Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.)

His new ward is crying. His new ward is sobbing just behind this closed door and Jing Yuan has no idea what to do. In his line of work, he’d never had to worry about children or anything of the like. At most, he would pick up the poor souls who were left behind when the abominations of the Abundance razed their village to the ground. His heart would twist and something heavy would get logged against the back of his throat, but those feelings were always shoved aside to make room for the unwavering focus a general needs on the battlefield. He would get those small refugees to trusted hands, then try his best to forget about it for the rest of the week. 

But now? The only battle was between his mind and his heart. He should go in…right? That was the proper thing to do in this situation...right? But he was still a stranger to this boy. Would he just scare him more? Maybe he should call for one of the nurses who had already been around the kid plenty. But it was terribly late, and what would he do while he waited for them to come? Just stand outside his door like a lunatic and hope that the child didn’t stop crying before the nurses got here because then it would’ve been a waste of time for them to come running in the first place? He’s wasting time right now— this is ridiculous. He’s nearly 800 years old, and an arbiter general to boot. So what if he’s out of his depth? He’s been thrown into situations without a second to prepare. He’s had to think on his feet in the middle of dodging hellfire and sword swings. He is a man who’s had countless “first times” in his life. This is no different. 

So with that thought in mind, he turned the knob to the door and opened it without giving himself a chance to think twice. 

The first thing he notices is how barren the room is. It was always meant to be a guest room (always meant for this child), but compared to the rest of his lavishly decorated estate it might as well be empty. The thing that claimed his attention next was that all the blankets on the bed were missing. Not only that, the entire bed was bare. His heart stilled for a second as his eyes darted around the room. There was no way someone already kidnapped his ward, right? He was sure the news hadn’t gotten out of his private circle yet. Unless the kid made a run for it? No, that can’t be it. The window was closed. 

Jing Yuan walked around to the other side of the bed and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The boy was still in the room. He was unharmed. As terrified as always, but he was safe. 

He was slotted in the gap between the nightstand and the wall with all the blankets wrapped around him. His golden eyes were blown wide as he stared back at the general, and Jing Yuan tried to give him a small, comforting smile. He dropped into a squat to get himself at eye level with the child. Perhaps the boy wouldn’t like it if he was looming over him. 

“Hey there,” Jing Yuan breathed. “Did you have a bad dream?” 

The boy just quietly sniffled in response. Jing Yuan fumbled for what else to say. 

“...It’s quite alright. How about we get off the floor? I can’t imagine it being more comfortable than the bed,” he whispered with a smile, patting the mattress beside him.

The boy’s eyes never left him. It was getting unnerving. Has he even blinked? Jing Yuan held his breath as the silence dragged on. He didn’t want to get any closer to the kid, by the looks of it he might bolt. But he also wanted to get the child off the floor. It was cold, and now that he’s closer to it, dirty as well. Maybe he should talk some more, show the kid that he’s nothing to be scared of. He’s done that for new recruits before, for the ones that looked like they were about to faint every time Jing Yuan did so much as look at them. 

“Okay then,” he said. “I guess we’ll be staying here,” 

Jing Yuan committed himself and sat down on the floor. 

“My name is Jing Yuan. I am one of the seven arbiter generals of the Xianzhou. Right now, you are at the Luofu. Quite a lovely place, I must say. Very nice climate for growing plants. I have a wonderful ginkgo tree growing in my garden, should you come visit one day. There are these finches that come nest every spring. Delightful little creatures. They love sunflower seeds and will swarm anyone who happens to walk by with them. Speaking of which, my esteemed Master Diviner once was taking a stroll with a red bean wrap and the crumbs were simply too much for them to resist…”

At some point in Jing Yuan’s monologue, the boy had stopped shivering. His eyes, which were once wide in fear and anxiety, were now softened into an expression of curiosity and intrigue. Jing Yuan’s smile broadened when he realized. 

“Now that I’ve gone on so much about myself, it’s only fair that you tell me something in exchange, right?” he encouraged the boy.

 There was no reaction for a few seconds, but then the boy shifted under his mound of blankets. A tiny hand came out from beneath the fabric to move it away from his mouth. 

“...My name is Yanqing,” the boy whispered, his voice softer than the wing beats of a butterfly. Jing Yuan’s heart jumped in elation. 

“...I’m not sure what I am,” the boy continued. “...I’m at the...Luofu. Xianzhou ship. That you are...you are the general.” 

Jing Yuan broke out in a wide grin. 

“That’s right,” he nodded earnestly. 

Feeling more confident now, he reached over and took the boy in his arms. There was no sound of discomfort, so he lifted the boy gently from out of the mound of blankets. Jing Yuan patted the child softly on the back and swallowed with some indescribable emotion when he felt small fingers twist the fabric of his nightwear. 

He placed the boy back on the bed. It looked remarkably large when compared to the silhouette of the kid. He leaned back to get the blankets off the floor but was stopped when those fingers only gripped tighter to his shirt. He laughed softly, a low murmur into the otherwise silent night. 

“Alright then,” he said. 

Well, there was really only one option right? Jing Yuan didn’t want the boy to be cold or on the floor, and the boy didn’t want to let go. So he climbed into what used to be the guest bed of this barren room, and leaned against the headboard, patting the boy all the while. 

“Do you really prefer me over the blankets?” he asked softly. You barely know me. You don’t know anything of what I’ve done. Children are supposed to be unreasonably perceptive, yet you trust me that easily?

The only answer Jing Yuan got in response was the tightening of arms around his neck. Ah, well that was telling enough. 

“So we stay here then,” he murmured. 

The boy was warm. He was alive and well. He had finally opened up to him. Jing Yuan was frankly…delighted in how things had turned out. 

“Sweet dreams, Yanqing.” 

2.)

“Yanqing!” 

“...sorry,” 

Jing Yuan strolled into the room just to witness one of his staff with his head in his hand, papers strewn all over the floor. Yanqing was running around, picking up the documents that he had knocked onto the floor. 

“Please watch where you’re going,” Yong Hai sighed, before bending down to retrieve his papers as well. 

It took the two a few seconds before they realized they were being watched. Yong Hai straightened up when he noticed Jing Yuan standing there.

“Oh, good morning general,” he greeted. 

Yanqing froze and stared at Jing Yuan with horror.

“It was an accident!” he panicked, trying to explain himself.

Jing Yuan laughed as Yong Hai sighed again.

“Yes, it was an accident Yanqing. Yes, it’s alright, I know you didn’t mean to,” Yong Hai replied. 

It was almost magical how having a child around transformed the work environment. His staff had all taken well to having Yanqing around, and Jing Yuan was glad of it. Even the most aloof ones, who at first only begrudgingly allowed it, Jing Yuan knew had warmed up to the kid. Yanqing had a sort of earnest determination that was terribly endearing. 

After a few moments of Yanqing apologizing profusely to Yong Hai who kept on reassuring him that it was fine, that no, he wasn’t mad at him, and thank you for helping me pick up the papers, Yong Hai left with a nod at Jing Yuan and a wave to Yanqing. 

“Already getting into trouble this early in the morning?” Jing Yuan teased. Yanqing made a face and opened his mouth to explain again before seeing it as the joke it was meant to be and started pouting instead. 

“Sorry, sorry, don’t be mad. Come now, do you want to go practice some sword forms in the yard?” Jing Yuan asked.

Yanqing perked up at that, all previous grievances forgotten. 

It wasn’t too long ago that Jing Yuan noticed the penchant the boy had for swords. When the boy had felt comfortable enough to wander around the Seat of Divine Foresight alone, Jing Yuan would often catch him watching the knights spar in the training yard. His eyes would glitter, like he was envisioning it to be him out there, fighting away. Jing Yuan asked him one day, a month before his birthday, if he had anything he wanted. 

“A sword.” the boy responded almost immediately, before clamping his mouth shut as if he too was surprised at how quickly he answered. 

Jing Yuan only laughed and ruffled Yanqing’s hair, something he’d grown to love to do.

“Then a sword it shall be,” he said. 

He ignored the small voice at the back of his mind that whispered what gifting a sword to his ward would mean. But how could Jing Yuan deny it to Yanqing when the boy had looked at it so longingly? The force that attracted the child to wake up at dawn just to listen in on the Cloud Knights’ training will also be the force to motivate him to pick up a sword of his own. It didn’t matter what Jing Yuan preferred. If he didn’t give him one, Yanqing would find other ways to get a blade. Surely, if Jing Yuan were to deny Yanqing this part of himself, the boy would never forgive him, and neither would Jing Yuan ever forgive himself. 

Funny, how fate works like that.

Back in the present, Yanqing has his sword at the ready. Jing Yuan walked him through the exercise, offering critique and advice the boy absorbed like a sponge. He had improved greatly in such a short amount of time. Jing Yuan’s heart fluttered and chilled at the same time. 

Yanqing was a natural. 

“General!” the boy called. “Is this right?”

Yanqing loved the sword. 

His small stature danced between the blades of grass. His sword, a harmless training one yet, embroidered with small birds, glinted in the early sun. 

Jing Yuan was going to mentor him. Because Yanqing was his ward. Yanqing was his student. Just like how Jing Yuan himself was a student to–

Yanqing landed in a patch of grass still wet from the morning dew and stumbled. Jing Yuan darted forward to grab his arm. 

“Thank you,” Yanqing said, out of breath as he regained his balance. 

There must’ve been something showing on Jing Yuan’s face because Yanqing stilled when he looked at him. 

“Did I do it wrong?” he asked. “You look…upset,” 

Jing Yuan blinked and the old memories vanished. He smiled at Yanqing.

“No. I was lost in thought, that’s all,” he reassured. 

Yanqing squinted at him and Jing Yuan felt oddly exposed. Children were unreasonably perceptive after all.

“You’d tell me if I did something wrong, right?” the boy asked. 

“Of course,” Jing Yuan replied. The next words that fell out of his mouth tasted sour. “I’d be a terrible mentor otherwise, right?”

3.)

“I’m a terrible mentor,” Jing Yuan groaned, burying his head in his arms. 

Fu Xuan didn’t spare him a second glance as she fidgeted around with a floating disk flashing with various divination symbols. She’s heard this several times by now. 

“You’re the general of the Luofu. I know many people who would kill to be in Yanqing’s position right now,” she said cooly, taking a sip of her tea. 

“I know many people that would kill Yanqing period,” Jing Yuan fretted. 

“Well, he’s not dead yet. So I’d say you’re doing just fine,” 

“I’m throwing him into battle. He’s going to get himself killed,” 

“He’s throwing himself into battle. Don’t look down on yourself like that, he won’t die the first step he takes out onto the battlefield,” 

“What if he does?”

“That’d be embarrassing, for you,” 

“You’re not helping,” 

“Yet here you still are,” 

Jing Yuan snorted at that before taking a swig of his own tea.

“That’s true, isn’t it?” he muttered. 

The room fell into silence and Fu Xuan shot her superior a glance. Jing Yuan was staring silently into his cup, an unreadable expression on his face. She rolled her eyes, temporarily leaving her work to go and sit across from him.

“Like I said, don’t look down on yourself like that, he won’t die the first step he takes out onto the battlefield,”

“It’s not just that–”

“I know. Actually, I won’t pretend I know what really goes on in your head. Because I’d wager that the root of this problem comes from an era way before I was born,” 

Jing Yuan gave her a look. Fu Xuan ignores it.

“The kid was going to face actual danger eventually, it’s only the natural progression. How well he does, is going to depend on you. So far—if the amount of jealous, awe-struck knights I’ve seen are anything to go by—you’re doing just fine,” she says. 

It’s true. Yanqing’s skill in spite of his youth was a bit terrifying. That boy was overflowing with potential. 

“I can’t take all the credit for it,” Jing Yuan mutters. “The boy trains like he’s possessed. Even I wasn’t that proactive when I was studying under…”

He trails off and yep, there it was. The root of the problem. Fu Xuan doesn’t address it. She knows nothing she can say will help. 

“Anyhow,” she continues. “Have more faith in your retainer. Aeons know he does for you. Say your name and he goes all ‘the general is so great!’ or ‘do you want to see what the general taught me yesterday?’ and likewise,” 

Jing Yuan chuckles and runs a hand through his hair in a rare bout of bashfulness. 

“The soldiers that are going on this mission with him all love him too, don’t worry about it,” Fu Xuan continues. “They’ll do all the protecting you want, even if Yanqing doesn’t want it,” 

“Yanqing does have that effect, doesn’t he?” Jing Yuan hummed. 

“They’re all both eager to see the infamous prodigy in action and terrified that you’ll have their skin if he gets hurt,” 

“The first person that’s getting a stern talking to if Yanqing gets hurt is myself,” 

“I know,” Fu Xuan deadpanned. 

She stood back up to get back to her divinations. 

“Now finish your paperwork. Don’t force me to go all sappy again,” she said.

“ That  was you being sappy? Does knowing the future prevent you from feeling empathy?” Jing Yuan teased. 

“Paperwork. Now.” 

“Of course, of course,”

4.)

Yukong was half-bent over some paperwork when she became aware of General Jing Yuan’s ward flitting around the Palace of Astrum. He wasn’t making any sort of commotion or anything, just attracting a lot of curious gazes. Not that Yukong blames them. Jing Yuan’s retainer has been here before, but never alone. He met her gaze and brightened up. So he was here to talk to her then.

He walked up and bowed in lieu of a greeting.

He looked at the papers on Yukong’s desk.

“Are you busy?” he asked.

When am I not? Yukong thought.

“Not terribly,” she said instead. If something had the child venturing alone out to Central Starskiff Haven it must’ve been important. “What is it?”

The boy suddenly became shy. Now that’s something she hadn’t seen very often. Everytime Yukong has seen the kid, he’s always been energetic and boisterous, always asking questions about how this worked and that. Yanqing, wasn’t it?

“It’s just…I want to give a gift to the general. As a sort of…thank you. I asked around at the Seat of Divine Foresight but someone told me that you might have a better idea. Could you give me some advice?” he asked.

Yukong was suddenly thrust back into memories of her own child. Beloved Qingni, handing her pressed flowers for her birthday that Yukong herself had nearly forgotten. Bringing her tea even after their worst arguments, because it was her way of saying sorry. Even though Qingni wasn’t technically hers, does it matter when Yukong couldn’t imagine her as anything but? She thinks she can understand a bit of what Yanqing is feeling.

“Well, I can’t say I know him personally. But I have worked with him for a long time. I can tell you this, a parent will appreciate anything you give them. Anything given earnestly and with the intention to cherish,” she tells him.

Yanqing frowns.

“He’s not really my parent though,” he replies. 

Yukong smiles kindly. 

“I don’t think it’ll matter,” she responds. “Take my advice, I think you alone know what’s best to gift him,” 

Yanqing was silent for a few seconds before something flashed in his eyes and he smiled. 

“Thank you Madame Yukong!” he said.

He bowed again before leaving the Palace of Astrum in a hurry. Yukong watched him leave with a warm feeling in her chest. She’ll buy some snacks on the way back home today. For Qingni. 

When Jing Yuan returned to the Seat of Divine Foresight, he was curiously suspicious of the glances and giggles that were being shot in his direction. It wasn’t until he reached his desk did he realize why. Laid on top of the parchment he was in the middle of writing, was a cup of tea and a small sword, small enough to be a dagger. A tiny lion’s head was engraved in the handle. There was a note as well. 

I’ve been asking the artisanship commission people how swords are made. I made this little one for you, in return for the first practice blade you gifted me. Maybe I’ll make a real sword one day, who knows?

-YQ

The edges were a little bent and the metal was a little thick in areas where it was improperly hammered out. But it was shiny and made by a child who must've spent weeks secretly learning the process with what little free time he had. Who must've burnt and sweated and ached for it to be made. 

Ah. Jing Yuan thinks, picking up the little sword. I’ll cherish this beyond belief.

5.)

Jing Yuan looks at the tiny sword Yanqing had gifted him a few months ago and sighs. It’s been on his desk ever since that day, and on days like this it brings with it a great deal of emotions. 

Yanqing hasn’t said a word to him since that exchange at Scalegorge Waterscape. Scratch that, Yanqing hasn’t said a meaningful word to him since Scalegorge Waterscape. He had been fussing over Jing Yuan’s injuries almost as much as the doctors. Yet in the time he spent around Jing Yuan, he hadn’t brought up what had happened. Jing Yuan, the coward, hadn’t either. What does he even say? Sorry, I was caught up in the ghosts of the past because seeing so many ex-comrades was bad for my old heart. I did tell you to not intervene. Of course, I also knew you wouldn’t listen and this was actually a training exercise haha. I knew they wouldn’t injure you too grievously. Then again, how much did Jing Yuan really know those two anymore? Maybe Blade really would’ve killed him. Maybe Dan Heng would’ve watched him do it. What does Jing Yuan know anyway? They’re strangers, his mind tells him. But a shared past lies behind those same faces, and Jing Yuan thinks that maybe it’s good that they’ve grown into separate paths. 

I hope you find whatever you’re looking for,  he had told them both. Blade scoffed. Dan Heng only nodded. 

It was only him that was left behind, huh? Left behind with all the honor and responsibilities being an Arbiter General entails. 

“Now is not the time,” he told Yanqing. Yanqing had bristled before his eyes slid away in quiet resignation. Jing Yuan really did owe him an explanation. But where to even start?

These past few days have been a whirlwind of events. Not only were there fresh new piles of paperwork sprouting up in lieu of the recent conflict, but there was also the soul-soothing ceremony held for Tingyun. Speaking of Tingyun, there was the question of tracking down Tingyun herself, and—

“I hope you took the doctor’s advice to rest to heart,” a voice said. 

Fu Xuan walked into his office, gently closing the door behind her. In her hand were two cups of tea and a stack of papers.

“Oho? You’ve come to visit me in my office this time?” he said, taking his cup graciously. 

“Only to update you on a few items,” she replied, taking a sip. 

Fu Xuan went into more detail about the occurrences after Jing Yuan went into Scalegorge Waterscape, told him of the most recent death tally, recounted how the reconstruction efforts are going at the Artisan Commission, and the increased surveillance on the Alchemy Commission. Jing Yuan listened intently, looking over the reports that Fu Xuan had handed him. 

“This next update I think you’ll find the most pressing. Though, I assume you’re already somewhat aware of it,” Fu Xuan said.

Jing Yuan looked up. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

Fu Xuan looked at him from over the brim of her teacup. 

“Your retainer is upset,” she said. “He’s been training in the courtyards nonstop, and isn’t talking to anyone. Some knights are getting concerned,” 

Jing Yuan lowered his gaze and sighed, moving some papers aside to rest his head in his arms. 

“I know,” he muttered sullenly. 

“Then do something about it,” Fu Xuan huffed. “You’re always so worried about him. What happened to that?” 

“I don’t know how,”

“Then Lan forbid he’s ever happy again. If you don’t know how then no one does,” 

“I thought you were supposed to be all-knowing?” Jing Yuan jokes, but it falls flat. 

“Not with matters like this,” Fu Xuan said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Not with things as fragile as this,” 

Jing Yuan groaned and stood up from his chair.

“You’re right,” he said with an empty chuckle. “You’re right, this is the most pressing issue to me right now,” He smiled at Fu Xuan. “I should probably deal with it, hm? Stop avoiding and procrastinating?” 

Fu Xuan hid the quirk of her lips behind her cup. 

“The Matrix of Prescience has deemed it the most wisely,” she said. 

Jing Yuan heard the swish of Yanqing’s blade before he even stepped foot into the training grounds. His swords sang as they flew through the air. It makes one forget how terribly young Yanqing still is. How horribly precious. How awfully innocent. Jing Yuan has long forgotten what it felt like to be a child. He thinks many Xianzhou citizens are the same. To be a kid is to think the world is endlessly complicated but not fear the unknown. To have the potential to change. Jing Yuan is so old he forgets what it’s like to have time on your side. For him it is a ticking bomb. A one-way trip whose destination is a descent into corruption and madness. The mara struck. But a child has not reached the tipping point yet, and does not fear where they will land next. 

That is at least, what a child should be. 

It makes Jing Yuan uneasy, to think that Yanqing may not have that luxury. Because Yanqing loves the sword in a nation that’s built on battle. Because his master is at the forefront leading the charge. 

…

They are not so different. Because Jing Yuan’s master also had white hair and wielded a sword in a way he had thought he would never understand. 

History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes. 

Yanqing finally comes into view. Jing Yuan calls out for him, and the child freezes. 

Yanqing bows in lieu of a greeting, something that should be completely ordinary and expected in an interaction between a master and his student. Yet it feels out of place between the two of them. 

History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes. 

“I should offer you an explanation,” Jing Yuan says. 

What for is left unspoken. He trusts Yanqing knows what it’s for. 

Yanqing’s eyes harden imperceptibly. 

“There is no need,” he said. “I did not follow orders and I apologize for my tactlessness. There is no need to explain anything when I should’ve not been there in the first place,” 

The words were pointedly polite. Impossibly formal. It is how a soldier should address their superior. Yet it sounds wrong coming out of Yanqing’s mouth. He is but a child.

“Yanqing, listen to me,” Jing Yuan tries again. There’s something desperate underlining his voice. “You have a right to know. You got hurt, and I had left you without an explanation as to why. I apologize for avoiding the subject for so long, I wasn’t quite sure how to word it,”

            Jing Yuan thought he saw Yanqing’s eyes widen for a split second before the boy’s gaze dropped to the ground.

“...Thank you for the thought, really. But I don’t believe I should be privy to internal affairs. Besides, I wasn’t the only person hurt in this conflict. I trust in your judgment…General.” 

Oh. Jing Yuan is indeed the general of the Xianzhou Luofu. He takes on all the honor and responsibilities the title entails. Jing Yuan has been called the general because he had earned that title with his blood sweat and tears. Jing Yuan is the general with hundreds of years of hurt to show for it. Jing Yuan should be called such. To be a general is a great distinction. The honorific has been said by Yanqing countless times before. Yet why , why this time, did it sound so hollow? It was spoken like a signature signing off an oppressive treatise. It had a reverb that echoed in an ever-expanding chasm. It felt like it was the period at the end of an obituary.

  “If there is nothing else General, I must ask you to please excuse me.” Yanqing called from somewhere beyond Jing Yuan’s thoughts. 

By the time he came back to himself, the boy was gone. 

+1.)

Yanqing has been found, after being missing for several days. 

            Jing Yuan knew something like this would happen–hah, Divine Foresight and all. They’ve been on uneasy ground ever since that conversation at the training grounds. Yanqing has been far more subdued, yet listens and follows orders with a new mechanical perfection. Jing Yuan, as his master, should have no complaints. But Jing Yuan, as the man who had first met Yanqing when the boy was huddled and sobbing in a corner of a barren room, who was so happy at how his staff had welcomed the boy, who irritated his Master Diviner to the ends of the universe with his worries, and whose heart nearly melted when Yanqing hand crafted a sword for him just because he felt like it, had plenty of complaints. 

History rhymes, because Jing Yuan knows that his own master certainly did not care for him in the same way that he does for Yanqing. At least if she did, she did it in her own way that Jing Yuan never interpreted correctly. 

Yanqing’s disappearance from his mission was kept relatively under wraps. But for those who worked closely with Jing Yuan, for those who frequented the Seat of Divine Foresight and thus grew attached to the boy, knew something was wrong. There was an unspoken anxiety in the building. Yong Hai, usually a reserved man who kept to his station, quietly approached Jing Yuan to ask about the whereabouts of the child who was missing from Jing Yuan’s side. Jing Yuan had the feeling Yong Hai wasn’t just asking for himself either, with the amount of looks his approach got them. 

Jing Yuan was aware that many knew something had happened between the two. That their dynamic had somehow shifted, and that Yanqing had changed. Jing Yuan didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t admit the truth either. 

“I am doing my utmost to ensure Yanqing's safety,” he said firmly. 

It wasn’t a lie. It was a promise. A promise that if Jing Yuan were ever to break, the consequences might be too much for him, in his over 800 years of life, to bear.

Yong Hai only nodded, and left swiftly without another word. 

In the present moment, Jing Yuan was sitting outside the door to Yanqing’s recovery room. Lady Bailu walked out just moments ago to give Jing Yuan a rundown of his injuries. 

Lacerations to his right leg. A fractured arm. Bruised ribs. Concussion. Several wounds had become infected with how long Yanqing had laid there before being found. Another failure to add under Jing Yuan’s name. The boy was running a fever that has yet to break despite Bailu’s best efforts. She has, however, gotten the infections under control. The concussion and fractures were also dealt with. She suspects the fever is something Yanqing will have to fight off on his own. Under a watchful eye, time will heal everything quite nicely. 

“If you go in to visit, be aware that he might not be entirely lucid. Besides the fever, the medicine we’ve given him might also make him a bit loopy,” Bailu tells Jing Yuan. He thanked her, and away she went. 

The situation Jing Yuan now finds himself in is oddly reminiscent of his first meeting with Yanqing. He’s outside a door, hesitating to go in. Yanqing is hurting inside, and he just spoke with a nurse as she left. He’s not going to call her back. She’s already checked on Yanqing. Jing Yuan is overthinking it again. He’s never had to deal with something like this. He’s never cared about someone like this. What was his logic before? Oh, right. He’s nearly 800 years old, and an arbiter general to boot. He is a man who’s had countless “first times” in his life. This is no different. 

Except it was different. This involved another human being. This was a battlefield he not only didn’t know the rules to, he entirely did not know how to exist in it. He knew what gifting a sword to his ward would mean. 

“The kid was going to face actual danger eventually, it’s only the natural progression,” Fu Xuan had said many moons ago. “How well he does, is going to depend on you.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t know if he did good enough. He thinks of a small sword with a tiny hand-carved lion on the handle. His old heart aches. He must’ve done good enough, if Yanqing felt like he deserved such a genuine gift. 

“Your retainer is upset, do something about it”

“I don’t know how,”

“If you don’t know how then no one does,”

Jing Yuan groaned and stood up from his chair. He’s wasting time, this is ridiculous. 

“I should probably deal with it, hm? Stop avoiding and procrastinating?”

Jing Yuan turned the knob to the door and opened it without giving himself a chance to think twice.

History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes.

The room was arid and clean. A warm breeze was blowing from an open window. The sun shone lazily through the curtains. There were various medical equipment strewn all over the place. Jing Yuan looked at the bed. 

Yanqing looked so small, swathed in bandages and half swallowed by blankets. He was too pale, too…corpse-like. 

It only took three strides for Jing Yuan to reach the chair by the boy’s side. 

He gently placed a hand on Yanqing’s head and was choked with an indescribable emotion when he subconsciously leaned into it. 

Jing Yuan frowned. Baliu was right about the fever, the child was burning up. 

The general stiffened when Yanqing coughed. His eyelids slowly opened as if they were unsticking themselves. Jing Yuan didn’t dare to breathe as Yanqing’s bleary golden eyes found him. They were dull and unfocused, a stark contrast to the bright and bubbly boy Jing Yuan had known. 

Yanqing mumbled something that Jing Yuan didn’t quite catch. 

“What did you say?” Jing Yuan murmured. 

“...’m sorry,” came a quiet voice. 

Jing Yuan plastered a small smile on his face. 

“For whatever it is, you are forgiven,” he said earnestly. 

Yanqing shook slightly. Jing Yuan blinked in silent surprise when he realized his retainer was laughing.

“...you haven’t even heard what it is,” Yanqing whispered. 

A more honest grin overtook Jing Yuan’s expression. He brushed a few strands of hair away from Yanqing’s sweaty forehead. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. 

“No. It does,” Yanqing trailed off, his eyes falling from Jing Yuan’s face. They shone and wavered unnaturally and Jing Yuan realized with a start that his child was crying. 

Fat tears rolled horizontally from Yanqing’s eyes. The child himself was motionless, wearing nothing but a hollow expression on his face as water leaked down and damped the pillow he was lying on. Jing Yuan sucked in a breath and quickly wiped them away with his thumb.

“Hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay, there’s no need to cry. Should I call for a healer? Tell me what’s wrong,” Jing Yuan hushed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, a little hoarser this time. 

“For what?” Jing Yuan pressed. 

“For thinking of you as a father."

Jing Yuan felt something drop out from underneath him. He couldn’t have heard that right. He—there was no way—Jing Yuan didn’t deserve such a title—is that how Yanqing saw him? But as he turned it over and over again in his head, it only made sense. Who else did Yanqing have, but him? Who saw Yanqing grow up, and help him at every turn? How unfortunate it was, that the only person Yanqing looked up to was someone like Jing Yuan. Yanqing, with all his spunk and talent and determination, deserved a real parent. He had imprinted on the first person who had shown him compassion and warmth. Who had stayed by his side. What a cruel twist of fate that it was Jing Yuan, who carried with him all the responsibilities and duties that came with the title of Arbiter General, who did it. This child was to be doomed to a life of violence from the moment he came into Jing Yuan’s life. 

 Jing Yuan must’ve stilled for a moment too long because Yanqing let out a broken little sound. 

“...I told you it mattered,” he muttered, closing his eyes. 

Jing Yuan was Yanqing’s master. 

A cloud knight must never let slip their weapon, nor let slacken their form.

The same phrase said hundreds of years apart. In similar but not identical circumstances. 

History rhymes.

An outspoken duty to protect the Xianzhou from an enemy that Jing Yuan’s master never said out loud, but trusted Jing Yuan to know. 

Jing Yuan has forgotten what it’s like to have time on his side. It’s only ever been a downward spiral to madness and corruption. 

A flash of light. A final fight. A whisper of goodbye. The burning of a bridge.

He thinks his master had smiled, when Jing Yuan had finally put her to rest. 

Would he be happy too? If history repeats and it was Yanqing who had raised his weapon to cleave him in half?

Yanqing with his gleaming eyes and bright smile. Who had bright hopes and an earnest determination to be the best version of himself. Who dreamed big and looked forward to tomorrow. Who chased after Jing Yuan because he saw him as less of a master and more of a guardian. 

No, Jing Yuan thinks. He would not be happy. He would be proud, because Yanqing would have grown so much in order to defeat him. But Jing Yuan would be devastated. 

Because Jing Yuan had somewhere—between comforting the boy on that first night, and now stroking his hair as he lay ill on a hospital bed—overstepped that boundary the same way Yanqing had. Because Jing Yuan had been left behind by all his old friends and comrades. His past had faded away and unwound like an old, tattered parchment. But here was someone who was going to stay. Jing Yuan, with his old tired heart, had selfishly let the boy in. Though in doing so, Jing Yuan supposed he was also opening himself up to more hurt. He thinks about late nights laying all his worries in front of Fu Xuan. He thinks about all that time turning his thoughts over in his head to try to find an explanation for that interaction at Scalegorge Waterscape. He thinks about the anguish he felt when Yanqing had withdrawn from him. 

Is it really selfish at all?

Was it really that horrible to be thought of as a father?

He thinks about a once barren guest room, now permanently occupied and decorated with swords bought with Jing Yuan's money. Something that Jing Yuan would never usually buy, but allowed it because he saw how happy it made the boy. 

Jing Yuan gently rubbed Yanqing’s cheek. He’s made up his mind. 

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly. 

Yanqing, always the dutiful soldier, pried open his bleary eyes and stared at Jing Yuan who wiped away any remaining tears on Yanqing’s face. 

“There is no need to apologize, and it does not matter. I stand by my previous statement, for whatever it is, you are forgiven,” he whispered. 

“But–” Yanqing croaked. 

“Please let this old man finish his sentence,” Jing Yuan jokes, smiling at him. Yanqing stilled. 

“The people of the Xianzhou call me general. The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus call me a fool. The other arbiter generals call me a friend. Fu Xuan calls me a nuisance. I am the same person that everyone interprets differently. If you call me your father, I would be honored to be seen as such. Out of all my titles, I believe that one I would find the most pride in,” 

Yanqing’s eyes were wide. 

“Not being an arbiter general?” he asked softly. 

Jing Yuan pinched Yanqing's fever-flushed cheeks and grinned when he wrinkled his nose at him.

“There are seven whole arbiter generals,” he said. “But only one of them is blessed with you." 

Yanqing’s eyes wobbled.

“Oh.” he said wetly. “Okay.”

Jing Yuan reached out his arms and that was all the permission Yanqing needed to lunge forward and dig his fingers into the fabric on the back of Jing Yuan’s shirt. Jing Yuan grunted at the sudden movement but didn’t say anything. Instead, he gently patted the boy’s back as he shook and buried his face into Jing Yuan’s shoulder. 

It couldn’t be comfortable, the way Yanqing was leaning half out of the bed with the blankets pooled around his legs. 

Well, there was really only one option, right? Jing Yuan didn’t want the boy to be cold or on the floor, and frankly, Jing Yuan didn’t want to let go either. So he maneuvered the two of them onto the hospital bed. Jing Yuan leaned against the headboard and pulled up the blankets, patting the boy all the while. 

“Is this alright?” he murmured.

Is it alright to let me care for you like this?

The only answer Jing Yuan got in response was the tightening of arms around his neck. 

Ah, well that was telling enough. 

“Alright then,” Jing Yuan hummed. “Let’s stay like this then.”