Work Text:
"What… happened?"
"... need to… back."
"Is… safe?"
"... Sanctus Medicus… What… options… have?"
"... back to… room? We can… bodyguards… being too suspicious."
"We… heal him… somehow."
"... deal with things… end."
When Jing Yuan woke up, he was back in the Xianzhou Loufu, tucked into a soft bed that didn’t seem to be his own, bathed in darkness.
It took him a moment to return to the present and leave behind the sharp ghost of pain stabbing his chest, but when he did, he noticed voices outside of his door. For a moment, he thought about standing up to see what was going on, but his limbs felt too heavy and sluggish and his eyelids closed once again. He soon fell back asleep.
He dreamed, but he didn’t remember what about.
Maybe it was for the best.
The next time he woke – and the next, and the next – there were still voices. Softer, maybe, but still outside of his door.
Xanqing, maybe.
And Fu Xuan.
And the Trailblazers, the Nameless. The cheery March, the deadpan Stelle, the calm Mr. Yang… Dan heng?
Jing Yuan didn’t know how long he had been asleep when he finally opened his eyes and the world didn’t seem to push him right back into unconsciousness. Instead, the universe took his hand and urged him to stand up, reminding him of his last words before passing out.
He had just proclaimed war against the other Lord Ravager. They had averted a crisis, and dived head-first into another. But something told him that it was the best course of action he could have done at the moment, though he was sure that Fu Xuan would remind him time and time again that starting a war was always a bad idea.
When he sat up on the bed, his hand raised to his chest, but the only pain he felt was the ghost of a spear and the heavy weight of his memories.
That weight only became heavier still when he opened the door and was hit with the light of morning on his face and the smell of something cooking – and burning.
Stelle and March bickered from the kitchen, hovering over a pan that smoked suspiciously. Mr. Yang supervised them from the door, but if Jing Yuan had to guess from the way he shook his head with a sigh, he hadn’t been quick enough to stop the tragedy.
And there, sitting on the couch, legs drawn to himself as he read quietly, was Dan Heng.
He looked up and his blue eyes focused on him with their usual weight. Jing Yuan tried to ignore the pang in his chest, he tried to convince himself that whoever was sitting on the coach was not his old friend, but he wouldn’t lie to himself and say that he had managed it.
“You probably shouldn’t move around too much,” was Dan Heng’s only advice, simple and concise, not quite biting, before he returned to his reading.
It was good advice, though, because Jing Yuan found himself sitting down on the other couch, in front of Dan Heng. It would do his pride no favors if his legs suddenly started shaking from the strain, and something told him that it would have happened if he hadn’t sat down on time.
He listened as March yelled something to Stelle as she tried to save whatever they had been cooking, as Stelle moved around the kitchen like a berated kid, as Mr. Yang chuckled under his breath and pointed out a few ideas to March so they could have an edible breakfast.
Through it all, Dan Heng stayed quiet, ignoring the chaos behind him with what seemed like long practice. He flickered through the pages without looking back and without flinching when something hit the floor in the struggle.
Jing Yuan noticed the pile of books a few moments later. It sat innocently next to the couch, neatly stacked.
Another memory, more recent and yet not, of a guard telling him a report came to his mind. The guard spoke of their secluded “guest”, the traitor, the criminal, their prisoner, and how he liked to read.
Jing Yuan had been the one to bring a few books to the newly reborn Dan Heng, back when the memories of his – Dan Feng’s – “betrayal” had been too recent, when he always found himself visiting the young vidyadhara when he could, when even looking at his face - similar, so similar to his - made something twist in his chest until he was sure he could taste blood on his tongue.
He had thought the idea to be a bit useless, at first; Dan Feng hadn’t been the biggest fan of reading, after all. He had been too busy, too focused on his training and duties. He had preferred to stay at their home, take care of what was his , instead of looking at the horizon.
Somehow, that realization, that clear distinction between the two, made him look away, something tight in his chest, twisting. Like a blade.
That blade didn’t pull back.
Not when March and Stelle presented a half-burnt breakfast with rueful smiles and asked him how he felt and berated him for scaring them all with his fainting.
Not when Mr. Yang updated him on everything that had happened after their return; how Fu Xuan had jumped into action, how the news of the new threat had already been announced far and wide.
Not when Dan Heng sighed discreetly when Stelle and March looked at him expectantly so he would taste-test their creation.
It only dug deeper into his scarred pain.
-
There was much to do.
Jing Yuan escaped from the hotel room where the Nameless stayed as soon as he could, before the echoes of the past caught up to him. That didn’t mean that he was in a good enough condition to actually work and deal with the fall-out and the next steps that needed to be taken.
Fu Xuan had been quite firm on her position. He could work, sure, he could help her deal with everything, but as soon as he faltered, he needed to rest.
It spoke a lot about his condition that Jing Yuan didn’t really complain or resist.
When the words started blurring on the pages, his eyes dropped and the phantom pains stabbed his back and torso and made his hands shake, he sighed and got up from his seat to leave.
It wasn’t as if anyone complained or yelled at him.
Maybe it had something to do with his pained and tired gaze.
Even Yanqing, with whom he’d had a lengthy conversation about the whole thing and who now understood – begrudgingly – why he couldn’t just get in fights with everyone that posed a threat, was extremely perceptive of his condition and usually helped him with whatever else he needed, even when his own injuries made him flinch from time to time. Jing Yuan could admit that their recent arguments were mostly about each other trying to get the other to rest more.
Jing Yuan took to wandering around. Hands behind his back, head held high, he walked around the emptier parts of the Luofu, where people didn’t stare or stop him for a chat.
It was during one of these walks, a silent meditation, even with his eyes open, that he saw them. The Nameless.
He had always been curious about their relationship. At first glance, they seemed like a group of friends that adventured together, but when you started paying attention, you realized that they felt more like a family.
March was the most energetic one, taking photos and running around - dragging Stelle with her – as she rambled about angles and framing. Mr. Yang followed them at a more sedated pace, admiring the sights.
And, of course, there was also Dan Heng, back in that human form he had taken after leaving the Xianzhou Loufu years before. He probably didn’t want to attract too much attention, and glowing blue horns and a commanding power probably meant that more than a few glances would be on him.
It was strange, Jing Yuan realized, because Dan Feng hadn’t been like that. Dan Feng had been raised for the role, powerful, revered, respected. People had listened and maybe even feared him. Dan Feng commandeered the rooms he walked in. He was imposing, a force not unlike the tides.
Dan Heng… wasn’t?
Jing Yuan could admit that he didn’t know much about Dan Heng as Dan Heng , and not as an echo of who had once been his friend. He only knew what he had seen in the Shakling Prison - which was… probably not the best way to know someone - and what he had heard from the guards, rumors from travelers and what comments the Trailblazers had spilled during their short talks.
And the image he had of Dan Heng was… quiet. Reserved. Knowledgeable. Loyal. A worrywart for his friends and family. Resenting of his past life – which was understandable, really, when everyone shunned him and hated him for what someone else had done.
It was still… weird, to see that kind of expression on Dan Feng’s face.
And that was the problem, because Jing Yuan still thought of Dan Heng as Dan Feng, even though Dan Heng had told him and reminded him time and time again that he was not him , even though he had told – promised him, even – that he would stop seeing him that way.
Maybe that was why he didn’t approach them during their walk.
He stayed back, leaning against a wall, not quite hiding, but not in plain sight, either.
He watched as March laughed and reached out another hand to this time drag Dan Heng away so they could all pose for a picture. He watched as Stelle wandered suspiciously towards a trash can hidden behind a few boxes and Dan Heng derailed her before she could dig her fingers into the bags. He watched as Dan Heng and Mr. Yang pointed out interesting landmarks to each other and talked in soft tones.
(And unconsciously, he started seeing Dan Heng where before there was only Dan Feng.)
-
The invitation was… unexpected.
He had been working when his phone pinged from under a pile of paperwork. Stelle’s message was short and concise, coupled with a cheery emoji that Jing Yuan knew didn’t really match her expression in reality.
He was invited to a restaurant to have lunch with them – them being the Nameless, plus Yanqing and Yukong, somehow. After talking with Stelle for a moment, he learnt that Fu Xuan was technically invited as well, but in true Fu Xuan fashion, she had replied that she was too busy. Knowing their situation, it wouldn’t even be false.
And Jing Yuan did think about it. He thought of saying no.
Why? Because Dan Heng would be there too. And their relationship wasn’t… the best? He didn’t know what their relationship was himself, but he knew that he would slip up and hurt Dang Hen and everything would go to shit.
So, he ended up overthinking it for nearly an hour, in which he did exactly zero work.
In the end, he reached out to his phone again and typed–
A short “Of course”.
Stelle’s answer was quick; another emoji.
And thus, Jing Yuan found himself sitting at a wide table, Yanqing on one side and Mr. Yang on the other, a few hours later.
He eyed the menu halfheartedly as everyone talked over him. He already knew most of what was served there and he didn’t usually stray from his usual, so he took the time to– breathe.
Dang Hen was at the other side of the table, getting relentlessly buried under questions from both March and Stelle about what food they should try, what they had already tried and what they usually liked. Dang Hen was… actually pretty good at keeping up with their chatter and he did point out a few plates that he supposed they would like.
And then came the food, neatly served and carefully placed and Jing Yuan got side-tracked talking with Mr. Yang and Yukong about the history of the Xianzhou Loufu. But he wasn’t distracted enough to miss how March stabbed her food with her chopsticks and Dang Hen’s resulting grimace as he reached out and tried to teach her.
“Haven’t you already eaten with these?” he asked, as he showed March how to hold them. “You’ve been here a while.”
“They, uh, they usually have forks,” was March’s rueful answer.
Stelle hummed. She was holding the chopsticks wrong, but in her own weird-logic way, she was managing to eat without much trouble.
And Jing Yuan paused, because, what was Dan Heng eating?
As Mr. Yang talked about how he knew of another culture similar to the one in the Luofu, Jing Yuan tried to gaze discreetly at the opposite side of the table and their plates.
Dan Heng wasn’t eating fish.
And that wouldn’t really be a problem, not at all, but it was.
Because Dan Feng’s favorite food had been fish. Grilled, with a bit of salt, and algae and–
And Dan Heng was eating meat and rice and–
And somehow that made him pause again, because Dan Heng wasn’t even in his vidyadhara form. He didn’t look like Dan Feng now, he didn’t talk like Dan Feng, he didn’t act like Dan Feng, he–
He was Dan Feng and at the same time, he wasn’t.
And it was embarrassing to admit, but it was starting to sink in – now – that his friend was dead.
Jing Yuan took another bite of his food and listened to his surroundings – at Mr. Yang talking about swords with Yanqing, at Yukong's short and calm comments, at March proclaiming her verdict, at Stelle talking through her full mouth, at Dan Heng sighing – and tried not to fall under the new weight on his shoulders.
-
The surprises didn’t stop.
He had just finished a meeting and the other leaders had gone a few minutes before, discussing the next steps they needed to take into consideration for the war that approached their homes dangerously, when someone else entered the chamber.
Jing Yuan waited until they were closer, until he had finished what he was writing, and when he looked up he met a pair of awkward blue eyes.
Jing Yuan blinked, thrown off for a moment, but soon enough he managed a smile.
“Ah, now this is a surprise,” he greeted and his mind ran through all the possible reasons for Dan Heng to be right there, in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Is something wrong? Has some Cloud Knight given you trouble about your pardon?”
“Ah- ah, no, it’s not…” And Dan Heng sighed and rubbed between his eyes. When he looked up again, his eyes were clear, firm. “Look, can we talk?”
“We’re talking right now,” was Jing Yuan’s unconscious answer.
Dan Heng threw him an exasperated look.
Jing Yuan’s smile became strained.
“Alright,” he said and he stood up carefully, still expecting sharp pain to stab him in the back. “What do you say to a game of xiangqi?”
Dan Heng nodded slowly, silent, but when Jing Yuan walked off to the side, to the smaller board he kept away on a different table, he followed nonetheless.
They played against each other, in silence save for a few hums and short comments.
This was something Jing Yuan could do. This – strategizing, thinking ahead and predicting someone else’s movements, pacing himself so he didn’t make a mistake – was familiar, something he had done countless times. He kept his eyes on the board intently. He wanted to say that it wasn’t so he didn’t have to look Dan Heng in the eye, but he would be lying.
“You’ve changed,” said Dan Heng some time later, voice soft and almost like a thought blurted out carelessly.
Jing Yuan paused, a hand outstretched to grab a tile, but he soon unfroze and proceeded with his move as if nothing had happened.
“In what way?” he asked carefully.
Dan Heng hummed and thought about his next move.
He moved a tile.
“You don’t look at me like before,” he answered. He looked up and his blue gaze was considering. “Like I'm Dan Feng.”
And this time, Jing Yuan looked up to meet his gaze. He smiled ruefully.
“You told me not to,” he said simply, even though it was anything but.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… thank you,” said Dan Heng and he quickly looked away to sigh once. “I’ve been… a bit unfair. With you. You helped me. You are still helping me. And yet I…”
“I understand, too,” said Jing Yuan, softer, quieter. “We look at you and we don’t see you . We see a ghost.” He sighed. “Like I told you, it’s hard.”
Dan Heng nodded slowly.
“I think I understand,” he said, quiet. “That’s why… I’m grateful.”
Jing Yuan nodded too, quiet, and he moved another tile in silence.
“I suppose you’ll keep trailblazing with the Astral Express?” he asked a few moments later, not looking up from the board.
“There’s nothing tying me to the Loufu anymore,” said Dan Heng and Jing Yuan tried to ignore the phantom pain that stabbed him and tried to tell himself that it was just a leftover from the fight against Phantylia. “And… I enjoy traveling with them. There’s much to see and learn and record.”
“It’s good to see you being passionate about it,” was Jing Yuan’s reply and he hoped his smile didn’t seem too… sad. Wilful. “When we exiled you, I feared that you would wander the world without a purpose. It’s good that you found them.”
And when Jing Yuan looked up, he saw Dan Heng’s minuscule smile.
It fell away slowly.
“My last incarnation… Dan Feng wasn’t really free, was he?” he asked, slowly. Carefully.
Jing Yuan… sighed.
“What is freedom, really?” he asked instead. “Dan Feng was born for a purpose already set. Just like his predecessors. If he had wanted to take another path, I doubt he would have been able to…” He closed his eyes and for a moment, he could even lie to himself, tell his mind that the one sitting on the other side of the board was his old friend, like so many other times. “And yet, I think he was happy.”
Until everything fell apart.
He heard Dan Heng move another tile.
“And you? Are you free?” asked Dan Heng, simply, as if it was a normal question.
It wasn’t.
Jing Yuan opened his eyes and frowned at him.
And he felt the answer bubbling to his lips, up his throat, threatening to choke him.
(No.)
Instead, he sighed and rubbed his eyes and forced a calm smile.
“Does that matter, in the grand scheme of things?” he asked and met Dan Heng’s sharp gaze.
He knew.
Dan Heng knew the truth he hadn’t spoken aloud.
And yet, he nodded in acceptance and returned to the board.
(It was Jing Yuan’s choice, after all.)
“If you ever feel the need to go on adventures like Mr. Yang, the Astral Express is available for you,” he said instead.
“Oh, really?” Jing Yuan arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to make you… uncomfortable.”
And Dan Heng sighed.
“I don’t hate you, General,” he said, completely serious, looking into his eyes with firm determination and conviction. Jing Yuan’s answer died in his lips. “We can even be friends. That is, as Jing Yuan and Dan Heng.”
And for once, Jing Yuan was lost for words.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” was the only thing he managed to say and even then, he wasn’t sure that his voice hadn’t wavered.
Dan Heng seemed satisfied, though.
And he seemed satisfied, even though Jing Yuan won their game in the end.
Dan Heng left, promising to make use of his pardon to visit at some point – he mentioned a Cloud Knight named Sushang – and reminding Jing Yuan once again that the Astral Express would accept pretty much anyone that felt the call of Akivili.
And when Jing Yuan returned to the board to tidy up before his next meeting, he paused.
He looked at the tiles, at the familiar position they were in.
And he laughed.
Because Dan Heng had used the same strategy that Dan Feng had been so fond of.