planets on a string

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/44285662.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021), 天涯客 | Faraway Wanderers -
priest
Relationship: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu
Character: Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu, Helian Yi, Jing Beiyuan
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Abandoned Work - Unfinished
and Discontinued
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-01-15 Words: 4885

planets on a string
by drifloon

Summary

In every world Wen Kexing has been to, he was born with a different name. Only on Earth
Zero, the one he lives on, was he born Wen Kexing - on Earth Seven, he was Zhen Yan, on
Earth 22 he was Xia Yao, on Earth 364 he was Ling Rui, and so the list goes on. If he lives
to adulthood, he comes into the name Wen Kexing, but often he dies with a different name
entirely.

Because that’s the thing about traversing: you can only traverse to the Earths in which their
version of you has died. And out of the 392 Earths similar enough to Earth Zero that you
can traverse to them, Wen Kexing is only alive on six of them.

That makes him very, very valuable.

Abandoned work.

Notes

the concept is unapologetically stolen from micaiah johnson's book 'a space between
worlds', which i wholeheartedly recommend. this is tagged with both shl and tyk because
both iterations of zzs appear.

In every world Wen Kexing has been to, he was born with a different name. Only on Earth Zero,
the one he lives on, was he born Wen Kexing - on Earth Seven, he was Zhen Yan, on Earth 22 he
was Xia Yao, on Earth 364 he was Ling Rui, and so the list goes on. If he lives to adulthood, he
comes into the name Wen Kexing, but often he dies with a different name entirely.

Because that’s the thing about traversing: you can only traverse to the Earths in which their version
of you has died. And out of the 392 Earths similar enough to Earth Zero that you can traverse to
them, Wen Kexing is only alive on six of them.

That makes him very, very valuable.

“You’re late,” Zhou Zishu grunts. It’s rare that he lets Wen Kexing come to his office, which is on
the 70th floor. Wen Kexing’s clearance doesn’t go past 55; he’s only a resident, barely better than
the rats nesting on floor 27. Zhou Zishu is a citizen from old money, and his office has a separate
elevator that goes directly to the emperor’s floor. In every world Wen Kexing has been to, Zhou
Zishu is alive.

Well, in almost every world.

“You put up new art in the hallway,” Wen Kexing says with a smile. “I had to admire it, of course.
There are some very… interesting artistic choices on display.”

Zhou Zishu grimaces. “I had to buy it - it was a fundraiser.”

Wen Kexing laughs. In his five years of working in the City, he has been to a fundraiser exactly
once - it’s a comically oblivious farce where the rich push their money around among themselves,
pretending they’re doing something good with it. In the Valley, outside the guarded walls of the
City, there’s no such thing as a fundraiser. There’s those who need their money, and then there’s
those who need it more. “Is that why it’s been relegated to the hallway? If you didn’t like it, you
shouldn’t have bought it.”

“It’s where there was space,” Zhou Zishu replies, sitting behind his desk in his big, empty office.
“Speaking of space, let’s get down to business.”

“Ooh, I enjoyed that,” Wen Kexing says. “Well done.”

Zhou Zishu doesn’t smile, although Wen Kexing can tell that he wants to.

“Your next pull is on Earth 223,” Zhou Zishu says. “You’ve been there before.”

“I remember,” Wen Kexing replies. “I’m going to need 12 hours, minimum.”

“It’s one pull.” Zhou Zishu looks at him, unimpressed. “It’ll take a couple of hours at most.”

“I like 223,” Wen Kexing says, smiling. “I have business there. Twelve hours or I don’t go.”

“This is your job, Wen Kexing!” Zhou Zishu pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do I need to remind
you of our non-interference policy?”

“I would never interfere in anything,” Wen Kexing replies. He meets Zhou Zishu’s eyes, tilting his
head slightly to the side.

Zhou Zishu sighs, finally looking away. “I can give you eight.”

“Ten.” Wen Kexing leans over the desk, studying him. “What’s got you so stressed? Something
amiss in paradise?”
“Just the fact that I’m stuck with the laziest traverser in the organisation.”

“One day, I’ll be the only one,” Wen Kexing says cheerfully. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t wish for others’ redundancy like that,” Zhou Zishu replies mulishly. He can’t say anything
else, because Wen Kexing is right. There used to be a traverser who had died almost as much as
Wen Kexing has, called Jing Qi - but he’s retired, and now there’s only a handful of them left. “It’s
an ill omen.”

“Tianyuan is just like the Valley. It’s a dog eat dog world, A-Xu, and I intend to be the one eating.”

Zhou Zishu huffs. On this Earth, he goes by Zhou Xu, though Wen Kexing has found reference to
his real name being Zhou Zishu on file.

On every world, Wen Kexing is born with a different name. On every world, Zhou Zishu is born
and given the same three characters, but he never uses it, always clinging to one alias or another.

“Get something to eat, and then we’ll launch the pull,” Zhou Zishu says.

“You could’ve just messaged me this, A-Xu. Was there another reason you wanted to see me?”
Wen Kexing’s lips curve, still leaning over the desk, as his eyes pause deliberately on Zhou Zishu’s
mouth. Even with his face pinched and while slouching from fatigue, Zhou Zishu is the most
beautiful man Wen Kexing has ever seen. “You know, if you’re struggling to relax, I think I know
just the thing to help you unwind…”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Zhou Zishu replies, leaning back to escape him. He pauses for a moment,
studying Wen Kexing with deliberation, and then speaks again: “But you’re right, there was
something else.” He pulls something small out of a drawer and holds it out. It’s a data stick,
smaller than Wen Kexing’s finger, and he takes it without comment. “Leave this in Helian Zhao’s
residence. It doesn’t matter where.”

“You expect me to get into his house just like that?”

“Just find a guard to sleep with,” Zhou Zishu replies blandly. “Isn’t that what you always do?”

Wen Kexing blinks and then he laughs heartily, pocketing the data stick. “Thank you for the
compliment, A-Xu!”

“There will always be those with horrible taste - don’t flatter yourself.”

“Just try and stop me.” Wen Kexing grins. “Very well. Do you want to come get something to eat
with me? You can make sure I stay on schedule, on my own I’m much more likely to get
distracted…”

Zhou Zishu eyes him, clearly not buying it, but after a moment of staring each other down, he
shrugs and gives in. “Fine - I haven’t had breakfast yet. Come on, then.”

The pull always hurts. It was something no one warned Wen Kexing about, the first time - how it
felt like he was being torn apart as he travelled between one world and the next. Arrival feels like
relief, but in the way death would feel like relief.

And if there is already a Wen Kexing on the world that awaits him, he will be chewed up and
mangled by the universe, turned inside out into a throbbing mass of blood and viscera that dies
without lungs to scream.
Wen Kexing has seen it once, what becomes of a traverser whose double isn’t dead. He has seen
the white of his own ribs.

But this time, the universe lets him go without twisting him into pieces, and he arrives at 223
bruised, disoriented, but no worse for wear than before.

“Landing alright?” Zhou Zishu asks in his ear.

“It was fine,” Wen Kexing tells him. “Now, much as I love your sweet tones in my ear, I need to
get to work. See you later, A-Xu.” He reaches up to turn the earpiece off, ignoring the exasperated
sigh Zhou Zishu lets out as Wen Kexing once again breaks protocol.]

Getting into the Valley from his landing point doesn’t take long. He grew up there, and the Valley
can only change so much between worlds. Some constants persist, and to Wen Kexing’s delight,
one of those constants is the gap in the fence on the southern border, away from the idyllic capital.

At the Valley’s most esteemed brothel, Wen Kexing slips inside. His eyes cast about, searching.
There are many worlds where he worked here himself, but 223 isn’t one of them, so no one takes
notice of him as anything other than a potential patron.

Sliding into a seat at the bar, Wen Kexing raises his hand for the bartender’s attention.

Without him uttering a word, a glass of plum wine is set down on the bar before him. “I didn't
think I'd see you again,” the bartender says.

“Business dragged me back into town,” Wen Kexing replies, bringing the glass to his lips and
sipping from it. “Ah… you really have the best stuff.”

“Best house in the Valley, after all.” Zhou Zishu smiles at him, polishing a glass. “It's good to see
you.”

“It's good to see you too, A-Yun.” Wen Kexing wets his lips, leaning across the bar. “I have some
work to do in town, but I could pay you a visit afterwards, if you'd like…”

Zhou Zishu meets his gaze, eyes dark. “I could be amenable to that.”

Wen Kexing grins and downs his drink. “It's a date.” He looks around, deeming the few patrons
scattered around the room to be of no importance, and then leans in to kiss Zhou Zishu across the
solid wood between them. “See you soon,” he murmurs into his lips, and cackles as he runs away,
the tip of Zhou Zishu's polishing cloth brushing against his back as the other man tries to him.

The pull point is by the edge of the City. Wen Kexing exits the Valley as he entered it, and then he
circles back into the City, his resident’s pass opening the doors he only dreamed of when he was a
child. The City is surrounded by walls, tall and cruel, and the pull point is near just such a wall. He
plugs his pass bracelet into the point, watching the clouds pass on the blue sky overhead as the
data downloads. Stock prices, census data, agriculture and environmental trends, all of it goes into
his bracelet for the analysts on the upper floors to look at. It’s what keeps Earth Zero going, using
other Earths’ patterns to calculate their own trajectories.

As for what keeps the emperor going, Wen Kexing has an inkling that it’s got something to do with
the data stick currently resting in his pocket.

There is no Helian Zhao on Earth Zero. The emperor, Helian Yi—as far as anyone knows—is an
only child.
After his bracelet beeps to signal it’s completed the download, Wen Kexing begins to make his
way to Helian Zhao’s residence. On Earth 223, there are still three forces competing over the City:
the aggressive conqueror, Helian Zhao; the slimy schemer, Helian Qi; and the stoic tactician,
Helian Yi. Their mansions rest side by side in the heart of the City, a space carved out by their
imperial father. On a different Earth, Wen Kexing was a working boy at Helian Qi’s residence who
met his death trying to poison his master. He knows what those halls look like, but he has never
been inside either of the others’.

Between the worlds, time gets finicky. While time passes at the same pace for him on Earth 223 as
it does for Zhou Zishu, waiting for him on Earth Zero, they’re not living the same day. Zhou
Zishu’s responsibility as a handler is to deposit him correctly in the other world’s time, not just
space.

To make it easier to infiltrate Helian Zhao’s residence, the day Zhou Zishu chose is the day of a
minor festival. All three mansions are busy with preparations for the evening, and Wen Kexing
lowers his chin submissively, making himself small and unassuming as he slips inside Helian
Zhao’s house.

Around him, servants and guards mill about, carrying lanterns and bunting and decorations galore.
Wen Kexing picks up some plates that are waiting on a dresser and puts his head down, heading
for the quieter living quarters towards the back of the estate.

Behind the main hall is a private garden. A servant girl exits through the arch, and Wen Kexing
enters after her, still holding the plates. He picks his way carefully through the garden, which is ill-
maintained and bland - long, pale grass and flowers leached of colour, nutrient-starved and
sunburnt. The path through the garden curves around a bench, and on the bench sits a pile of
gossamer and silk, just as pale as the flowers surrounding him.

Wen Kexing keeps his head down as he passes behind the bench, but the mass of grey clothes
raises a fine-boned hand. “Boy, here.”

Boy. In the Valley, you’re an adult as soon as you can feed yourself, and no one treats you like a
child, even while you’re teething. But everyone in the City likes to infantilise those beneath them,
no matter their age. Wen Kexing has seen wealthy ladies refer to their grandmother servants as
girls, like their social status means they can never fully grow up.

Silently, Wen Kexing comes to stand in front of the man on the bench, his gaze dutifully fastened
on the ground.

“Lift your head,” the man says, not unkindly. When Wen Kexing straightens and looks at him, he’s
surprised that the man looks as young as himself - his airs lend themselves to a much older
gentleman. His skin is still smooth and his posture is youthfully lazy, but his gaze holds the weight
of someone much, much older. “I haven’t seen you before, what’s your name?”

What was his name in this universe? “Lin Haoyu,” Wen Kexing replies after a moment, and bows
over the plates. “Apologies for the intrusion, sire.”

The man laughs gently. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. It’s nice to have company.” His eyes rove over
Wen Kexing’s form, but it’s a half-hearted effort, born of routine, not want. “Are you going to be at
the party tonight?”

“If the Eldest Scion needs me,” Wen Kexing says dutifully. “I am usually in the kitchens, sir.” He
holds up his plates as proof.
“The kitchens!” The man sounds delighted. “That’s my favourite place in any party. Helian Zhao
certainly knows how to cook up a good dinner.”

Wen Kexing nods. He keeps his body still, pushing his impatience out through his feet into the
earth like he used to do when he was young. Never let them know what you want, even if what you
want is just to leave. Every desire is leverage.

“Not very chatty, are you, Lin Haoyu?”

Wen Kexing bows again. “My apologies, sire, I’ve always been told I was dropped on my head as a
baby. If you’d like better company, I can have someone sent to sit with you…”

“No need.” The man yawns. “I’m just waiting for someone, but he’ll be here soon. When Autumn's
Golden Wind embraces Dew of Jade… Do you know who said that?”

“Li Bai,” Wen Kexing says, holding the man’s gaze. Something about this dandy is frustrating, in
the way that too-small clothes are frustrating - like a constant, niggling feeling of wrongness.

“Ah, that’s not quite right…” The man leans forward, his thin wrists cutting lines through the air as
he gestures. “You see, it was Qin Guan who—”

“Beiyuan!”

The call rings out across the garden. The man who spoke it is not loud, nor naturally commanding.
As he strides to meet them, Wen Kexing can see a familiar set of robes before he ducks his head in
obedience.

“Beiyuan, how long have you been sitting here?” Helian Yi says, scolding him. “You're not
dressed for the weather.”

“I was just making conversation,” the man says. “This is one of Helian Zhao’s new boys.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wen Kexing can see Helian Yi give him a considering look that lasts
only for a second before he's found lacking. Then, the Emperor - though he is not that here, and
maybe he never will be - turns to this Beiyuan like Wen Kexing doesn't exist, and he takes the
opportunity to slip away. Wen Kexing leaves the pale, timeless garden behind and finds
somewhere to plant the data stick, and then he heads back to the Valley. He has a few hours before
Earth Zero expects him back, and he intends to make the most of it.

Coming back doesn't feel like coming home. Wen Kexing has pockets of homes on every Earth
he's been to, but none of them feel quite right. This one is getting close, though, especially when
Zhou Zishu - Zhou Xu - opens the shell of the traversing pod and grimaces at the sight of him.

“What?” Wen Kexing looks down at himself. He can't see any blood, and when he quickly counts
all of his fingers and toes, they're still present, so he didn't lose anything in the traversal. When he
stands up from the pod, a metallic reclining chair with a lid, he is a little unsteady, but that's all.
“Everything seems to be in the right place… or am I horribly disfigured?”

“No more than usual,” Zhou Zishu snaps. “You're covered in marks. Did you really sleep with a
guard to get in?” He holds up his hand. “Nevermind, I don't want to know. Debriefing in my office
in ten.”

It's night now, and usually Zhou Zishu lets Wen Kexing go home and sleep after a trip. Something
is happening, Wen Kexing is sure, but he can't quite tell what.
He goes to the bathroom to wash his face. In the bleak lighting, he can see the hickeys Zhou Yun
left on his neck, and the twinge across his chest tells him the rest have made their way across
universes with him too.

Wen Kexing sighs. He must be crazy, to leave a warm and willing Zhou Yun for this.

After spending a bit longer in the bathroom, he makes his way to Zhou Zishu's office.

“I put the data stick in his wardrobe,” Wen Kexing says, standing in front of Zhou Zishu's desk.
He's taken his identity bracelet off, and it's lying on the desk between them, uploading the data he
captured. This moment always feels painfully vulnerable - his pale wrist exposed to the world,
while the key to his entire life lies on Zhou Zishu's desk. “I met the boss on my way there.”

Zhou Zishu's eyebrow arches. “And how was that?”

“I didn't do anything funny, if that's what you're worried about. He was with this man…” Wen
Kexing frowns. “Beiyuan, he called him. Do you know who that is?”

“Jing Beiyuan,” Zhou Zishu says. “Don't you remember? You've met him.”

“I think I'd remember a dandy like that,” Wen Kexing replies. “Is he still around?”

“You met him the day after you started.” Zhou Zishu is looking at him, a faint line between his
brows. “And then he passed away, not long after. Don't you remember the memorial service?”

Wen Kexing's jaw snaps shut. “Ah,” he says after a while. “Yes, of course I remember. I hadn't
realised… of course, that must be the same person. Thank you.”

His excuse is weak, he knows, and he has the inane urge to grab his bracelet and bolt out the door,
run back to the Valley and find a way to put his body to work. The City isn't meant for people like
him, and Zhou Zishu will soon realise -

“Did you meet anyone else?” Zhou Zishu asks.

“No. No one important, anyway.”

Zhou Zishu looks at the hickeys on his neck again, and then he sighs, sitting back. “Alright. I'll let
you go sleep.”

Wen Kexing nods, turning to leave, but then Zhou Zishu speaks again:

“Lao Wen? Don't tell anyone that you met Beiyuan.”

Wen Kexing looks over his shoulder at him. Zhou Zishu's gaze is tired and unreadable as it meets
his, and Wen Kexing nods finally. “I won't,” he says. “Good night, A-Xu.”

“Good night,” Zhou Zishu says, and Wen Kexing imagines that he is smiling.

The Valley was almost his. This was what he told himself in the morning, when life threatened to
crush him under its weight - it was what he told himself at night, nursing injuries and swallowing
bitter bile.

The Valley was almost his, and yet whenever he could, Wen Kexing snuck out through the fence
towards the south. He would go to gaze up at the walls of the City, resenting everyone inside with
hatred so black it coloured everything he saw, and yet he would have given anything to be inside.
The Valley was almost his, but Wen Kexing hated it. Every moment he spent outside was
bettersweet, weighed down with the knowledge that he would soon have to return.

It was during one of these moments, a stolen half-hour outside the Valley, that he found the corpse.

Well, it was not yet a corpse when he found it. It was a creature, maybe once a man, but his limbs
had been twisted on themselves. His rib cage grew out of his shoulder, and his chest was a bloody,
squished mess, the skin split open like an overripe fruit. It pulsed, his chest, the heart inside
stubbornly trying to pump blood through the mangled body that housed it, trying to stay alive no
matter what.

Wen Kexing looked at the corpse, and he knew it was himself.

On the ground, there was a tiny metal earpiece. The wastelands were quiet, and the only sounds
were those of the dying corpse and the person speaking from the earpiece.

“—Kexing. Can you hear me?”

Wen Kexing took one step forward, then another. He walked until he was next to the corpse, and
then he took another step, his boot burying itself in the ruined chest of the creature. The thing that
had once been Wen Kexing twitched, and then it finally died.

He turned around and picked up the earpiece, putting it in his ear.

“I'm here,” he said. “This is Wen Kexing.”

“You can’t just go quiet like that,” the voice replied, annoyed. Wen Kexing had heard it before, in
the throat of a dying man. Zhou Zishu. “I thought something might have happened. You got your
bracelet?”

Wen Kexing stepped over the corpse and picked up a metallic cylinder, brushing a bit of spleen off
it. “Yes,” he said. “Sorry, I got a bit turned around… What do I do next?”

“Go to the pull point,” Zhou Zishu told him, and he walked Wen Kexing through every step.
Afterwards, he said, “you ready to be pulled back?”

“Yes,” Wen Kexing said. He cast a glance over the Valley. “Get me out of here.”

In his apartment on Earth Zero, Wen Kexing has only a few items - a projector for his bracelet, a
silk belt, a pair of gloves, and a few other memorabilia from the worlds he's traversed. After
passing out for half a day on his cot, he plugs his bracelet into the projector and looks up Jing
Beiyuan.

The Helian Corporation mourns the passing of Jing Beiyuan at the age of twenty-nine, and we
stand in solidarity with the loved ones he leaves behind… He finds a dry press release from the
Corporation, notable only because he's never read anything like it before. The Corporation has had
plenty of accidents, but none of them have been marked by an article like this. Wen Kexing
remembers the expression on Helian Yi’s face when he saw Jing Beiyuan, and he wonders.

Jing Beiyuan died in an altercation with the Valley, according to the news reports. The Valley
Master had him skinned and wrapped in silk, neatly presented with a bow at the gates of the City.
Reading between the lines, Wen Kexing learns that Jing Beiyuan had been at one of the
whorehouses in the Valley - not an uncommon pastime for rich lechers from the City, but those
who stepped out of line were punished harshly. Jing Beiyuan was clearly meant to be a warning to
all of his kind, who thought they could come to the Valley and take what wasn’t theirs.

There had been a weight to Jing Beiyuan’s gaze, Wen Kexing remembers, but it was perfunctory.
Not the gaze of a rapist - he would know.

There are several clips from the funeral. One is of Helian Yi speaking, which he plays for only a
moment before getting bored, but the second one is of Zhou Zishu. He is turned away and his face
is obscured by leaves, the sprawling tree above the funeral procession hiding him from camera, but
Wen Kexing would recognise the slope of his shoulder blades anywhere.

“…imagine losing a dear friend in a horrific accident like this, so I appreciate everyone’s support
during this mourning period,” Zhou Zishu says, soft-spoken and monotone. On first listen, he
seems numb with grief, but Wen Kexing plays the short clip again, leaning in to study the scant
view of his figure.

The man Wen Kexing met in the garden seemed larger than life. It is hard to imagine that he died
the way they are saying, and Zhou Zishu’s performance fails to convince him. Perhaps he perished
in some other way, even more damaging to his image - or perhaps in a way that would incriminate
the Corporation, if it ever came to light.

Wen Kexing shrugs and turns the projector off. It's not really his business, whatever it is. But even
when he closes his eyes and lies back, intending to nap, the only thing he can see is the distorted
image of Zhou Zishu, turned away from the camera, segmented into mismatching body parts by
branches.

When Wen Kexing wakes up again, it's late evening, and his bracelet is beeping. Traversing does
this to him sometimes - it untethers him from time and space, so he loses all sense of rhythm. Long
pulls can make him nocturnal, a habit that Zhou Zishu says he hates, even though Wen Kexing has
never encountered him sleeping. Not on this world, anyway. If he'd stuck around, he could have
watched Zhou Yun fall asleep, sticky-warm and happy…

The bracelet beeps again, louder than before, and Wen Kexing sits up with a groan, reaching to
shut it off. Once he nudges it, it lights up with a message, projecting it into the air: Come to my
office. 77.

Wen Kexing looks over his little apartment. It's been his, the first place that's ever been truly and
only his, and he wants to take a moment to appreciate it before he goes. It will probably be the last
time.

After all, why would the boss want to see him, if not to fire him?

He doesn't bother to shower before he goes, but he does change his shirt into one not wrinkled by
sleep. It might reflect badly on Zhou Zishu, and while Wen Kexing has a lot of fireable offenses
under his belt, he can confidently say that Zhou Zishu has not - knowingly - caused any of them.

When he scans his bracelet in the elevator to gain access to floor 77, it works for so long that he
thinks it might be a prank, he's not been asked to come up after all - but then it beeps, accepting,
and the elevator rises up. Wen Kexing has never been this high up before, and out of the glass
panels, he can see the entire City, decadent and beautiful. Beyond it, the wild Valley reigns, cold
where the City is warm, cruel where the City is kind.

Still, some places in the Valley, there is kindness - and most places in the City, Wen Kexing has
learned, there is cruelty.
He knocks on Helian Yi’s door and steps back, waiting to be led inside by a servant. But when the
doors slide open, it's the man himself greeting him. His expression is calm. He doesn't look
friendly, but he looks thoughtful and intelligent, like a magnanimous ruler should.

“Wen Kexing, come inside.”

Wen Kexing follows him. Like the elevator, the walls of Helian Yi’s apartment are glass. The rest
of the building is polished steel, and when gazed at from the outside, the glass elevator moving to
the transparent top floor looks like an artery leading to the vulnerable heart. “Thank you for having
me, sir,” Wen Kexing says. “I'm sorry for intruding.”

“Not at all.” Helian Yi pauses by a polished china set, his hand resting on the porcelain tea pot.
“Tea?”

“No, thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this Emperor's company?”

“No need to be so formal, Wen-xiong.” Helian Yi gives him a thin-lipped smile. “You've been
with us for years now, and provided an invaluable service with your traversals. I thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” Wen Kexing replies, guarded.

“In fact,” Helian Yi continues, “I believe you met an old friend of mine on Earth 223.”

“So I did.” Wen Kexing smiles. “The Emperor must be very attentive to his workers, to already
know so much about my trip.”

“It's the least I can do, to recognise your - and all the other traversers’ - efforts,” Helian Yi says
humbly. What an asshole. “Please, have a seat. What was it like, meeting Beiyuan?”

“Meeting him again, you mean?”

“Of course.” Helian Yi smiles again, that thin-lipped, meaningless smile.

“It was bittersweet,” Wen Kexing says blandly. “His was a life robbed from us too early.”

Helian Yi steeples his fingers and leans in. The genteel mask on his face falls away, replaced by
some well of emotion that Wen Kexing doesn't care to look into. If he looks into that depth, he
knows he will find a reflection of himself. “I couldn't agree more,” Helian Yi replies. His voice is
low and urgent. “That's why I've summoned you here to give you a special directive. I wish for you
to bring Beiyuan from Earth 223 to this world.”

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