Food and drink, apart from the strongest ones, had lost almost all of their taste by now but, thankfully, his sense of touch was still relatively intact. No longer strong enough to feel the tiniest of imperfections on a cup or on a piece of fabric, but more than enough to feel the weak pulse under his fingertips while he held his Lao Wen's wrist in a desperate grip.
Wake up, he begged silently, containing his rising fear and anger with the iron control he'd learned over the years. Come back to me or I swear I will hunt you down wherever you go to drag you back where you belong.
"At my side," he added out loud, just because he could in the loneliness and quietness of the night with only an unconscious, maybe dying, man in his arms.
He hated blood on his robes but now his eyes were drawn to the marks of red on his sleeve where he'd tried to wipe the blood from Lao Wen's lips before he'd given up on the task for the time being. Without thinking he once again wiped over the freshly red-stained lips.
Red was Lao Wen's color, Zhou Zishu, mused in the little corner of his mind that wasn't busy trying to force the man to hold on through will alone, too spent himself to offer anything else. Blood suited him, yes, but not when it was his own blood that stained his lips and clothes.
Zhou Zishu's suspicions were all but confirmed now but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. Or disappointed. Not in Lao Wen, at least. Not all but most of the blame must be laid before the feet of others - himself included.
A weak cough, even in deep unconsciousness, and a new wave of red. Without thinking he gave in to the impulse that had been haunting him for hours and he leaned down to kiss the blood from Lao Wen's lips.
His sense of touch was still rather intact, after all, and he could feel the soft and slightly too cool lips under his own.
The taste of blood exploded in his mouth, a rare gift from heaven these days, and he pulled back to see dark eyes open, watching him intently, before bloodstained lips formed a slight smile.
"Ah, my A-Xu," Lao Wen said, "kissing me awake. The Heavens are good today to little old me."
Yes, Zhou Zishu had to admit, they were. To both of them. He licked his lips, still relishing in the taste of blood, and smiled back before carefully brushing a strand of unruly hair out of Lao Wen's face.
"They are," he agreed quietly, knowing that his touch and expression would convey so much more than his clumsy words ever could. "Rest easy now."
Lao Wen followed his gentle command immediately and without even thinking about protesting, clearly showing how hurt he still was, and Zhou Zishu continued his silent vigil, much relieved and still with the taste of blood on his tongue.
He was smiling, thanking the Heavens for this one indulgence, as he made sure to brand the sensations of the feel of Lao Wen's lips and the taste of his blood into his memory, to keep it safe and secure for a time when he would no longer be able to feel and taste the real thing.