Chapter Text
After all is said and done — a celebratory feast and splash of wine for the victors, a solemn memorial and mourning lilies for the lost, and a conversation surrounded by steadfast friends and speeding stars where all that was hidden finally came to light — after the Xianzhou Fleet is but shimmers in the distance, Dan Heng takes up meditation.
In retrospect, meditation is just the natural next step to being the Archives keeper. Before, when his past was just a blur and his future was even more uncertain, the Archives held all that was known and observable to him. His job wasn’t perfect, but it calmed him, settled the voices in his half-tangible memories, replacing them with the whirring of train engines and computing machines. In between sorting entries on the histories of visited planets and updating their database on the ever-elusive Aeons, the ground under his feet felt steadier, built on a foundation of knowledge.
But what were once whispers of lies and betrayals are now the ebb and flow of breaking waves, rushing currents. There is peace to be found in his mind, a pinprick of quietude where his journey into the past begins. It starts with an image, a sound: a lotus blooming on still waters, a mountain drawn forth by looming tides, a rich voice and heavy presence by his side, a rare smile, a crystal tear.
Then, stories of a different life, different name: The ocean’s voice, asking for him to command it. The High Cloud Quintet’s prowess in battle and wit, their incessant bouts of banter ringing through the halls. Death, the way Baiheng evaporated into light before he could even reach out to her, the way he couldn’t stand to see the color fading in Yingxing’s eyes day by day. How he too was embraced by nothingness, collapsed unto himself until there was nothing but a shard of a shell.
Oftentimes, he would slowly rouse from his meditative state, a lingering smile on his lips. Other times, it would be abrupt, like being shaken out of a nightmare, all cold sweat and wild eyes. And sometimes, he wakes up with tears silently streaming down his face.
This is one of those times.
Dan Heng’s eyes shoot open, the visage of steam wafting from tea and ink strokes on bamboo scrolls wiped away by the glare of overhead lights. Gone in an instant. A familiar breathlessness is caught in his throat, laughter that never made it out his mouth, held down by a stone that dropped in his stomach. The stone is empty, it’s heavy, it’s the lack of something he can’t grasp anymore.
But he wants to see the memory again. He wants to hear the sentence that couldn’t be finished, the phrase that went missing, even back then. Still, as his eyes adjust to the Archives’ lighting, all that is left for him are stacks of neatly organized books and sheets of metal circuitry — that, and two specks of glimmering gold.
“...Stelle?” Dan Heng blinked again, willing the watery veil over his eyes away. Indeed, the girl in question came into clarity, seated across from him, eyes soft with concern.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Stelle reaches out tentatively, palm cradling air. A request. Dan Heng leans forward until her fingertips barely graze him, tickling his cheek.
“What did you remember this time?” she asks as her thumb brushes over the tear tracks on his face.
He exhales, half-tempted to tilt his head so that he could rest his weariness upon her hand. How many times has she seen him like this now? Perhaps too many, if he’s comfortable enough for her to touch him this easily.
“My last conversation with my mentor.” He grimaces. “She raised me, taught me everything I know–” he catches himself, “–Dan Feng knew. But she didn’t agree with the final decision he made.”
Dan Heng steels himself for the questions, but he was met with none. Just patience and understanding. Stelle simply smooths her thumb over his cheek one last time before withdrawing her hands. I’ll wait for you.
“I, for one, think all the decisions I’ve seen you make were all very logical and reasonable.” She pauses, thinking her next words over. “...Even if I don’t agree with them all the time.”
“You can’t just press every button you see, Stelle.”
“I’ll just press them when you’re not looking, then.”
“Whether I’m looking or not has no bearing on the consequences you reap from your actions.”
“Sure, but it means I can escape a scolding from you.”
Dan Heng flicks her forehead for that, though the force behind it is more akin to a light tap. That doesn’t stop her from making a show of squeezing her eyes shut and flinching back, however.
Again, he wonders when he became comfortable enough with Stelle to act like this with her. It’s a question he doesn’t want to think too deeply about right now. So instead, he levels an unimpressed stare at her. “You do recall what happened with the patrol robots in Jarilo-VI, don’t you?”
“Bronya said it was fine! And Gepard… he eventually forgave us, didn’t he?”
“Forgave you , you mean.”
She huffs. “You’re no fun, Dan Heng. Unlike March.”
“I suppose not.” He looks at Stelle, sitting with her legs crossed on the other end of his bed, fluffy hair slightly mussed from leaning against his desk, a bookmarked novel tucked neatly in her lap. Fitting so seamlessly into his room within the Astral Express, in this pocket of the universe. “But you’re here.”
She sighs. “Unfortunately, yes,” she laments. But when she meets his gaze, her eyes are twinkling. “You promised to tell me about the flora ecosystems of floating spaceships, after all.”
She remembers that? Ah, of course she does. She had been tinkering with a mini-Hexanexus puzzle when he brought the topic up. He thought he was mostly talking to himself, but she always listens.
He should know better now. After all, this is far from the first time Stelle has visited the Archives — visited him .
That thought lingers as a smile on his lips, one that grows on its own, small and surreptitious, one that he has to duck his head to cover because it just won’t go away. And as he starts listing off hypotheses and analyses on his most recent entry into the Archives, he’s slowly drawn into the quiet attentiveness in Stelle’s gaze, the solace of her silence. Filling him, leaving no more emptiness, leaving nothing missing, just a light feeling in his chest along with the lingering image of her golden eyes.
“So, Dan Heng, I’ve noticed recently that you’ve been joining us for our meals more often than not.”
The Astral Express crew is having breakfast in the Parlor Cart, their window view painted with the blue and pink dustings of a nebula, a palette reminiscent of a sunrise. March and Stelle are engrossed in an enthusiastic review of their cuisine (“Yummy!” “...Yeah”) while he and Welt are discussing the logistics of trading with Herta Station when Himeko voices her observation.
Dan Heng lowers his half-finished scone to look at Himeko, who quirks her lips in amusement.
“It’s not a bad thing, far from it. In fact, I’m quite happy about it. I like seeing you here with us, rather than holed up in the Archives all day.”
March glances at Dan Heng before doing a comically exaggerated double-take. “You’re right!” she exclaims. “Seeing you here with everyone is so strange… but also so normal now too! I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” Her eyes light up, hands reaching for her camera.
Dan Heng raises an eyebrow at her. “Do you need to take a picture in order to notice a change in your surroundings?”
March sticks her tongue out at him before her voice drops down in a poor imitation of his. “We must record this phenomenon for future reference.”
Doing his utmost to ignore how March is not so conspicuously taking close-ups of him ( Dan Heng at breakfast!?!? he imagines her captioning the picture after hanging it up in her room), he turns back to Welt, hoping to return to their previous conversation. Sadly, Welt does not cooperate. “I’m also glad to see you here more often,” he says, smiling kindly.
While Dan Heng doesn’t enjoy the sudden scrutiny he and his socialization habits have garnered, he opts to offer an explanation. “Stelle invited me.”
Welt nods. “I see. Now that I think about it, you have been spending a lot more time with the rest of us ever since Stelle joined the Express.” The corner of his smile turns with amusement. “ I suppose her invitations have been more persuasive than ours?”
At that, Stelle’s gaze slides to him as well. Now that her attention is on him, his light irritation morphs into acute awareness. Her eyes hold a curious gleam to them. Well, is it true?
“It’s a coincidence. No need to read too much into it.” Dan Heng says, though even to his ears, the response sounds like a poor excuse. Except it’s the truth. Isn’t it?
“Don’t listen to him. It’s because I am the most persuasive talker here,” Stelle asserts with mock pride.
“And that’s why we get into a fight whenever you try to handle the negotiations…” March remarks dryly.
“Because you would always find a way to talk after me. Laying waste to all the precious groundwork I paved. It’s a shame, truly.”
“Agh, you– you–!”
“Now, now, settle down, children.” Himeko beams amicably. “Let’s just agree that Welt should handle matters of diplomacy from now on, shall we?”
“But Himeko, now it’s like there’s two Dan Hengs teaming up on me all the time!” March harrumphs, crossing her arms. Then, she fixes an imploring gaze at Welt. “Don’t you think that’s so unfair?”
“Try thinking of it as Stelle making an effort to compensate for all of Dan Heng’s previous absences,” Welt chuckles. “Don’t take it too much to heart, March.”
“Yeah, and who asked you to come back?” March snips at Dan Heng. Inadvertently, he looks over to Stelle at the same time she does, their gazes locking. Her golden eyes seem aglow with mischief, sly and lidded.
Striking.
Too quickly, he looks away.
Yet, as breakfast descends into an affair of tea, scones, and one-sided arguments, Dan Heng can’t help his eyes from continuously searching out Stelle again. What exactly he is looking for, however, he is still unsure.
Over the course of the next few days, Dan Heng continues to mull over his most recently retrieved memory, turning over every detail, from the microscopic shifts in his mentor’s expressions to the pond of glaze lilies outside her window. By the time he manages to reconcile this part of his past with himself, Stelle has been sent out on a reconnaissance mission at their newest stop.
Thus, he is once again alone in the Archives. Although more and more, he finds himself expecting Stelle’s presence, waiting for her. She had become a somewhat permanent fixture in the space, though he can’t pinpoint when his view of her had transformed from tolerable presence to reading companion , and then even to close friend . The solitude that was once normal is now foreign. Lacking.
Or, perhaps he’s thinking too much about it and attributing the pain points of adjustment to sentimentality. This is simply a return to the status quo, no more, no less.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he had been planning to tell Stelle about his memory today.
He pauses, hand suspended over the holographic keyboard he had been typing on. Not that he was concentrating on that particular data entry anyways (turns out there’s only so much you can say about flora ecosystems on the Xianzhou Fleet — nonexistent). And just because Stelle isn’t here to hear about his last memory doesn’t mean he can’t seek the next one, right? It would be a break in the routine they built together, but surely she won’t mind.
Having made up his mind, he finds a comfortable spot to sit on his bed, legs crossed, resting his hands on his knees, palms face-up. He lets his eyes flutter shut, imagining his consciousness as a drop in a wider ocean, extending outward in branching streams. Slowly, waves wash over him, soothing the storm into stillness, and in the water’s reflection, he finds a gateway into the past…
“It’s been a while since you’ve last visited me, young master.”
Folding screens close in on him from four sides, soft sunlight filtering through ink strokes transformed into stone forests, mountains of bamboo, and plum blossoms in winter. In front of him, shrouded in translucent gossamer light, a familiar but unnameable face stares at him, their eyes seeming to pass through him, silver and clouded.
“Honorable seer,” he finds himself murmuring. “I humbly request you divine my fortune.”
They smirk at that. “Such a modest request from such a powerful man. But it seems you’ve shed some of that tiresome arrogance.” They tilt their head, the jeweled beads hanging from their hairpins clinking together. “Oh? I see that you are the newest reincarnation, Dan Heng.”
Dan Heng startles as his surroundings become more acute, losing that vague and indistinct quality of memories, although it is impossible to say when or how the shift occurred. “You’re surprised, child. Is this your first time visiting one of the Vidyadhara seers in this lifetime?” They laugh, the sound like chimes in the wind. “But even then, do exert some more effort. To obtain what you desire, you must seek with intent.”
Was the seer always this vexing? He feels like they were.
With no small amount of reluctance, he grits out his next few words.
“Honorable matchmaker… I humbly request your judgment on my choice.”
“As you command, young master.” Their tone is somewhat ironic, which only serves to annoy him more. “Nonetheless, I must say judgment is not the most fitting description for my role here, as your heart seems to already be set. There is little I can do to sway your decision. So,” they tap a finger at their lips. “In that case, I will provide a little… guidance.”
Dan Heng frowns, decorum be damned. “And what is that supposed to–”
But before he can finish his sentence, he is plunged into darkness.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time here recently.”
“Just reading. Don’t worry, I promise not to bother you.”
“...”
“...”
“...Are you looking for anything in particular? If you are, I could help.”
“Oh! Um, I appreciate the thought, but no, I’m just here to… learn.”
“To learn?”
“About anything. About this universe. And if I’m lucky, about who I used to be.”
“...I see.”
“Hah, I guess it’s a little pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Hardly. In fact, it’s quite admirable. In that case, if you would ever like further explanation on any of the Archive entries, I will offer my assistance then.”
“Thank you, Dan Heng.”
“It’s just courtesy. But you’re welcome.”
“Dan Heng, will you be joining us for dinner today?”
“I’m afraid not. A particular set of records require my attention as of now.”
“Oh… I understand. Then, do you mind if I stay in the Archives as well?”
“Why? Don’t you want to have dinner with the crew?”
“If I say no, I’d be lying, but I’d also be lying if I say I’d prefer it over spending time here.”
“I suppose as long as you use the Archives for their intended purpose, I can’t object.”
“Yes, yes, I know the rules.”
“Very well then.”
“You’re back.”
“Yes, and I bought some tea. Would you like some?”
“I’ll pass this time.”
“Okay. But are you sure you’re fine drinking Himeko’s coffee?”
“...Yes. I appreciate the thought, though. Thank you.”
“Can you take a look at this? I don’t quite understand the description for this entry.”
“Give me a moment… Ah. It’s a typo.”
“That’s unusual. Did Pom-Pom or March type this up?”
“They don’t work with the Archives. I do.”
“And…?”
“Unfortunately, this data entry was updated when I was very sleep deprived.”
“Pft– That’s unexpected of you–”
“...What is it?”
“Sorry, it’s just that you saying that made me try to imagine you sleep-deprived. It’s so unexpected!”
“You already said that.”
“Because it’s true!”
“Is me being sleep deprived that funny to you?”
“Nooooo. Definitely not.”
“...”
“Okay. Maybe just a little. But. It’s kind of cute, too?”
“Oh.”
“...”
“...”
“Haha, sorry, I don’t know why I said that! Anyways, about the data entry…”
“Dan Heng, we’re holding a game night. Would you like to come? If not, then–”
“Sure.”
“–we can just hang– wait. Really?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious?”
“Quite.”
“...Are you going to keep responding with one-word phrases?”
“...Possibly.”
“Okay, enough out of you. Let’s go.”
“Let’s.”
“Is that tea? Have you finally seen the light and given up on Himeko’s coffee sludge?”
“For today, yes. Here, one of these cups is for you.”
“...”
“It looks like you have something to say.”
“Oh… I mean, I can’t help but feel like I’m barging in on you whenever I come to hang out at the Archives. So right now I’m… touched.”
“...This is nothing. Next time I’ll bring more.”
“You really don’t have to–”
“Stelle.”
“...Yes?”
“Don’t overthink. You’re always welcome at the Archives.”
“How did it feel when you received the blessing of the Hunt?”
“That’s a sudden question. What brought this about?”
“I’m reading about the Aeons right now, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of information on them.”
“That’s because we truly know little to nothing about them. They are god-like beings with the power to bend reality to their desired image, but at the same time, they lack the freedom to pursue anything but their given Path. For us mere lifeforms, such a concept is unfathomable, and the power held by Aeons is just barely perceivable. Some speculate that Paths are simply our interpretation of the will of Aeons, how we make sense of the insensible. Then, there are some who– wait, why are you smiling like that?”
“Oh– sorry– I didn’t even notice I was.”
“Well?”
“Well, maybe it’s because this is the most I’ve heard you speak at a time. Kind of crazy when I think about it, especially since we’ve known each other for a month now. And your voice… it’s nice.”
“Ahem. How ironic it is then, that this conversation is centered around a phenomenon most cannot even begin to describe.”
“Is that a joke? Dan Heng, I didn’t know you had it in you!”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
“So you do have a sense of humor! Looks like March was wrong, after all.”
“I’ll ignore that comment for March’s sake. But to answer your original question…”
“Oh! I almost forgot about that.”
“When the Hunt resonated with me, it was like being uplifted by pure force. Inexplicable power. A singularity that sought a singularity within me, recognizing the foundations of my person, my will to carry out the values of the Hunt.”
“That sounds… incredible. A little scary, even.”
“Perhaps. And for you? What did Nanook’s gaze feel like?”
“I think you described it best. But I guess it felt more chaotic. Like my entire self was in upheaval, and resonating with Destruction made me no longer care about that ruin inside me… Hah, that sounds alarming, even to me.”
“...”
“To be completely honest, a part of me was glad that Nanook recognized me. It meant that I had some sort of spot in the universe. Waking up with the feeling that I was missing something important, having to try that hard just to recall my own name… it’s terrifying. But I also hate the Path of Destruction for that reason. Isn’t my existence unstable enough? And Destruction is the Path for those who have nowhere to belong, who want to destroy all places of belonging. I don’t need that extra nail in the coffin…”
“Stop worrying, Stelle.”
“Huh?”
“You’re not that kind of person. You played a pivotal role in establishing stability in Belobog, and you will always find a place of belonging among the Astral Express crew,”
“...I– you…”
“...If you need tissues, there should be a box on the desk. Here.”
“...I’m not crying. No, really, I’m not, you can put the tissues away! I just– I just don’t know what to say. That was really kind of you, Dan Heng.”
“It’s just the truth. And if you need to hear it again, I will repeat it. Ah, and if you still need the tissues–”
“What? Did you not hear what I just said? I don’t need them! Wait, are you laughing right now? Stop it! It’s not funny!”
“Sorry.”
“Stop smiling like that, you hardly look sorry at all. And the moment is ruined now too — that ‘thank you’ came from the bottom of my heart, you know.”
“I know. Still, I don’t think you need to thank me.”
“I guess you don’t understand how much it means hearing those words from you. You’re always so composed, so put together. It’s way too easy to compare myself to you.”
“Composed, perhaps, but my life is far from ‘put together.’ We’re all on the Express for a reason.”
“Oh, that’s right… I’m sorry for bringing that up. I wasn’t thinking.”
“There’s no need to apologize. What is that March would say right now? ‘We’re all in this together?’”
“Haha, true! And then Himeko would say, ‘trailblazing is a lonely journey, but one we are lucky enough to take together.’”
“And Welt…?”
“‘If you need anything, you can always rely on me or Himeko.’”
“Your impressions are very accurate.”
“Thank you. I do try.”
“I don’t think you had to try at all.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because you know everyone so well already. Because you truly do belong here, Stelle.”
“...There you go again, switching the mood up so suddenly…”
“It’s simply the truth.”
“Thank you again, Dan Heng. Really. And I don’t know if you need to hear this, but just in case you do, you truly belong here too. With us. At the very least, with me.”
It’s you. It’s all because of you.
You’re the reason why I’ve started taking meals with the rest of the Astral Crew. Why I’ve come to game night and karaoke night and movie night and whatever other variations March will come up with. Why I’ve joined you all on your more trivial trips, to be tourists on a planet I’ve already read about, to go shopping for souvenirs even though I never buy anything.
All those experiences I’ve avoided before are now memories I’ll never forget. I’ll admit, it was more fun than I thought it would be. It was easier, too — to simply be happy with everyone, to enjoy their company. Did you know that I sometimes humor March in her spontaneous photoshoots now? That I talk to Himeko and Welt about parts of my past while we overlook the stars? That once a week, I’ll even help Pom-Pom make dinner?
It started because you asked me to be there. You wouldn’t give up. After seeing you neglect Pom-Pom’s desserts for the fourth time in a row just because I wasn’t planning on going, I felt guilty. So I went. And now I see everything I’ve missed out on. I see everything I have now, because of your stubbornness. No — your compassion.
Your compassion towards me was always a constant thing. Even after you found out that I had been keeping secrets from you, even after you saw my true form, you stuck by me. In the beginning, I thought I wanted privacy while meditating, so you granted it. But when I woke up, I found myself searching for you. Whenever I recalled a happy memory, I wanted to share it with you so the joy wouldn’t dissipate. Whenever I remembered a scene with a bitter aftertaste, it was your sweetness that eased that sorrow.
The first time you brushed away my tears, I was shocked. I’m not sure if you could tell, because you didn’t say anything. I’m still thankful for that. Every time you wait for me, with more patience than I could ever deserve, it strikes me just as much as the last time. Being with you is stability and discovery all in one.
I’ve started noticing other things too. The way you hum in excitement when you happen upon a new food you like. The way you emit a giddy whisper-cheer when you win a game on your phone. The way you banter so effortlessly with the rest of the crew, with whoever we meet on our journey, either monotone snark or melodramatic speeches and nothing in between.
The way you touch me, hand clasping mine to drag me somewhere, head dropping to my shoulder when your sleepiness catches up to you without your notice. The way you try to hide your blush and look away when the contact lingers a little too long.
Do you know what it means for you to be the first person I think of when I want to share something funny that happened during my day? Do you know what it means for me to enjoy talking to you for hours on end, blissfully ignorant of night passing into morning when conversation usually exhausts me? Do you know what it means for me to want to see you flustered more often? To see your face fully when you do blush? To want to be the reason behind it?
Do you know how lonely the past can be? Do you know how it feels then, for you to be there, waiting beside me?
Do you understand, what it is you mean to me?
I do, now.
Consciousness returns to him in bits and pieces. The light beckoning beyond his eyelids. The silks shifting over his body. The tendrils of hair whispering over his shoulder. The heavy yet recognizable weight resting on his head.
When he opens his eyes, his suspicions are concerned: while he has never awakened in his Vidyadhara form before, he isn’t exactly astonished by this new development. What does astonish him, nonetheless, is the pearl floating before him, suspended in the air by the magic cupped between his hands, lustrous and iridescent.
The matchmaker’s voice echoes from the recesses of his dream: Do you wish to court the girl? You may want to start here.
He looks down again. The last of his power fades away until only wisps of blue magic remain, and the pearl is left resting in his palm. He remembers now. In the Vidyadhara tradition, the creation and gifting of such a pearl is always the first step of courtship—
Oh.
Oh.
Cheeks now burning, Dan Heng bumps his forehead against the nearest wall, silently wishing that it could tear open and mercifully send him flying into outer space. Alas, no such thing happened, and the Astral Express lived to see another day in one piece.
There are no other options. He is going to have to find a way to face Stelle in a few days and somehow not make a fool out of himself. And maybe, his fist clenches around the pearl, like hope squeezed into a dewdrop. Maybe she’ll like the gift.