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In the time that Fu Xuan has known Jing Yuan, his generous height has always irked her. His smirk is all the more irritating when it’s cast down at her, and if she wished to smack it off his face, it would require her to jump to do so. The Master Diviner has imagined this scenario more times than is appropriate for one of the Six Charioteers.
It looks wrong, terribly wrong, to watch his tall frame and broad shoulders grow smaller and smaller as he descends the steps into the Scalegorge Waterscape. Fu Xuan stands at the edge of the staircase, keeping vigil until she can see him no longer, and then remains there still, unable to move from her spot.
“Master Diviner?” One of the Cloud Knights approaches her hesitantly. “Your orders?”
Fu Xuan sucks in a breath, shaky on the exhale. She swallows before responding to the knight, hoping her voice does not betray how terrified she feels.
“The General was clear on his orders. We are to guard the gorge here and wait for the outcome of their battle.”
The knight nods, lips grimacing in resigned disappointment. Fu Xuan can’t bring herself to reprimand them, because their expression reflects her own. And yet she does not move even as the knights find their post at the entrance on the other end of the platform. Her eyes are fixed on those distant clouds and light. She can’t see the stars from here. If she could, it would be easy to trace her gaze across the constellations and divine the general’s fate. It’s just as well.
A Master Diviner, a general, should never abuse their power or position. Jing Yuan taught her this.
“And what example is this setting for me, general?” She speaks into the wind. “What are you trying to teach me now?”
It is glaringly, terribly obvious when the fight has begun. The air stirs, turning hot with raw power. The sky darkens, all light drawn to a singular point, like a blackhole eating away at all the matter that surrounds it. Her heart seizes, her blood turning cold. Then, like a supernova bursting, she sees the bright golden light of the Lightning Lord break through the darkness.
“I trust you to come back.”
The fight lasts for only a few minutes, but it stretches on for an eternity.
“I trust you to come back,” she repeats. It is a mantra. It is a prayer.
And like the beginning of the battle, the ending is clear to see. Everything becomes still, quiet. Fu Xuan can hear the erratic beating of her heart in her head, and soon it is accompanied by the pounding of her feet against the ancient stone as she races down the steps towards where she saw the general walk to his fate.
“Master Diviner, please wait!” The knights call after her.
She does not. Fate waits for no one. It is up to the individual to meet it.
Slowly, the clouds part to reveal four silhouettes, but none bear the shape of her general. As she draws closer, she can see that they are gathered around the remaining fifth person, who is collapsed on the ground. A sound completely unlike herself escapes her throat. It is lost to the wind and the panicked voices of the Express crew.
“What’s happened? Is Jing Yuan okay?” She demands, skidding to a stop next to them. Her small stature allows Fu Xuan to slip past March and Welt, kneeling on the other side of the general, hardly giving Dan Heng a second glance. Her hand hovers over his body, scanning for injuries.
“He suffered one major wound,” Dan Heng explains, his tone cautious. Fu Xuan would normally read into it, but at present all of her attention is on the blood staining the ripped clothes of Jing Yuan. “And likely collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss.”
“Then there is no time to waste,” she replies, her voice steel. “Knights, take the general to the Alchemy Commission at once. He needs urgent medical attention.”
Curse you and your ridiculous height, Fu Xuan thinks as she watches the soldiers carry Jing Yuan away. I would never be able to carry you myself.
The first day Jing Yuan is in the hospital, it takes Fu Xuan a few minutes to step through the doorway and into his room. He somehow looks smaller, more frail, in the hospital gown, the bed sheets tucked up to his chest. When she does cross the threshold and approach his bed, the first thing she notices is that even in his sleep, there is a faint trace of that irritating smirk on his lips.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Now all the paperwork and handling the fallout of these events is my responsibility.”
Fu Xuan’s hands stay pointedly by her sides, her fingers digging into her palms.
“I assume you planned this part as well. ‘I think I deserve a little holiday after all this, don’t you?’ That’s what you’d say, isn’t it?”
The general gives her no answer.
“You haven’t come back yet. Not really. This doesn’t count.”
Fu Xuan hates him for it.
She leaves the room.
The second day Jing Yuan is in the hospital, Fu Xuan brings a pile of official documents and scrolls with her, setting them on the edge of his hospital bed, just to make a point.
“I will not allow you to escape administrative duties, no matter your coma.”
The truth is, she is unable to concentrate on anything when in the Seat of Divine Foresight. It’s where she should be, as the acting general until Jing Yuan wakes, to be readily available to answer summons and give orders. Qingzu and Chiyan know where to find her.
Fu Xuan unfurls one scroll, her eyes quickly scanning the characters inked onto the parchment. She holds it out to Jing Yuan.
“I told you that reinvesting funds into the production of traffic lights for the Sky Skiffs was a prudent idea.”
She takes out her personal stamp, positioning it over the waiting line at the bottom of the scroll, but hesitates before pressing it down. Her eyes glance up at Jing Yuan, who remains silent and still, save for the gentle rising and falling of his chest as he breathes. Her lips purse.
“I expect many thanks from you when you wake up.”
She presses her seal onto the scroll. Where the general’s seal goes.
Fu Xuan quickly places it in a pile of completed documents, unable to look at her stamp for too long when she is used to seeing his.
On the third day Jing Yuan is in the hospital, the Astral Express crew stop by to visit.
“If there is any way we can help, please don’t hesitate to let us know,” Welt tells her. His eyes are kind and concerned, and though she is truly grateful, Fu Xuan also wants none of it.
“Unless any of your crew possess particularly potent healing capabilities, your assistance and generosity will serve better in cleaning out the remaining mara-struck from the Arbor’s resurrection.” She does not mean for her tone to be so cold, but it seems Fu Xuan is still finding her voice as general. “But I appreciate your concern.”
Welt shows no offense, only offering her an understanding smile. Fu Xuan turns away, not caring for how easily his eyes seem to see through her. Dan Heng and March 7th stand beside the hospital bed, the former solemn and quiet, while the latter is chattering away.
“I’m sure he’ll wake up any day now. General Jing Yuan is one of the strongest guys I know. Right, Dan Heng?”
March elbows her companion in the side when he doesn’t reply right away. He stirs out of whatever reverie he was having, then nods.
“Jing Yuan has survived worse. He will not let go of the Luofu so easily.”
From where she watches that ever-present smirk on Jing Yuan’s face, her gaze snaps up to Dan Heng when she feels his eyes on her.
Fu Xuan raises her chin, trying valiantly to keep her expression impassive, cool.
“Whatever the outcome, the Luofu will persevere. We are known for our resilience.”
Even if it pains her. Even if it feels like a lie.
Even if she wants him back.
On the fourth day Jing Yuan is in the hospital, Fu Xuan brings a starchess board with her and sets it up next to him.
The gold pieces are on his side, the white on hers. She says nothing to him while she preps for a game and settles in her seat once finished.
“I’ll go first.”
Fu Xuan examines the board, her mind running through hundreds of moves and scenarios, predicting 38 different outcomes that could occur in a match against Jing Yuan.
She moves the first tile.
“Do you remember what you told me before?”
Her arm reaches across the board and moves one of the gold tiles next.
“Master Diviner, why do we use a square board but round pieces for starchess?”
She moves another white tile.
“I gave you a perfectly acceptable answer, but you told me I was incorrect.”
Next, a gold tile.
“Use intellect with subtlety and suaveness, you said. Is this supposed to be subtle? Is this what you had planned all along?”
Her white tile advances, while the gold retreats.
“You couldn’t retire properly. Everything is dramatic with you. You’re a coward, Jing Yuan, for not facing me properly. A coward!”
The tiles go flying across the room when her arm lashes out and knocks over the chessboard. Fu Xuan is standing up from her seat, chest heaving, her eyes stinging with hot, unshed tears. She glares down at the unconscious general.
“Wake up. Wake up!”
As always, he refuses her.
The fifth day Jing Yuan is in the hospital, Fu Xuan does not go to visit him.
She regrets it.
On the sixth day, she returns.
Whatever alchemist oversees the general’s condition decided wisely to right the chessboard and collect the tiles but left them in a pile. Silently, Fu Xuan places everything as it were.
She sits in the same chair from before, but this time, she cannot bring herself to continue their match.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
Fu Xuan hates how her voice trembles. Her vision blurs as the tears she fought valiantly to keep at bay break free, sliding down her cheeks.
“I miss you.”
Lips trembling, she continues.
“I miss you, and you have left me afraid. And I hate you for that. I hate you for leaving me in a position of uncertainty, for making me question my role as general. It’s everything I worked for, everything I wanted, but not like this. Never like this.”
A sob escapes her. Fu Xuan’s slumps over the chessboard, head pillowed in her arms as she finally allows her to grieve.
“I hate you. I miss you.”
She doesn't know how long she cries. It is long enough for her eyes to grow sore and her throat to turn raw. Until she runs dry, her chest hollowed out from grief. Fu Xuan remains there, staring numbly at the hospital walls.
Eventually, her neck and arms begin to ache. She can’t stay here forever. There is a ship to run, people to lead. She is the general and will act as such.
Fu Xuan sits up, wiping the remnants of tears from her face. She looks down at the chessboard, considering whether it would be better to take it back or leave it here. Then her eyes spy something off.
Cloud Knight to C3. She did not move this piece.
Heart leaping into her throat, Fu Xuan gasps and looks up.
All she sees is the placid face of the Dozing General, smirk still in place.
“Jing Yuan?” she whispers.
He doesn’t stir.
Then, one golden eye peeks open.
“Lady Fu, forgive me for causing you such grief, but I can’t lie that it doesn’t stroke my ego to see you so distraught over my fate.”
The chessboard and tiles are swept aside once more as Fu Xuan throws herself onto him, burying her face in his mane of hair.
“You terrible, insolent man! You scoundrel!”
Jing Yuan chuckles softly and slowly wraps his arms around her, holding Fu Xuan close.
“I missed you too, Fu Xuan.”