murmurs lowly, and walks up the steps to the pharmacy. Changsheng drops from Hu Tao’s arms and slithers as quickly as she can, following close behind.
“Go on inside,” Baizhu tells Qiqi, dropping her off by the front desk. “I’ll fetch some towels. Gui? Would you mind lighting a few oil lamps to dry her off?”
“On it.”
Baizhu turns to Changsheng, smile beseeching. “I would pick you up,” he says, “but I’m afraid I’m a little wet, and probably very cold. Wait for me?”
Changsheng wishes.
I love you the most.
“Hurry and fetch that poor girl some towels.”
“So,” Baizhu says, freshly washed with warm water, “I believe there’s an apology I have to make.”
Changsheng raises her head from where she’s been dozing next to a lamp. “There is,” she agrees. “But what for?”
“I’ve caused you unnecessary stress and work due to my rash decision,” he says. “Perhaps taking on that soldier’s amnesia wasn’t the best idea, but I won’t apologize for that part. I believe this was a good learning experience.”
Changsheng snorts. That sick feeling in her stomach has been present all day, worsening each time Baizhu’s eyes filled with that helpless look. “I don’t believe you know what you’re apologizing for,” she presses, frustrated.
“Even now, when I’m in my right mind, you won’t accept my apology?” Baizhu looks legitimately surprised, and it just—just infuriates Changsheng. “Then I must apologize again. I’m truly clueless on what it is that has you so bothered.”
And truthfully, why is Changsheng bothered? Today was stressful, sure, but she knew everything would pass. She herself has stated numerous times that she doesn’t an apology for all of that.
Because she doesn’t! An apology for the trivial job of acting as a guide, as if that isn’t Changsheng’s role as his mentor for medicine… it doesn’t fit.
If anything he should apologize for the way he makes her feel whenever that despondency hits!
“I was left with a you that hardly knew me,” Changsheng hisses. “I already have such trouble whenever you hurt, and to be faced with a Baizhu that blatantly refused to come to me when he was in pain? What am I supposed to—to—!”
“Oh,” Baizhu says softly.
“Oh,” Changsheng parrots, terrified.
In a motion that is no longer awkward but instead familiar and sure, Baizhu raises his arm for her.
It’s uncomfortable, seeing him do so. It feels like she’s rolled over and shown him her belly, offered him a knife and displayed her weakest point. She feels fragile.
But then he offers her a smile that is not guileless or beseeching, but instead honest. Fragile.
Changsheng slithers up his arm, pulling away from his face.
“I’m sorry,” Baizhu says, looking her in the eyes. “I’ve made you worry.”
Changsheng sniffs, raising her head. Just like him, pride is all she knows. “At least you know now,” she says, but her voice comes out soft. Entreating, though she doesn’t know what she’s asking for.
Her nose suddenly pops with sensation, and Changsheng shakes her head a little as she realizes he’s poked her nose.
“I do appreciate it, you know,” Baizhu says. “Just feeling your presence near me, when I’m suffering the consequences of my rash decisions. I feel comfortable with you.”
Her stomach doesn’t feel ill anymore, though she doesn’t know if she likes the overwhelming tide of emotion she’s feeling now.
His skin is warmer than it’s been all day, healthily so.
Ahh. If they’re doing this, then…
She does what she wanted to earlier, and taps his cheek. “You should let me be comforting then,” she mutters chidingly as she pulls back, awkward. “I’m your mentor, it’s in the job description.”
“I’ll try my best. Although, I think I’d like to call you something else.”
“Huh? Like what?”
He lifts her up and taps her snout once more, but instead of his fingertip, Changsheng ends up touching his own nose. “A friend?” Baizhu says, asks.
A friend? “You know, I used to be friends with many adepti in my prime,” Changsheng says, teasing. “What makes you think you’re worthy of being called my friend?”
“As I recall, you’ve told me I’m as proud as a god,” Baizhu shoots back. “I don’t think I’m too far off from an adeptus.”
“Hmm. I think I liked apprentice you. You were much more humble back then. There was none of this backtalk!”
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Baizhu says, reaching back to touch his loose hair, “I saw how you did my hair. The lack of structure was rather charming.”
“You dare?”
“I think I dare to like it. Would you mind doing it again for me tomorrow?”
Changsheng huffs as she slithers off of his arm and drops onto his lap. “Apologize for throwing a noble creature such as me, and I might reconsider.”
“Oh. Right, I’m terribly sorry about that.”
A giggle bubbles up in her throat. “I forgive you. Now come, I’m sleepy. It’s another busy day tomorrow.”