Archive of Our Own

1.

Distant chattering from the midday bazaar nearby flows through the air, mixing in with the chirping of birds and faint rustling of leaves. The various sounds enter the tiny workshop through a window left open, filling it with life. 

However, the man in front of the wire wheeled belt grinder pays them no mind, his attention entirely on the unfinished sabre in hand.

A loud series of knocks resound in the room, bursting the bubble that is Yingxing’s focus.

Yingxing jerks forward in response to the unexpected noise, then rolls his eyes as he carries on grinding the sabre, raising his voice loud enough for the person outside to hear him. “Come in,” he shouts, and as if already knowing who would be brazen enough to disturb his peace and quiet, he continues, “The cart of what you asked for is over there beside the shelf in the corner. Get it yourself, Jing Yuan.”

“Hmm, if I were a certain someone else, would I have had the honour of Furnace Master Yingxing hurriedly rushing off his seat to greet me at the door?” the guest muses aloud as he enters. Yingxing can hear the teasing smile in his voice and mutters a quiet, Little brat, under his breath. 

Jing Yuan strolls in with a hum, pretending not to hear it. “My apologies for disturbing you on your day off, but I had no other time to collect the equipment as my schedule is quite packed.”

“It’s fine, I guessed as much anyway.” Yingxing brings the sabre to a bucket of water and dips it inside. “Oh, and take the gloves on the table beside it too. I noticed a glove of yours seemed beat up after the battle a few days ago. I made another pair for you with better material. Hopefully it lasts longer.”

“Mn, thank you, Yingxing-ge,” comes the cheery response. Jing Yuan walks towards his designated location, stepping over mountains of different types of armoury, and skirting past strange items he can’t put a name to. He bends down to check on all the equipment in the cart, nodding, completely satisfied. His smile widens, “By the way, the headgear looks— Huh?” 

The footsteps heading Yingxing’s way come to an abrupt stop. 

At the sudden pause, the craftsman places the sabre down to face the youngster, but what he receives in return is Jing Yuan looking straight at him with his eyebrows scrunched up in an expression Yingxing can’t seem to describe.

Bewilderment, maybe?

“What? Why’d you stop all of a sudden? Did something happen?”

Jing Yuan blinks. “Ge, do you not notice that scent around you?”

Yingxing blinks back. “What scent?” he asks, then proceeds to raise his elbows, sniffing at himself. His nose scrunches up at the pungent whiff that practically slaps him in the face and flaps a hand near his nose to blow it away. If he didn’t know better, he would have mistaken this smell for some new type of toxin. “Is this your roundabout way of telling me I need to take a shower because I stink?”

(Jing Yuan keeps his usual smile on his face and marks off the possibility of Yingxing wearing some sort of perfume.)

“Perhaps,” he offers as a reply. “But I just thought there was a… faint scent of lotus on you. It’s similar to that of the Viyadhara High Elder.”

Yingxing frowns, debating whether to take a sniff of himself again, but decides against it. “I didn’t notice at least,” he answers. “It must be because I’ve been spending a lot of time with Yinyue-jun recently. Although the last time I saw him was a few nights ago, since he left for that task in Yuque.” 

There’s a pause, a short one, then: “Does Yinyue-jun smell like lotuses…? I never noticed.”

(Jing Yuan doesn’t answer his question—not with that obvious blush painting the older man’s cheeks—nor does he elaborate and tell him that ‘faint’ was merely a nice way to put it.)

(The scent on Yingxing is cloyingly sweet and something that the rest of the Xianzhou natives would be able to perceive from miles away. At least if he didn’t stay cooped up in his workshop covered by the musk of iron and other various sorts of metal, that is.)

(But Yingxing is an other-worldy mortal that cannot sense the pheromones of the alphas and omegas of the Xianzhou. And despite already living here for more than half of his life, there are some things he cannot fully grasp; pheromones, soulmates and the like.)

The white-haired youth only smiles in response and takes this as a sign for him to leave, lest he have to bear the brunt of choking on the Viyadhara High Elder’s pheromones and be forced to eat this blatant dog food.

Yeah, he’d rather not.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way,” says Jing Yuan, hurriedly. He stumbles on his feet in his rush yet continues to tread on without blinking. Picking up the gloves and pushing the cart of equipment away in one fluid movement, Yingxing thinks he can feel a breeze from how fast the other’s movements are. “Thank you again for all the help, ge,” the boy calls out one last time before the door slams shut.

Before Yingxing can even get back to working on his sabre however, a muffled voice from the entrance makes its way to his ears. “Oh, and by the way, you really should take a shower!” he hears Jing Yuan shout, followed by a bout of laughter.

Again, Yingxing rolls his eyes, and again he grits his teeth and curses out that little brat.

(The little brat in question only walks away from the workshop with a skip in his step, whistling a random tune, as he thinks to himself, Though a shower probably wouldn’t help get rid of that.)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

2.

It takes a few days for Yingxing to notice everyone’s foul expressions whenever he opens his mouth to speak during meetings with the High Cloud Quintet. But once it etches itself onto his brain, it’s a thought that sticks at the forefront of his mind all day long.

The five of them are here again, gathered around a circular table, to discuss battle formations and tactics. Splayed across the centre of the table, is a large map filled with crosses and arrows in bright red ink. Black and white chess pieces are placed in various positions on the map, from the aid of Jing Yuan’s personal Xiangqi set. 

A group formed not too long ago, the five members of the High Cloud Quintet have worked alongside one another for slightly more than five years. If five years was barely a scratch in the long lives of Xianzhou immortals, to a mortal like Yingxing, five years was a relatively trivial dent in his life. Not exactly short, but not necessarily long either. 

But for some reason, after almost a week of grimaces and frowns sent his way, Yingxing realises that the group may be facing an early burnout. A burnout because of him.

Today he decides to voice out his opinion.

“Before we begin our discussion, I have a question I would like to ask.”

Jingliu blinks at him blankly and nods, while Baiheng offers him a smile. “Ask away.”

Taking a deep breath, he tries to explain himself. “I don’t mean to offend anyone by asking this, nor am I sure if it is true—I could be wrong for all I know, but, but um, did I perhaps do someth—”

Yingxing stops himself when he sees Jingliu’s features sporting their usual scowl; Baiheng and Jing Yuan’s to match. Maybe he did do something wrong after all.

He turns to look at Dan Feng on his right and is greeted with his typical stony face.

Scratch that, he definitely did do something wrong.

(Yingxing, in his fluster, doesn’t notice the excited swishing of Dan Feng’s tail below the table after stumbling on his words.)

“I really can't recall if I have wronged any of you during our meetings or if I made a mistake during training, but I would still like to apologise for any wrongdoings I’ve done,” Yingxing bows his head. “If you do not think I am worthy of being a part of the High Cloud Quintet, my removal may prove to be a satisfactory decision.”

The entire room turns silent.

“WHAT?!” four voices exclaim in unison.

Baiheng brings two fingers to her temple, rubbing circles in thought as she mutters, “Waitwaitwait… Yingxing, what are you even going on about?”

“Yeah, why would you think that we want you to leave the quintet?” Jing Yuan adds, perplexed.

Jingliu and Dan Feng stare at him quietly with confusion in their eyes, waiting for him to explain.

“Well,” Yingxing begins, “these past few days, I’ve noticed that you all seemed to be wearing a look of disapproval any time I had input to share or during any of my briefings, so I thought…” He trails off, deciding to end his sentence there.

He doesn’t need to continue anyway, they should all know what he means.

“You thought wrong,” Dan Feng retorts in an instant. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I would have never adorned such an expression.”

Yingxing hears Baiheng scoff quietly before pushing her seat back to stand up.

“That’s because you and Jingliu,” interrupts Baiheng, voice indignant as she points a sharp finger at both the people mentioned, “barely even wear any expressions on your features.” 

She then sighs into the palms of her hands, frowning at Dan Feng, “And plus, it’s all because you keep—”

Baiheng bites her lip to keep herself from continuing and sighs once more.

Dan Feng’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Me? Was there something I did?”

At this question, matching thoughts prop up in the minds of the three victims at hand: Yes. It was all you. You did everything.

“Okay, okay, let’s settle down,” Yingxing quickly interjects with his arms raised, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I’m not sure what role Yinyue-jun may play in this situation, but I do not think he did anything wrong.” He turns to Dan Feng to give him a small smile in assurance.

But just as these words leave his lips, all three alphas have their lips curved downwards and their eyebrows knitted in displeasure. Again.

(And yet again, Yingxing misses the wagging of Dan Feng’s tail, too busy determining what course of action to take in this situation as he gazes helplessly at the blank look on Dan Feng’s face.)

Once the meeting is over, Yingxing leaves the meeting room hidden in the depths of the Divination Commission with his back drenched in sweat. 

He doesn’t exactly know how he survived both the meeting and getting purged, but it’s safe to say that he, in fact, did not get kicked out of the group. As Jingliu put it: ‘We still need your talents. You are only allowed to quit when you are on your deathbed.’

Yingxing shudders at the lack of retirement plans the immortals of the Xianzhou have and wonders how they even work for hundreds of years. Their concept of time is almost impossible for a mortal like him to comprehend. 

(Though, if he was being honest, there’s a quiet voice among these thoughts revealing that it didn’t matter if he could never understand how immortals perceived time, Yingxing himself wouldn’t mind using the rest of his short life to work for the High Cloud Quintet.)

(He loves being able to continue his dreams as a craftsman while also being able to spend time with his friends, even if it may be part of his duty—what more could he ask for?)

(But if he was being even more honest, Yingxing thinks he aged 50 years after that whole affair.)

Sitting on a bench nearby, he quickly takes a look at his reflection in the tiny pond beside him. No wrinkles on his features. No grey hair. Okay, nice. He releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. Guess he didn’t age at all. 

It’s after his relief that Yingxing suddenly notices a lotus at the corner of his eye, sitting at the crown of his reflection. He smiles softly. The lotus is a light pink, the same shade as a certain High Elder’s flushed cheeks after a round of sparring or drinks under the moonlight. It sits at the corner of the group of aquatic plants, isolated from the rest of the lotuses by the numerous lily pads in its path.

Yingxing sighs and places his hands behind his head. He stares at the wooden doors before him.

On the other side of these doors is Dan Feng, still inside. Yingxing had planned to walk him back to the Alchemy Commission after the meeting was over, maybe give him a few words of consolation, but Jingliu and Jing Yuan—both master and disciple—had stopped Dan Feng in his tracks before he could take his leave, apparently needing to discuss something with him.

Yingxing lifts his chin and leans back onto the bench, allowing dapples of sunlight to leave specks of gold across his cheeks and embrace him with a pleasant warmth.

He shuts his eyes, preparing to take a short nap while waiting.

Just as he finds himself sinking deeper and deeper into slumber, Yingxing feels a light knock on his forehead, startling him awake.

Opening his eyes, he sees Baiheng peering over him with a giant grin on her face. “Hi.”

“…”

The two of them stare quietly at each other for a moment before Baiheng breaks the silence by bursting into a fit of laughter. 

Yingxing scowls at her sudden reaction, ears hot. “Why are you laughing?”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she answers, “I just— I didn’t know that being the famed Furnace Master was merely a side job for you. And that you were actually looking to be the master of making up scenarios in your head as well.” Yingxing sees her eyes glint with unabashed amusement. “I thought that that brain of yours was only filled with forging weapons and a certain High Elder I shall not name, I’m surprised.”

Ignoring the latter of her sentence, Yingxing huffs, crossing his arms. “Stop teasing me. My question was valid.”

“Fineee~ I won’t tease you anymore,” Baiheng pouts. She moves to sit beside him and Yingxing straightens his back. A warm breeze gently tousles loose strands of hair as Baiheng prepares to speak again. “It is true that your question was valid though, since we have been reacting in an unseemly manner whenever you speak.”

“...You all said that I didn’t wrong any of you, but if that is true, was there a problem with the content of what I’ve been saying?”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with whatever you’re saying either, per se. It’s just that,” Baiheng stops for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Yinyue gets a little excited whenever you give your input—or well, say anything really.”

Recalling Dan Feng’s blank gaze, Yingxing asks, uncertain, “Excited?”

Baiheng snorts. “It may be hard to believe since you’re a beta, but trust me, his pheromones get a little out of hand. And as alphas, Jingliu, Jing Yuan and I are quite sensitive to its changes.”

And it is this answer that has Yingxing swallowing the words of rebuttal, that were just up and ready to leave his lips, back down his throat. His breath hitches. 

“Is this a recent thing?” Yingxing asks. He tries to keep his voice even and calm despite the sweat building in his palms, “I don’t remember any of you reacting in such a manner before. Plus, I’m not really well-versed in this matter so I’m just curious as to what would warrant such behaviour?”

As if able to see through Yingxing’s facade, Baiheng grins. 

“Okay, so to answer the first question: No. It’s not a recent thing. Although, only recently has the scent been overbearing. It used to be quite faint actually. And as for the second question…” Baiheng’s grin grows wider. “Maybe you should search about it yourself. But to give you a clue, my little didi,” she says, poking at Yingxing’s furrowed eyebrows. “Let’s just say the esteemed Yinyue-jun is very fond of you.”

There’s a faint red staining his cheeks at the reply he receives, but Yingxing skirts around the topic with a frown, mumbling, “Don’t call me that.”

Baiheng cackles at his reaction. “Well, who was the one calling for his jie every chance he got back when I first brought him here. What?” she nudges Yingxing with her shoulder. “Don’t want to admit it?”

Yingxing catches on to the hidden meaning attached to her question and looks away. He knows what she’s truly referring to in that question—more like who, but he doesn’t know how to answer. Lifting his knees to his chest, he slouches forward to hug his legs.

With his face hidden from view, Yingxing finally concedes. “Yes, I admit it. I admit.”

In this position, Yingxing feels like a child again; confused and insecure.

Forehead pressed against his knees, he’s reminded of the time after the destruction of his homeland. Of the time he had found himself in Zhuming and begun learning craftsmanship to get by and fill the emptiness in heart.

Of the time he had thought that he must quickly master creating things with his very own hands. So that these weapons of his creation would fall into the hands of the honourable Cloud Knights, to avenge the fallen and protect the people.

(Though there was a faint voice in his heart telling him it was really because only the most perfect of weapons would stay everlasting and never leave his side.)

It was in this position that Baiheng had found him alone and sat beside him in silence—a curious traveller from another world who bore no responsibility towards him.

And yet.

“Your craftsmanship was pretty good,” she said once the sun had finally set and the stars appeared in the sky. “I’m planning to head to the Xianzhou Luofu once I’m done here. You wouldn’t know, but they have all sorts of metals and materials that you can only dream of laying your hands on. Their technology is more advanced than that of Zhuming’s, you’d be able to create new crafts and weapons beyond your wildest dreams.”

It had been quiet after that. But a  little later came the shuffling of movements as Yingxing raised his head to look at her.

Baiheng had grinned then and ruffled his hair. “Would you join me on my journey?” she asked. Yingxing remembers how the stars had swirled in her eyes, reflected from the night sky above.

(He didn’t know that those stars were reflected into his own eyes as well.)

“As a craftsman, I think you’d appreciate going there more than me. So… would you join me?”

Now, Yingxing peeks at Baiheng from his position and sees the very same smile he had seen then directed his way.

“Ahh, oh how you youngsters grow up so fast,” she sighs dramatically. “Next thing I know, you’re gonna have grey hair, wrinkles and a walking stick in hand. I can’t relate.” 

She expects the man to call her out on her words, tell her a Foxian’s lifespan wasn’t as long as the other immortals and that she’ll need the aid of a walking stick in no time at all. When she receives no bite back, she turns to face Yingxing. 

There’s an anxious expression riddled on his features. It’s clear that he’s bothered by the revelations her words brought about and is still unclear on how to process them.

Baiheng gives him a small smile, one of encouragement, and ruffles his hair. Soft fingers gently carding through navy hair. 

“Xiao-Xing, I’ll trust that you’ll make the right decision. And not for anyone else, but for yourself.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

3.

Talking to Yingxing doesn’t come as easily as before, Dan Feng finds. There’s a strange sort of tension between the two, some invisible wall continuously separating them, and Dan Feng doesn’t know how to get rid of it.

Since rebirthing into his life as Dan Feng, he had always learned that emotions were mere weaknesses for others to use against him; that they were a hindrance in making vital decisions. For someone like him, who was taught to never reveal the emotions he kept caged within the confines of his heart, Dan Feng doesn’t know how to express himself and grab Yingxing by the arm so they can talk it out.

Thinking about it reasonably, it had all started that day Yingxing asked the most bizarre question during their usual meetings. 

Dan Feng had gotten told off by Jingliu and Jing Yuan to keep his pheromones in check, which was a mistake on his part, but when he left the room to head to his chambers with Yingxing, the other man did not glance his way. Not even once.

The usually talkative man, able to ramble his ear off about the simplest of things, had stayed completely silent the entire journey, only answering a few questions Dan Feng awkwardly blurted out with one word replies.

And as a person with trouble making conversation, Dan Feng too had stayed silent after a while.

It’s not like silence is a bad thing. Dan Feng likes the silence and he’s used to it.

He preferred staying in the quiet of his own room than hearing the aloof words and reminders the preceptors directed at him. And when Yingxing had caught him sneaking out of the Alchemy Commission and joined him for a drink under the moonlit night for the first time—and many more times after—the shared silence between them was always comfortable.

Nothing like this thick tension clawing its way to chest and pressing down on his tired heart.

Dan Feng doesn’t even know how it came to this.

Sighing to himself, Dan Feng figures it would be best to cool his head and take a break from these stifling thoughts. Maybe gazing at the starry night from below would help him sort his thoughts out better and figure a way to get rid of them.

Wearing a simple black robe over his clothes, he sneaks out of his chambers once the sky turns completely dark so not even his shadow can be seen. He’s used to this. He can head there with his eyes closed, after all, he has done this too many times before.

His steps are swift as he passes the patrolling Cloud Knights with ease, sticking to all the blind spots to keep himself from getting caught. A left turn here, a right turn there—before Dan Feng even knows it, he’s almost arrived.

He hops onto the back of a starskiff heading to the Exalting Sanctum while no one is looking and hides himself within the food and packages stored in large containers. 

But as he steps foot onto the Exalting Sanctum—just before the pilot notices him sneaking out of the starskiff—Dan Feng hears the commotion of a crowd nearby. A melodic tune fills the air, along with the faint sound of cheers and chattering.

Dan Feng’s ears twitch. He shifts his gaze.

Aurum Alley, huh?

It must have slipped his mind since his thoughts were only filled with a certain craftsman the entire day. Hiding atop the roof of a nearby building, Dan Feng takes a peek at the celebration from afar. 

Below, strings of lanterns decorate the walkways as numerous stalls are set up for merchants from the Xianzhou as well as other worlds to sell food and goods. At a space in the centre of it all, a crowd is gathered watching a group of dancers in costumes with large, flowy sleeves move and bend like streams of water, as two ladies sit beside them playing a duet with the zither.

Taking in the scene, Dan Feng finally recalls the mention of this festival. Yingxing had told him that he’d be setting up a stall for it several weeks ago when he had surprised the man in his own workshop with some new material he had gotten from Yuque.

So it was today…

At the memory, the ends of his lips curve up softly. Yingxing had given him a big toothy grin in return for the material, his eyes gleaming with excitement. But Dan Feng reminds himself of the current awkward tension between them both and his smile turns into a grimace.

I miss him, comes the sudden thought. I miss him.

Dan Feng clenches his fists tight. He needs to make rational decisions as he usually does, he can’t just do whatever he wants out of impulse.

Sharp nails pierce callous palms, but the three words continue to echo in his mind, sticking there like glue.

Dan Feng bites his lip.

Just a little peek won’t do any harm, right?

Almost half an hour later, Dan Feng strolls amongst the crowd in ease, arms placed behind his back. On his head is a bamboo hat with translucent muslin fabric falling from its edges to obscure the features of its user. It had taken him some time to find an appropriate disguise to blend in with the crowd, but luck had been on his side it seemed, for he had found this hat abandoned in a neighbouring alleyway. Using his nails to puncture two small holes through the hat for his horns to fit, Dan Feng thinks it really was meant to be.

He takes in the different scents of delicious foods as he walks by several stalls, emerald eyes catching the bright flickers of sparklers and cheery smiles on passerby’s faces from beneath his disguise. It’s the first time his gaze has steered away from what lies ahead, taking in the little details around him that had always gone unnoticed.

Despite the proper gait instilled in him since young; a straight back and his chest spread open, for the first time, his usually brisk and steady steps come to a slow—a strange sort of shuffling of feet that turn at different angles and stop every few beats to face sights he’s never seen before.

If anybody noticed him, no one would believe that he was the Viyadhara High Elder.

(Although, no one would have ever imagined the High Elder to ever be here in the first place. A person bearing the responsibility of guarding the Ambrosial Arbour and upholding duties worth the same weight as the statue erected in Scalegorge Waterscape to celebrate his past reincarnation would never waste such time on a small festival like this.) 

(It was absurd.)

As Dan Feng stares at a stall selling tanghulu from a distance—a weird craving building in the pits of his stomach that he’s never experienced before—he notices a child rushing towards the stall through his peripheral vision, carrying a miniature aurumaton in one hand. 

Dan Feng blinks, and the sweet craving disappears in an instant, replaced by a different craving; a heated yearning filled with urgency.

Before he even knows it, his feet are rushing towards the direction the child had come from, awkward and hasty. His mind only catches up with his feet when he bumps into a stranger as he turns a corner.

Muttering a quick apology and offering the stranger a nod, Dan Feng turns back to enter the alley and spots Yingxing not too far away.

And like the stars are reflected in his eyes, his eyes light up upon seeing the other man.

Dan Feng still doesn’t know what to say to break this tension between them, he still doesn’t know how to grab Yingxing by the arm and confide the other in the flurry of thoughts that have been seizing his head these past few days, but he takes a step forward, and then another, only to freeze in place when he sees the man smiling and talking to someone else.

Next to Yingxing is a lady dressed in simple but elegant garments. In her hand is a wooden folding fan, complimenting the white and blue colours on her attire. Dan Feng would have thought the lady to be a customer if she stood before the wooden cart, but standing beside Yingxing behind the counter, she must be an acquaintance.

He sees Yingxing laughing freely, hands moving in an animated manner as he talks about something Dan Feng can’t hear, and the lady soon joins in on the laughter. These ministrations and conversations were things Dan Feng was always privy to, things he didn’t know could come to an end. But he doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to witness these things anymore if this tension between them keeps up.

A burning pit fuels itself in the depths of his gut, churning and twisting uncomfortably. He places a hand on his stomach.

What is this? What is this feeling?

He’s about to ignore this strange sensation and perhaps head back to his chambers to sort out this inexplicable feeling within him that he needs to get rid of right away, when the lady opens her folding fan and leans over to whisper something into Yingxing’s ear behind the translucent planes of misty clouds. And before he knows it, his legs are carrying themselves towards the stall in swift strides.

Dan Feng clears his throat.

Releasing the pouch in his hands onto the counter with a loud thump, he doesn’t bat an eye when two pairs of startled eyes turn to look at him.

“Good evening, Mister Merchant. I’d like to buy everything you have to offer.”

But just as these words leave his lips, he notices that Yingxing’s cart is completely bare, aside from the tiny signboard on the counter stating that all his goods are sold out and the heavy pouch of strale he had just confidently dumped beside it.

The arm still in the air freezes, unsure whether to take his money back. He settles for awkwardly placing his arm back into his sleeve and feigns ignorance, lifting his chin. “Truthfully, I am quite interested in this cart that you own. The crafting is intricate, I can tell that this cart was made with the utmost of care.”

Should I ask for that signboard too since I asked to buy everything?

Dan Feng stops himself from speaking anymore. Instead, he prepares himself for the possible replies Yingxing will give him. Perhaps he’ll receive a flurry of questions wondering why he’s here, or maybe he’ll be greeted with that fond smile he hasn’t seen in days—he doubts though, that’d be asking for too much.

His eyes widen when Yingxing merely frowns at him.

And it’s as though his heart drops to the floor, a heavy hollowness in his chest weighing him down from his insides.

(Dan Feng doesn’t know that Yingxing’s lips are only curved down in worry, scared about the High Elder’s presence in a space with many prying eyes.)

(He doesn’t want Dan Feng to get caught sneaking out and ruin what little freedom he has left as himself. Just because of him.)

“Sorry sir, but I’m not willing to sell this cart as it’s not my own,” Yingxing replies, contorting his face back to its customer service smile. Dan Feng sees a vague pleading in his eyes. “Although if you follow me, I might have something you’d appreciate. Please come with me.”

“Uh, yes, of course.”

Hurrying from behind the counter, he quickly takes the pouch and grabs Dan Feng by the shoulders. “My apologies, Ms Chen, I have something important to discuss with this customer right now. You can come find me in my workshop next Thursday as previously mentioned, I’ll be free then.” 

He offers her a smile and small bow, as to which the lady returns before suddenly distorting her features into a wince. 

(Dan Feng, too wrapped up in his thoughts, misses the way the cheers around them slowly die down as they begin to receive glaring stares from their surroundings. But Yingxing notices.)

(And this time as well, Yingxing notices the swishing tail curling all over his skin, like a child staking claim over their favourite toy to ensure that everyone knows it belongs to them.)

Yingxing bows once more then scrambles on his feet to steer Dan Feng away to some secluded area hidden in the darkness where no one would be able to find them, leaving behind the sweet scent of lotus along with the night breeze.

When they’re finally alone, Yingxing releases his grip on Dan Feng’s wrist. Dan Feng watches as Yingxing just stands there, back facing him, a long silence stretching out between them. Dan Feng tries to speak.

“It’s been a while since the last time I’ve seen you, Yingxing. How are y—”

“Why are you here?” Yingxing turns to face him.

Dan Feng immediately sulks at that question.

“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to be here?” he quips back, face devoid of emotion. His chest, however, feels as heavy as it did before. “You already know that I often sneak out of the Alchemy Commission. Is there a difference between that and this?”

Yingxing sighs. “I’m just worried that you’d be discovered easily in the crowd. Yinyue-jun, even if you may be wearing a disguise, there are still people who might recognise you.”

“You think too much, no one would have recognised me,” he responds with a wave of his hand. Tucking his hand back into his sleeves, Dan Feng feigns disinterest as he follows up with questions bearing hidden motives, “What about you…? What were you up to?”

“What do you mean?” Yingxing questions back, genuinely confused. “I told you a few weeks ago that I’d be putting up a stall to sell some crafts for this festival.”

“That you did. But even if you were worried for me, there was no need for you to drag me away as you did. Would that not make it more obvious?”

“Of course, I had to. Your phe—”

“Is it because I caught you in the middle of something you wanted to keep a secret?” Dan Feng cuts him off. His eyebrows furrow as he ruminates in his thoughts. “Did you not want me to find out whatever it is, going on between you and that lady from before?”

“What—?!” the innocent man, faced with baseless accusations, guffaws. “What are you even talking about?”

“You need not worry, I will not inform anyone of this matter, Yingxing.” His voice grows quieter and quieter, until it is barely above a whisper. “But you should have told me that you had found someone for yourself. Did you not trust me?”

(Yingxing can’t smell pheromones.)

( He can’t smell the sourness in the air as Dan Feng attacks him with questions left and right. But he sees the faint crease between the other’s eyebrows, which confuses him even more.)

(Until it hits him.)

(It can’t be…?)

“Yinyue-jun…” he slowly asks, “are you jealous?”

But Dan Feng only scoffs, shattering the faint illusion in a heartbeat. “Jealous? Why would a person like me be jealous over nothing?” Dan Feng doesn’t notice the grit of Yingxing’s jaw and continues to run his mouth to ease the tightness in his chest, “I was only asking because it seemed that you thought so little of our companionship.”

“…Yeah, you’re right, why would you?” Yingxing mumbles mockingly. 

To whom? Dan Feng does not know.

Instead, as though scorched by that expression, the Viyadhara looks away, somehow unable to bear Yingxing’s gaze. Yet the light sneer and deprecative smile he’d seen only seconds ago stays burned into his mind.

“It’s not like there was anything to be jealous about anyway,” Dan Feng hears Yingxing softly say after a while. “She was just asking for advice on good materials to use for a matching pair of earrings she wants to gift her beloved.”

A bitter tang of metal fills the insides of his mouth, as the man with cold eyes bites the inside of his bottom lip—a fitting taste for the guilty.

Dan Feng doesn’t know how he gets back home after all that. Like a robot going through the motions, his mind is void of anything; completely numb.

Only when he’s finally tucked beneath his sheets and curled into his knees, does a thought sprout in his head. Ah, the wall between them only got bigger.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

4.

Is he jealous?

What does it mean to be jealous? Dan Feng isn’t too sure.

From the books he’s read, jealousy is always formed by a feeling called love. He knows that love can create a monster out of a person and cloud their thoughts and rationality. He’s seen the tragic tales written by others like him, Viyadharas who entertain the thought called love then fall into its depths, letting it consume them, only to be forced apart by imminent rebirth. 

As High Elder, a partial being who must watch over his people from afar and remain unsullied by human desires, those are the two things he can never feel.

But when another day ends with himself ignoring the craftsman outside their usual meetings, not sparing the other a glance this time despite Yingxing trying to initiate conversation, Dan Feng finds himself voicing this question to Jingliu.

They’re walking side by side as they head towards the training grounds of the Cloud Knights, Jingliu to lead their training and Dan Feng to check on any injuries or other health issues. The cries of cicadas sound with every step, their pace neither slow nor fast. There’s a small space between them, a courteous distance to show their respect for one another.

The words spill itself from his running mind before he can rein it in. 

“What does it mean to be jealous?”

Jingliu gives away nothing on her face, but Dan Feng can tell she’s perplexed by the abrupt question from the slight falter in her steps.

She continues walking, as does Dan Feng. After some time, she voices her thoughts, “Wouldn’t Baiheng be a better choice to ask a question like this?”

Dan Feng thinks that she has a point. Baiheng would be someone more well versed in these matters. She was someone with a strong sense of empathy who could understand the feelings of all the High Cloud Quintet members better than they understood themselves. 

(But that is exactly why Dan Feng dares not reveal his thoughts to the Foxian—too busy running away from the truth pursuing him relentlessly.)

“That’s fair…” he nods. “I apologise if this put you on the spot. It was just a thought that slipped my mind.”

Jingliu hums. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding Yingxing?”

“I’m not ignoring him,” comes the quick reply. Dan Feng clears his throat, “I am just too busy with responsibilities these days.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Jingliu raise an eyebrow. “Too busy whisking yourself away, or too busy creating nonexistent excuses to even spare him a glance?”

“...I did not realise you were one to joke, Jingliu.”

“But I’m not joking, Yinyue. It is merely an observation.”

Another round of silence spreads among the two. 

Dan Feng thinks he didn’t make it too obvious. They were clearly still speaking and giving feedback during meetings or when discussing matters of work.

Yes, they haven’t been speaking outside those interactions, and yes, maybe—just maybe—Dan Feng has been a little on edge and prepared to sprint away at any given moment if Yingxing were to even look his way. But Dan Feng doesn’t think he’s done anything that would warrant anything of alarm, that even someone like Jingliu could tell that something was up.

(Dan Feng forgets that even if he may not have his emotions written on his face or said aloud, they have known each other for a long time now.)

(They’ve drunk together, sparred together, laughed together—of course, one of his closest companions would notice that there’s been something bothering him.)

Like a hypocrite, he says, voice matter-of-fact, “With the situation like this, wouldn’t it be better for all of us? There would be no more issues regarding pheromone control during meetings, nor would any of us have to bear the consequences of a flimsy relationship that could end abruptly and ruin years of friendship and camaraderie.”

Jingliu thinks back to how much she misses the random outbursts of sweet lotus compared to this constant faint sour scent surrounding the man. “Would it really be better this way?”

Dan Feng purses his lips.

“I’m not one for advice, Yinyue, and I do not have much knowledge on this topic to even offer advice regarding an emotion like love. If you asked Baiheng, I’m sure she would be able to give you advice that is far more useful. The best I can do is help improve your swordplay and contribute to military strategies,” Jingliu says, resolute. Yet her icy exterior softens slightly as she continues, “But I’ll still answer your question to the best of my abilities.

“I too am not sure what jealousy is. All I know is that when I’m with Baiheng, my heart feels lighter. And I can laugh and speak—unlike my usual self.”

“I don’t know why, but when she’s not around, I think of her. Even when she’s at my side, I still think of her.”

“When she smiles at me, I am relieved. It would be great if she could continue smiling that way forever. But sometimes I get this strange feeling when that same smile is shared with others. I’m not sure what it is but my chest feels tighter than normal, and it feels as though there’s a voice inside my head telling me that no one else needs to see that smile but me, even if it’s irrational.”

Jingliu glances at him with her usual stoic, yet Dan Feng can see a light in her eyes. “Does that answer anything?”

Dan Feng thinks Jingliu’s words did, in fact, not answer anything, and instead supplemented him with even more unnecessary thoughts.

If Dan Feng’s brain was already filled to the brim after the incident at the night festival, his brain in this current moment is drowning within his thoughts, unable to put a start and end to them. Similar to his mind, his room is a cluttered mess. His sheets are dishevelled with open books and manuscripts strewn across the floor he had been pacing back and forth for nearly an hour.

Now, Dan Feng sits at his study table with his legs crossed and back upright as if he isn’t sitting in the middle of a large wreck. A soft cushion rests beneath himself, as he ponders upon Jingliu’s words and compares it with his own situation. 

She did not explicitly give a name to her feelings, only stating how she felt experiencing them. If someone else had heard her words, they’d think that she was being indirect. But Dan Feng understands her more than most people can, they’re similar after all.

A straightforward and curt person with a strong sense of responsibility; Jingliu just doesn’t know how exactly to define these feelings.

Still, a lingering thought of denial in the corner of his mind wants to believe that since Jingliu did not directly state that what she felt was jealousy—nor the other word Dan Feng doesn’t even want to think about—it may not be the case.

With his elbows resting on the table, Dan Feng covers his eyes with a hand in an unrefined manner, lacking the poise and etiquette taught by the indifferent teachers the preceptors would delegate him. The coolness of his palm sinks into his skin, alleviating the slight migraine creeping into his temples.

When he had looked at Yingxing talking to that stranger from afar with the kind eyes he thought was only privy to his companions and himself, a strange, icky feeling exploded in his stomach. It crawled its way to his heart and clenched against it forcefully, rendering Dan Feng unable to breathe.

All Dan Feng knew was that he had to do something in that moment, even if it meant embarrassing himself as he did.

“Haahhh…” he breathes out, sigh resounding in the quiet room.

He honestly doesn’t know whether it’d be easier to be a robotic pawn meant to fulfill the role of High Elder than to understand the emotions rushing within him. 

It takes all of his focus to pull himself together again, ignoring the faint throbbing in his head. He tidies his clothes, straightens the ruffles of his sleeves that had huddled together and concentrates on his true task at hand: attending to the paperwork of an ongoing experiment for a new medicine.

He skims through the test results on his desk. He writes a short summary and conjecture for each result on a separate manuscript with an ink brush. His arms move swiftly, an action he’s repeated too many times from filing all sorts of reports as High Elder. 

When he’s done with the first report, signing the bottom of the page with his personal stamp and today’s date, Dan Feng’s brittle focus shatters on the spot. 

The sixteenth…? Wouldn’t that mean today is the Thursday Yingxing had invited the lady to visit his workshop?

He places his brush back down onto the table.

The thoughts he had pushed to the back of his mind come surging forward like a tidal wave, and the sour feeling returns immediately, his skin burning.

She’s just a customer, Dan Feng reminds himself. She has a lover as well, there is no need to get worked up.

But his actions betray his thoughts, and he immediately clambers up from the floor and walks past the mess scattered at his feet, dashing out the back door.

In his haste, he doesn’t notice himself stepping on his calendar, a bright red circle marking tomorrow’s date.

(Once again, Dan Feng acts on impulse like he did a few nights ago, this time foregoing his duties and responsibilities for the day.)

(It will not be the last.)

Dan Feng doesn’t knock on the door as he enters.

The owner of the workshop had said he was always welcome to enter whenever he wanted to, and Dan Feng plans to take advantage of that even if it probably only applied to when they were on good terms.

“Yingxing,” he calls out in greeting, hoping to startle the man and put his conversation to a stop. Unexpectedly, however, nobody is to be seen in the workshop, completely empty save for himself.

The light shuffling of feet echoes in the quiet room, Dan Feng walking around to see if Yingxing is hiding anywhere. From a distance, he observes Yingxing’s crafts arranged in a messy type of neatness as usual, like a hoarder who never knew to stop collecting yet placed things accordingly. Weapons and armoury lie in large piles on one side while an array of hairpins and jewellery are scattered across one half of the wooden table in the centre of the room.

Checking on the innermost section of the workshop, Yingxing’s forge, he notices the hearth completely cool, not a single trace of being used recently.

Was he mistaken? Yingxing did tell his customer that he’d be in today, right?

Sweat begins to form at Dan Feng’s temples despite the inside of the workshop being neither hot nor cold, and his previous migraine returns in full force. He frowns in discomfort as he ponders deep in thought. 

It’s strange for a workaholic Yingxing to miss a day of crafting unless the circumstances truly did not allow for it. And it seemed like he was definitely meant to be free today, so why?

He moves to the craftsman’s little office in the next room to find some clues of his whereabouts, but the constant movement makes his head hurt even more. His breaths grow shorter, chest heaving rapidly and his vision blurs. In his haze, the man picks up on a familiar scent nearby. 

Dan Feng doesn’t know what overcomes himself, but the next thing he knows, his fingers reach for the coat hanging on the backrest of Yingxing’s chair and brings it close to his face.

He takes a deep breath.

The musky smell of sweat mixed with Yingxing’s body wash relieves the strange searing sensation of his skin, calming him down. It’s as though the scent envelops him in a blanket of comfort, soothing the rumbling in his gut to a quiet lull. And he does just that, placing it over his shoulders.

Dan Feng doesn’t notice himself gathering a bunch of Yingxing’s belongings stained with varying strengths of the man’s scent as he piles them on top of the empty office desk into a little semi-circle before slumping onto the chair with a thud. 

He’ll just sit here and rest his eyes for a bit…

Dan Feng stirs awake when he hears the creaking of the wooden door.

Eyes bleary, he opens them to see a figure standing on the other side of the desk.

“Yinyue-jun…? What are you doing here?”

He blinks sluggishly. The burning of his skin which had subsided with the help of Yingxing’s coat before his rest is back, wetness prickling the edges of his eyes. Though his mind is still foggy, he processes the person before him in a heartbeat, the familiar scent which had accompanied him during his wait.

Yingxing has his hair tied up into a high ponytail, strands of hair framing his features, and he offers Dan Feng a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. From his demeanour, Dan Feng notices the man standing awkwardly stiff as though unsure of how to act.

(He doesn’t want to startle the High Elder and have him running away from him again, after all.)

“I… was just here to visit the workshop and see how exactly you’ve been progressing,” Dan Feng slowly answers, voice hoarse. He tries to pull himself together.

“I see, I see.” Yingxing clears his throat. “Is that why you have my coat draped over your shoulders and my table is in such a state?”

Dan Feng’s already burning cheeks burn even more.

For all the thoughts that were practically spilling out of his mind a few hours ago, Dan Feng discovers he can’t think of anything in this current moment. “This was an accident,” he tries. “I didn’t mean to, I…” but before he can even finish his sentence, his body begins to sway.

Yingxing’s face immediately fills with panic and he rushes to Dan Feng’s side.

A cool palm, rough and worn, presses against his forehead. On instinct, Dan Feng lifts his head to shift the palm to his cheeks, nuzzling into Yingxing’s touch. This is nice, he thinks. He’s used to the warmth of Yingxing’s hands, but he likes the coolness he feels now as trembling fingers caress his skin.

“Y—Yinyue-jun, I think you have a fever,” he hears the man say in a low whisper.

Dan Feng merely shakes his head in response.

It was impossible for a person like him to get a fever. He was the Viyadhara High Elder and guardian of the Ambrosial Arbour, he was not allowed to fall sick and had learned how to care for his body to ensure it never happened.

Yingxing tucks a loose strand of hair behind Dan Feng’s ears, coarse fingertips tickling the shell of his ear. “Should I take you back to the Alchemy Commission?” 

The sensation sends a shiver down his spine and an abrupt thought surfaces into his mind.

Ah, wasn’t my heat cycle meant to start soon?

Dan Feng quickly opens his eyes and pushes Yingxing away. His shaking arms stay extended in place, hair messily covering his features. Despite the unsightly mannerism, he can’t let Yingxing see him like this. “My apologies, I…I have to go.”

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor resounds in the tiny office as Dan Feng gets up to leave. He forgot to take his suppressants with him, he needs to quickly get them since his heat seemed to arrive slightly early. The tail of Yingxing’s coat flutters through the air as Dan Feng rushes away, but a firm hand grabs his wrist, keeping him from leaving.

“Yinyue,” Yingxing calls out, aggrieved. This time, the palm on his is searing, and Dan Feng can’t stop his toes from curling as the beating of his heart grows more erratic. “I can’t seem to fathom why you’re doing this. You’ve been avoiding me since that day in Aurum Alley.”

The dragon stays silent.

“I understand if you find it to be uncomfortable in my presence after asking you such a ridiculous question then, but you came here unprompted and—”

“You were the one who avoided me first.”

Yingxing freezes.

With the grip on his wrist loosened, Dan Feng pulls his arm away. He needs to keep his sanity in check, lest he do something he’ll regret. But as the heat from his wrist rises to his head, he finds himself unable to contain the thoughts he had always kept bottled away. “You, Yingxing, had avoided me first, so I do not think you have the right to ask me about my motives when I never questioned your own.”

“At the time, I just—”

“I did not ask.”

“Well, I don’t need your permission to say what I want,” Yingxing snaps. He takes a deep breath then softens his voice, “Can’t we just talk it out?”

Dan Feng keeps his gaze away and pretends he isn’t affected. “I have nothing else to say. I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Yinyue-jun—!”

“There’s something more important that I have to attend to right now, so if you will excuse me.”

Dan Feng watches the door he just opened close shut as a hand pushes against it, a figure taller and broader than his own looming over him. “Yinyue-jun,” Yingxing pleads softly. Dan Feng trembles as he feels the man’s hot breath blowing beside his ear, the heat of his body pressed against his own. “I’m aware that you’re busy, but you’re currently sick. Even if you have nothing to say to me, at least let me take you home, okay?”

Every fibre in his cells is telling him to stay put. To let himself be enveloped by Yingxing’s warmth and to have those callus hands touch him all over.

(It seemed that the sanity he had tried so hard to maintain dissipated in an instant.)

“Yinyue?” the craftsman calls out again, breathing against his nape this time. 

A whimper escapes Dan Feng. He cranes his neck to the side, granting the other access to unblemished skin as heat pools at his stomach. His arms reach for Yingxing to pull him closer, so sharp teeth can easily graze his skin and leave behind the mark his entire body is craving for, to satiate his conscious desires. 

But the clueless mortal doesn’t understand his actions. Alarmed, he raises his voice, “Yinyue?! Are you alright?”

Yingxing manoeuvres himself to keep the fidgeting High Elder in place so that he can check his temperature again with ease. He holds Dan Feng’s waist with both hands and presses closer towards Dan Feng to place his forehead against the other’s. 

Dan Feng shifts in response to the sudden proximity before he can do so, biting down on his bottom lip as sharp teeth gnaw into his skin. But when Yingxing’s lips accidentally brush against Dan Feng’s horn instead, the touch elicits a loud gasp from him.

“Ah—?” He arches his back, panting. “Mngfgh —Yingxing— hahh —again, hurry.” 

Swift arms pull the craftsman closer by the neck, sharp nails clawing at Yingxing. Drool spills from open lips and a layer of mist clouds piercing emerald eyes, softening them with a hazy lust.

It strikes Yingxing then that Dan Feng isn’t at all sick.

“Yinyue-jun, are you… in heat? Why didn’t you just—”

( —tell me, goes words unheard. But he’s known the High Elder long enough to know that there would be no way he’d ever reveal a ‘weakness’ of his so easily to anyone. And this included the man’s true thoughts and feelings.)

(An inscrutable person through and through.)

Tears build up at the corner of Dan Feng’s eyes. His senses are all lost, the only thing in mind; Yingxing and Yingxing only. 

“Quick, touch me. Yingxing, hurry,” he cries, rubbing his horns against the man’s chest to feel any form of stimulation.

(The man in question remains motionless, unsure of what to do. It’s his first time witnessing an omega going through their heat—what’s more Dan Feng going through his heat.)

“Have you—have you taken your suppressants?” Yingxing stammers.

But Dan Feng can barely hear the man’s words. His ears are ringing, his skin on fire; and all he knows is Yingxing, Yingxing, Yingxing.

“Yingxing, stop talking. Touch me.”

“I’ll send you back to the Alchemy Commission, so that you can take your suppressants.”

“Yingxing, please…” he groans. He can’t, he needs him right now. “Just touch me, please.” 

(If Dan Feng were in the right state of mind, he’d realise that this is entirely out of character for someone like him who has never begged for anything in his life, but the words leave his lips again and again.)

“Okay, okay,” murmurs the navy-haired man. He caresses Dan Feng’s horn with a hand, tracing every curve and groove gently, a thumb pressing against its tip. His other hand stays on the dragon’s waist, rubbing soothing circles to hopefully calm him down. “Like this?”

Dan Feng’s entire body shudders from the contact. Yingxing gulps, eyes wide. 

“No— hnghf —I need more.”

Dan Feng’s omega brims with satisfaction when a groan spills from Yingxing’s lips as he grinds himself against the other’s leg. He pants lightly, repeating the action again. “Touch me there too,” he demands, breathless, but doesn’t forget to add another ‘please’.

“I—I can’t do that to you, Yinyue-jun.” Yingxing grits his teeth. “You’re not in the right state of mind.”

The intense hunger of emerald eyes clash with the desperate pleading of blue, rendering them both immobile. However, this only lasts for a moment before Dan Feng wraps Yingxing by the waist with his tail and shoves his back against the door, swapping their positions in the blink of an eye. 

He continues grinding on Yingxing’s leg and presses him down with the entirety of his weight, as he hisses, “I don’t need your permission either.”

It doesn’t matter if Yingxing was bigger than him physically, he could never overpower the High Elder in strength, and Dan Feng knows this well. With arrogance befitting of his strength, he restrains Yingxing in place, never once stopping his movements. He then grabs the gentle hand still on his waist and moves it lower, brushing past the base of his tail and towards the spot aching to be filled.

“Fingers,” Dan Feng grunts through stuttered breaths. “In me, I need…I need—inside.”

The craftsman doesn’t relent. “No.”

“Please Yingxing.” The tail around Yingxing’s waist tightens its grip and Dan Feng peers up at the navy-haired man. His lips brush against Yingxing’s. “I give you permission to touch me, so please.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I…I really…” 

Dan Feng sees the way Yingxing’s eyebrows press together, the breath from his lips shaky against his own. The tips of his ears are tinged red as he tries to find the words to reply. Dan Feng’s eyes widen, his senses returning in that instant and a feeling of nausea overwhelms him. A frantic voice—much like his own—screams at him to run away before Yingxing can finish speaking.

But all thoughts come to halt when a head knocks hard into his, Dan Feng letting go of his hold on Yingxing to clutch his forehead tight.

He scowls at Yingxing, who winces from the impact, like himself. He then watches the man give him a pained smile as bright as can be, as he finishes his sentence: “I really—just can’t, Yinyue.”

Dan Feng feels his eyes sting at that expression; throat and nose clogged up with a sour feeling.

Again, it’s that same expression as the one in Aurum Alley, and again, Dan Feng can only look away with a quiet mutter of “You’re such a fool”.

Yingxing chuckles aloud, heading to the cabinet in the corner of the office to get a large blanket tucked away. His nose is red and his eyes sheen with mist, but he grins toothily at Dan Feng. “You’re absolutely right. I really am a fool.”

Yingxing bundles Dan Feng up with the blanket, making sure to keep his limbs all covered save for his head. Dan Feng stays silent the entire time and allows himself to be wrapped up and hugged by the taller man. 

His skin is still on fire; his desires unquenched, but the aching in his chest stops his instincts from taking over.

“I know this doesn’t help much, but bear with me, hm?” the craftsman smiles, stroking Dan Feng’s hair carefully. He rubs the base of his horns in calm circles, drawing out a slight shudder from the dragon, sensitive there. But warm, rough hands caress his skin with a tenderness Dan Feng has never received before, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep once more, engulfed in Yingxing’s calming scent.

(Dan Feng doesn’t feel the press of lips on his forehead, and misses the way Yingxing whispers, “You will be the death of me.”)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

5.

An arrogant man like Dan Feng had never once thought that he was foolish. 

With the knowledge passed down from many generations of high elders; experience and wisdom accumulated by countless reincarnations, Dan Feng should be anything but foolish.

Yet when it comes to Yingxing, Dan Feng begins to think that perhaps there is a foolishness inside him that he never once thought existed.

It’s as though this strange mortal had catapulted himself into Dan Feng’s life and knocked him out of orbit. Turned everything upside down, and created a cacophony of a mess.

His actions and words are unlike himself, unprecedented, and Dan Feng isn’t too sure what he can do to gain his bearings back to continue down his journey onto the right path; the predestined path he was taught to follow all his life.

But he must.

And yet, Dan Feng somehow finds himself with a jar of Yingxing’s favourite wine—one he finds too sweet for his liking—sitting beneath the night sky at his usual spot.

Flecks of light shine down on him, exuding their brilliance, as the gentle wind cools his flaming cheeks, but no matter how bright those stars in the sky may shine, the star below that always stayed by his side is nowhere to be seen.

Two cups sit side by side, but one goes unused; filled to the brim with alcohol that will not be downed.

He lifts his own cup to the sky and smiles wryly, as though mourning the death of something that hasn’t even begun. Then he tilts his head back, again, and again, and again, and gulps down cups of wine until his thoughts turn into a jumbled mess.

(This is the first time he’s drunk past his limits, used to stopping before he loses the ability to think straight.)

(But the saccharine taste is intoxicating, and Dan Feng douses himself in it, letting cold liquor burn down the throat that refuses to reveal what it truly means—a punishment for lips soiled in lies.)

His vision blurs more with each cup downed, and he finally slumps onto the rooftop when the cup slips from his fingers. The lights from above move and dance in different patterns, similar to a kaleidoscope, before they slowly begin to dim as his eyelids grow heavier.

How will I get back to the Alchemy Commission? comes the belated thought, but darkness overtakes him and puts an end to his thoughts.

Dan Feng wakes up to a pulsating ache in his head.

He grimaces, ready to open his eyes, but a pair of hands reach for his temples, massaging the ache away.

“...Yes, like that. Continue.”

“Even drunk, you’re still so demanding,” he hears, voice a gentle hush. Despite the harsh words, the hand doesn’t falter.

Dan Feng stays in that position with his eyes shut, allowing the person to continue rubbing circles at his temple then to stroke his hair in comfortable silence. The silence he’s used to. The person begins to hum an all too familiar tune, one that had always washed away the fatigue building within him on nights like this; nights shared with a young man who can only be described as a star. 

“Is this a dream?” he wonders aloud.

“Hm, what makes you think that?”

Perhaps it is the alcohol pumping in his veins, or the sleep still laced behind his eyelids, but Dan Feng is pliant and answers sincerely. “It’s been too long since we’ve last spoken properly, or even kept each other company.” The man doesn’t respond, so Dan Feng continues, “The last time we met, I said and did many things I am truly ashamed of, so it’d be of no surprise if you were to avoid me outside of work for the rest of your life. There’s no way you’d be here right now.”

The stroking comes to a stop and Dan Feng’s eyes flutter open. He sees dark blue eyes with a purplish hue gazing directly into his own, the silhouette of his reflection clear within them.

The night is quiet. This is all too much.

“You— Stop looking at me like that,” Dan Feng whispers. He raises a hand to block the man’s line of sight. “I know what you want, and I can’t. Stop. You’re not even real.”

His hands hover over clear eyes staring into his soul, just short of pressing against them.

(He doesn’t dare.)

“I’m not jealous,” Dan Feng blurts out all of a sudden. With his words, the temperature in the air grows colder and large clouds float by to hide the stars in the sky, but Dan Feng presses on. “I’m not jealous and I don’t— no, I can’t like you, Yingxing.”

He ignores the pain of his heart, that he’s crushing with his own two hands. “I’m serious. I can’t, I really can’t.”

“…I know. It’s alright, Yinyue-jun.”

Drops of wetness prick Dan Feng’s palm and his hand loses its strength, slumping back down against his body as his vision fades into darkness. A tear trickles down his cheek.

Dan Feng is arrogant. Dan Feng is cold. But Dan Feng is not selfish.

He would never take Yingxing for himself nor follow the whims of his heart.

For if he were to be selfish, it meant that he knew of love.

And Dan Feng cannot love.

(Many years later, when he learns to accept his love, Dan Feng learns for the first time what it means to be selfish.)

(And he’ll realise that selfishness can bring about a monstrosity of a beloved and a mountain full of regret.)

☾˖⁺｡°♡˖⁺｡✩

+1

The soft breeze ruffles Yingxing’s hair as he walks the path back home. The streets are silent in the dead of the night, the only source of light from the moon and stars above. In his arms, is a sleeping High Elder, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he had been drinking.

He’s lucky he had seen Dan Feng sneaking into the Exalting Sanctum as he was heading home after work. He wouldn’t want him to get caught by the preceptors after drinking himself to oblivion, it was suicide. Especially since it was even more dangerous for him to drink alone and lose control of his pheromones. Yingxing doesn’t know how an omega, or alpha, would smell in such a situation, but it was better to play it safe.

Dan Feng lets out a soft groan, shuffling in his sleep and Yingxing can’t help but smile fondly.

Each step he takes is steady, not wanting to rouse the man in his arms. With Dan Feng unconscious, Yingxing can stare at him all he wants. The Viyadhara’s eyebrows are pulled together slightly in a crease and his lips rest in a straight line. It’s his usual expression really, but without the cold, jade eyes that could freeze a person to their spot, Yingxing thinks he looks a little cuter; a little softer.

His eyebrows scrunch up even more and his breathing quickens. Worried, Yingxing prepares to wake him from the nightmare overtaking his dreams, but he stills when a tear slides down Dan Feng’s cheek. A hand grips his sleeve, as he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

If Dan Feng were awake, he’d notice the pained smile on Yingxing’s features and his guilty heart would ache again.

But Dan Feng isn’t awake, and Yingxing can only smile at Dan Feng with burning eyes as he whispers a response to an apology Dan Feng will never remember. “I know.”

He presses his lips to the crease of his eyebrows, watching them untether and relax as his breathing comes to a slow. Yingxing tightens his hold on the man. The rest of the journey back to his house is spent in silence.

Once home, Yingxing quickly carries Dan Feng to his futon. He removes the man’s outer robe and tucks him beneath the covers, pulling it all the way to his chest. He sits beside the sleeping man, placing a hand in his, and stares at the peaceful expression resting on his face. He reaches to thumb long eyelashes, watches them tremble under his touch, like the wings of a shy butterfly bracing itself to fly away.

For all Yingxing can’t seem to comprehend about the High Elder, he understands Dan Feng’s guilt and the feelings he continues to avoid.

He knows what Dan Feng has been up to. Maybe not from the beginning, but after beginning to understand his own feelings, it’s something he can’t exactly not notice. After all, his gaze has always been trailing after the straight-backed figure standing tall; trailing after his every action and word despite the lack of them.

He can tell that Dan Feng had made the people in Aurum Alley uncomfortable with his pheromones even if he couldn't smell them. He could feel the eyes on them and noticed his customer’s reaction. They were lucky that the scent of smoke from the sparklers and firecrackers that night probably clouded his pheromones to an extent, so that he could pull him away before the situation got any worse.

It would be stupid of him to not understand the miniscule expressions that leaked through Dan Feng’s blank faced armour, the grinding of his teeth when Dan Feng had seen him with that customer; the sorrow in his eyes before he averted his gaze; the twitch of his pinky everytime he said words he didn’t mean.

But no matter how much he understood the reasoning behind Dan Feng’s cruel words, it didn’t ease the pain any less. 

Yes, he understands, but it still hurt.

Although, he knows he has no right to judge Dan Feng for his choices. 

Dan Feng was brought up by the heartless preceptors who had complete control over his actions, raising a child with no will to become High Elder and tying him down with strings to abide by their every command for their own secret motives. 

For the Viyadhara race, Dan Feng is a symbol of power, a puppet, and a person who cannot outrun the inevitable course of fate. He is a person who isn’t allowed to have feelings.

But Yingxing is just a coward.

And it’s only in this situation that Yingxing can reveal his true feelings.

“You don’t know, Yinyue, but that day when you got jealous of the customer, I was happy. It was nice to see a reaction from you. Sometimes it’s hard for me to understand your intentions with your impassive face, so it was nice, really,” he laughs. Thinking back to that day, Yingxing’s eyes sweep towards Dan Feng’s earlobe and he rubs them softly. “As I thought, earrings would suit you. After that lady had asked for advice about a matching pair of earrings, it made me think about how nice it would be to share a matching set with you too… Maybe something bright red to match your name.”

Yingxing doesn’t receive a response. The room is quiet, with only the muffled ticking of a clock to accompany the relentless beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

“I love you,” he speaks aloud, only for himself to hear. His fingers move to brush against the corners of Dan Feng’s eyes, wiping away the lines of cinnabar staining his skin red. And again, he repeats, “I really—love you, Dan Feng.”

But Yingxing finds he doesn’t have the courage to reveal these thoughts when the man is sober.

After all, he may not know a lot about pheromones, soulmates and the like, but he does know enough.

Yingxing knows Dan Feng’s scent has been lingering on his person, and Yingxing knows that Dan Feng cannot love him.

That one day, even if he were to go against the will of the preceptors and learn what it means to love, there will be someone else for him. A mate who will be able to fulfill all of Dan Feng’s needs, and grace him with a bond that can last more than a lifetime. Yingxing is not that person, and never will be.

Yingxing is a mere mortal; greedy, yearning, and a coward.

It is better for Dan Feng to not know of these feelings.

Orange and pink hues warm Dan Feng’s sleeping face. The brightening sky signals that it is time for Yingxing to wake the man from his slumber so that he can return to the Alchemy Commission before the preceptors discover his absence.

Yingxing gazes up out the window towards the sky filled with faint stars and a waning moon ready to disappear into the dawn.

Just like them, they’ll have to separate here and disappear into the bustle of their everyday lives. A new night will return and welcome the moon once again, but stars have a short lifespan. They burn brightly to accompany the lonely moon for a moment and then they’re gone. 

For how long will he be allowed the privilege of staying by Dan Feng’s side? It is a question Yingxing doesn’t want answered.