Work Text:
1. Curiosity
As a renowned Arbiter-General, Jing Yuan possesses a vast catalogue of skills, one of which is both his crowning glory and potential downfall — his photographic memory. He can recall plenty of information with ease, a trait necessary to efficiently work on his legislative tasks, but with a brain as sharp as his, many headaches are bound to arise.
His biggest worry comes in the form of mara, the disease that plagues the long-life species when memories of their drawn-out lives have stretched the capacity of their minds far too thin, leaving no room to create new ones. Despite his position, Jing Yuan is much like everyone else in this regard, fighting daily for his right to stay conscious even when being hounded by the inevitable toll of immortality.
The general combats the mara through meditation and relaxation, allowing his negative memories to slip freely away from his mind, effectively freeing up space for the indeterminate future. He finds himself strolling through the Exalting Sanctum, breathing deeply as he greets passersby with a placid smile. The crisp afternoon breeze blows softly against his face.
Jing Yuan steps towards the railing and inhales once again, slowly closing his eyes and allowing his other senses to take the lead. His nose catches a whiff of flowers carried by the wind — iris, is it? Delicate and sweet, but not sickeningly so, the general opens his eyes to find a tall man standing below the rampart, his long, blonde hair elegantly dancing in the wind.
From his outfit, the man seems to be a foreigner — he wears a white coat embroidered with gold; teal strips of fabric accentuate his slim figure while his wheat-gold hair cascades past his waist. It seems to be loosely braided, an intricately carved barrette holding the luscious locks in place.
The man looks up as if sensing the general’s stare, and his emerald eyes catch Jing Yuan’s golden ones for a brief moment before turning his head and walking away, raising a blue paper parasol above his head. Their gazes met for but a fleeting second, yet the rapid thrumming of Jing Yuan’s heart tells him to think fondly of this encounter.
He exhales, holding the memory of their chance meeting close to his heart, and he secretly longs for another fateful rendezvous with the enigmatic blonde.
2. Attraction
A few weeks go by in a blur, and the memory of those emerald eyes still haunts the general. He is curious, Jing Yuan admits, about the mysterious man who caught his eye on that particular afternoon. He resorted to reading up on files and legal records to figure out more about this person that plagues his mind.
Luocha — The blonde man’s name is Luocha, and it turns out that he’s a travelling merchant who works with the Intergalactic Merchant Guild, or at least that’s the statement on his transfer records from the Xianzhou Yuque. In truth, Jing Yuan finds him to be a rather peculiar character as, unlike many in the same line of work, he is in no hurry to go about his business.
The general finds him walking around Aurum Alley on one pleasantly cool evening, arms laden with shopping bags while sipping on a cup of Startaro Bubble Tea. Jing Yuan admires the contrast of his slim figure against the picturesque backdrop of maple trees being lit up by glowing lanterns. He does not realise that he’s been staring for a while, only remembering where he is when the merchant takes notice of him and smiles.
Jing Yuan finds himself to be very fixated on that small smile — Luocha’s lips are pulled into a soft curve, and the apples of his cheeks are dusted a light pink, barely noticeable as he is bathed in the soft yellow lamplight. His green eyes are not emeralds, the general notices for the first time, instead bearing more resemblance to two green olives picked fresh from the tree — precious nonetheless, but more earthy and grounded.
“General Jing Yuan,” the merchant greets him, slightly inclining his head in a little bow. “It is a great honour to meet you in person; to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I see you are already familiar with who I am,” the general chuckles, moving to walk next to the blonde. “It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Master Luocha.”
“The sentiment is shared, General,” Luocha deposits his now-empty cup into a nearby trash bin.
A beat passes, relaxed silence filling the space between them. Jing Yuan does not miss how the mellow lighting illuminates the blonde so beautifully, so gently, that he barely suppresses the urge to reach out and tuck a stray lock of hair behind Luocha’s ear.
“Eyes on the pavement, General,” the blonde chastises, a glimmer of humour lighting up his jade eyes. “You can save the staring for when we’re not walking.”
Luocha watches Jing Yuan’s posture straighten slightly, averting his gaze with pink-tinted cheeks.
“My sincere apologies, Master Luocha. I seem to have been distracted.”
“No harm done,” the merchant smiles playfully, pausing for a bit before adding, “You can keep staring later if you walk me home.”
Oh.
Oh…
Like a lagging jade abacus, it takes a while for the general’s mind to process the merchant’s very casual invitation.
“Are you coming, General?”
Jing Yuan shakes his head, smirks, and starts walking again, falling into step beside Luocha, matching his leisurely pace. “Do you really invite every man you meet to come home with you?”
The merchant matches the general’s expression. “Of course not, it’s a courtesy I reserve for the Dozing General alone.”
3. Empathy
It started as a bond over grief, sharing stories of loss and mourning between a jar of fine wine. The two are perched on the roof of the Seat of Divine Foresight after a long day of work, two jade cups in between them.
Jing Yuan watches the starskiffs speeding overhead, the quiet hum of engines ringing in his ears. Luocha, on the other hand, opts to watch the stars twinkling in the heavens.
“There is a folk tale in a faraway world, one that speaks of the stars as the final resting place of the dearly departed. They are said to shine as a reminder to the living that someone up above is cheering them on,” Jing Yuan listens to the merchant’s story with a fond expression on his face, his silver-white hair seemingly glowing in the pale moonlight.
"You've lost someone important to you."
It's not a question, but a statement that Luocha does not refute. A beat passes before the merchant replies, "So have you, General."
"Mn." Jing Yuan looks up at the moon, swirling a cup of his favourite rice wine and downing it in one gulp. The alcohol burns his throat slightly, but he pays it no mind. "I cannot deny that. The friends I once held dear have scattered, dispersed throughout the galaxy," he sighs, a melancholic expression eclipsing his face.
(The High Cloud Quintet, once the Xianzhou Luofu’s illustrious band of heroes, is now scattered to the winds — two dead, two exiled fugitives, and one left to remember. Their shared laughter still resonates in his ears, a haunting echo of bygone years.)
"On that front, we are alike. Grief finds you too, huh?"
The general cracks a small smile. "I suppose it does. It's ever-present like a..."
"Like a lingering shadow, you can't shake off?" the blonde supplies, pouring another round of the bittersweet alcohol.
(Rice wine dug up from the general’s own backyard — amber in colour, it is a few centuries old. Its flavour is rich and mellow, and every drop carries the promise of friendship and camaraderie.)
"Exactly,'' Jing Yuan accepts the refilled cup, his calloused fingers brushing against Luocha's soft ones for a brief moment. "But then again, to grieve means that you once loved someone so much that you carry the guilt, the agony with you all this time."
"Like a receipt," Luocha finishes his analogy. "It must be much harder for long-life species, then. imagine having spent centuries together, only for your loved one to be abruptly yanked away from your grasp."
(“Of five people, three must pay a price — you are not one of them, Jing Yuan.”)
"You eventually learn to let go. You have to move on somehow."
Or else, the mara will strike.
"Of course, it'd take a while for the pain to ease, wouldn't it?"
Golden eyes soften at those words. "A really long while. Enough time to ferment alcohol as fine as this is. Let me pour you another shot; the night is young — we have more than enough time for a longer chat."
“Thank you, Jing Yuan.”
The general does not reply, instead, he leans over, cupping Luocha’s warm cheek as he kisses the merchant.
(The bitterness of alcohol dissipates between their lips, leaving only the sweet taste of wine.)
4. Desire
Their next meeting was due to an injury on Jing Yuan’s part. It was a flesh wound obtained while he was busy driving out the mara-struck. It was nothing life-threatening, nevertheless, it’s better to take precautions.
With intel about orders to assassinate the general, he couldn’t simply march into the Alchemy Commission, nor could he call Lady Bailu to the Seat of Divine Foresight. Word cannot spread about his injury, lest others will manipulate his moment of weakness for their gain. Besides, a dead general would mean unrest on the Luofu and the situation is unstable enough as is, not to mention the mountain of paperwork he’d be leaving behind for his subordinates to clean up.
Jing Yuan opts for the next best thing — he summons Luocha to his home.
He lies with his face down in bed, the bottom half of his torso wrapped in bandages as the merchant examines his body. An old phonograph plays an old song, one that Jing Yuan doesn’t even remember the lyrics to. Sandalwood incense burns, leaving a delicious scent hanging in the air.
“Does it hurt if I do this, General?” his voice is barely above a whisper as Luocha asks every now and then, followed by his slender fingers gingerly pressing down on the flesh of Jing Yuan’s upper back. The general lets out a soft hiss, one that does not go unnoticed.
“Sorry,” Luocha is quick to pull his hand away, reaching for a salve. “I’m going to massage the area; please bear with it for a while.”
The general nods in affirmation, and Luocha takes it as a sign to go ahead. He rubs the salve between his hands to warm it up, then starts kneading at the knots in Jing Yuan’s muscles.
With a weapon as heavy as his, it’s no surprise to Luocha that the Dozing General has a figure well-built by years of training. It does not help that there are some occasions when he can be spotted on the training grounds wearing nothing but a skin-tight shirt and his signature red pants.
“Shit that’s good,” Jing Yuan groans, his voice muffled by a pillow.
That does not help Luocha at all. Memories of heated kisses on a moonlit rooftop flood his mind at the sound. He takes a deep breath, repeating the words ‘maintain your professionalism’ like a mantra in his head. Steadying his trembling hands, he continues to massage the general’s trapezius muscles despite his flushed face.
Jing Yuan, who is fully aware of the situation, decides to mess with the merchant a little. He lets out soft moans and gasps when Luocha presses down just enough. “Oh, right there, that’s so good, sweetheart.”
The endearment takes the merchant aback. Now blushing furiously, his face a bright scarlet. Jing Yuan tilts his head to look at his handiwork and is unable to hold back a chuckle, earning him a light slap on the back. “General, you know what you’re doing.”
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” Jing Yuan rolls over and pats the bed, motioning for Luocha to lie down beside him.
The blonde is quick to counter, but he flops down beside the general. “No, I do not. Besides, I’m supposed to be here to heal your injuries, not to be sweet-talked by you.”
“Dare I say it’s working?”
“... Yes, unfortunately, it is.” Luocha finally gives in and curls up into the general’s arms, eventually falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
5. Tranquility
Jing Yuan finds the blonde sprawled elegantly in his garden, staring at the sky and watching a sea of lanterns fly up into the night.
Another year, another lantern festival. Last year, Luocha was also aboard the Luofu, and the general personally escorted him around, sampling snacks from different stalls and gathering many trinkets and freebies. This year, the two opt to stay home and watch the lanterns ascend from the comfort of Jing Yuan’s meticulously maintained garden.
He lies down on the grass beside Luocha, his large hand finding the blonde’s smaller one. Neither of them says anything — they have no need to.
Luocha inches closer to the general, leaning his head on Jing Yuan’s shoulder. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the cool evening breeze melding with the general’s calming sandalwood scent.
Jing Yuan’s lips tug upwards, craning his head downwards slightly to plant soft kisses on the blonde’s forehead. The general’s night-blooming flowers unfurl and the gentle wind carries their delicate fragrance through the air.
Jing Yuan lets out a sigh of contentment. Finally, a few moments of peace. The past few weeks have been stressful, full of the general poring over mountains of paperwork and making arrangements for the festival.
He’s thankful for the end of every day when he comes home to the man curled up in his arms.
“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it, A-Yuan?”
“It will always pale in comparison to you, gege.”
+1. Love
Lowering his glaive, the general circles his prisoner like a lion waiting to pounce. He dismissed his subordinates a short while after cuffing the blonde man’s hands behind his back — it only takes one word from the general, and the Cloud Knights are sent marching out of the Shackling Prison in a single file.
“You’ve caught me, General Jing Yuan,” Luocha smirks haughtily, meeting his captor’s eyes in a manner unbefitting of a subdued fugitive.
Jing Yuan suppresses the growl forming at the back of his throat. When he speaks, his voice is low, husky and bordering dangerous. “And you… You, my dear, have captivated me.”
“All this time, I’ve only been an abomination in your eyes, so what difference does it make?” Hurt flashes through Luocha’s figure for a fleeting moment, but he catches himself, quickly composing his face to remove any traces of the pain inflicted upon him by the man he lo—
All his thoughts scattered when Jing Yuan’s lips met his, insistent but tender. A familiar warmth rekindled in his heart — the memories of their passionate trysts and secret rendezvous came flooding in.
It takes one long stride for Jing Yuan, and he cradles his beloved in his arms again. Releasing the suspect from the handcuffs that bind him, the general buries his head in the crook of Luocha's neck, tears threatening to fall.
His greatest weakness — his ultimate downfall.
In the past, they spoke of loss on many occasions.
It never gets easier.
A moment of clarity sees Luocha pushing Jing Yuan away. “A-Yuan, what are you doing?! If you get caught with a fugitive—”
The blonde slips up, unconsciously using the familiar nickname. It flies from his mouth so easily, and it just feels right—
“This is my choice — my answer is clear.” Verdant eyes shimmer with barely contained tears, and it takes everything in the general to stop himself from brushing them away with a gentle sweep of his thumb. “Why did you do it?” he asks instead, hurt evident in every syllable.
“It is as your master said — in this game of chess between aeons; the winners blaze in glory while the losers turn to ash. Is that what you want for the Xianzhou Alliance?” Luocha’s tone is cold and metric. He does not speak, he recites.
“Every single one of our encounters — did they mean anything to you at all?”
“No. No, they never did,” Luocha answers too quickly.
(I could never hate you.)
“You lie,” Jing Yuan confidently refutes, his golden eyes softening. He moves closer again, gingerly taking Luocha’s face in his warm hand. “You answered very fast as if you'd prepared yourself for this question. You bit your lip, and now, you’re fiddling with your thumbs. I know you, gege. Please don’t try to deceive me.”
The general’s use of the pet name he holds so dear is what finally breaks Luocha. He collapses into Jing Yuan’s arms, tears streaming down his face as he clings to the general like a lifeline. “I had to,” he whispers, a quiet sound that shatters the general’s heart. “I have to, or else—”
“I understand,” Jing Yuan presses a chaste kiss onto Luocha’s forehead. “It’ll be okay, gege, we’ll be alright. To keep up appearances, I’m going to have to put you on house arrest for now. You’ll stay in my house; that way, I can guarantee your safety. We’ll figure something out — we always do.”
He makes his choice — it is so simple, so easy. He has no intention of ever going back. He would choose the same in every lifetime.
In this war between aeons, the general will fight for his heart.
Lan be damned, he will fight for Luocha.