Shen Wei is a chef who nearly lost everything. Grieving for his twin brother he finds a lifeline in Zhao Yulan, an up and coming cello and violin playing superstar.
His eyes opened in panic and his head shot up, only to be grasped by strong hands, pressing gently but firmly on his chest. Pain ignited in his arm and every instinct born from years of survival, told him to fight, as that instant fear for Ye Zun's safety surged to the forefront of his very being.
The past dug its claws into his heart viciously, refusing to let him see reality for too many seconds.
Growing up in an orphanage had meant misery and poverty had only offered violence for too long.
"Easy Shen Wei. You were nearly robbed and murdered. No need to do yourself in too."
Zhao Yunlan.
He knew that voice better than any other. Sometimes, when the days were hard and he was alone, he would plug in his headphones and go about his day with Zhao's videos playing in his ear. His voice could center Shen Wei like nothing else, make him forget his troubles, his loneliness or the constant stress of the restaurant. He was a leader with no confidante, no deputy and the weight of all his brother had abandoned.
Zhao Yunlan gave him life. From all these hours of rapt listening though, he had become achingly familiar with every tone and inflection Zhao used, from bright enthusiasm to carefully hidden exhaustion and every mood in-between, because to expand his career, Zhao had needed to be as visual as possible. This meant two or three videos a week.
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So, he knew from the tone that Zhao was not worried. He sounded the way he did when Da Qing was taking far too long, in setting up. Slightly agitated, but here was obviously safe, because if this really was Zhao Yunlan, not a strange dream, then he knew everything was manageable if not exactly fine. The ceiling was white and the world spun violently, nausea rising like a tidal wave, but when he moved his head to the left, where the voice was emanating from, all he could see was dark blue.
"Shh... Shen Wei. It's okay. You're in the hospital."
Hospital. He closed his eyes once more as memory returned shakily and grief so powerful it stole his breath. Yes. That was right. He had been with Zhao Yunlan....Ye Zun was dead.
He moaned slightly as he tried to sit up, breathing in that enticing cologne and and the faint scent of rosin, slowly breathing out to control the fresh surge of pain, both from his heart and from his left arm. Then he opened his eyes, to see the stark white room of a hospital and looked down at the bandages, to avoid dark eyes.
When he could breathe and he had gained some form of courage, after a few seconds, those foxfire dark eyes were watching him, sharp and beautiful, as if waiting for him to speak or faint like a damsel. He moved swiftly past that and asked in as a steady a voice as he could from years of working in kitchens, "What happened?"
