Work Text:
“Mama?” Zhao Yunlan was standing on a dark, narrow street. A few ordinary-looking people passed by, their footsteps crunching in the gravel. Dark buildings loomed on either side. The only light came from sparse, inadequate wall-lanterns. Zhao Yunlan blinked, disoriented. Just a second ago he’d been watching his parents fight in the SID. “What the hell was that?”
“The gateway affects some people more than others,” said Chu Shuzhi, matter-of-factly.
“The gateway, right.” Zhao Yunlan pulled himself together. A kidnapping trail had led to a huge tree in Dragon City Park, which Chu Shuzhi had grudgingly identified as the entrance to Dixing. Since time was of the essence with kidnappings, and that was doubly true when Dixingren were involved, Zhao Yunlan had ignored the queasy feeling in his stomach and said to push on. And here they were, Downstairs.
They had three hours to find the missing old lady; if they were late, Zhu Hong and Da Qing would alert the Inspectorate and the Dixing Palace, which would set off a chain of interdimensional bureaucratic negotiations that would inevitably involve Zhao Yunlan’s father. Better to get this done quickly and quietly.
Even if it meant going to Dixing, the most dangerous place Zhao Yunlan could imagine.
He looked around again, trying to see through the gloom. From what he could make out, it was a surprisingly normal city. He couldn’t hear any explosions, violence, or screams for help. No one was even using dark energy to light their way. Maybe his usual investigative strategies would be enough. “The old lady was a watchmaker before she retired, so our first stop should be dealers in stolen and smuggled jewellery. Do you know any? Hey, wasn’t it morning when we left?”
“No, and yes.” Chu Shuzhi didn’t move. “We should have notified Hei Pao Shi daren before we came.”
Not this again. Zhao Yunlan’s field agent was a monosyllabic Dixingren bastard who’d only been with the SID for six months. Now they were on his home turf, he should be acting as native guide, taking some initiative, maybe even expressing enthusiasm about being back. Instead, he looked as stone-faced as ever. Could Zhao Yunlan even trust him? What if this whole thing was a trap?
Zhao Yunlan was carrying his father’s gun, of course. He wasn’t defenceless. But he’d never actually fired the damn thing, and he didn’t want to start now.
“There’s no time for red tape. I’m counting on you,” he said. “Where to?”
Without a word, Chu Shuzhi started down the street. When he reached the corner, he examined the sign on a shopfront and frowned. “Things have changed.”
“In six months?” The area didn’t look like it was under development. It had the feel of an old quarter where businesses were passed down in families, and people lived much as their great-grandparents had. In backwaters like this, change happened over decades, not months—which should make investigating easy, since everyone was bound to know everyone else’s business. What was Chu Shuzhi’s problem?
Chu Shuzhi turned and started up a set of wide stone steps, past a couple of young women coming down. He halted again. A flash of frustration crossed his face. “I don’t know which way to go.”
Zhao Yunlan bit back an impatient sigh. “You were born here. How big is this city? Do we need to start from your old neighbourhood?”
“It’s not that.” Chu Shuzhi clenched his jaw, and Zhao Yunlan remembered the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s letter of recommendation.
In the back of his mind, Zhao Yunlan was always aware that gruff Chu Shuzhi was a parolee, but he’d never mentioned it to the man’s face before. It had never been relevant. Now, he recalled the Envoy’s wording—after a period of incarceration—and he was too curious to keep quiet. “Chu Shuzhi, how old were you when you were arrested?”
Chu Shuzhi’s eyes narrowed, and he looked away. “Up here.”
He strode to the next intersection, started down a side-alley, then stopped again and ran his hand over his close-cropped head.
Zhao Yunlan caught up, his boots loud on the gravelled street. “How old?”
Chu Shuzhi sighed. He looked more annoyed than defeated. “I was eighteen. Why?”
Eighteen! At that age, Zhao Yunlan had been sleeping on his friends’ couches to avoid his father and regularly getting into drunken barfights. He felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the youth Chu Shuzhi had been, whatever his crime. Even if he’d misused his dark energy power. “How old are you now?”
“I’ve lost count.” Chu Shuzhi was still peering around for landmarks or directions. “Must be a hundred and seventeen. Why?”
Zhao Yunlan blew out a breath. He’d heard Dixingren aged differently from humans, but this was more than he’d imagined. Chu Shuzhi was three times older than he looked. He’d spent a hundred years in prison and been a mere kid before that—no wonder the guy couldn’t find his bearings. For that matter, no wonder he was in a perpetual bad mood.
A bad mood that wasn’t getting them anywhere.
Zhao Yunlan hooked his thumbs in his pockets and kept his voice light, saying, “Lao Chu, you should have said something. I’ve been ignoring your seniority all this time.”
Chu Shuzhi looked more startled than pleased at the new form of address. “It doesn’t matter.”
Zhao Yunlan let that pass, just making a mental note to tell the others to address Lao Chu with more respect. For now, they had a missing grandmother to find. “Okay,” he said. “It’s fine. We’ll figure this out together.”
Some of the stiffness left Chu Shuzhi’s shoulders. “Chief Zhao, if we consulted Hei Pao daren, he could—”
“Not yet.” Zhao Yunlan’s experience and wits had led them this far. The kidnapper was impulsive, clearly an amateur, and if the Black-Cloaked Envoy were anything like his formal, long-winded letters, he’d only slow them down, and likely kick up a fuss about Zhao Yunlan’s unofficial visit into the bargain. Zhao Yunlan was in no hurry to make his acquaintance. He clapped Chu Shuzhi briefly on the shoulder. “Come on, Lao Chu, you must at least remember where the bars are. Bartenders are a great source for gossip.”
Chu Shuzhi rolled his eyes with an exasperation that made Zhao Yunlan grin. Lao Chu might be Dixingren and over a hundred years old, but he was also a key member of the SID’s motley team. He needed to learn to relax if they were ever going to communicate easily and efficiently. Therefore, it was Zhao Yunlan’s duty as chief to keep provoking him out of his taciturn reserve.
Luckily, this was a task well within Zhao Yunlan’s wheelhouse.