Chapter Text
Hanguang-jun’s sword glare shines harshly underneath the fluorescent light. He’s wielding it quick and swift, like an extension of his arm—like the silent ripple to one body of water. There’s a familiar buzz settling underneath his skin that follows his every move, one that sparks like lightning and tingles through his fingers and toes.
The soles of his shoes make no sound against the floor, despite all his movement. Panting gasps ring heavy through the air, sound faint and sweat pungent. The atmosphere is thick and flushed with tension, and his arms swing side to side with a rhythm not unlike that of a pendulum. It’s elegant. A dance, perhaps.
His partner? Yiling-laozu.
While Hanguang-jun is draped in blue and white, fitted with glistening armor and masked by a hood of silver, Yiling-laozu dons red and black like his complement and is armed only with a teasing smile. His eyes are twinkling and hidden behind a somewhat crudely fashioned strip of cloth that reaches the bottom of his nose.
Yiling-laozu is Hanguang-jun’s biggest enemy.
They’ve been at this for a while, this back and forth motion. Without a weapon, Yiling-laozu only dodges with his hands still, moving his feet smoothly in a practiced effort. He’s laughing, too, and it makes cracks begin to form in Hanguang-jun’s jade-like demeanor.
With a grunt, the white-clothed lunges forward. He’s had enough. Any moment now, authorities would arrive, and Yiling-laozu would be a terror no longer. (In the back of his mind, he knows that isn’t true. Yiling-laozu would escape, and Hanguang-jun would let him.)
“Hahaha, Hanguang-jun! What with that quick sword, and you still can’t scratch me?” Yiling-laozu is a talker. A chatterbox. His charisma knows no bounds, and there’s never one action that’s not followed by double the amount of words.
Hanguang-jun doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have time for this nonsense—the schedule is tight today, like it is every day—he has things he needs to do after this. It’s only unfortunate that Yiling-laozu decided to cause trouble right at this moment.
It’s unfair that they’re so evenly matched. Maybe, if Yiling-laozu also had a weapon, then he may even be able to overcome the hero. Yet, time and time again, the other has never held a sword, gun, or any other tool of harm in his hands.
“Caiyi has had enough of your nonsense.” Hanguang-jun states. He doesn’t usually find it in himself to talk to villains, but something in Yiling-laozu makes his blood curdle—makes his mouth open and spit out whatever comes to mind.
“Nonsense? What nonsense?” Yiling-laozu does this sort of half step move and flips over a broken table. The scene around them is a complete calamity of an office. It’s some sort of law firm, Hanguang-jun remembers. Belonging to a wealthy family and loaded with assets, it’s one of the many skyscrapers that decorate the city’s metropolitan skyline.
What a shame that all of this floor’s windows are shattered.
Hanguang-jun’s cloak flutters behind him, dragging over the broken glass and soaking up bits of blood. He should probably have it altered later. It really does him no good to run around with such a cumbersome fabric getting in his way all the time.
The grip of his hand on the sword handle is bone-white, and his patience is running thin. Yiling-laozu is playing games with him, just like he always does.
“C’mon, c’mon! Hanguang-jun, I know you can do better. Shouldn’t little me stealing these special city documents rile you up a bit more? Or what about all those Wen dogs you had to fight through to get to me?” Yiling-laozu cackles and strikes a teasing pose over the top of a collapsed bookshelf.
Hanguang-jun chases after him with quick haste. Yiling-laozu treats their relationship like they’re old friends quarreling over a game, and not as if he takes hostages on the weekly and has killed at least a couple people a month—and not as if Hanguang-jun comes at him nearly every time with a righteous vengeance that fuels his every step.
“Shameless!” With a scowl, the hero leaps forward with furious intent, aiming the sword right at Yiling-laozu with desperate breath.
He misses, and the villain laughs maniacally.
Hanguang-jun shifts his sword arm so as not to impale any of whatever sorry property lies in front of him, but the momentum is too much, and he crashes into the wall. His shoulder throbs with an indescribable amount of pain, blunt and sharp all at the same time. The hero drops the sword. His chest goes heavy, and his vision blurs momentarily, but that’s all Yiling-laozu needs to jump off the edge of the floor, where the windows are broken, and into the open air of the cityscape.
Startling, Hanguang-jun’s eyes widen, and he has half a mind to start a yell—but the sound of something snapping alerts his attention. Of course, he thinks, then relaxes. Yiling-laozu has a glider.
Sure enough, he sees the form of the villain sailing away, hands latching onto a high-tech glider. The hero exhales a sigh of contempt, not relief. Yeah, definitely not relief.
No, it’s not like he enjoys these battles with the only villain he’s never been able to overcome. No, not at all. Yiling-laozu is a criminal, and it’s Hanguang-jun’s obligation as one of Caiyi’s heroes to take him down.
Silently, Hanguang-jun straightens himself, picks up his sword, and starts the long way down the building. The two of them may or may not have broken the elevator system during their scuffle. Just a little. Around him, office workers start to thank him profusely for his work. Thankfully, the floor they battled on had been empty at the time, and the only damage was to the windows and a few documents.
The authorities surround him when he reaches the ground floor, and he gives them a nod or two, promising to brief them on the situation later on. What Yiling-laozu stole this time would be another hint to the grand scheme of his plans. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a cluster of Wens on the ground, handcuffed and ready to be thrown in prison. A part of him is satisfied.
In his pocket, his phone vibrates with a reminder. Or rather, a text from his roommate, signaling the end of his lunch break.
Wei Ying: lan zhan, lan zhan! where r u? lunch almost over, come back soon fuddy duddy before you miss the next period!! ;-;
Lan Zhan: I am returning now.
Wei Ying: see u! qiren is getting on my ass rn, gtg
His shoulder is going to bruise, definitely.