SEND IN THE CAVALRY

It was pitiful how touch-starved Yuanzhi had been, because he caved almost instantly. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and his hand rose until it was able to cover Ma Dai’s and he squeezed the other’s wrist gently before he leaned into the other’s touch and stayed there, his eyes still closed. Xu Shu hesitated to look at Ma Dai, because if he looked he knew what would happen: Life in Xuchang would become a memory; he would want to leave everything here immediately. In his heart, he knew where his home was, who his lord was. Xu Shu had shoved every truth further and further away so it would be easier to cope—easier to waste away, especially knowing that if he could change things, they more than likely would have been the same. He still would have been the fool that gave up his own needs to ensure the people close to him were safe and healthy. He still would have been the ever filial son and not some selfish man. With a deep breath, Xu Shu slowly opened his eyes and he finally let them meet Ma Dai’s silver ones. It was then the truth that surged forward, having no need to be hidden anymore.

“Luoyi…I want to go home. We have to go home.”

A great pressure released from within the moment his touch was accepted, and the motion to lean in with a firm squeeze prompted him further. As the words spilled from his lips, Ma Dai shifted in the wake of Xu Shu’s admittance, and moved to fill the space between. A second limb raised, his hand finding its place on the opposing side of the other’s face, and he drew the tactician into a long-awaited embrace.

“Then let’s go home.” He uttered softly, mouth hovered next to Xu Shu’s ear as his head tilted, temple resting against the strategist’s skull, “we’ll find a way to fix this. We always do.” His braced hands slid back so that his arms could curl around Yuanzhi’s shoulders into the warmth of his grasp, selfishly relishing in a touch he had not felt for so long. But just as Ma Dai required it, he felt that Xu Shu did just as much, if not more.

Xu Shu headed further into his home, toward the desk in the living room and he sat down in the chair and feigned interest in the otherwise blank parchment paper. He allowed himself to keep watch on Ma Dai through his peripheral vision and silently made note on all of the changes. Journey to Xuchang aside, time had been far kinder to Ma Dai than it had been to Xu Shu himself.

“You weren’t supposed to be here. Ever.”

The words lacked the conviction Xu Shu used to have years ago. Had years not gone by—had Xu Shu not become complacent here in Xuchang–he would have told Ma Dai to return home and he would have meant it. Time had become a factor in all things in this moment; Xu Shu began to wonder how many minutes or hours could pass before his neighbors and other high ranking officials would notice him gone from his post in the morning.

All of those musings immediately ceased when Taohua came to mind next. If Xu Shu had built a life here, so did Taohua. His daughter thrived here; she had teachers and friends. Xu Shu had become lenient with Taohua, because the last thing he wanted to do was make her miserable with his own misery. It wasn’t Taohua’s fault that Xu Shu fell for a lie regarding his mother and her health. All of Xu Shu’s burdens were his own, and it was supposed to stay that way–they did stay that way, as long as Ma Dai wasn’t here to share those burdens.

But…Ma Dai was here now, and oh, how easy it was for Xu Shu to explain his sudden and abrupt departure, and to apologize. Instead, Xu Shu clung to the version of himself he spent years working on–the one who wanted to be happy here in Xuchang.

“My life is here now. My mother has been buried here, Taohua is doing well here…there’s no point in me leaving.” he continued. Xu Shu turned his head just slightly to look at Ma Dai a little better and he regretted that. Happiness and longing were instantly felt, and trying to erase those feelings was impossible; he hadn’t felt such things in a long time, he realized. He lowered his head after he tore his gaze away, rubbed his eyes, and then he buried his face in his hands.

This wasn’t some desperate fever dream from years ago, when he had just gotten to Xuchang. It was very real.

“Yuanzhi,” it was a plea, syllables of desperation. Those were the reasons he chose to stay in Xuchang, but they didn’t have to be. And yet, Ma Dai didn’t argue, not once, for the words that graced his tongue and threatened to leave his mouth would have in turn been selfish. He chose this, then--to be here, to serve Cao Cao, and to build a life under Wei’s banner. But if that was the case, why did he look so broken? Why was he so worn down, so exhausted? Why did it seem like he was wasting away? Too many times had Ma Dai simply accepted the information he’d been given as the be all and end all--from the mouths of Ma Chao, Zhuge Liang, and countless others. But this was not something he could simply leave be. Not when there were so many glaring contradictions, and not when it hurt this badly.

But instead of facing him and speaking to him directly, Xu Shu turned and seated himself across the room away from him. He kept his eyes low and away from the man who had traveled so far and tried so hard to find him, all save for a moment’s glance. And above all--above everything--that was what hurt the most.

“I wouldn’t be here if you told me that you were leaving, and that you had no intention of coming back.” He began, rooted to his spot and feeling instantly cut off as the tactician’s head bowed into the palms of his hands. Though despite the lack of eye contact and physical presence, he continued. Even if his words fell upon deaf ears, they were said. And the decision was ultimately up to him to make. “If you’re happy here, mentally, physically and emotionally, I’ll leave. But you have to prove to me that you are.” A surge of strength and determination pulsed through him, and he chanced a step forward, and then another, unable to stand the barrier that separated them after so long.

“--Yuanzhi, look at me.” He insisted, and within a blink he was at the other’s side less than a foot away--praying that he could make sense of it all without being pushed away as he often was. But he forged on, and dared to break the metaphorical wall that separated them by stooping to his knees. He reached up and placed a palm against the side of his face, bare fingers pushing through short, tousled locks not only to draw his attention from the depths of his mind, but also to suggest, again, that he was here physically. And he always would be, so long as he allowed it. 

The answer Xu Shu received had undone years of learning how to effectively live in (self-inflicted) misery. Everything had come undone with a single reply, and Xu Shu loathed himself again for his weakness because he knew exactly who stood here before him. Xu Shu was supposed to be stronger, to take the letter and shut his door and hurry to his desk to read it, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to, not now, not as Ma Dai stood before him.

Xu Shu searched desperately for the first thing that came to mind, and after moments of deliberation he chose to reach for the letter. The letter was the safety net, his key to escaping, but even as the pads of his fingers pressed against the parchment, they soon moved upward and tugged just slightly at the red silk scarf. It was wrapped around a person whose touch Xu Shu should have forgotten years ago, but to no avail. Subconsciously, he had been checking to make sure this was a dream so that he could wake up. It would be just like the other times, and then Xu Shu could focus on things that weren’t tangible but so much more present.

Remembering the present, Xu Shu immediately retracted his hand and looked past Ma Dai’s shoulders and down the corridors outside. When it was all clear, he gently collected the letter from the other man and turned back into his home, past the door and down the hallway.

“Yes,” Xu Shu answered loud enough so Ma Dai could hear. “I have a reply letter for Chengdu. Please, follow me this way, and close the door behind you. If it’s too cold when my daughter returns home, she’ll get sick. She’s all I have.”

It was a partial lie, yes, but enough to give Xu Shu a few seconds of space–a few seconds to breathe. He shut the hallway window, waiting to hear his front door close. He grit his teeth and he pressed his back against the cold stone wall, trying to keep every single question held in but to no avail.

“…Why couldn’t you be a figment of my imagination, Luoyi? Why did you come here?”

The motion of fingertips moving upward from the parchment and catching on the bunched fabric was enough to send a chilling quake up his spine. The contact was temporary and fleeting, for within moments the other’s limb withdrew, but the lingering pressure of curling fingertips and knowing that the man before him was alive and real was both relieving and overwhelming.

Shaking free from the momentary, emotional paralysis, Ma Dai simply nodded his head in response; an action taken to show both understanding and willingness should any unwanted onlooker catch wind of the exchange. So with careful, planned strides, the soldier pushed inward and followed the instructions given to him by the man he had lost so many years ago.

With an uneasy pivot behind the door, the cavalryman pushed it closed, though the sound of it connecting with the door frame resonated loudly within his ears: that, within the confines of the humble home, his secret was safe. And so it was without delay that he forged on, moving forward to meet the tactician with his back to the stone wall, and the unraveling of unnecessary garments to expose the familiar mess of an umber mane, and the rough growth of facial hair which had been left, over time, less maintained than usual.

Despite all his haste longing for this very moment, there was hesitation now--fear in the unknown now that he was faced with what he wanted and who he’d been looking for. From across the room he looked on, bright eyes of liquid silver saddened. He knew very well that this could have meant goodbye, and he prepared himself for that possibility, however if there was a slight chance that he could return home with Xu Shu in tow, he would do everything in his power to accomplish that. 

He tread softly, swallowing the urgency he felt to close the gap and embrace the forlorn tactician he would have done anything for--anything, except for staying away.

“Yuanzhi,” came the eventual start of a reply, as if speaking his name alone were enough of an explanation. Though there was no happiness in his tone. He motioned to proceed forward once again, but remained grounded in fear that the tides would turn against him, for despite the overwhelming emotional burden that visibly sunk down upon them both, the inquiry left him shattered. With all his preparation, it was evident to him then, that returning home without Xu Shu was not an option--and at the end of the day, that was what scared him most. For if he could not, then neither could Ma Dai.

If there had been one thing Xu Shu had learned through the course of secret letter writing, it was the importance of time. He had done things on the days he received letters in set amounts of time with each minute accounted for. He had been quick about his own body language and learned what to look for–a carefully tied red scarf–on the messenger. Each messenger was different so as to remove suspicion, even though the contents being brought inside Xuchang were the same, the most important being the letters. Fa Zheng’s letters always arrived in the afternoon, just after security rounds were made, and just after Xu Shu arrived home. These days, Taohua wasn’t around to greet him (she was out and about now in the city capital, more than likely pouring over texts or further inside the opulent palace, looking for her teacher), there was only silence. After Xu Shu changed into his informal clothes, he would have enough time to pull out blank parchment, a bottle of ink and a brush to write up a response before the messenger arrived.

The letters, while serving as some form of catharsis, made Xu Shu hate himself. He wanted to be anywhere but Xuchang, putting his strategies to good use. However, he knew where he needed to be. 

Xuchang was where he had begun to build a life. He received promotions, more money, and at one point he’d even gotten a bigger home here but at his core he knew he was all but wasting away. Sometimes he wondered if things would have been different had he stayed with Liu Bei, but he figured the end result would be the same. He would leave the people he cared about behind him. And yet…

It took him weeks to respond to the first letter, even though his gut instinct told him that by the style of the brush strokes that the sender was none other than Xiaozhi (who had long since made the promise that he would always find Xu Shu just when he was needed). When Xu Shu finally did respond, he kept his questions vague but the ending was the same each and every single time:

Please tell Luoyi I’m fine.

Xu Shu had to write those words for himself. Those five words convinced him that staying in Xuchang would do him well, strangely enough. If Ma Dai, the one other person who knew him well was alright, Xu Shu wouldn’t have a reason to leave Xuchang. He could keep his honor-bound promise, and thrive off of letters from outside.

“Speaking of letters…” Xu Shu mumbled as he heard the knock on the door. The messenger was on time as he always was. Had Xu Shu not been so deep in his thoughts, he could have counted the seconds. 

As he headed toward the door, he made quick work of pushing open the hallway window just slightly to poke his head outside first. It was a habit, checking for the red scarf around the messenger’s wrist. When the strategist saw it, he resumed his trek to the door and opened it.

“ Ah, good after…noon..” Xu Shu trailed off, as he looked at the messenger first, as he always did.

Something felt different.

“…Might you have something for me?”

The door opened when he didn’t expect it to, which was both a relief and a deeply-seated source of pain. To think that if the hadn’t, perhaps this was all just a ruse; a cruel stratagem composed by Fa Zheng to test the limits of the soldier’s obedience--that he would return back to Chengdu, and Xu Shu would be where he belonged. That, at worst, he would be punished for insubordination, and at least Yuanzhi would be home. But the agony that ran deeply through his core intensified as his own head was kept low, suddenly unable to look up as the calm, warm notes of the jaded tactician’s voice had once again rung within his ears. If the letters that had been hidden from him for months--no, years--were not proof enough, this very moment was.

Despite the usual air of comfortable confidence he held, Ma Dai was unable to muster it. Not immediately. Though it would come, he knew. So it was with a hesitant lift of his head that his cloaked arm reached out, offering the parcel he was due to deliver--unable still to meet the other’s gaze--especially knowing full well that he had gone against exactly what Yuanzhi asked and desired.

“A letter.” Came an eventual, simple reply; less of what he wanted to say, but restricted in the public eye they were. It was with a breath of courage that his posture straightened, and knowing that he could delay no longer. With the inhalation came a tilt of his head and the tumbling of material around the frame of his face, features that moments earlier were largely obscured by a shadowy hood and wrapped scarf, now exposed to the elements. Pink cheeks from the abrasive wind, tired eyes from nights of restlessness, and gentle signs of age that came with the stress that began with Xu Shu’s sudden,immobilizing departure.