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Yanqing knew all about swords. The most expensive swords in history? He can list them. The sword’s origin? He can go on about it for hours. The different types of swords? He can name every last one of them.
So when a new sword type came into fashion, brought on by the astral express and their unique equipment, Yanqing immediately brought it upon himself to study it himself. He was the first in line to buy the new dagger.
Ever since then, he fell in love with it. He loved the way it brought a new challenge to his fighting style, a new type of combat he could perfect. It was what kept him going for weeks.
And of course, Jing Yuan had noticed. Jing Yuan took pride in the boy: his protege. He took pride in his passion for swords and fighting and he took pride in the numerous achievements the boy had ticked off, whilst still being in his youth.
In truth, he doted on the boy. He may have also added an extra bit of money to his allowance (his wage) when he first saw the way the boy’s eyes lit up as he talked about the new sword.
So of course, the question arose during one of their ‘professional’ talks.
“Has there been feedback about the squad we sent up North?” Jing Yuan asked, sipping his tea.
“Yes, General.” Yanqing replied, “The amount of monsters has decreased.”
“Good. Is there anything else you would like to report to me?”
“No, General. Have I been dismissed?” The boy asked, a little too eager to leave.
Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you need to attend to?”
“No.” He replied curtly, his tilted head raising upwards.
“Good. I was wondering if you’d like to spar, I’d like to see this new sword technique you have learnt, in action.”
Yanqing’s eyes lit up as soon as the word ‘swords’ had escaped the general’s mouth. “Really?” He said, his excitement bubbling over the top.
Jing Yuan looked at the boy, amused at his sudden lack of his usual professional composure.
The boy’s eyes widened as he realised his mistake. He coughed and replied, “I would love that, General.”
—
The courtyard was just as beautiful as ever. Jing Yuan smiled as he observed the immaculately organised stones and the blossoming trees.
The trickling of the nearby pond made a nice backdrop sound, laying an unmovable amount of tranquillity upon the man.
This tranquillity was immediately silenced by the sound of metal clanging.
Yanqing lifted a large sword, one of unique design. One that Jing Yuan had never seen before, despite being talked to death about swords and being a sword master himself.
“Ah, so this is the infamous sword you have been obsessing over?” Jing Yuan asked, breaking the silence.
Yanqing nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, let’s see how well it fares in battle.”
Yanqing chuckled. “Try not to scratch it up too much!” He shouted.
And so they fought.
After what seemed like hours of intense sword-clanging, an even more intense dodging, their spar was finally brought to an end when Yanqinq’s nose started to bleed.
It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to get a minor injury when they fought. It would usually be a sign for them to bring the spar to a close and revisit it when they had both regained their strength: and it wasn’t unusual for Yanqing’s nose to bleed, anyway.
Jing Yuan would have just rubbed it off if the boy didn’t collapse into his arms a second later.
His stomach immediately dropped as the boy fell into his arms, the horribly feeling of uncontrollability creeping up his spine as he held the boy.
“Lieutenant?” He said, his voice hoarse with anxiety.
He gently picked him up and rested him against the nearest stone wall, carefully handling his head.
He positioned him upright and whispered sweet nothings into the unconscious boy's ear, although it was more for his comfort than the boy’s.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour of dread, the boy awoke, the blood from his nose still dripping down his pale skin.
“Huh?” He asked, his eyes flicking around anxiously, “Where am I? What’s going on?”
Jing Yuan shushed the boy and briefed him on his situation. “You passed out, my boy. Your nose started to bleed— speaking of which, here’s a handkerchief,” he handed it to him, “—whilst we were sparring. Are you alright, hurt anyway?”
Yanqing promptly shook his head and dabbed his nose. Then he looked around quizzically.
“Where’s my sword?” He asked, the alarm raising in his voice.
Jing Yuan summoned it, grabbing it firmly by its hilt. Yanqing blinked at it, his whole face immediately dropping when he saw a large, deep dent in the curvature of the metal.
“Oh, what happened after I fainted?” He said as he observed his once most prized possession, a lost look in his eye.
“After you went out, my main priority was saving you. And you dropped the sword after passing out, as your magic could no longer sustain its weight.”
Yanqing frowned. “I usually collect two for my collection, but I couldn’t afford another.”
The silence weighed heavy in the air.
“Why did you faint?” Jing Yuan asked, taking the bloodied handkerchief out of Yanqing’s hand and replacing it with a brown plaster.
Yanqing avoided his gaze.
“I’ll ask again. Why did you faint?”
Still nothing.
“You’ve overworked yourself, haven’t you?” Jing Yuan asked, and by the way the boy instantly turned his head around, he knew he hit the mark.
“Yanqing, I was once an eager boy like you. Although I was never as successful as you are at such a young age, I could still somewhat sympathise with the pressure you must be experiencing. Do not push yourself too hard, or you’ll find yourself in a hole too deep that you won’t be able to get out of.” The man advised.
Yanqing blinked.
Clearing his throat, Jing Yuan continued, “Think of the way the water ripples when you drop a stone within it. If you plop a small stone in, the splash would be too little, if you plopped a bigger stone in, the splash will be great. If the too many stones are dropped in, the water will splash out the pond, and the entire purpose of the splash will be meaningless. “
Yanqing furrowed his brow. “What?”
“It isn’t worth it.”
“Hm?”
“If you pour out all your motivation in one go, there will be none left, and you’ll simply be an overworked husk of a boy. I don’t want that, okay?”
Yanqing blinked, his eyes softening and watering. Only slightly. “Alright. I’ll try.”
Jing Yuan felt his heart ache. “Come here.” He said, opening his arms out and enveloping the boy in a big bear hug.
He stroked the back of the boy's head, softly shushing him when his tears got a little too loud.
Yanqing breathed in the scent of the man’s broad shoulder, grateful for his steady and broad frame, and even more grateful for a shoulder to lean on.
And so, the two stayed in that embrace for what seemed like an eternity of peace.
—
Jing Yuan’s hand tightened around the bag of money.
“And you’ll take this for how much?” He asked the Trailblazer, who looked mystified that they were even dealing with the General.
“A thousand.” They said simply. “Why do you even want this sword, anyway? It doesn’t suit your fighting style.”
Something in Jing Yuan’s eyes softened.
“It’s not for me.” He said, taking the hilt in his hand, a small smile caressing his lips.