The Remains of the Summer

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/44332954.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021)
Relationship: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu
Character: Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu, Gu Xiang (Faraway Wanderers), Cao
Weining, Xie Wang (Faraway Wanderers)
Language: English
Series: Part 9 of 夏日
Stats: Published: 2023-01-16 Chapters: 1/? Words: 865

The Remains of the Summer

by nirenhuang

Summary

What if Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing lived in 1920-30’s Berlin.

In this story, Zhou Zishu started working on his dissertation in sociology while Wen
Kexing was a medical student at Charité. They shared an apartment on the riverside of
central Berlin, not far away from Hakeschermarkt and Unter den Linden.

It is a sketch of their rather uneventful daily life, only set in different time & space. The plot
is inspired by Episode 8 of WOH.

The story was first written in Chinese (originaltitel:《夏日余痕》, link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34930630). Now I started to rewrite it in English (Not
translating! I tried translating as well but soon gave up. DeepL could do better) and had a
lot of fun since then.

Thanks for reading. Hope you will enjoy my story of Wen & Zhou.

Notes

See the end of the work for notes

Jemand .

Jemand was singing very badly, making the familiar melody sound ridiculous and strange.
The notes hammered on Zhou Zishu's eardrums, dragging him out of the bedroom that early
summer morning. Eyes half open and hair unruly, he looked almost like a survivor from a sinking
ship, just escaped a stormy sea. He caught a glimpse of the dreadful singer through the half-opened
kitchen door: Wen Kexing was setting the breakfast table in his usual lively manner, moving his
long legs swiftly between the chairs and humming an old song. Marlene Dietrich's deep smoky
voice came out of a gramophone in the corner and echoed with him, “Du, du liegst mir im Herzen.
Du, du liegst mir im Sinn…”

“Bloody hell!” Zhou Zishu glanced over an ancient cuckoo clock (one of Wen Kexing’s many
weird collections) and spoke rather irritatedly to his roommate and his ami d'amour ,“Don’t you
realise how early it is?”

“G-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g A Xu!” Wen Kexing called out with joy, ignoring the impatience in Zhou
Zishu’s voice,“Breakfast is ready! Tea or coffee?”

Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes and sighed, “Lao Wen, I always wondered why you had such a good
spirit. Tea then.”

He squeezed his knees under a lovely dining table — oak, oiled in a natural dark shade — and
watched Wen Kexing pouring tea precisely into two porcelain cups. His dear friend had his own
way of preparing tea, neither too hastily nor too slow, giving the boiling water enough time to
extract the essence of tea leaves; the same way he prepared him . They had been more than just
friends for some time. He could hardly resist the fire inside him lit by those daring but warm
fingers, nor could he ignore the sweetness in Lao Wen’s little smile. Zhou Zishu suspected that he
had long been lured by Lao Wen’s charm, willingly (and vice versa ); they both knew it too only
well. He sighed again quietly; this time with a smile.

Their small kitchen was filled with a charming smell of butter and cream. A frying pan was hissing
over the stove; the smell and the noise made Zhou Zishu start to feel hungry. Wen Kexing turned
off the stove in one snap and brought the pan to the table: the leftover bread from yesterday was
completely soaked in cream and beaten eggs, turned pretty soft inside; the outside of the bread
showed a delicious gold-brown colour after being fried crisp in butter. Arme Ritter , a dish for
those poor knights in legends. It just made a delightful breakfast for two poor students as well.

Like always, Wen Kexing spread a thick layer of marmalade between his bread — much too thick
for a healthy diet. Zhou Zishu grinned, “Lao Wen, you are just making the poor knight rich.”

“ Oh je , the poor knight won’t mind. Better mood now, A Xu?” Wen Kexing poured more tea into
Zhou Zishu’s cup and seemed to notice the heavy shadow under his eyes,“Didn’t you sleep well
last night?”
 “Not really,” Zhou Zishu took a bite of his Arme Ritter and felt the layered flavour of caramelised
butter and scrambled eggs fill his mouth, “You were rolling and yelling; almost kicked me out of
the bed and to the ground. What’s the matter? Nightmare again?”

“Quite the opposite.” A dreamy look appeared on Wen Kexing’s face, which softened the sharp
lines of his cheekbones. He swallowed his “rich knight” and began to search his memory for the
unusual dream last night.

“... We were both rangers in ancient times, travelling across the country with a sword as sharp as
the thorn and a skin full of wine…We killed; we laughed; we loved.”

His dream sounded like some side-effect after reading too many Wuxia stories. Sipping his tea,
Zhou Zishu listened to Wen Kexing’s vivid dream with bemusement. It was difficult for him to
imagine them, two young Chinese students living in the centre of the 20th centuries’ Berlin and
struggling in Doktorarbeit and Staatsexamen , dressed like those Faraway Wanderers in old
legends. He shook his head slightly as a gesture of disapproval, “You took your imagination too
far, Lao Wen.”

“Too far? ”Wen Kexing raised his eyebrows, “I haven’t even told you about the wedding.”

Zhou Zishu almost spilled his tea. He coughed hard to disguise that. “What wedding? Bloody — ”

“Ours, of course.” Wen Kexing answered happily, tasted his tea and added more sugar to it. “You
were in such a nice green gown embroidered with pearls, waiting in the wedding tent and the
candlelight was glowing on your shoulder… Our friends and disciples were celebrating outside; it
was noisy and chaotic. A Xiang, my little sister, perhaps was the loudest one, shouting out of joy
for more fireworks. I was about to kiss the pearls but the clocks rang — I never thought that little
bird could be so annoying,” he pointed at the cuckoo clock, frowning, “A Xu, do you think I could
sell it for a good price on the Flohmarkt ?”

“ Mein Lieber , Who would want that fine bird except you?” Zhou Zishu burst into laughter,
“Besides, I’m afraid you would just bring back more Kitsch from the Flohmarkt.”

End Notes

Marlene Dietrich was a German singer and actress. She was born in Berlin by the way.
 "Du, Du liegst mir im Herzen" is a German folk song. It could be roughly translated as
You, you are in my heart.

Arme Ritter is the German name of “poor knights of Windsor”, commonly known as the
French toast. When served with marmalade, it becomes Reiche Ritter. So A Xu joked that
Lao Wen made a poor knight rich.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!