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Jul. 14th, 2019 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windlionGuardian snippet from a longer fic I am not sure if I will get around to writing-- this is mostly because I was complaining to Flidget, "WHY HAS NO ONE GIVEN ME SHEN WEI DOING FORMS?!" I guess I'll have to do it myself! :D
As a professor, even as a scientist, it was reasonable that Shen Wei would take care of his health. Stepping away to the gym for an hour or two was not to be unexpected, and would likely even be encouraged. So it would not be out of character if he left the lab with that explanation.
He repeated this to himself as he walked across the campus, even as he hoped that no one had the chance to see the note he’d left at the door, conscientiously turning the lights off in his wake. There was little risk of the grad students coming back; he’d turned them out to sleep with firm orders not to return before eight a.m. at the earliest. However, he knew there were more eyes on him and the university than he’d like.
And some of those may report back to the SID.
Shen Wei breathed carefully and steadily as he walked, not betraying his agitation. Zhao Yunlan was a separate but related problem. Another reason to be careful about his appearance and behavior. He doubted that Zhao Yunlan would share exactly what he knew with other government bureaus, however even a suspicion could put him in a precarious position.
They thought the virus was from Dixing. Possibly even engineered by Dixing. If Zhao Yunlan had even let slip that he thought that Shen Wei, Professor of Biological Engineering, was a Dixingren… there would be no better suspect.
The irony that even he had no idea what they were dealing with was galling.
The armory was little more than a shell of a building, but what was important was that it had ample open space in the form of a wood-floored gymnasium. As one might reasonably expect, in the middle of the night, the building was empty, locked and dark.
And Shen Wei legitimately held a key. The space was useful for its basement storage, as well as for staging equipment and gear prior to loading up for field research. (He wondered when he would next get the chance to perform any field work. If he would have the chance to take next semester’s new students out to the mountains. It was a joy, to see them learning what life could be found in a river, what history in layers of rock, what stars lay beyond the light pollution of the city. It reminded him of Dixingren reaching the surface for the first time, awestruck by the true nature of the world around them.)
Shen Wei shook off his woolgathering as he shut the door behind him. He turned on one of the six banks of overheads, casting enough light to announce his presence but only just. He did not relock the door, and instead set a ward pulsing through the walls of the building. He would know if anyone approached. This would not be an ideal time to startle him, for either party.
He set his bag of things, props, really, by the wall near the door, then strode out into the middle of the space. The modern exercise clothing felt less comfortable than his robes, yet he did not dare switch them yet. Know and understand the handicaps you operate under, Shen Wei.
A shame there were so many of them, each as familiar as the last.
Former general and envoy of Dixing, scholar and professor of Haixing, and still ignorant for all of that. Leaving the lab meant leaving his work, meant leaving his only chance at improving this situation through his own hands. Meant leaving the true battle field.
Shen Wei set his jaw and bowed once to the empty room. And here he was anyways, trading his unknown opponent for an imaginary one. It was worth it, for the chance at mental clarity, and perhaps, real sleep.
Empty the mind. Exercise the body. Prepare for the next day and the trials to come.
He started with slow, steady movements. Stretches. Quarter speed, the basic forms that defined the style.
Technically, this was completely unnecessary. He could no more unlearn the muscle memory ingrained into his body than he could unlearn any of the Dark Energy skills he’d acquired. Like walking, like the brush strokes of his name, he knew how to fight. To move.
He could not forget, and there was little chance that he was likely to learn or create new forms. And yet he could not deny there was something to be gained in the practice. His body moved almost without thinking, turning the whirling wheels of his mind into nothing but a litany. Strike. Block. Dodge. Spin. Rising, overhand, reverse. The sequences he had learned to practice when he was still young.
Empty-handed. Then with the dao, one-handed.
Gradually, gradually, faster and faster still. Focusing on precision and speed rather than force. Control.
And then the longer blade, intermittently between and with both hands. And last with the glaive, the polearm extending his reach to its fullest.
Imagine the enemy. Survive them. Defeat them.
There was a comfort in assuring himself that he still could.
In the absolute concentration of battle focus, there was no way he could miss even the soft click of the door shutting. He froze after one last sweeping downward strike, tip of the blade just above the surface of the floor. There really only was one person who could pass through his ward without challenge. Zhao Yunlan stood beside the door, carefully out of the way, watching respectfully. His eyes were a heavy weight, and even in the low light, Shen Wei doubted he missed much.
In the stillness, Shen Wei was conscious of how loud his breathing was, how sweat dripped off his brow. Shen Wei let his eyes fall closed as he bowed, awareness flickering across their surroundings in lightning fast confirmation: no one else had approached his perimeter. As he straightened, he dismissed the glaive into a thousand motes of black.
Slow clapping echoed through the empty space.
Shen Wei held on to his hard-won calm and turned to face Zhao Yunlan. Zhao Yunlan had an inscrutable look on his face, and his voice was falsely cheerful as he said by way of greeting, “Hei Pao Shi is impressive. I thought I’d seen you in a fight before, but now I don’t really think I’ve seen you go all out.”
His hands did not yet tremble; he hadn’t overextended. Hei Pao Shi had limits, especially in Haixing. He had to know them, intimately. This was not an occasion to push them. He did not know when his reserves might be called on, for how desperate a reason.
Shen Wei held his gaze, and stated with perfect equanimity, “I hope you never do.”
As a professor, even as a scientist, it was reasonable that Shen Wei would take care of his health. Stepping away to the gym for an hour or two was not to be unexpected, and would likely even be encouraged. So it would not be out of character if he left the lab with that explanation.
He repeated this to himself as he walked across the campus, even as he hoped that no one had the chance to see the note he’d left at the door, conscientiously turning the lights off in his wake. There was little risk of the grad students coming back; he’d turned them out to sleep with firm orders not to return before eight a.m. at the earliest. However, he knew there were more eyes on him and the university than he’d like.
And some of those may report back to the SID.
Shen Wei breathed carefully and steadily as he walked, not betraying his agitation. Zhao Yunlan was a separate but related problem. Another reason to be careful about his appearance and behavior. He doubted that Zhao Yunlan would share exactly what he knew with other government bureaus, however even a suspicion could put him in a precarious position.
They thought the virus was from Dixing. Possibly even engineered by Dixing. If Zhao Yunlan had even let slip that he thought that Shen Wei, Professor of Biological Engineering, was a Dixingren… there would be no better suspect.
The irony that even he had no idea what they were dealing with was galling.
The armory was little more than a shell of a building, but what was important was that it had ample open space in the form of a wood-floored gymnasium. As one might reasonably expect, in the middle of the night, the building was empty, locked and dark.
And Shen Wei legitimately held a key. The space was useful for its basement storage, as well as for staging equipment and gear prior to loading up for field research. (He wondered when he would next get the chance to perform any field work. If he would have the chance to take next semester’s new students out to the mountains. It was a joy, to see them learning what life could be found in a river, what history in layers of rock, what stars lay beyond the light pollution of the city. It reminded him of Dixingren reaching the surface for the first time, awestruck by the true nature of the world around them.)
Shen Wei shook off his woolgathering as he shut the door behind him. He turned on one of the six banks of overheads, casting enough light to announce his presence but only just. He did not relock the door, and instead set a ward pulsing through the walls of the building. He would know if anyone approached. This would not be an ideal time to startle him, for either party.
He set his bag of things, props, really, by the wall near the door, then strode out into the middle of the space. The modern exercise clothing felt less comfortable than his robes, yet he did not dare switch them yet. Know and understand the handicaps you operate under, Shen Wei.
A shame there were so many of them, each as familiar as the last.
Former general and envoy of Dixing, scholar and professor of Haixing, and still ignorant for all of that. Leaving the lab meant leaving his work, meant leaving his only chance at improving this situation through his own hands. Meant leaving the true battle field.
Shen Wei set his jaw and bowed once to the empty room. And here he was anyways, trading his unknown opponent for an imaginary one. It was worth it, for the chance at mental clarity, and perhaps, real sleep.
Empty the mind. Exercise the body. Prepare for the next day and the trials to come.
He started with slow, steady movements. Stretches. Quarter speed, the basic forms that defined the style.
Technically, this was completely unnecessary. He could no more unlearn the muscle memory ingrained into his body than he could unlearn any of the Dark Energy skills he’d acquired. Like walking, like the brush strokes of his name, he knew how to fight. To move.
He could not forget, and there was little chance that he was likely to learn or create new forms. And yet he could not deny there was something to be gained in the practice. His body moved almost without thinking, turning the whirling wheels of his mind into nothing but a litany. Strike. Block. Dodge. Spin. Rising, overhand, reverse. The sequences he had learned to practice when he was still young.
Empty-handed. Then with the dao, one-handed.
Gradually, gradually, faster and faster still. Focusing on precision and speed rather than force. Control.
And then the longer blade, intermittently between and with both hands. And last with the glaive, the polearm extending his reach to its fullest.
Imagine the enemy. Survive them. Defeat them.
There was a comfort in assuring himself that he still could.
In the absolute concentration of battle focus, there was no way he could miss even the soft click of the door shutting. He froze after one last sweeping downward strike, tip of the blade just above the surface of the floor. There really only was one person who could pass through his ward without challenge. Zhao Yunlan stood beside the door, carefully out of the way, watching respectfully. His eyes were a heavy weight, and even in the low light, Shen Wei doubted he missed much.
In the stillness, Shen Wei was conscious of how loud his breathing was, how sweat dripped off his brow. Shen Wei let his eyes fall closed as he bowed, awareness flickering across their surroundings in lightning fast confirmation: no one else had approached his perimeter. As he straightened, he dismissed the glaive into a thousand motes of black.
Slow clapping echoed through the empty space.
Shen Wei held on to his hard-won calm and turned to face Zhao Yunlan. Zhao Yunlan had an inscrutable look on his face, and his voice was falsely cheerful as he said by way of greeting, “Hei Pao Shi is impressive. I thought I’d seen you in a fight before, but now I don’t really think I’ve seen you go all out.”
His hands did not yet tremble; he hadn’t overextended. Hei Pao Shi had limits, especially in Haixing. He had to know them, intimately. This was not an occasion to push them. He did not know when his reserves might be called on, for how desperate a reason.
Shen Wei held his gaze, and stated with perfect equanimity, “I hope you never do.”
