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He isn’t cold and he isn’t hungry. So why is he awake at...noon on his day off? Da Qing stretches his arm out and touches an empty but still-warm spot that had, nearly every morning for the last two years, been filled with the comforting presence of Li Qian.
But not this morning. Afternoon. Whatever.
Da Qing stretches until he can touch all four corners of the mattress, just in case she is scrunched down on one side, and when he feels nothing but the soft cotton sheets, he opens his eyes, peering against the soft autumn sunlight. No Li Qian.
Da Qing sits up, scrubs a hand over his eyes, and pauses, sniffing the air. He detects the lingering perfume of incense, and he remembers.
It’s the anniversary.
It’s been five years since Li Yufen died. Five years and a bit more since the Hallows (re)appeared in their lives, bringing the Envoy, bringing Da Qing’s memories, bringing the Almost End of the World, and after all that, bringing Li Qian and Da Qing together. He couldn’t say that he regretted it, even with all that it cost, but he would never say that to Li Qian.
Instead, he drags himself from the warm nest of blankets, showers, puts on his coziest sweater, and heads towards the cemetery. He parks up the block, near one of their favorite cafes, and orders Li Qian’s favorite fruit tea and snags two fresh-from-the-oven wife cakes.
He’s been to the cemetery with her enough times that he easily finds her, sitting cross-legged on a blanket before the headstone. He doesn’t want to intrude on her thoughts, so he takes a seat on a nearby bench. He nibbles on one of the cakes, trying to keep the flaky pastry from getting all over his sweater, with limited success. He contemplates sneaking back to the cafe for more cakes when Li Qian bows her head for her final respects and rises.
She doesn’t seem at all surprised to find Da Qing waiting for her. She accepts the tea and cake with a soft smile and leans into him. He slings an arm around her shoulder and simply holds her for a bit.
He almost misses Li Qian’s tears, though she isn’t hiding them. They are as quiet as the autumn afternoon, and when he notices, he rises and stands before her. He cradles her face, dots it with kisses until each track is marked, until she tilts away to capture his lips in one chaste kiss before standing with him, taking his hand, and following him home.