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It starts like this: Dan Feng pushes his hair back for the nth time only for it to fall over his shoulders again before an incense stick can begin to burn. His body slumps sideways against the table, careful to avoid the fresh black ink still drying on the scroll.
The sweltering Xianzhou heat weighs down on him, his brush strokes slowed to a pace that guarantees overtime. He tucks his fringe behind his ear. It falls back over his eyes.
A chuckle rings out from across the room. Dan Feng recognizes it by the first beat and glances over at the source while fixing his position to be more presentable.
“Yingxing,” he calls in greeting.
“Dan Feng. You seem to be in dire straits.” Yingxing appears from over his shoulder with a cheeky grin, locking eyes with him. “I suppose I can lend a hand out of the goodness of my heart.”
Dan Feng shifts to rise completely, but Yingxing plants his palm over Dan Feng’s shoulder blades to stop him. Before Dan Feng has the chance to question him, a flash of red catches his eye.
Yingxing threads his hands through Dan Feng’s hair like he knows what he’s doing. The unexpected sensation of someone else’s hands close to Dan Feng’s defenseless skin triggers his survival instincts, but he does his best to push it down. Yingxing tightens the ribbon, neatly gathering his black hair into a low ponytail.
“Thanks, it really does help,” Dan Feng says with genuine appreciation, watching as Yingxing rounds the table to sit facing him. He absentmindedly rubs the back of his now bare neck.
Yingxing lets out a low hum, tossing down and leafing through a pile of design sketches that he’s been working on. “I know. I expect a future favor in return.”
Dan Feng nudges the inkstone and brushes closer to the center of the table.
“Sure, I’ll repay you the next time you injure your hands and can’t put up your own hair.” Dan Feng smiles and yields easily. “It won’t be long from now.”
Yingxing narrows his eyes at him. Dan Feng’s smile remains steady on his face as he tilts his head in challenge. After all, the High-Cloud Quintet never lets Yingxing forget how often he ends up with bandages around his arms and fingers, whether from battle or from smithing.
“Nevermind. I’m taking it back, it looks like you don’t need it after all,” Yingxing scowls, leaning over and reaching a hand towards the ribbon on Dan Feng’s back.
Dan Feng laughs and leans away to dodge Yingxing’s grasp. He instinctively wraps his fingers around Yingxing’s outstretched arm to hold it back, and it goes lax in his hold.
“Don’t be that way,” Dan Feng chides placatingly. He puts a clean brush in Yingxing’s hand and wraps his fingers around it.
“You ungrateful old man.” Yingxing concedes with a huff, but not before landing a childish flick to the other man’s forehead with his free hand. He returns to shuffling through his sketches with a self-satisfied smirk.
Dan Feng rubs his forehead with a resigned sigh and lets it be. He dips his dried brush into the inkstone between them, picking up from where he left off.
To his miserable expectations, Dan Feng found himself poring over his paperwork well into the night. Desperation led him to wrap up as much as possible before the elders graciously gift him with another pile of tedious work. Earlier, he forcibly sent Yingxing home as the sun made its descent from the sky, all too aware of the young man’s tendency to lose track of time and forget his meals once he got too engrossed in his work. It was only as Dan Feng prepared to turn in for the night that the ribbon still wrapped around his hair caught his attention.
Which is what brings him here this morning: in front of Yingxing’s home, hoping to catch the weaponsmith before he decides to leave for the day. Dan Feng knocks once and the door creaks open soon after, leaving him to wait almost no time at all.
“Dan Feng…?” mutters Yingxing in slow recognition. He rubs a palm over his eyes and opens the door wider in invitation.
Dan Feng walks in with an awkward gait after a pause, not expecting to be let in without another word. The plan was to simply return his ribbon at the door and go.
He takes in the sight of the perpetually cluttered desk visible from the doorway, then at the tidy bedsheets free of wrinkles. It seems there was no point in sending Yingxing home early. In hindsight, a mere location change wouldn’t be able to stop this workaholic.
Dan Feng clears his throat and explains, “I won’t be long. I only came to return what I borrowed.” His hands present the neatly folded ribbon.
“Why is Yinyue-jun in such a hurry to return this humble one’s belongings?” Yingxing teases, followed by a stifled yawn. “Just keep wearing it, the heat isn’t going anywhere.”
“It wouldn’t be right for me to hold onto your belongings indefinitely.” Dan Feng doesn’t rise to the taunt.
Yingxing snorts. He opens his palm out for the ribbon, to which Dan Feng obliges. Instead of storing it away, Yingxing turns him around by the shoulders and familiar fingers comb through the strands of his hair, reminiscent of the events from the day before. Yet again, Dan Feng ends up giving in to Yingxing’s whims without much fight.
Idly, he notes in the back of his mind that he doesn’t quite mind Yingxing touching him.
Yingxing ties it up higher this time, ribbon resting above his ears. Dan Feng prides himself in not flinching, but it still takes mental effort to resist the urge to flee.
‘It certainly will take some getting used to,’ thinks Dan Feng, conscious of his increased heart speed and the morning breeze on his neck.
“Will you be free later in the day?” he asks aloud, mentally calculating for how long he should listen to the elders before it is socially acceptable to leave. “If you are amenable, tea in the afternoon will be my treat.” He turns to face Yingxing, careful to wait until after the ribbon is knotted securely.
Yingxing hums in faux contemplation. He absentmindedly plays with a strand of Dan Feng’s tied hair, loosely twisting it around his finger.
“I have expensive taste, can you afford me?” He grins, amused.
“Fine,” Dan Feng relents. “But if you don’t show up well rested, I’m leaving you with the bill.”
“One serving of songlotus cake and tuskpir wrap each. Xianzhou Black Tea for myself, and as for my companion, an Immortal’s Delight. Please and thank you,” Dan Feng lists off to the teahouse waitress.
As promised, the two of them met at Starwatcher Avenue, Yingxing appearing noticeably more refreshed than he did in the morning. Possibly even excited, although it might just be Dan Feng’s wishful thinking. Dan Feng chose to bring him to Sleepless Earl, a 300 year-old establishment run by a Foxian couple that provided rather exceptional service the first time he visited.
Yingxing left the order to him, but in the same breath claimed shamelessly, “If I don't like it, you’ll have to treat me again until I'm satisfied.”
“You’ll like it,” Dan Feng insists, unafraid.
“Confident, aren’t you?” Yingxing returns, facial features softening into a grin.
While waiting for their orders to arrive, Dan Feng notices Yingxing staring at his hair, still held up by the bright red ribbon. Moving around from place to place quite a bit has caused the knot to loosen and some shorter strands to fall out and frame his face.
Yingxing gets up from his seat across from him and silently motions Dan Feng with a finger to turn around so that his back is towards the open rather than the wall. Dan Feng understands the unspoken request almost too easily. A short laugh comes from Yingxing, amused with the rapidly shaping habit.
A single pull on the ribbon has it falling undone. Dan Feng shuts his eyes. The soothing feeling of Yingxing’s dexterous fingers in his hair leaves him in utter contentment and is one he’s gladly willing to become accustomed to. Yingxing takes his sweet time to smooth out every little tangle between each strand. Gentle hands patiently work out knots that Dan Feng didn’t even know were there.
Each movement comes with the tantalizing risk of grazing against his sensitive, bare neck, and he shudders at the first kiss of skin to skin. Warmth radiates from the body engulfing his own, more difficult not to notice in the well-ventilated room. He loses track of time.
Upon hearing the footsteps approaching their tearoom, Dan Feng snaps out of his reverie. He grabs Yingxing’s arm to stop him and lets out a breathless “wait” and he’s not sure why it comes out sounding as embarrassingly sensual as it does.
“Why?” Yingxing’s unflustered question is spoken directly in his ear, and Dan Feng feels his breath more than he actually hears anything. Yingxing pauses according to his wishes, but doesn’t remove his hands from his hair.
Just like that, he’s out of time—the oblivious waitress lifts the curtains to their private room carrying their orders, pauses halfway past the doorway for just a split second, and betrays no emotion as she serves their table with experienced motions that still feel excruciatingly slow in the moment. She wishes them a pleasant time with a well-practiced bow. If only Dan Feng didn’t catch the mirthful smile on her face as she practically skipped out, he might’ve been less mortified.
Dan Feng sighs, resting his face in his palm. He didn’t give it much thought at first—receiving some assistance from a friend with his hair is all that is happening, albeit a bit more intimately than necessary—but the idea of a third person witnessing them has his inhibitions crashing down on him. Aeons, if Baiheng discovered it then he’d never hear the end of her laughter until his dying day.
With the mood interrupted and the food and drinks delivered, Yingxing finally settles with looping Dan Feng’s locks into an elegant half-bun style and returns to his seat.
“Is it me you’re embarrassed to be seen around?” Yingxing asks plainly.
“No…,” Dan Feng trails off. Distracted, he runs a hand over the small bun and stares at the curtains. The thought of the waitress spreading whatever her misunderstanding is to the teahouse owners has him rethinking whether or not to show his face here again in the future.
Yingxing reaches across the table to direct Dan Feng’s attention back to himself, chin between his knuckles.
“If not, then what’s there to be hesitant about?” Frustration gradually weaves itself in his voice. Dan Feng blinks in surprise from the flip in Yingxing’s tone, but he can tell that Yingxing is careful not to come off accusatory, his grip demanding but tender. Those deep indigo eyes command honesty.
“Wavering isn’t a luxury that short-lived beings can afford,” Yingxing continues after a moment of silence.
It’s true, Dan Feng has never had to worry about running out of time in the same way Yingxing has.
Rationality and patience have never been fitting words to describe Yingxing anyway. He dives in with all the passion and heat of a fierce wind, constantly driven to action by spontaneous sparks of inspiration, often forgetting to eat and drink to fulfill his desires.
There is too much to consider, and he knows Yingxing won’t be the one to fret over these details. One of them will have to do it, so it will be him.
Dan Feng guides Yingxing’s hand away, gentle but firm.
“It matters to me that you receive an answer that has been given serious consideration, so I’m requesting that you wait a little longer for me.” Nervously, he adds, “Is that alright with you? You don’t have to agree.”
Yingxing rubs his thumb back and forth over Dan Feng’s palm.
“I knew you’d say that. You always have to think about every little possibility before you’re willing to take the next step,” Yingxing begrudgingly acquiesces. Knowing Dan Feng, he must be aware that this is the best answer he could ask for right now. He puffs up his cheeks and blows out air for a few seconds, deep in thought. “That wasn’t a proper confession anyway. Next time, you won’t be able to say no,” he finally declares, glaring lightheartedly at him.
Dan Feng is baffled at the childish expression that Yingxing shows unabashedly.
“What’s with that?” he laughs, pinching Yingxing’s cheek as the tension lifts off his shoulders. He picks up and points the straw of the frozen drink to Yingxing’s lips. “Cool yourself down. I said you would like it, didn’t I?”
Obediently, Yingxing takes a sip from Dan Feng’s hand. A slight shift in his eyelids is enough to express his surprise. “I wasn’t aware Xianzhou tea could come in flavors like this.”
“Immortal’s Delight isn’t a traditional tea, so you wouldn’t be able to find it elsewhere,” Dan Feng explains, pleased. “One of the shifu of this establishment created it with his young daughter in mind. I suppose it also means your taste is perfectly in tune with those of children.”
“What I’m hearing is that you had already come all this way before and tried a drink you don’t even like because you were looking for a reason to take me out,” retorts Yingxing with a smug face. Then, he coos, “Why, thank you for letting me occupy your thoughts so often.”
Flushed, Dan Feng counters, “With some effort, it’s not difficult to find something to your taste. In any case I managed to repay your favor on the first attempt, so that is a victory in my book.”
Yingxing clicks his tongue. “Fine. At least I got to have you parading around those elders of yours with my mark,” he shamelessly admits, eyes shifting towards the hair ribbon for a split second. “I only wish I witnessed their reactions firsthand.”
Dan Feng goes slack-jawed, having been rendered speechless. Who could’ve known this man was holding back and could get so much worse?
“That was your intention…?”
“Are you going to take it off?” Yingxing challenges.
“Well…no.”
Yingxing cackles gleefully. “Good.”
Yingxing would chastise him for thinking too much. His rational mind is barely hanging on to reason as is, all the while his heart is cartwheeling its way into Yingxing’s arms.
He knows that Yingxing’s brazen behavior is encouraged by his own leniency and acceptance of everything that the other man does, always freely indulging him in a way he’s never afforded for anyone else. It’s too easy to let habits form between the two of them, and Dan Feng has no desire to dissuade it—he recognizes this, no matter how guiltily.
He’s never had to consider the progression of time in the eyes of a short-lived human. What is it like, to be given only a handful of years and then be told to make the best of it? A single mistake might cost a decade, or even a century to heal. For Dan Feng it may only be a fleeting moment, but it may as well be the remainder of Yingxing’s precious time. For as long as there exists no method to shorten his own lifespan to match Yingxing’s, will he really ever be able to put himself in Yingxing’s shoes and understand time as Yingxing does?
As for himself, can he withstand the pressure of having someone entrust the rest of their time with him, or perhaps the grief once Yingxing’s hourglass inevitably comes to a stop?
“I’ll pin your hair up for you.”
Yingxing betrays no shock at Dan Feng suddenly breaking the silence—it’s probable that Dan Feng staring at him unabashedly for the past hour has to do with it, and Dan Feng’s book long forgotten in his lap doesn’t help his case. Yingxing looks up from where he’s shelving his tools, satisfied with his progress for the day. They spent the entire day in Yingxing’s smithy, basking in each other’s company.
“You will?” Yingxing raises a single eyebrow in doubt. His hair was coiled up in a braided bun to keep it out of his way but has since fallen loose, stray strands sticking to his cheeks from the sweat.
“What’s wrong with me doing it?” Dan Feng returns, mildly offended. “Don’t criticize what you haven’t seen yet.”
Yingxing snorts, not even pretending to believe in Dan Feng. Even so, he wipes down his hands and digs out his usual hairstick from a drawer to hand to Dan Feng.
“Do your worst,” he encourages anyway, turning around for Dan Feng.
Determined, Dan Feng pulls apart the bun followed by the braid. It takes him a little longer than he would’ve liked, confused by the twists in the braid. The snowy locks are molded into waves from being held in a bun for hours. He runs his fingers through Yingxing’s hair, not quite sure where to start now that he’s presented with a blank canvas.
‘Well, it’s got to start somewhere,’ he thinks as he pulls his hair into a low ponytail. Referencing his own memory, he lifts it into a small bun at the base, loops the crown over it, and then inserts the hairstick through the crown.
The moment he lets go, the crown comes loose and falls out of Yingxing’s hair, clattering onto the floor. Yingxing bursts out in laughter, having expected nothing else.
“Watch closely,” Yingxing says. He gives a practiced demonstration by expertly weaving the hairstick and crown into his hair in a matter of seconds as Dan Feng stares, just as confused as he was before.
Yingxing offers again, “Want to give it another try?”
In all honesty, Dan Feng would like to, but the only thing he can recall is the flexing of Yingxing’s fingers and he’s not about to say that out loud, so he just shakes his head. “Maybe next time.” Instead, he approaches the same drawer that the hairstick came from and fishes out Yingxing’s tassel earrings.
“Come here,” he calls for Yingxing, holding up the earrings.
“Demanding, aren’t you,” Yingxing notes delightedly, far from stopping him. He brushes his fringe back and leans an ear closer to Dan Feng for easier access.
Dan Feng does his best to put on Yingxing’s earrings without poking him a new piercing, perhaps getting a little more handsy than necessary. He’s standing close enough to count Yingxing’s eyelashes, tugging at his ears, and grazing the back of his fingers against the other man’s jaw with featherlight touches. For some reason, he feels a little more daring nowadays.
“All done,” Dan Feng declares with a smile, leaning back at last. He pinches both of Yingxing’s ears and looks back and forth to appreciate his work. He looks up to find Yingxing already looking at him.
Yingxing says nothing. He leans his forehead onto Dan Feng’s shoulder, and when it’s not enough for him, he unclenches the fists by his side to wrap tightly around Dan Feng.
“You’re so…” Yingxing gives up, sighing.
Dan Feng feels triumphant for once.
The feeling of Yingxing’s hands on his person become second nature. Even when neither of them need assistance with anything, sometimes Yingxing will find him just to play with his hair while he works. Dan Feng will wrap a water barrier around himself to be around Yingxing while he’s forging weapons, or fiddle with his fingers as they doze off in Dan Feng’s quarters while the sun is still up. Days with Yingxing’s touch are now more commonplace than days without him.
When missions with the High-Cloud Quintet are assigned, he and Yingxing try to partner up whenever possible. If it’s not just his imagination, he thinks they’ve been syncing better in battle lately too. Frankly, he’s more surprised that the other members of the Quintet haven’t started poking fun at the two of them yet; even if Jingyuan and Baiheng haven’t noticed yet, Jingliu has surely caught on with the requests they make to her.
Time slips by just like this, and winter approaches Xianzhou.
Dan Feng finds himself in front of Yingxing’s door in the quiet of the early morning, before the sun wakes up. He knows Yingxing is awake and preparing to head out on a mission—one that they were supposed to take on together—to investigate a report on the sightings of a mara-struck hideout. An urgent issue related to the Vidyadhara arose at the last minute, forcing him to stay in the Exalting Sanctum for the time being to resolve it.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he convinces himself. Yingxing won’t be alone, Jingliu will be taking Dan Feng’s place. The mission isn’t expected to take long anyway, Yingxing will be back in a mere three weeks or so.
The door opens for him, Yingxing already dressed for travel on the other side.
“You miss me already?” is how Yingxing greets him. He’s surprised to see Dan Feng at this hour. That’s to be expected, since they had already said their goodbyes last night.
“I do,” Dan Feng admits, “but that’s not why I’m here.” He opens the small wooden box in his hands and lifts up the red stud earring cushioned inside, the same shade as their ribbon.
“I’ve read that short-lived humans are particularly vulnerable to the cold,” he begins to explain. Simultaneously, he undoes one of Yingxing’s earrings on his ear to replace it with the stud. “It’s custom made to withstand my cloudhymn magic. It’ll provide you with better resistance against the cold.”
Yingxing huffs. “I won’t be defeated by some mild weather, silly. Don’t you know how many Xianzhou winters I’ve been here for?” Despite his words, he stands still for Dan Feng to appease his worries. As Dan Feng struggles with clipping the backing onto the stud, Yingxing plays with the matching bracer on Dan Feng’s arm, tracing lines of coral gold.
“I know. I just wish I could go with you,” Dan Feng whispers pensively. He finally hears the click of the earring.
Yingxing’s eyes soften in response.
He undoes his neatly pinned hair and steps behind Dan Feng. Dan Feng feels the hairstick weaving into his hair with practiced ease, and a warm embrace follows after. Yingxing presses his nose to the junction between Dan Feng’s neck and shoulder; they stay like that for a while.
Eventually, Dan Feng twists around in Yingxing’s grasp, though the hands that refuse to leave his waist make it a tad difficult. As much as he’d like to hold Yingxing here, they both have responsibilities to take care of.
“Be careful, no matter how well you’ve withstood the cold in the past,” he fusses, patting Yingxing’s back gently.
“Mm,” Yingxing mumbles after a while. Dan Feng thinks that’s the end of it and prepares to let go of him, until the other man speaks up again. “But I’m unsatisfied with this gift.”
“What?” Dan Feng asks, puzzled. “Then what do you want?”
Yingxing raises his head just enough to silently capture his gaze. Then, he presses a kiss to his index and middle finger, and lays them over Dan Feng’s own lips.
The loud pulses of Dan Feng’s heart flood his ears.
“When I return, I’ll take what I want for myself.” A promise. “Don’t forget.”
Dan Feng lowers his eyes, eyelashes trembling. He nods. He inhales. It is a given.
“I won’t forget.”
The cool breeze grazes his skin more ferociously when Yingxing is out of sight, but the phantom of his warmth doesn’t leave.