Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is said that, once in a lifetime, two individuals may be reincarnated at the same time, allowing them the chance to meet again in their next life.

Yingxing didn’t believe in all that bullshit. Rumors circulated constantly, but he never once bought into that whole cliché about soulmates—those things were made up by some idiots who were desperately seeking to believe in something greater, like God. Or destiny. It seemed unreal, maybe too romantic to be real.

Until it happened to him.

The day of his death.

A cold war. A spear piercing through the heart, killing him almost instantly. Dan Feng dying next to him, holding onto his shaking hand. A death so tragic that anyone's heart would have shrunk at the sight of it. Maybe that's why, hundreds of years later, both of them were reborn at the same time, as that stupid myth said—because something or someone took pity on them.

Such a thing could be considered a miracle, even a blessing by some. However, Yingxing didn't see it that way.

Not a miracle. No.

It was punishment.

One of the principles of reincarnation dictated that neither party could hold onto any memories from their past lives—not even their names, family or loved ones. Every trace of who they once were would be permanently erased.

Yet, Blade remembered everything.

Every single one of his memories from his past life still lingered in his mind, as if someone had simply forgotten to remove them. His true name. Records of his hometown before the cold war. The faces of his old friends, likely all deceased by now.

He still remembered Dan Feng, or rather, the past version of him—his flowing black hair and those crystal blue eyes that he used to stare into for hours. The person he once referred to as his best and only friend. The one he used to love. 

But as those memories hadn't faded, neither had his feelings.

This could only be seen as his punishment, one he deserved. A punishment for the sins he committed in life—for the blood of innocents he shed and the families he destroyed. For loving a man who would never love him back and lying about it; toying with the hearts of women who could never come close to how he felt about him. For disrespecting the gods and denying their existence over and over again.

A price had to be paid.

Therefore, even in his current form as Blade, he continued to suffer from his unrequited love for Dan Heng. And he would bear it in silence, as he always had.

But perhaps, in this life, things would finally be different for him.

(...)

A hundred years later

“Why are you so quiet today?”

Dan Heng spoke softly above him.

Blade slowly removed his arm from his face, the sun striking directly over his eyes, causing him to shut them again immediately. It was a warm afternoon, and they had no other plans but to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. Summer vacation had just started, and the burdens of college were finally gone. 

Not all of them, though. Blade still had to share a dorm with him, after all.

“‘Thought you liked me better with my mouth shut,” he grumbled like an old man. That was something he used to do quite frequently, even though in this life he was young again.

Since he still remembered his past life, this “modern” life felt almost alien to him, like something out of a sci-fi movie. Telephones terrified him, which is why he didn't have one. Neither did he watch television.

Once he used to be engaged in sword fights and forest hunting—now he found himself eating frozen pizza almost daily. Pathetic.

“I do. It’s just weird. You’re usually quite irritating.”

Blade spat out the words, a half-smile on his face, “Fuck off.”

He caught the rustle of leaves behind him. Dan Heng must have moved. He couldn’t be sure—his eyes remained shut, hesitating to open them.

“Blade,” Dan Heng called. “Look at me.”

Shit. 

At times, he found it quite difficult to look into Dan Heng's eyes. Blade sometimes feared that if he stared at them too intently, Dan Heng would sense something—read his soul, perhaps. He used to do that in the past. Knew him a bit too well. Maybe he did know about his little crush on him, just deliberately chose to ignore it. 

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like that was the case now.

Blade opened his eyes, only to find Dan Heng now standing behind him, shielding his face from the sun. He gazed into the deep blue abyss of his eyes, his head still resting on the grass.

“You’ve got toothpaste on your face.”

“What? ” Blade suddenly stood up. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not.”

“You were supposed to tell me that before we went out.” He ran his hands all over his face, trying to remove it. “I’ve been walking around the campus like an idiot.”

Dan Heng smiled condescendingly. “You're always an idiot, anyways.”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he said. “Come here.”

Blade stood still as Dan Heng carefully removed the remnants of toothpaste from his cheek.

There were still traces of Dan Feng in him. He took notice of them quite fast. His eyes, though now darker, were still a beautiful shade of blue. His hair remained the same, only shorter. That expression on his face, where he slightly parted his lips and furrowed his brow whenever he was really focused on something, just like before. 

It felt odd to look at him and know that it was, in fact, still him; but at the same time, it wasn't.

He noticed traces of Yingxing in himself, too, though somewhat less noticeable. He didn’t quite like that.

“Done.”

Dan Heng abruptly stood up, brushing off the remnants of dry grass from his knees.

Blade frowned. “Are you leaving?”

“I got work today.”

In this life, Dan Heng had a part-time job at a small local coffee shop, just a few blocks away from their place. He always walked there—not that he knew how to drive or even had a car, anyway. 

Despite his scholarship already covering most of his expenses, he managed to save some money for additional needs. Snacks. New clothes. Dates, even. Dan Heng was quite popular even in this life.

“Oh, yeah,” Blade shut his eyes once more, just so he wouldn’t watch him leave. “I completely forgot you're the only loser stuck working on Saturdays.”

“Asshole,” he uttered. “See you tonight?”

“Sure.”

He waited until he could no longer hear Dan Heng's footsteps, then opened his eyes to gaze at the sky. 

A soft sigh escaped him. It seemed like it was going to be a long summer.

Rising to his feet, he made his way back to his dorm. They were lodged in a vacation home alongside other fellow students who, like him, couldn't afford to go back home. Though, in Blade's case, he didn't really have a home to return to. 

His home was here in Xianzhou, with Dan Heng, within the four walls they shared together.

Blade crossed the long hallway, moving past the unpainted, cracked walls. The place was nothing fancy, however, it provided everything they needed—an equipped kitchen, its own bathrooms. What's more, they didn't have to pay for it.

The set of keys in his hand jingled softly as he walked. 

As far as he knew, there were around thirty other students staying there as well. He had talked to a few, but aside from Dan Heng, he lacked any other friends. He was a bit of a loner even in this life.

In the distance, he noticed Sampo standing next to an old vending machine all by himself. A cigarette rested between his fingers, smoke coming out of it.

“Hey, man,” he greeted. Sampo drew a final puff from his cigarette, then threw it to the ground, crushing it beneath the sole of his shoe. “Got any exciting plans for tonight?”

“Not really.”

He really was just planning to stay home, eat, and then sleep.

“Come with us,” a goofy smile played on his lips. He sounded a bit high. “The boys and I will be hitting the old bar at the end of the street. It's gonna be fun. You should tell Dan Heng to join us, too.”

Blade played with his keys. He didn’t know who the boys were.

“Dan Heng’s got work today.”

“Damn, forgot about that,” he scratched his chin. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. If you feel like joining, just tag along. Y’know where to find us.”

Blade nodded. “Got it.” 

He was no good at small talk.

“Hey, don’t forget about next week,” Sampo reminded him. Blade frowned, struggling to actually remember what the hell he was talking about. “I’m throwing a party. You're coming, right?”

Oh, about that.

Blade hadn't been to a party in years. He was never really the party type, not even in his previous life. He much preferred staying at home, spending long nights in conversation with Dan Feng rather than getting drunk at a bar. 

But times had changed, and so had he.

"We'll be there," Blade affirmed, speaking on behalf of Dan Heng as well.

“Great. I’ll send you the address.”

“I don’t have a cellphone.”

“What? ” Sampo frowned, clearly confused. “You must be kidding.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Are you a psychopath?”

“Sure I am,” Blade waved his hand as he made his way out. “Goodnight, Sampo.”

He heard a shout from behind, something about the bar, but didn't really listen. What he wished now was to reach his room and sleep all through the afternoon, at least until Dan Heng got back from work.

He paused in front of door 107, the one to their apartment. His feet landed on the well-worn rug that said “Fuck off.” 

It was rather a funny story how they got it: Blade had originally picked it up from a thrift store as a prank for Dan Heng, but then they decided to keep it. And there it was still, many months later.

He pointed the key towards the lock, trying to turn it, only to find out that it was already open. Blade frowned. Did he forget to close it?

There were strange noises inside—heavy footsteps, shuffling of objects. An intruder, maybe?

The door swung open, revealing a tall woman sifting through his things. A lavender scent filled the room, highly unlikely to be theirs. 

Anyone would have screamed. Called the police, maybe. But despite the potentially alarming situation, Blade didn't even flinch—because he already knew who it was. Instead, he casually leaned against the doorframe, anticipating.

“Kafka,” he asked calmly, as though it were an everyday thing. “What are you doing?”

She didn't turn around. There was an empty shoebox between her hands that they had kept in case another rat showed up in the apartment. That was a wild day.

“Searching for my hair straightener,” she explained. “It must be here.”

Kafka lifted one of his boxers into the air, made a disgusted face, and then put it back to where it belonged.

“How did you even get in here?” Blade questioned, a bit uneasy at the thought that the next time he enters his apartment, the intruder will be someone he doesn’t know.

“I got my little tricks. No need to worry about that, Bladie,” she reassured.

That was far from reassuring.

After a few minutes, Kafka stopped looking, as she realized there was no other place to search. “It’s not here.”

“Of course it’s not,” he sighed. “Why would I even have it?”

She sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. Blade didn't even notice the way she was dressed—it seemed as if she had just stepped out of the shower, her hair still wet. 

At least she has clothes on this time, he thought. Kafka placed too much trust in him sometimes.

He met her a few months ago, right after she moved in. She knocked on his door one afternoon while he was alone and asked if someone had died in her apartment. Blade always wondered why she thought that.

“You've got beautiful hair, Bladie,” she complimented him. “There'd be no harm in taking a little more care of it.”

Breathing in the scent of lavender, he continued, ignoring what she just said. “Maybe one of your lovers has it. Weren't you at that girl's apartment the other day—the one with red hair?”

Blade referred to the people Kafka slept with as lovers. There was a new one almost every week—he couldn't keep up.

“It’s not there. I’ve checked already.”

He moved towards the bed at the other end of the room, which belonged to Dan Heng, and took a seat. It let out a faint creak under his weight.

Suddenly, her voice took on a more playful tone. “What about your lover?”

Blade rolled his eyes.

“We’re friends, Kafka.”

She knew.

He wasn’t sure how. Of course, Blade never told her. His feelings were meant to be a secret, not to be known by anyone but himself. However, one day, Kafka approached him and straightforwardly asked him about it, even though they were still strangers at the time.

“Are you ever going to tell him? ” were her exact words. It was a lovely afternoon, much like this one, and Dan Heng was away at work as well.

He remembered frowning, then asking, “Tell him what? ”

“That you’re in love with him,” she replied. “You aren’t even hiding it.”

He always wondered what the hell she meant by “not even hiding it” . Blade had guarded his secret for far more years than she had been alive—and he was doing an excellent job at keeping it that way, until she came along and effortlessly saw through him in a matter of seconds.

“You're not convincing in the slightest, Bladie,” she hummed. “Try harder next time.”

“‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Kafka’s smile widened. “So, what are you doing tonight?”

Blade crossed his arms. “Why? Are you thinking of taking me out?”

“I would, but you’d probably say no anyway.”

He chuckled, not because it was funny, but because it was true.

“Got invited to some kind of drinking party,” he mentioned, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “A few friends of Sampo will be there.”

Kafka raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like fun. You should go.”

“I’m not sure if I want to.”

Suddenly, she stood up and began walking toward the door. Blade didn’t even realize it was almost dark outside until he lifted his head and glanced in that direction.

A few droplets of water traced down the nape of her neck, trickling onto her back. Something had changed, Blade could tell. The atmosphere in the room felt heavier, almost solid—the perfume's scent had become too overwhelming all of a sudden.

She turned slightly, giving him a final look.

“You should take more risks in this life, Bladie,” she said. “We only live once.”

Blade scowled at that. He mumbled a soft “What the…”, but she had already left by then.

Well, she was wrong about that. This wasn’t his first life, and it certainly wouldn't be his last. However, it was true that he had chosen to keep a low profile ever since he died—keeping his feelings from Dan Heng once again, avoiding social gatherings. Living like a worm under the ground.

He had a quiet life. Every now and then, though, he wondered if he genuinely enjoyed it or had just grown used to it.

After getting out of bed, he faced himself in the mirror. He noted all the flaws that set him apart from Yingxing, his past self, and wondered about the course Blade's life might have taken if his memories had not returned. What kind of person would he have turned out to be? Who would have been his friends?

But there was something else that troubled him a bit more.

In this life, would he have become Dan Heng’s friend as well, or was he initially drawn to him simply because he remembered him?

Fuck it, he thought, and grabbed his jacket from the rack.

He was going to that party.

(...)

For a Saturday, Dan Heng's shift had been relatively calm.

Eventually, he found a certain liking for his job in the cafeteria. The smell of coffee filled the air every time he stepped in, hot and sweet. The regular customers, typically sweet old ladies, often addressed him with sweet nicknames like “honey” or “sweetheart.” Fortunately, his boss wasn't too much of a hassle either, so it was fine.

Working in the cafeteria also had its benefits: every now and then, he could bring home leftovers, anything he liked. Sweet bread, cheese sticks, and chocolate-filled donuts were among the items he could take. But since Blade had a particular taste for cinnamon rolls, Dan Heng always made sure to bring him some.

Upon finishing up the last order of the day, Dan Heng sat down, feeling his head hit the wall behind him. He let out a small sigh.

“Feeling tired?” Luocha asked, a hint of boredom in his voice. “We've still got another thirty minutes before we can go.”

“I’m fine.”

Luocha shrugged, looking back at his phone.

His co-worker was somewhat strange. Dan Heng emphasized the word strange, because he was a bit difficult to understand at times. Conversations with Luocha usually turned into discussions about philosophy and quick references to Greek mythology that Dan Heng found quite hard to understand. Despite all this, he was undeniably a good guy.

“It looks like no one else is coming,” Luocha shook the pack of cigarettes before his face. “Is it okay if I smoke?”

Dan Heng nodded.

Luocha left through the back door, leaving him all alone at the counter. With no other customers in the store at the moment, Dan Heng started preparing to close for the day. Fortunately, everything was already quite clean, so he focused on cleaning only the showcase.

He paused by the cinnamon rolls. There were only two left, but since his boss hadn't given him permission to take them, he would have to pay for them.

He grabbed one and placed a bill on the counter. Money didn’t really matter to him.

Out of nowhere, the sound of the bell ringing behind him caught his attention. Someone had just walked in. Customers at this hour?

However, as he turned around, he realized it was only March and Stelle. Another person, someone rather unknown, was standing behind them.

“Hey, we just wanted to say hi,” Stelle greeted. “Sorry we're a bit late. Someone couldn’t decide what to wear…”

She glanced at March, who blushed a little.

“We really missed you!”

They were his friends from college. His only friends, actually, besides Blade. Due to summer break, he barely saw them these days. Occasionally, though, they dropped by to visit him at work—but this time, it seemed they weren't alone.

Stelle finally appeared to catch his subtle glances at the man standing next to her.

“This is my brother, Caelus. He's in town for the summer,” she explained. “He’s kind of shy.”

He quickly chimed in, saying, “I'm not shy, dumbass.”

Dan Heng took a moment to study him. He looked eerily identical to Stelle, like a male version of her: same gray hair, amber eyes, and even posture. The only noticeable difference was that he seemed slightly more expressive than her, as if he had absorbed all of her emotions.

Caelus looked back at him.

“But first, I really need to go to the bathroom,” March said, quickly scanning the place. Despite having been there hundreds of times, she kept on getting lost.

Dan Heng raised a hand. “To the right.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!”

March quickly ran off. 

“I'll make sure she doesn't go down the toilet.” Stelle followed behind her. “Be right back.”

She disappeared down the hallway. Now, it was just the two of them left in the store.

Dan Heng still struggled at making conversation with strangers. Typically, he didn't have to put much thought into what to say, as the old ladies did all the work for him—however, Caelus seemed to be around his age, so it was a different story.

“So, uh… what's like working here?”

It surprised him that Caelus spoke first.

“Are you interested in working in the cafeteria?”

If that was the case, then, he could talk to his boss on his next shift. They could use more staff, anyway.

“Not really,” he smiled. “Just making conversation.”

“Oh,” Dan Heng felt a bit embarrassed. “It’s fine. There are worse jobs out there.”

“Sure. So, are you alone right now?” Caelus paused for a second as he realized what he just said. “Shit, sorry. That’s the kind of question someone would ask in a horror movie, isn't it?”

He chuckled a bit. “Kind of. Should I be scared?”

“No! Of course not. Uh… let’s just start over.” Caelus said, flashing a smile as if he had just entered, and offered his hand. “Hey, I’m Caelus. Nice to meet you.”

He stared at his hand for a moment, wondering why he always seemed to be surrounded by weird guys, then shook it.

“Dan Heng.”

Luocha finally returned from the back, smelling a bit like cigarettes and smoke. He gazed at Caelus first, then at him. Dan Heng already knew what he was thinking.

“He’s a friend,” he explained.

“Oh.” Luocha left his apron under the counter. “Can I leave the rest to you, then?”

Dan Heng nodded. He was almost done, anyway.

Stelle and March came back from the bathroom just as he was about to close the store. They stood by the exit, looking up at the night sky.

“It’s a pity that we couldn't stay longer. It was all my fault. Sorry!” March clasped her hands together in apology. “We’ll come visit you again soon. We promise!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The three of them said goodbye to him, each going their separate ways. Dan Heng spent all the walk back thinking about work, his friends, and, lastly, Blade. He held the plastic bag of cinnamon rolls in his hand, the anticipation of surprising Blade filling him with a bit of excitement.

He got back sooner than expected. Dan Heng took his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his apartment.

“I’m back,” he said. “Blade?”

He wasn’t there.

A sweet scent lingered in the air, like lavender—certainly not Blade's, since he hated the smell of perfume. He found it too overwhelming. His side of the room was a little messier than usual, with bed sheets all tangled up and wrinkled.

A subtle blush graced Dan Heng's cheeks as he realized. Did he bring a woman in here while he was gone? That jerk.

He pulled out his phone to text him, but then remembered Blade didn't have one.

A sigh escaped him. He had told Blade countless times that he couldn't live without a phone, to which he always replied, “I've lived hundreds of years without one.” Dan Heng didn't know what to make of those words.

He put the bag aside and lay down on his own bed, trying to get some sleep.

Blade would come back eventually.

(...)

The bar pulsed with loud music. It was more crowded than he’d anticipated—groups of drunk people danced around him, carelessly spilling their drinks on the floor like wild animals. Most of them were teenagers.

Blade wondered once again why the hell he was there, only to be reminded of his conversation earlier with Kafka.

Fuck it, he thought for the second time that night. Maybe that’ll be his life motto from now on.

He kept walking, looking for Sampo around the room. Since he hadn't provided a specific location, Blade would have to guess. It could take a while to find him.

At the back, there was a group of men sitting around a long table—about five or six people. Even though Blade didn’t recognize any of them, they seemed to be the kind of people Sampo would hang out with. So, he followed his gut feeling.

A few minutes later, Blade spotted Sampo's striking blue hair in the midst of the crowd.

Sampo's face lit up after seeing him. A pair of arms welcomed him as he approached the table. “Blade, my man! I didn't expect you to actually come. I’m glad you did.”

He already sounded ridiculously drunk, and it wasn't even 10 pm yet.

“Don’t make me regret it,” Blade warned. Sampo laughed, even though what he just said wasn’t funny.

“Of course not,” he said, placing an arm behind his back. “C’mon, join the group. Uh… I think there’s still one missing. That bastard will show up eventually.”

Blade had no idea who he was talking about.

They made a place for him at the table. He took a seat between two guys—one with red hair who claimed to be a boxer too proudly, and the other was a tall, blonde guy named Gepard. They likely weren't residents, considering he had never seen them before.

A beer was placed before him. 

“Do you drink?” Gepard asked.

Blade didn't even answer. He just grabbed the can and drank it in a single, long gulp. He would need a great amount of beer to make it through the night.

Sampo sat at the table, right in front of him. Now, he held another fresh can of beer between his hands. “Y’know what? We should play a game. Truth or dare.”

Blade hated that game.

“Can't you think of anything more original?” Gepard suggested mockingly. Although this was his fifth beer, he didn't seem even the least bit drunk.

“Shut up.” Sampo looked around the table. “So, who’s going first?”

Blade took a few more sips of beer as the table lapsed into silence. Everyone exchanged glances, looking for a volunteer, but it seemed no one really wanted to do it. Did he seriously go out tonight for this?

Sampo snorted.

“Alright, cowards, I'll start,” he glanced at each person at the table, eventually fixing his gaze on Gepard. “You, asshole.”

He sighed. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you were the only one who complained. Now suck it,” Sampo smirked. “Truth or dare?”

“What if I don’t want to do it? You can’t make me.”

Sampo paused for a moment, thinking. Gepard was right.

“Then… you’ll have to drink a whole can of beer.”

“Fine.” Gepard thought about it for a second. “I choose dare.”

“This is getting interesting.” His eyes flashed with a hint of malice. Blade had already finished his second can of beer when Sampo finally came out with a dare. “I dare you to strip .”

“What? Are you serious?” Gepard’s eyebrows went up in surprise. He was probably expecting some silly dare, like doing ten sit-ups, or something like that. Not this. “Do you mean, like… in front of everyone?”

Sampo smirked, leaning on his chair. “Well, if you want it to be private, I wouldn't mind, honestly.”

Gepard seemed to hesitate for a moment. His cheeks were a bright red, quite difficult to hide. But then, he reached for a new can of beer—the sixth one—and drank it like it was water. A chorus of boos echoed around the table.

“Boring,” Sampo hummed. “I’ll choose someone else, then.”

Once more, he glanced at each person at the table, looking for a new victim; however, this time, his gaze locked onto him. This probably wouldn’t end well for him.

“Blade, my man. Truth or dare?”

He was not going to make the same mistake.

“Truth,” he said.

Sampo took his time thinking about what to say. All eyes were on him, and for the first time, Blade felt somewhat smaller . He wasn't used to the attention and the whole party thing—loud music, drunk people, and stupid games like these. It wasn’t his thing. Or, at least, it didn’t use to be, because this was a new life. A fresh start.

He wasn’t Yingxing anymore.

“Do you like someone?” Sampo asked, then pointed a finger at him. “Don’t even think about drinking on this one. It’s such an easy question.”

Yet, it wasn’t for Blade. Not at all.

He had two options: he could lie and say someone else's name—since telling the truth was clearly not an option—or he could just lie about the whole thing. No one would know if he did, anyway. The second option seemed the most appealing.

“I don’t like anyone.”

Blade expected the game to keep going as usual afterwards, but instead, everyone remained silent, looking at him with a hint of disappointment.

After some time, Sampo broke the silence. “You know, it’s not called truth for you to lie.”

How the hell did he know?

Blade frowned. “I’m not lying.”

His heart raced at the possibility of everyone at that table knowing the truth—that he was in love with his best friend.

Sampo crossed his arms. “C’mon, man, I’m not stupid. Or blind. I saw that woman coming out of your dorm today. What was her name? Kafka?”

Oh.

Blade immediately relaxed. He didn’t know —that’s all that mattered to him. Perhaps it would be for the better if everyone at the table believed he had feelings for another woman; that way, no one would suspect he was lying.

“You got me,” he said, playing along.

Sampo snapped his fingers, a bit too proud of himself. “I fucking knew it.”

Blade thought he was safe for now. Everyone else seemed ready to continue with the game—until his plans were ruined.

Another guy jumped in. It was the one with red hair. “He’s obviously lying to you again, dickheads. Can’t you see?”

Fuck.

Sampo raised an eyebrow. “Who is it, then?”

There was no easy way out at this point. He had to say something, but obviously, that wasn't going to happen. 

Instead, he grabbed a new can of beer and gulped it down with a bit of struggle. It slid down his throat, bitter and cold, making him feel nauseous.

“You cowards are so boring,” Sampo checked his phone and got up from his seat. “Shit. He's here. I'll be right back.”

Blade already wanted to get the fuck out of there.

In this life, it seemed that his tolerance for alcohol was quite poor—it only took three beers to get him feeling lightheaded. He cursed at himself, trying to regain composure. 

Dan Heng could not see him like that. What if he fucked up and told him the truth on accident? Maybe Yingxing wouldn't have done it, but he was Blade now.

Sampo returned after a few minutes. A man walked behind him, like a dog following its owner.

Blade looked up. His eyes first met his flowing white hair, messily tied into a ponytail with a fine red ribbon, then locked onto those familiar amber eyes. A subtle smirk played on his lips—one he knew all too well.

It was him.

Blade stared in horror as his former general, Jing Yuan, now stood directly before him.

It seemed like he didn't remember his past either—their past together—because there wasn't even a small hint of recognition in his eyes. 

But Blade did remember.

He vividly remembered all those times they fought together in the battlefield, shoulder to shoulder; the long nights of training where he often outmatched him—only realizing now that Jing Yuan probably had deliberately let him win every single time. The war in which he died, and how he sprinted through a minefield to reach him, risking his own life in the process.

He remembered his friend, one of the few he’s ever had, the same way he remembered Dan Feng.

“Blade?” He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, a pair of concerned blue eyes staring at his face. “Are you good?”

He felt like he was going to vomit.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled. Before anyone else could notice, Blade stumbled out of his seat and into the bar's restroom.

Inside, he washed his face with cold water, as if that would cure him completely—it did help a little, at least to get rid of the nausea. But he was still drunk.

Fuck. Fuck. Why was Jing Yuan here? Blade couldn't believe that dickhead was friends with that other dickhead. It felt like a poorly crafted joke from a low-budget comedy film.

He was leaving.

Blade left the bathroom after a few minutes, looking for a way to get the fuck out of there, even though his vision was a little dizzy.

He bumped into someone.

“Hey, man, watch out,” Jing Yuan looked down at him and smiled. “Oh, wait. It’s you.”

You. Like he knew who he was.

Jing Yuan leaned on the wall behind him. “What’s your name? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. You ran off as soon as I came.”

Blade looked over his shoulder. The exit was right there. Just a few more steps and he’d be out of here.

The word Yingxing lingered on his tongue, like some kind of curse that wouldn't leave him alone. “It’s Blade.”

There was a small silence between them. Some drunk girls walked past them and went into the women's bathroom, giggling and staggering all around.

Then, Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, a sudden curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Won’t you ask for mine?”

Blade blinked a few times. He momentarily forgot that this was a different life, and Jing Yuan was no longer the noble general he once knew.

“Um… what’s yours?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re too drunk,” Jing Yuan said, glancing at the exit before returning his attention to Blade. “Do you want me to take you to your house?”

Blade frowned, too intoxicated to control his tongue. “Why would you do that for me?”

Jing Yuan offered a subtle smile. “I just want to help.”

Well, too bad he didn’t need his help. Or anyone’s help.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just don’t tell Sampo I’m leaving already.”

Blade walked past him and headed towards the door.

“Wait.”

Suddenly, Jing Yuan grabbed his hand, causing him to stagger. People continued to pass by them while the two stood still in the middle of the hallway. Blade turned around, staring at the face of his old friend.

“I know this might sound strange, but...” he hesitated for a moment, confusion flickering across his face before he mustered the courage to continue. “Have we met before? You seem familiar for some reason.”

Blade stood there, just staring at his face, longing to be understood. Remembered. Wondering why God, if he did actually exist, decided to punish him so cruelly. To make all of his friends forget him while he remembered it all. Just him.

“We haven’t.”

He broke free of his grip, turned around, and finally left the bar.

(...)

Dan Heng couldn't sleep.

He kept staring at the time, at the small glowing numbers on his screen, showing that it was now 2:05 am. Blade still hadn't come home, and he was getting more and more worried as time passed. Dan Heng had already searched for any possible hint to his whereabouts—be it a letter, message, or even a phone call. Anything would do, but there was nothing to be found.

He tossed and turned in bed a few more times. The room still smelled of fresh lavender, and it only made him think of Blade once again.

He glanced at his phone once more, looking for a miracle.

Only ten minutes had passed.

Deciding that sleep wasn't an option anymore, Dan Heng got up. There was nothing he could do to clear his mind—no cleaning, no pending work, nothing to see. Just think, and he already had done that a lot.

Suddenly, he heard a noise outside. The rustling of leaves. A set of keys jingling the way he always did. Dan Heng rushed to the door, hoping to see Blade standing outside, only to find that there was nothing there. Not even a ghost.

Where the hell did he go?

Dan Heng had been living with Blade for a year. While it wasn't that long, it was enough for him to know that he didn't go out much. Especially not for this long. So, either he was having a lot of fun wherever he was, or something bad had happened. And Dan Heng really hoped that wasn’t the case.

There was another noise outside. Dan Heng wasn't easily fooled this time.

But then, he noticed the door handle turning—once, then again, and again. Was it Blade or someone trying to break in?

“Fuck,” someone cursed from the other side of the door. “Where the hell are my keys? ”

It was Blade.

Dan Heng opened the door so quickly that Blade barely had time to react. He scanned him from head to toe, searching for any signs of trouble—his hair was a little messy, but otherwise, he seemed fine.

“Are you still awake?” Blade asked.

Dan Heng thought of an excuse. “I woke up a few minutes ago.”

Blade didn't pay much attention.

“Sorry if I woke you up. I think… I can’t find my keys. Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Dan Heng moved from the door. “Come inside.”

Blade stumbled as he walked. Dan Heng grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to get a better look at his face. His eyes seemed a bit more closed than usual, as if he were sleepy. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol.

He frowned. “Are you drunk?”

He had never seen Blade drunk, until now.

“I’m not.”

“I don’t care if you are, Blade. It’s just… you could’ve let me know you were going out.” Dan Heng sigh wearily. “Where were you?”

“At the bar with Sampo and some of his friends,” Blade replied, then smirked. “Were you worried about me?”

“Just go to bed.”

He helped him get to his bed. As soon as he got close enough, Blade slumped onto the sheets like dead weight. How much had he drunk?

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Dan Heng said. “And I’m buying you a cellphone, whether you like it or not. I don’t care if you don’t use it. I just want you to have it.”

Blade complained into the pillow.

However, the moment Dan Heng turned to leave, Blade grabbed his wrist from the side. A portion of his long hair partially covered his face like a veil. Tired red eyes peered at him.

Blade's voice was just above a whisper. “Are you mad at me?”

Dan Heng looked at him, feeling his grip on his wrist. That's what bothered him the most—that, no matter what Blade did, he couldn't bring himself to get angry with him.

“Just a bit,” he lied.

“I’m sorry.”

Dan Heng chuckled a bit. If only he were always as docile as he is in this moment.

He reached out a hand and gently brushed his hair from his face, watching him close his eyes under his touch. “Go to sleep, Blade. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I don’t wanna.” Blade's voice sounded a little high-pitched, almost childish.

Oh, how bad he wanted to record this. But Blade would never forgive him if he did.

“But you need to.”

“How was work?”

Dan Heng thought of Caelus. “Like always. Boring.”

Blade turned on the bed to face him. “Wanna sleep with me?”

“Why would I want that?”

“Because you love me.”

Dan Heng rolled his eyes. “Sure. Goodnight, Blade.”

He got up from his side to return to his own bed. It was probably pretty late in the morning and he had to get up early the next day.

Suddenly, he heard Blade's voice from behind, faint as a whisper. “You are a lot like him.”

Dan Heng stopped. “What?”

But Blade was already asleep.

He concluded that Blade was too drunk to make sense and went to bed. But even as he lay down, those words didn't leave him until he finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Present-Day

Blade woke up the next morning feeling like shit.

He opened his eyes, greeted by the gentle warmth of the sun caressing his face. There was a bittersweet aroma in the air, a mix of herbs and boiled milk coming from the kitchen. His muscles were stiff, and his vision was still slightly blurry, so he couldn’t really tell what was happening.

He glanced at Dan Heng’s bed, only to find that he wasn’t there.

The memories of last night were a bit blurred. He recalled walking home and reaching the door of his apartment, but beyond that, everything that happened afterwards had been entirely wiped from his mind. If only that same thing could happen to his past.

He made a slow attempt to get out of bed, moving muscle by muscle. However, a strong, sharp throb in his head forced him to lay down once more. Why did it hurt so damn bad?

He let out a small groan.

Dan Heng entered the bedroom holding a hot cup of something in his hands. He leaned against the door frame, blue eyes looking at him. His tone remained soft. “You woke up.”

Blade stared at him. That morning, Dan Heng looked particularly beautiful—his slightly messy hair added a small touch to his usual charm. His lips, with cookie crumbs on them, were a shade redder. He just wanted to kiss them. The sight was almost painful to see.

Blade covered his eyes with his arm. “Shut up.”

“But I haven't said anything yet.”

“I already know what you’re thinking.”

The edge of the bed sank under his weight. Dan Heng was now sitting next to him.

“What am I thinking, then?”

“That I’m an idiot.”

Dan Heng made a sound with his mouth. A giggle.

“How are you feeling today?”

He huffed. “Like shit.”

“I made you some tea. You don’t have to drink it if you don't want to, but it may make you feel better.”

Blade opened his eyes and stared at the cup. 

In the past, Dan Feng used to prepare a variety of teas for him—red, black, oolong. He had tried every herb imaginable until he could identify them by smell alone. Every time they conversed, they would share a cup of tea, like a ritual that belonged only to the two of them. Blade never drank tea unless it was with him.

He held the cup and smelled it. It was chamomile tea.

Blade took a sip, savoring the sweet taste of chamomile on his tongue. “How long have I been asleep?”

“For about ten hours.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened. “You should’ve woke me up.”

“You needed sleep, so I let you.” Dan Heng adjusted himself so he could face him. “Does your head hurt?”

He gently placed a hand on Blade's forehead. 

Blade didn't get sick often, but when he did, Dan Heng always took care of him. He disliked acknowledging the fact that he enjoyed it—the attention, the care. Longing for Dan Heng’s closeness was his sin, one he had yet to repent.

Blade swallowed, “Yeah. A lot.”

“I'll get you some aspirin.”

“Thanks.”

He squeezed the cup in his hands, seeking warmth, as Dan Heng headed to the bathroom to fetch a pill.

He needed to ask. The worry of what he might have said while drunk was eating at him alive. The fact that he remembered nothing made the situation even more distressing.

“Did I, uh… say something weird last night?”

Blade heard Dan Heng's voice from the bathroom.

“Not that I remember,” he paused, “Well, you did ask me if I wanted to sleep with you.”

Blade choked on his tea. He did what, now?

This is what he feared. Although he didn't imagine it would be this bad. “I… didn’t know that.”

“Not in that way,” Dan Heng clarified. It didn't make things much better. “Don’t worry. I thought it was a bit cute.”

He would never drink again. That was for sure.

Dan Heng came back after a few minutes, hands empty. “I'm afraid we have no medicine left. I'll go get you some.”

He quickly placed the hot cup aside. “I’ll come with you.”

“You're not going anywhere.” Dan Heng stopped him before he could get out of bed, acting like he was sick. “Stay and rest. I'll be right back.”

Blade didn't feel too terrible. Sure, being hungover sucked, but he'd get over it. It's not like he was on the brink of death.

“That’s really not necessary, Dan Heng.”

Dan Heng looked at him with a hint of frustration. He recognized that look, the familiar expression in those deep blue eyes; the same way Dan Feng used to look at him when disappointed. In the past, he would have disliked seeing that expression—but now, it held a certain comfort. Knowing he was still there.

“Just let me help you.”

His words didn't come across as a request, but more like a plea, weak and desperate. Blade stood there, meeting his gaze, with the feeling of being cornered.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.”

He grabbed some cash from the counter. Blade always felt guilty about Dan Heng spending money on him. Perhaps it was time for him to secure a job; one he wouldn't quit right away.

“I’ll leave you the keys. You lost yours, remember?” Blade stared blankly at him. No, he didn’t remember that . “We’ll take care of that later.”

Finally, Dan Heng left the apartment, leaving him alone inside. His head throbbed once more, a sharp, stinging pain causing him to grunt. Maybe he did feel terrible, after all.

With a bit of effort, he stood up and walked outside. Right now, all he had on were his pajamas—just an old t-shirt and a pair of gray pants. Surely not his best look, but he couldn't ask for more.

He shut his eyes, embracing the warmth of the sun's rays on his face. The air carried the scent of wet grass and honey, a combination that only reminded him of summer.

It brought him some peace knowing that, no matter how many times he faced death and rebirth—like an unstoppable cycle of eternal life—the sky above him would always remain the same. The stars he had once admired as Yingxing never lost their spark, and he may admire them now as Blade.

He turned around, ready to go back inside.

“Blade?”

A confused voice called out to him from behind him. Clearly, he wasn't expecting visitors; otherwise he would have dressed a little better. His eyes locked with Jing Yuan's, who stood a few meters away, holding a paper bag in one hand.

He smiled gently after recognizing him. “It’s really you. I thought I was just seeing things.”

Blade stood still. Would it be too late to pretend he didn’t see him?

Jing Yuan moved closer, his eyes appearing even more yellow in the sunlight. His voice softened. “Hey. How are you doing?”

Blade squinted, visibly annoyed. “What do you think?”

“It seems not well.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

It occurred to Blade that he hadn't taken a good look at himself in the mirror before heading out, so he had no idea what he actually looked like right now. Maybe that's why Jing Yuan struggled to recognize him at first, or why Dan Heng insisted on him getting some rest.

Not caring about sounding disrespectful, Blade asked, “Why are you here?” He hadn't told Jing Yuan where he lived and he couldn't recall if he had walked him home last night, but he hoped he hadn't. Discovering him standing in front of his apartment was far from pleasant.

In another lifetime, the general would’ve made him swallow his own tongue if he ever spoke to him like that; now, he simply smiled and raised the bag in front of him.

“I forgot something at Sampo's. I was on my way out when I saw you.”

Oh, right. Sampo. How could he not think about that?

“I didn’t know you two were such close friends,” he said, surprised that Sampo had any.

“We’re not. We just happen to live nearby,” he replied, looking around and scanning the area, “I assume you live here as well.”

Blade nodded.

There wasn't much he could say. Each time he faced Jing Yuan, the words melted on his tongue like salt, bitter and stinging. He had felt this way before. It would pass eventually.

“Well, I guess it's time for me to leave,” Jin Yuan smiled at him once more, this time as a goodbye. “I hope you feel better.”

He watched his back as he left, the way his long hair danced in the wind. He remembered every single time he had this sight in front of him. How he had seen that hair change—go short, grow longer, become grayer.

Blade knew that he couldn't say anything about their past lives. The gods and heavens forbade it: a price as high as being remembered from your past life should be paid for a much higher price. But, right now, all he wanted was a piece of recognition. Maybe test fate a little, the wrath of the gods; see how far he could go without facing consequences.

“What if I lied before?”

Jing Yuan stopped walking, turning his head until their eyes met again. There was a confused yet intrigued look in his eyes.

“About what?”

Blade's throat tightened. What the hell was he doing? There was no going back now. “About us. What if… we did meet, a long time ago?”

He waited for his reaction—perhaps a scowl followed by a fuck off. Or maybe an incredulous laugh, because what he was saying was definitely crazy. He had finally gone crazy.

Instead, a subtle smile appeared on his lips.

“Then it must be fate we met again.”

With that, he walked away, leaving him even more confused than before.

(...)

It was really cold inside the pharmacy.

Dan Heng immediately regretted not bringing a jacket with him. He took with him only the essentials before leaving—some money and his phone. Yet, as he stood in line, waiting for his turn, the cold was becoming unbearable.

He kept thinking about Blade.

This was one of the few times he ever accepted his help. During their teenage years, Blade helped him all the time—whether it was homework, personal matters, or trivial day-to-day tasks, he was always there for him. He had always been smarter than him. What intrigued him the most was that, despite his knowledge, he still did poorly on exams. Dan Heng once thought that he did it on purpose.

Now that they were adults, Dan Heng wanted to do the same for him. Return the favor. If only he would let him.

He looked forward. There were five people ahead of him, from what he counted. It would take a while.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the notification, but it turned out to be spam .

“Dan Heng!” a cheerful voice called out to him. Putting away his phone, Dan Heng looked up to see Caelus standing next to him with a smile. “I never thought I'd find you here. What a coincidence, huh?”

The line moved forward one step. Dan Heng tried to look behind him for Stelle or March 7th, but it seemed like he was alone. It really was a coincidence, then.

Even though Dan Heng liked Caelus, he felt a little insecure being alone with him. He wasn't particularly chatty and even tended to be kind of awkward around other people. Since he didn't know Caelus that well yet, he had no idea of what he could possibly talk to him about.

Dan Heng took notice of the plastic bag in his hand.

“Are you feeling sick?” he asked, trying to make conversation. Not his best attempt.

Caelus looked confused for a few seconds.

“Oh, about this?” he pointed to the bag, “It’s not actually for me. I'm just the errand guy. What about you?”

“I'm here for Blade as well. He’s hungover.”

“Oh, I see. That sucks,” Caelus said, then asked, “Who’s Blade?”

Right. He forgot Caelus was new in town, so there was no way for him to know who Blade was.

Each one of his friends knew Blade. Even those who weren't his friends at all—people just knew how close the two of them were. After all, they had known each other for a really long time.

“He’s my friend,” he explained, “We’re also roommates.”

Caelus smiled. “Must be fun. Mine’s a dick. ”

Fun wasn’t really the word Dan Heng would use.

“Are you staying with Stelle?” he asked, curious. Caelus sighed in frustration, as if the mention of that name was something he'd rather avoid.

“Yeah. It’ll be only for a few more weeks until I move out, though. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he pointed to a small cut on his eyebrow. “See that? Last night, she tried to kill a bug, but hit me instead. I’m completely sure that she did it on purpose.”

Dan Heng chuckled as he took a few steps forward. The line was finally moving forward, thank the gods.

“You’re trembling,” Caelus noted.

Was he? Dan Heng didn’t think it was that bad. He observed as Caelus took off his jacket, drawing stares from some of the people in the line.

“Here,” he handed it to him. “Take it. I don’t need it.”

Dan Heng stared at the jacket in his hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. Despite the cold, he couldn't just accept it like that.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not that cold,” he insisted, wearing a serious expression. “But you are. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I…” Dan Heng paused. He really didn’t want to accept it, but he was actually pretty cold. “Okay. Thank you.”

He grabbed the jacket and put it over his shoulders. Dan Heng immediately felt a sense of relief once he was sheltered from the cold, the shaking stopping completely. 

Caelus smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Eventually, it became Dan Heng's turn. He decided to buy an entire box of aspirin, just to be prepared in case Blade got another hangover someday; even though he hoped not. Both of them exited the store at the same time, stepping out into the warm weather outside.

Caelus glanced at him, suddenly appearing a bit nervous. 

“Let me walk you home,” he asked.

Dan Heng wasn’t stupid.

He could tell when someone was interested in him—romantically, that was. In this case, Caelus had made it quite obvious, whether on purpose or not. Dan Heng wasn't one to develop romantic interest in people that quickly, at least not frequently; while he had experienced a few failed relationships in the past, the most recent one, if he recalled correctly, was three years ago. He just liked having his own space.

However, it wouldn't hurt to get to know him, right?

“Okay,” he accepted.

The walk back to the apartment was short, and they didn't talk about anything specific. Dan Heng found out that Caelus came from a city quite far away and planned to return in a month or two. He was also a college student and shared a dorm, but his roommate sucked, according to him.

He mentioned how lucky he was to have a good relationship with Blade.

Truth is Dan Heng didn't meet Blade in college. They actually met many years ago, back in high school, when they were both sixteen and stupid. From the very first day they met, Dan Heng felt like he already knew him. That had never happened to him before. Blade just always seemed to know what he was thinking. How he felt. What to do when he was insecure. 

Later on, almost as if guided by fate, they ended up at the same university and even became roommates. And now, there they were.

They stopped in front of the complex.

“So, this is your place?” he inquired. Dan Heng wondered what he really thought of the place. It seemed a bit neglected, he had to admit, but it was home nonetheless.

He nodded. “I'll invite you to come inside some other day.”

“Right,” Caelus smiled happily. “See you around.”

Dan Heng proceeded to walk to his apartment with a plastic bag dangling from one hand. Just as he was passing by, Sampo stepped out for a smoke, and they exchanged quick glances.

He didn't like Sampo very much. It's not like he had done any harm to him, but he didn't come across as particularly trustworthy. Also, according to some rumors, he appeared to be involved in some kind of phone scams. That couldn’t be a good thing.

“Hey. How’s Blade?” he asked, “‘Didn’t see him all day. Is he dead?”

“He’s still alive. Just hungover.”

“That makes sense,” Sampo laughed. He put a cigarette in his mouth as he spoke, “Did he tell you about the party? It’s in a few days. You won’t wanna miss it.”

Dan Heng tried to hide his confusion. What party was he talking about?

“Uh… I can’t remember. I think he did.” That was obviously a lie.

“I’ll just send the address to you. He really should get a phone, tho.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

After receiving his message, Dan Heng continued walking to his apartment. The door was open, and inside, Blade lay on his bed with closed eyes.

As soon as he entered, Blade opened his eyes, looked at him, and smiled. “Welcome back.”

Dan Heng left the bag with the pills on his bed. He needed an explanation.

“I just talked to Sampo. He told me there’s a party in a few days. You never mentioned it.”

Blade took a pill and swallowed it without water. It took him a few seconds to understand what he was saying, but eventually, the realization got to him.

“Shit, that’s right. I forgot about that,” he paused, his eyes dropping to his shoulders for a moment. “Whose jacket is that?”

Dan Heng stood there, a little confused, and then realized. He forgot to give Caelus his jacket back.

“I ran into a friend a bit earlier. I was cold.”

Blade said nothing. He probably knew Dan Heng didn't have any other friends besides Stelle and March 7th, who he had already met. It was someone new.

Someone who may not be his friend.

“If you’re feeling better already, then come with me,” Dan Heng put Caelus’ jacket aside and stood in front of the door. “We’re going shopping.”

“Wait. We?” Blade frowned. “For what?”

“For the party.”

(...)

Blade didn't go shopping often.

He didn't really care too much about how he dressed. He only had two shirts, both black. His t-shirts were a little old now and one size smaller, so they fit him a bit tight. He wore the same pair of dark jeans all the time. The last time he went shopping was, perhaps, five years ago.

Dan Heng was the complete opposite of him. Even in his previous life, he always cared about looking good. His clothes were impeccable and fit him perfectly. He sometimes even wore makeup, but only on special occasions. Blade always liked it when he did, but it didn't particularly bother him if he didn't, either.

Now, standing in the middle of the huge store, surrounded by this many clothes in different colors and designs, he felt a bit overwhelmed. Hell, Blade didn't even have a style. He was always the type of guy who would buy anything as long as it was cheap.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Dan Heng asked, who already had a handful of clothes in his hands. How the hell did he choose them so fast?

“Uh… I think I'll just follow you for now.”

“As you wish.”

They headed to the back of the store. It was mostly empty, except for two tired-looking employees and another guy accompanied by his girlfriend, who seemed just as lost as he was.

Blade took a seat, patiently waiting as Dan Heng went into a changing room. His weight pressed down on the chair, feeling as though some internal force was pulling him in. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he would take it.

“Don’t take forever to change,” he said. His eyes roamed over the vivid patterns on the walls, a bit too colorful for his liking. “I might fall asleep.”

The only response he got was a muffled, closed-mouth sound.

After a brief wait, Dan Heng opened the door and stood before him. He wore a gray T-shirt a bit short on the side with a V-shaped neckline, showing a portion of his collarbone. Blade found himself staring at it for longer than he had intended.

“How does it look?”

Shit. Blade wasn’t exactly a fashion critic. What was he supposed to say?

He decided to be honest. “I think it looks good.”

“It doesn’t.”

Dan Heng immediately went back into the fitting room.

“What…?” he frowned, not quite getting what just happened, “Then why did you ask?”

“I thought you’ll be honest.”

“I was being honest.”

This was going to be hard.

Then, Dan Heng did the same thing again but with a crimson shirt. Blade liked it as much as the previous one, but since Dan Heng clearly wasn't looking for that, he opted to be a bit more critical.

“I think the color is a bit too much,” he said, feeling proud of himself for contributing.

Dan Heng looked down at his shirt and then at him.

“I thought the color was fine.”

“Oh.” Looks like Blade didn't get that one right. Shit. “Well, then, it looks fine.”

“I don’t like it.”

Blade sighed. This would take all the fucking night .

As Dan Heng headed back to the fitting room, he spoke up, saying, “Just buy whatever, Dan Heng. It's just a stupid party with Sampo's stupid friends. Why do you care so much?”

“I just can’t ,” he said. Blade picked up on the sounds of movement. “I want to look good.”

You would look good in anything, he thought, although he did not say those words out loud.

They spent another thirty minutes like this: just Dan Heng trying on many different clothes and Blade not knowing what to say. At some point, he really feared that this was just going to keep going throughout the night like an endless loop. The couple from before had already left long ago, leaving just the two of them in the store.

Blade laid back in his chair, his eyes focused on the ceiling. It was probably already dark outside, but he couldn't tell from inside the glaringly bright store.

Dan Heng came out of the fitting room once more.

“Sorry. I know you’re tired,” he apologized, “I promise this is the last one.”

Blade looked at him.

This time, Dan Heng had on a white sleeveless shirt with silver embroidery details. A diamond-shaped cutout exposed a glimpse of his chest, showing off his pale, silky skin—unmarked by scars. It hugged him perfectly, as if custom-made just for him.

Dan Heng seemed a little nervous. “What do you think?”

“It’s…” Blade struggled to find the right words. “You look great. I mean it.”

“Okay. I’ll get this one, then,” Dan Heng said with a slight smile, “Thank you, Blade.”

He got back inside the fitting room.

Blade rubbed the back of his neck. The room felt very hot out of nowhere. He took his jacket off just in case.

Five minutes passed. He waited. 

Dan Heng should be ready by now. How long could it possibly take to change a shirt? It didn’t make sense. But then again, Dan Heng didn't always make sense either.

He got up from his seat just to go check on him.

“Hey. Everything okay?” he asked, pressing his ear almost against the door, trying to catch any sounds. 

No response. Did he die in there?  

“Dan Heng,” he called out again, a hint of concern in his voice.

A faint noise reached him—a gentle knock from behind the door. It almost seemed like Dan Heng was struggling in there.

“I can’t get it off,” he mumbled, his voice so weak that it was barely audible.

Blade got closer.

“What?”

Dan Heng spoke a bit louder now, a noticeable hint of desperation in his voice. “The zipper is… I think it’s stuck. I can’t get it down all the way.”

“Shit. Uh… what do you want me to do?” Blade looked around. He spotted a worker a few meters away, idly staring at her phone. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“No, don’t do that. I don’t…” Dan Heng was silent for a second, “Can you help me?”

“Me?” A beat. “How?”

“Just come in and get this off.”

Blade stood in front of the door, not knowing what to do. He really hadn't done such a thing before, not even in his past life. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Dan Heng begged, “Please.”

He could do this. “Okay.”

Blade slowly entered the fitting room.

Inside, Dan Heng had his back to him, facing the mirror. The place clearly wasn't big enough for both of them to be in there, so they were a little cramped. On the bench next to him were all the previous clothes that Dan Heng had tried on. His blue eyes met his for a brief second through the mirror's reflection.

He muttered, a bit embarrassed, “Can you try to get it down?”

His heartbeat pounded in his chest, fast and irregular. He silently prayed that Dan Heng wouldn’t be able to hear it.

“Let me see.”

Blade still remembered the first time Dan Feng undressed in front of him.

It happened only once, hundreds of years ago. It was a starry night and they had gone quite far from the village on one of their night walks. They had been talking about life and death and the universe for so long that they didn't even notice where they were. Suddenly, they stopped by a lake where the water was so clear that stars and the moon reflected on its surface. The sight was breathtakingly beautiful.

He still remembers Dan Heng's smile. It was one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. “ Let's go swimming, Yingxing, ” he said then. Blade thought he was joking. But then, Dan Feng began to remove each elegant piece of clothing until he stood completely naked.

That was the last time he saw him so joyful . So free . He had always been a man of war, drenched in the blood of innocents that would never wash away from his hands. 

But that night, he was happy again.

Blade looked down. The zipper was only halfway down and got stuck there, revealing a portion of Dan Heng's bareback. It felt wrong to touch him, even if he asked him to.

He reached out a hand, gripping the zipper between his fingers. As he did, his hand lightly brushed against Dan Heng's skin, soft and warm. 

It didn’t go down.

“It’s definitely stuck,” he affirmed. His own back was pressing against the fitting room door, trying to give Dan Heng as much space as possible. “Maybe I can force it.”

Dan Heng shot him a desperate glance through the mirror. “No! Don't do that. What if it breaks?”

“We can just say it was broken already.”

“That’s not how it works,” he sighed, “Try again.”

He did. It didn’t work.

“Nothing,” he said. Blade quickly glanced at Dan Heng's expression and noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. It was the first time he had ever seen him blush.

“Okay. Just… help me take off my shirt. It’s really tight.”

“Fine.” Blade carefully held the edges of his shirt at his waist. “Raise your arms, please.”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Dan Heng snorted, raising his arms stiffly, or at least trying to. They didn’t quite go all the way up, but he could work with that. “It’s weird.”

“I’m just being respectful.”

With some effort, he successfully took the shirt off of his body. Blade didn't look at him. If he were ever to see Dan Heng's naked body again, he wanted it to be under the right conditions—specifically, he wanted Dan Heng to want him to see. But that was clearly not the case now.

He stepped outside and waited for Dan Heng to get dressed. This time, it only took him a few seconds.

A faint blush lingered on his cheeks. “I… think I should get something else,” he said.

Blade agreed.

Ultimately, Dan Heng decided on the first shirt he had tried on—the gray one. Finally, Blade could head home, and he wouldn't have to worry about this ever again.

However, just as Blade was about to leave the store, Dan Heng stopped him. “What about you?”

Blade frowned. Please, no. “What about me?”

“We came here for you too, remember? Not just me.”

If he stayed in that place for more than another minute, he would go crazy.

“I don’t want to,” he complained, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Can’t I just wear one of my old shirts?”

“Come on. Just try something on. Anything,” Dan Heng insisted. “If you don’t like it, we’ll go home.”

Blade thought about it. Whatever. He would grab the first thing he laid eyes on, quickly try it on, return it, and get the fuck out. That was the plan.

“Fine. Just one thing.”

They went back. Blade looked at each of the clothes in front of him. There were too many of them, of all colors and sizes— what size was he now? Didn’t matter. In any case, he wasn't seriously thinking about buying something. He just wanted to please Dan Heng. Consequently, he settled on a plain black button-down to try on.

“I’ll wait here,” Dan Heng said. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Blade entered the changing room, feeling a little self-conscious as he stared at himself in front of the huge mirror. Not that he was insecure about his appearance or anything, but it was strange, nonetheless. His scars were gone. Battle scars. Some others from fighting, like the one he once got while training alongside Jing Yuan. The mark that Dan Feng gave him . All gone. Although he still remembered his past, his entire history had been erased from his body.

He tried on the black shirt. It was a little tight on him, like all his clothes, but it wasn't too bad. He left the last three buttons undone. Then, he came out.

“Done,” he said. “What do you think?”

Before he came out, Dan Heng appeared very focused looking at some colorful T-shirts hanging on a nearby rack. His deep blue eyes locked onto Blade, yet not a single sound escaped his mouth.

“What is it?” he asked. The silence from Dan Heng was making him feel a bit uneasy. Maybe he just looked terrible. He tried joking, “Do I look that bad? You can tell me.”

“No. You…” he paused, “You look… really good. It’s unfair.”

Blade carefully observed Dan Heng's expression, trying to see if he was joking. However, he was utterly serious. It seemed almost ironic —Dan Heng making such a comment, as if he could ever look anything less than presentable.

“You look good as well, Dan Heng. You’re just stubborn,” he remarked.

Dan Heng grunted. “I’m not. ”

“You are.”

They went back and bought the shirt. The store's staff seemed relieved to see them finally leave the store.

(...)

Blade never dreamed at night. He usually went to sleep and woke up the next day without any interruptions; just surrounded by an endless void of nothingness.

But he did occasionally have nightmares .

When he did dream, it was usually about the past. He would dream about the people he killed. People he lost. Once, he even dreamed that Dan Feng killed him—instead of a war, it was just the two of them on a stormy night, with Dan Heng holding a knife in his hand. Strangely enough, even that scenario didn't feel as upsetting as this one.

This was the kind of nightmare that forced him to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

It was about the night they died; however, in this scenario, only Dan Feng had died—a universe where the hand of fate spared him but, instead, claimed the life of his closest friend. 

A life without him . That seemed far more cruel than dying or being forgotten.

Blade couldn't tell what time it was. Probably a bit too late to take a shower.

He glanced at Dan Heng, who appeared to be sound asleep in his bed. His dark hair barely covered his eyes, shorter than it used to be. On hot nights, Dan Feng would braid his hair before going to sleep. Blade vividly remembers how he used to do it. It was something he always loved.

Since going back to sleep was evidently not an option, he got out of bed and left the apartment.

The night outside was a bit chilly. The stars in the sky shone even brighter now that the entire city was cloaked in darkness. It was peaceful. Liberating.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Blade was taken aback. Dan Heng stood behind him, his voice soft as a whisper.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

“No. I was already awake.”

He walked up to him, now standing shoulder to shoulder. Dan Heng looked up at the sky, his eyes resembling just another star—perhaps a fallen one.

Dan Heng spoke without looking at him. “What happened?”

Blade considered telling him the truth. It was a bit risky, especially since it involved him directly. But he didn't really have anyone else to talk to about these things.

“I had a dream that you died,” he said. Not the whole truth, but neither a lie.

“ Oh. That… sounds horrible.” Dan Heng glanced at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. But thanks.”

“That’s fine.”

Their eyes were fixed on the sky as the leaves on the trees rustled in the wind. Electronic music was playing faintly in the distance, coming from some nearby nightclub.

“You know,” Dan Heng broke the silence, “I also had a dream about you.”

“You did?” Blade asked, curious. “Is that why you were up?”

“Yes. It’s not really… I think it’s a bit dumb now. I don’t know.”

Blade frowned. “What is it?”

Dan Heng hesitated for a moment, fidgeting with his hands—he always did that when he was uncomfortable.

“I… dreamt that you hated me.”

Blade stared at his face. It was dumb. But not for the reason he thought, but because Blade could never . It was one of those things you just couldn’t force your body to do. Like stop breathing completely; eventually, you'd find yourself gasping for air. He felt the same way about Dan Heng.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Dan Heng asked anxiously, covering his face slightly with his hands. “I told you it was dumb.”

“It’s not that. Just…” Blade sighed, “I could never hate you, Dan Heng.”

He didn’t seem to believe him. Like Blade would ever lie about that.

“You don’t know that.”

Oh, he had no idea . “I actually do.”

“What if I do something bad?” Dan Heng uttered those words as if they were a test. Of how far he could go. “Something unforgivable. Would you hate me then?”

Blade thought about the dream he had, the one in which Dan Feng killed him, and how even that wasn't enough for him to hate him. He had seen him kill before. Hurt other people. Even been hurt by him. His past was not clean—he had already committed the unforgivable. What else could there be that could make Blade hate him?

“If that’s the case,” he said, a half-smile on his face, “I guess that makes us partners in crime.”

Dan Heng stared blankly at him, clearly surprised. But then, thinking it was a joke, he retorted, “You’re an asshole.”

Blade noticed that Dan Heng was shaking slightly. He hadn't said anything.

“Are you cold?”

“What? Oh,” he nodded. “A bit.”

“Let’s go back inside.”

They returned to the apartment. Blade headed straight for his bed, pausing only when Dan Heng spoke.

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

Blade's entire body froze. Did he just hear correctly, or had his brain made up those words? He turned around, but it was too dark to make out his expression.

“Are you serious?” he whispered in response. His voice couldn't physically get any louder than that.

“Yes,” Dan Heng said. “Do you remember the last time we slept together? We both had nightmares too. Just like today.”

“I do. But we were teenagers.”

“So?”

“We’re grown men , Dan Heng,” he said, like it should be obvious.

“Why does that matter? No one’s watching us.”

It mattered because Blade liked him. Sleeping next to him would be by far the cruelest and most foolish form of self-inflicted torment. But he knew better that, even if it hurt him, he could never refuse Dan Heng. So he said yes.

Blade walked over to his bed. “I’ll take the right side,” he said. There was no explanation for it: he simply liked sleeping next to the wall. Made him feel safe.

“Fine. Just don’t push me while you sleep.”

He laid down. Dan Heng’s bed was softer than his even though it was literally the same bed. Same pillow and everything. The sheets smelled faintly of fresh soap.

Dan Heng laid down next to him shortly after. The bed wasn’t big enough for the two of them, so they were kind of pressed against each other. Blade's arm was brushing his. They were both looking at the ceiling, although there was nothing interesting to see.

“You’re all sweaty,” Dan Heng muttered. Shit. Blade didn't think it was that bad.

He only realized he had been holding his breath when he opened his mouth to talk.

“I can go to my own bed.”

“No,” he whispered, “I’ll bear it.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Dan Heng moved his hand, and his fingers brushed softly against his. Blade needed to stop being so aware of his movements. “I mean… you take up a lot of space. And your legs are too long to fit on the bed. But it’s not that bad, I suppose.”

Blade smirked teasingly. “Maybe we should buy a king size bed and start sleeping together everyday. How does that sound?”

A soft sound left his mouth, morphing into a chuckle. “Horrible.”

“Hey,” Blade nudged him, “ you were the one who asked me to sleep with you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I only did it because I felt sorry for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Blade’s smile grew even bigger. “Fuck you, then.”

Blade really wished the lights were on so he could see his smile. 

“How sweet,” he said, obviously joking. “Goodnight, Blade.”

“‘Night.”

Blade closed his eyes, patiently waiting for his heart to ease before finally drifting into sleep.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

“Grand Master,” a servant called him, “your apprentice has arrived.”

Dan Feng's eyes opened. Although he preferred not to be disturbed during his morning meditation, he would overlook it this time.

Given the recent threats against the Xianzhou Luofu, Dan Feng decided to train young swordsmen to fight, preparing them for a potential war. However, given his high position as Grand Master, he would only train the most skilled among them—therefore, the candidates would have to compete and win in a series of tests against their peers. The ultimate victor, the last one standing, would be deemed the definitive winner.

And now, there he was.

“Take me to him,” he said.

Dan Feng made his way through the lengthy hallways of his home to where his new apprentice awaited. He still didn't know who he was, but there was a certain charm in the mystery.

They stopped in front of a room. “He’s inside,” the servant remarked. Certain areas of the house were off-limits to servants.

Dan Feng expressed his gratitude with a nod.

Passing through the huge double doors, he found a young man with dark hair standing on the lavish carpet in the living room. The moment their eyes met, a deep shade of red staring at him, the young man quickly lowered his head.

Dan Feng moved towards him at a measured pace, hands tucked behind his back. At first glance, he did not have the physical appearance of a winner . He was tall, but quite thin. There were no visible marks or scars on his skin like an experienced swordsman would have. The fact that he could outperform everyone else hinted that there was something extraordinary about him.

“Tell me your name,” Dan Feng requested.

The boy raised his head, eyes fixed ahead of him, but not on him. He was nervous. “Yingxing.”

Yingxing . He savored that name. It meant powerful . Ambitious. A leader. 

Dan Feng hummed, “Grab your sword.”

The young man obeyed. Dan Feng observed how he held the sword with only one hand. He was overconfident. Convinced of his own invincibility, he typically refrained from fighting at full capacity as a way to demonstrate his strength. And he won every time. This only fueled his arrogance. Too big an ego for a swordsman.

A subtle smirk played on Dan Feng's lips. This would be fun.

He grabbed his own sword and stood. “Let’s spar.”

Yingxing's expression showed a hint of insecurity. “Do you mean… right now?”

“Yes. Right now,” Dan Feng met his gaze, challenging, “You're not scared, are you?”

As expected, Yingxing's gaze darkened at the mention of the word scared . He was so predictable.

Dan Feng made the first move. He swung the sword forward, and Yingxing dodged it without much effort. He just wanted to build up Yingxing's confidence—for him to let go . Sword fights, as Dan Feng saw them, embodied a dance between two people. It meant not only agility and skill but, above all, passion . After all, swords were also a form of art, and an artist without passion was nothing.

Another predictable attack and he had Yingxing move forward to launch an attack, aiming for his right flank. Dan Feng dodged it.

The fight continued for another while. Gradually, his movements quickened; became more precise, and gained a sharper edge. The fight was getting heated and Dan Feng could feel it. It was time.

But then, Dan Feng saw it —the smile on Yingxing's face. It wasn't a smile of arrogance, but of fun. He was having fun. Enjoying the defeat. 

Dan Feng instantly knew.

He directed the sword straight at his throat, the pointed tip delicately resting against his Adam's apple. He felt him swallow harshly beneath the blade.

“Yingxing,” he called.

His reddish eyes met his gaze, and within them, hundreds of sparks ignited behind his pupils—a mixture of fear and unwavering devotion. His words carried a promise, an air of anticipation. A promising future.

“I will make you the greatest swordsman there is,” he said. And he meant it.

He knew they would become good friends.

Chapter Text

Present-Day

“What the fuck is this?”

Blade blinked once, then twice. There was a small black box in front of him and he clearly knew what was inside of it, but he couldn’t fucking believe it. Dan Heng had never been good at surprises, or at wrapping them, so he handed it to him just like that as soon as he woke up.

Dan Heng sighed. “It’s a cell phone, Blade. And it’s yours.”

No. That couldn’t be.

Blade stared at the box in front of him as if it were some kind of strange creature. “I already told you I don’t…”

“I remember,” Dan Heng interjected, his lips curving into a faint, wry smile, “and I already told you I don’t care.”

Blade had always hated technology and everything that had to do with it—social networks, viruses, fucking dating apps. It all seemed so fake to him. Artificial. How could you possibly date someone you've never met before? For all he knew, it could very well be a robot. Or an entirely different person. That actually terrified him. So he always preferred to stay with what he knew was real, even if others thought he was the weird one.

Blade was perfectly fine with things the way they were. But now…

“I can’t accept it. I don’t…” he paused. “How much did you pay for it?”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Dan Heng said, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s a gift.”

Blade frowned. A gift? That’s not something Dan Heng used to do. Like, ever. Throughout Blade's entire life, he had only received two gifts from him, and one of those was a bag of chips that he bought with his money—so, technically, it was just one. That could only mean two things: either he had done something really bad, or he was going to die. No in-between.

The question left his lips before he had any chance to contemplate it. “Are you going to kill yourself?”

“What?” Dan Heng stared at him like he had gone mad. “No. I’m not. Why do you… just why?”

“You’ve never done something like this before.”

“So that immediately means I'm going to commit suicide?”

Blade shrugged. “I just had to make sure.”

“You can’t just accept it, can you?” Dan Heng sighed for the ninth time all morning. “I got you a phone because I want to talk to you. And I know you’d never buy one. But you can’t live without a phone, Blade.”

That wasn't true. “I’ve lived just great for many years without one.”

Dan Heng huffed. “Stop talking like you’re a hundred years old. You’re barely twenty-two.”

Blade said nothing.

The phone was nothing fancy, but at least it worked fine—well, Dan Heng got it for a fair price, after all. It was a bit old, because he knew Blade had an old man's brain and it would be hell to try teaching him how to use it, so he got him a pretty simple one. It only had the “essential” apps downloaded so he didn't have to do anything, and his number was already in it.

“I can’t believe you actually got me this,” Blade mumbled. 

Even though he didn’t show it, he felt a tiny bit grateful. If Dan Heng was right about anything, it was that Blade would never have gotten a phone on his own.

“Come here,” he said. “I’ll teach you how to use it.”

The phone was turned on in front of them, the bright blue screen dazzling him a little.

Blade pointed at it. “What does that mean?”

“Just wait.”

He snorted. He was too old for this shit.

“Look,” Dan Heng urged, pressing a small green icon with a white bubble inside. Dan Heng’s name appeared on the little screen. “This is how you text. Why don’t you try it yourself? Just type something and send it to me.”

Blade carefully took the phone. It felt small and cold in his hands. Fragile. After a brief contemplation, he used one finger to type “fuck off”.

Dan Heng's phone vibrated a few seconds later, and he glanced at the notification. A touch of sarcasm laced his voice. “Well, thank you. Now you know how to text me,” he said. “Pretty easy, right?”

Blade cast a puzzled look at the other apps and muttered, “I hate this.” He couldn’t believe he got a phone before his keys. They hadn’t found them yet.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Dan Heng explained the rest carefully—how to use the camera, search for something on the internet and make a call. It felt a bit peculiar for Blade to have something explained to him that he didn't already know. It was usually the other way round. 

Since the moment of his rebirth, Blade remembered feeling bored. Especially at school. The downside of remembering your past is that, over time, everything starts to feel monotonous. Repetitive, like a record stuck in a continuous loop, replaying the same moments over and over.

But he never got bored of Dan Heng. Not even once.

“Well, I have to head to work now,” Dan Heng mentioned, stepping away to grab his things, “If you need anything, you can text me. Or call me. You know how to do it now.”

He did. Not that he was happy about it.

“I’ll be back in time for tonight.”

Blade frowned. For someone who remembered hundreds of years of his past life, he had a pretty bad memory. “What’s for tonight?”

“The party,” Dan Heng stared at him incredulously. “Did you seriously forget again?”

Shit. Just when Blade thought the day couldn't get any worse, he now had to go to that stupid party. He didn't even know why he said yes in the first place.

Blade laid down on his bed, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Can’t we just stay?” He would prefer to spend another night with him a million times over rather than drinking in a fancy house on the outskirts of the city.

“I’ve already told Sampo we’re going,” Dan Heng smiled compassionately, “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Of course, he was just saying that to make him feel better. Blade could already imagine how the night would go: they would probably play some stupid game, get ridiculously drunk, and then someone would throw up on the floor and the party would be over. That absolutely sounded like fun .

He huffed. “Fine. Whatever.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dan Heng said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Blade was clearly not excited. “See you tonight.”

Blade waited until Dan Heng had left the apartment before glancing back at his phone. 

Now, what the heck was he supposed to do with this thing?

(...)

Work today was exceptionally boring. Only three customers had shown up in the first two hours of his shift, and he still had another two hours left. Luocha kept pretending to clean something, so that it wouldn't look like he was slacking off at work—Dan Heng had gotten tired already of polishing the counter for the third time in a row. If this kept going, he might just fall asleep.

“This might be the first time I've actually hoped for someone to walk in,” Luocha sighed. He sank into a chair, finally giving up on the pretense of being useful.

Dan Heng joined him at last. “Me too.”

His boss wasn't there at the moment. Well, actually, he wasn't around most of the time; or at least, they couldn't see him. He sometimes seemed like an omnipresent entity. He always showed up whenever either of them wasn't doing their jobs, even if it was just for a brief second. It had to be some kind of curse.

Luocha gestured towards the hallway. “I need to use the bathroom real quick. Can you cover for me?”

Dan Heng nodded. There was almost no one there, after all.

Luocha walked away, leaving him alone at the counter. The only other person left in the cafeteria was an elderly man who had been sipping his black coffee for two hours straight, reading the newspaper as if they were still in the nineties. Dan Heng wondered how much coffee he had left.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and quickly pulled it out, somewhat hoping that it was a message from Blade. At least that would entertain him for a while.

And it was.

Blade

Why is there a message of some lady saying she wants to see me?

Dan Heng frowned at the text. Certainly not what he was expecting to get from him.

Dan Heng

What do you mean?

Blade

I don’t know. I was on the internet and the message just popped up on my screen. I thought you’d know.

Dan Heng tried to come up with an explanation. Since he’d only put his own number into Blade's phone, there was no way it could be someone in his contacts. Maybe someone else already found his number. Or maybe…

Then, it hit him.

Dan Heng

What were you doing before?

Blade

I was just trying to watch a movie. Why?

Dan Heng

Is the lady naked?

Blade

What… yes. How the hell did you know that?

Dan Heng smiled at the screen. He got him.

Dan Heng

That’s a porn virus, Blade.

Blade

What the fuck

I swear I wasn’t doing anything

How do I get that shit off?

Dan Heng had to fight back a laugh. Oh, how he wished he could see his face right now.

Dan Heng

Just close the window and don’t click the message. It should be fine.

It took Blade a few extra seconds to answer. Dan Heng wondered if his phone had already been hacked—but then, another message popped up.

Blade

I already clicked it

Dan Heng

What?

Why would you do that?

Blade

I thought it was real, okay? How the fuck was I supposed to know what it actually was

Seriously, how did he fall for that? It was the oldest trick in the book. But then again, Blade didn't know any tricks when it came to technology. Maybe he was right on acting like an old man—he certainly seemed like one at times.

Dan Heng smirked teasingly. He would never miss the opportunity to mock him.

Dan Heng

Oh, so you wanted to meet up with her?

Blade

Of course not.

Stop laughing at me, asshole. You put me in this suffering.

Dan Heng

Don’t be so dramatic.

Blade

So what the hell should I do?

He thought about it for a second.

Dan Heng

Maybe don’t touch anything else. And just… restart your phone.

Blade

You never taught me how to do that.

Well, in his defense, he didn't really think that Blade could manage to get a virus on his phone in just a few hours. Clearly, he had underestimated him.

Dan Heng

I can’t teach you everything. You’ve got to learn some things for yourself.

Blade

You’re a bad teacher.

Dan Heng

I’m not.

Just keep pressing the power button. It’ll show up eventually.

Blade

Ok. I’m going to do that now.

He was about to turn off his phone when another message showed up on his screen.

Blade

Just to let you know that I hate you, in case my phone gets hacked.

Dan Heng didn't even feel the smile on his face.

Dan Heng

Love you too

“Who’s that? Your boyfriend?” Luocha asked from behind. Dan Heng didn’t even notice that he’d already returned from the bathroom. “Get back to work. Someone just walked in.”

He put away his phone.

This wasn’t the first time Blade was mistaken for his boyfriend. During their high school days, there was a time when someone spread a rumor about them being a couple. Everyone had heard about it, including the teachers. Some girls even came up to him to ask him for details, to which he never knew what to answer. As time passed and nothing happened between them, others lost interest and eventually stopped bothering them. Dan Heng didn't really mind when that happened; after all, Blade was his best friend. Better him than someone else. Besides, it’s not like he actually liked him. They were just good friends.

A tall woman walked up the counter. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, dressed in a tight office-style uniform. She peered at him through her sunglasses and offered a kind smile.

“Hello, darling,” her voice carried a bit of a flirtatious tone, but not in the romantic sense. It just seemed like her natural way of speaking. “Can I get a black coffee with no sugar, if that’s okay?”

Dan Heng blinked. She was talking to him.

“Uh… yes. Of course.”

He followed the order, feeling her piercing purple eyes tracking his every move from behind. A shiver ran down Dan Heng's spine. He wasn't used to being watched like that.

“Here it is,” he placed the black coffee in front of her. “Be careful. It’s really hot.”

Her rosy lips curved into a gentle smile. Carefully, she put a bill on the counter and grabbed the coffee with her free hand, paying no mind to the steaming heat. Once again, her eyes locked onto his.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, turning to leave, “It was a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Dan Heng frowned. He had never seen this woman in his life. How could she know him?

Just as he was about to ask, a familiar fragrance reached his senses. It was sweet. Fresh.

Lavender.  

It was the exact same scent he found in his apartment when he came back from work last time. Could it be…?

No, it didn’t make sense. Dan Heng brushed it off. It could be just a coincidence. Maybe she had visited the cafe before and he simply didn't remember her. He had quite a few clients. Besides, even if it wasn't a coincidence, Blade's dating life was none of his concern.

He proceeded to polish the counter for the fourth time, pushing aside the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

When Dan Feng told him that he was going to make him the greatest swordsman there is, he really wasn't lying. 

The following months proved to be the toughest of his entire life. Yingxing had always been the best at everything he did—top-notch student in his class, unmatched in sword fighting. His life had been filled with triumphs. Compliments about how he was a genius. He never had to try hard in his life, not even once. Therefore, experiencing defeat for the first time wasn't something he expected to enjoy, but surprisingly, he did. 

He enjoyed losing to Dan Feng because it was a challenge. A rival on his level, capable of making him sweat with just a single swing of his sword. That’s all he ever wanted—a merciless opponent. Someone who wouldn't mind hurting him to make him better. Yingxing didn't mind the pain if it meant reaching the top. But because of that, things had been exceptionally tough for him. During these last seven months of training, Yingxing had bled, sweated, and faced defeat more times than in his entire life.

But it was all worth it.

However, that night was different to the rest. There was no knock on his door from Dan Feng for a quick night training; nor a surprise match to test his skills, something he used to do quite frequently. 

Instead, all Dan Feng did was invite him for a cup of tea. That was far scarier than anything else he had done before.

He knocked twice on the door, feeling a bit nervous. Everything’s fine, he had to remind himself. At least, that’s what he hoped.

In just a few minutes, Dan Feng stood before him. His hair was down, a cascade of dark strands flowing gracefully to his sides. He was dressed in what seemed like his pajamas—a long, plain white robe that hung loosely over his body. The V-shaped neckline exposed a portion of his collarbone, where a small scar caught Yingxing’s eye. He wondered how he got it.

“Yingxing,” the warmth in Dan Feng’s voice whenever he spoke his name was something he always liked. “It’s really late. Did I wake you up?”

“Not at all.” 

Sleeping well at night was a luxury he couldn't afford. His training had conditioned him to be alert at all times, which meant he never really fell asleep. As the saying goes, ‘always sleep with one eye open.’

At least this time, he had a good excuse for his insomnia.

“Then, I’m glad,” Dan Feng’s voice was gentle. Caring. “Please, come in.”

He took off his shoes, leaving them by the door. Even then, he was still taller than Dan Feng.

“What kind of tea do you like?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

Yingxing looked at his surroundings, although he had already been there hundreds of times. The room appeared somewhat bare, with almost no furniture and one single painting hanging on the dark oak walls. Dan Feng didn't care much about interior design, and it was evident in his home. He breathed in the scent of herbs and honey that filled the air.

He paused, remembering it was his turn to answer. “Uh… I don’t really drink tea that much.”

“I see.” Dan Feng poured himself a cup. It did smell good though. “What do you usually drink, then?”

Yingxing could tell that something was wrong. Dan Feng wasn’t the same as always. While he was usually this composed and well-behaved, it was different—a dangerous calmness. Like the calm before the storm.

“Could you please tell me what's wrong?” he asked, growing uncomfortable at the uncertainty, “I suppose you didn't call me at this hour just to talk about tea.”

Yingxing still remembered the day they first met. It happened right in this very room, with Dan Feng pointing his sword at his throat, pledging all the greatness he had longed for. He still remembered his eyes, the way they sparkled in the dim light of the room. He could tell now, just by the look of it, that it wasn't going to be anything good.

“I can’t keep teaching you,” he said.

Yingxing stared at him like he was joking. He had to be. Only seven months had passed since then, not even a fraction of the time needed to really train a swordsman. But he knew very well that Dan Feng was completely serious. “What do you mean?”

“There's nothing more you can learn from me,” he explained. Although it wasn't a breakup or anything similar, it certainly felt like one. “So, I release you. You may now go wherever you want, work for whoever you desire. You’re free, Yingxing.”

You’re free. Those were the last words Yingxing wanted to hear. He’d never wanted to be free—if anything, it was quite the opposite. Dan Feng should’ve known that by now. Was he putting a test on him?

“I won’t go anywhere else,” he stated. “I want to stay here.”

“But you can’t,” Dan Feng's eyes showed no emotion. Either he didn't care at all, or he was making a considerable effort to hide what he truly felt. “I can't keep you anymore.”

Dan Feng turned around, delivering those final words without meeting his gaze.

“You were my best student, Yingxing.”

He knew what that meant: it was a subtle way of saying, they would never see each other again. A silent farewell. If he walked out that door now, their relationship would come to an end. Yingxing wasn’t prepared for that. The past seven months by his side had been the best of his life. How could he throw all that away? How could he not care?

He looked at him as he walked away. He had to do something. Stop him. It didn’t matter how. Yingxing was willing to do anything to make him stay.

So, he moved a few steps forward and grabbed his hand—it was a desperate act, almost like a plea. With that simple gesture, he had already crossed numerous codes and limits that might well result in punishment. But he didn’t care. Yingxing was ready for a slap, but instead of that, Dan Feng turned his head, and those green eyes finally looked at him. 

He opened his mouth, feeling his throat go dry and his heart pound in his chest. Now, it was clear what he had to do. It had always been clear.

“I want to work for you.”

For a brief moment, Dan Feng just stared at him in silence. He didn’t seem surprised, but rather hesitant. However, Yingxing had never been more certain.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked.

Yingxing swallowed. “Yes.”

Under the dim room light, Dan Feng’s countenance sharpened, his green eyes taking on an almost emerald hue. A single sentence left his mouth, yet it carried the weight of a hundred words. “It’s rotten work.”

Yingxing already knew this. He’d already thought about it, long before today, all the things it’d take to work for someone like him. He would become a murderer. And if not that, then something worse—his accomplice.

“I don’t care,” he said.

Dan Feng’s eyes swept over his face, as if he was just seeing him for the very first time. “Would you die for me?”

That was an easy question. “Yes.”

“Would you pledge allegiance to me, and me alone, for the entirety of your life?”

“I would.”

Dan Feng hesitated, as if he was searching for an excuse, trying to convince him not to do it. But he wouldn't. “If you were ever going to leave me, I would have to kill you,” he warned.

Yingxing should have been scared. Terrified, even. A death at the hands of a general would be anything but kind, no matter how much Dan Feng cared about him. Maybe he should have taken the opportunity to leave while he had the chance. It was definitely too late now. But if he were ever to die, he thought, he wanted it to be at Dan Feng’s hands.

Something similar to a smile played on his lips. “So be it.”

Dan Feng stood there, unfazed. He shut his eyes for a moment, reflecting on what to do, and then opened them again.

“Take off your shirt.”

Yingxing obeyed as Dan Feng turned his back to him. It wasn't until he stood there, bare-chested, that he realized how cold the room actually was. It had stopped smelling of herbs and sweet honey—now it smelled like burning fire and hot coal.

When Dan Heng returned, he was carrying something in his hands. A hot iron.

“Turn around,” he asked, “and get on your knees.”

It was a loyalty test.

He bit his tongue, waiting for the burn. He had sworn not to make any sound. This is what he wanted, after all. And he would take it without complaining. But instead of pain, he felt gentle fingers tracing down the back of his neck, caressing—perhaps studying the area. It sent shivers down his spine. The touch stopped right below it.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said. Yingxing kept his head down, red eyes fixed on the ground. He really wished he could see the expression on his face at that moment. “Do you want this?”

He had never been so sure of his response.

“More than anything.”

The next thing he felt was a burning fire pressing against the skin of his neck.

(...)

Present-Day

Blade stared into the mirror, at the spot where Dan Heng's mark should have been. The skin around there looked empty without it, meaningless. At first, it hurt like hell—he could vividly recall that night, lying awake and rubbing ointment over his burning skin, seeking for some relief. He would stare at the red mark on the back of his neck wondering what the scar would look like. As time passed, the pain slowly faded away, and all that was left was a sense of honor. Of compromise.

Over the years, he had worn that mark like a trophy. It gave him a sense of belonging; something to be proud of.

And now, it was gone.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Dan Heng’s concerned voice reached him through the door. “You've been in there for about an hour. I'm starting to worry you might’ve passed out or something.”

Blade let out a sigh. Maybe that wouldn’t have been too bad. At least, he’d have an excuse to skip tonight’s party. “I’m still here.”

He stepped out of the bathroom, and there stood Dan Heng, dressed in the clothes they had bought together the other day. Only, this time, Dan Heng looked even more stunning in them. He quickly noticed the delicate red line beneath his blue eyes. It had been such a long time since he last saw Dan Heng wearing makeup that Blade had nearly forgotten how good he looked with it.

“Do I look weird?” Dan Heng asked, picking up on the way Blade was staring at him. “I haven’t worn makeup in so long.”

“You look great,” he admitted. ‘Beautiful ’ would’ve been a more fitting word to describe him. “Are your friends coming?”

He nodded. “They’ll be here at any second.”

Since neither of them could drive, Stelle volunteered to give them a ride to the party. She had a somewhat old and small car, but at least it still ran—better than taking the bus. The party venue would be hosted in a big house outside the city, so paying for a taxi would be too expensive for them, especially with Dan Heng's modest salary and Blade's non-existent one.

Dan Heng studied his face for a moment, his brow slightly furrowing. “Are you going like that?”

He raised an eyebrow. Blade didn’t know what he meant by ‘that’. He wasn’t looking any different. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing. I just thought you’d put on makeup or something.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. I don’t even know how.”

Dan Heng’s eyes twinkled, as they always did when something excited him. “I can do it for you.”

Blade hesitated. He didn’t really care about how he looked—that was more of a Dan Heng thing than his. But saying yes would mean being close to him. Being touched by him. That was something he clearly wanted to avoid.

“I probably won’t look good in it.”

Dan Heng rolled his eyes. “That’s not true.”

Blade looked away. He was running out of excuses quite fast. “But your friends…”

“It won't take long,” he assured, grabbing a small box filled with makeup and placing it in front of him. Blade had no idea what any of that was—it all looked identical to him. Dan Heng settled on the floor, gesturing for Blade to join him. “Come here.”

Blade eventually gave up and sat down beside him. The makeup box rested between them, leaving a bit of space. He was thankful for that.

“Let me see your face.”

Two fingers landed on his chin, gently guiding his face from side to side. Blade simply let him, fixing his gaze anywhere but on him. The dirt on the floor. The clothes piled on his bed. The tiny star stickers on the ceiling, glowing softly in the dark—they had been there since they first arrived at the apartment, and neither of them had the heart to remove them, so they were still there after a year.

Dan Heng rummaged through his things and pulled out a small red box. “What would you like?”

“Uh…” Blade didn't know that he could choose. He was just following Dan Heng. “I don’t know. Maybe… something like yours.”

“As you wish. Any particular color?”

“Black.” 

That's obvious. It's not like he ever wore any other color.

He waited to feel the brush on his skin, but it never came. Instead, he heard Dan Heng’s voice close to his face once again. “Blade,” he called softly, “I need you to look at me.”

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet Dan Heng’s. Each time he looked at his face, he was struck by how similar he was to Dan Feng. Even the way he called his name carried the same warmth, as if it were something to be treated with care. Maybe things would have been simpler for him if the two of them looked like two entirely different people. Maybe then, even for a single moment, he could forget he was standing before the person he had loved the most—and still did.

“Is it better?” he asked, just as carefully.

Dan Heng nodded. “Now, hold still.”

Blade admired Dan Heng’s face as he focused on doing his makeup: the subtle furrow of his brow and the slight parting of his lips, with the tip of his tongue peeking through. All the things he liked about Dan Feng were still there. Haunting him.

Maybe the real curse wasn’t the memories he recovered, but the feelings that remained untouched even after he died. A love condemned to stay forever buried.

“I think that’s it,” Dan Heng smiled, looking proud of his work. He pulled out a small hand mirror and handed it to him. “Take a look. What do you think?”

He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were now outlined by a thin black line around them, lending them a redder, sharper look. Surprisingly, it looked quite good on him. Maybe Dan Heng did know what he was doing after all.

Still, Blade didn’t want to fully admit it. “It’s… not bad.”

Dan Heng let out a loud snort. “You look really good. You can say it.” 

Suddenly, Dan Heng’s cell phone screen lit up. He glanced at it, opening his eyes. “Oh, wait. They’re already here.”

They both left the apartment complex. As expected, an old blue Nissan was parked right there, waiting for them. Stelle honked twice, not caring that it was late at night and the entire street was sleeping. Leaning out of the lowered window, she called out to them. “Hop on, suckers.”

Blade already regretted it. It’ll be a long night.

March was already in the back seat, sitting next to the window. She was wearing a bright pink dress that matched perfectly with her hair. She greeted them with a cheerful smile. “Hey guys! Good to see you. And Blade, good to see you too.”

Blade nodded in greeting. Out of all Dan Heng's friends, he liked her the most, especially since she’d always been nice to him even if Blade was sometimes not-so-nice. That’s just the way he was. His relationship with Stelle, on the other hand, was a whole different story—she used to be a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes. She’d always tease him with the tiniest of things, and Blade was quite easy to annoy, so they didn't always get along very well.

As the two climbed into the back seat, Blade noticed there was someone else in the car with them. A face he didn’t recognize.

The boy seated beside Stelle turned around, his honey-colored eyes locking onto Dan Heng. Blade grimaced without noticing. “Hey, good to see you again,” he said, then turned his gaze towards him with a hint of uncertainty. “So, you must be Blade, right? The roommate. I’m Caelus. Nice to meet you.”

Blade didn't return the feeling. ‘The roommate’? He had to stop himself from snorting. Who the hell was he?

Beneath them, the car engine roared. Stelle peered at them through the rearview mirror. “Comfortable back there?” Without waiting for a response, she added, “Well then, let’s get going.”

Blade tried to get comfortable but failed. The car wasn't big enough for all three of them to fit  in the back, yet there they were. Blade's head grazed the ceiling, causing him to shrink a little, his body pressed tightly against the door. Meanwhile, Dan Heng sat between March and him—if he was uncomfortable too, he didn't let it show.

March wore a broad, nervous smile on her face. “I’m so excited! Do you think a lot of people will be there?”

Blade certainly hoped not.

Stelle’s voice came from the front seat. “I mean, it’s Sampo. You know him. He’s probably gonna pack that place until it explodes.”

“I don’t really like how that sounds,” Caelus said, a hint of concern in his voice. “Hope I don’t die in there.”

“If you've managed to live this long being so stupid, I think you're gonna be just fine.”

Caelus snorted. “Fuck you.”

Blade gazed out of the window as the car buzzed with lively conversation. He wasn't very talkative. It was always a challenge to know what to say while surrounded by a group of people, so he much preferred to remain silent. Listening. Or sometimes not even that. It's not like he actually cared.

Dan Heng had also been very quiet this entire time. Just as Blade was about to ask, he felt a slight bump on his shoulder.

Dan Heng's head lay on his side. He’d fallen asleep. Blade held his breath, trying to be as still as possible so as not to wake him. Dan Heng had quite a bit of trouble falling asleep; usually, even during classes, he would stay up late to prepare for his exams. He rarely allowed himself more than an hour or two of sleep. Blade didn't get how he could do that. It seemed as though his body was trained to fight sleep, regardless of how tired he was. Well, he knows how that feels.

Blade stared at his face. This might be the only chance to watch him sleep so comfortably. The gentle touch of his dark eyelashes against his cheek. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath. His pink lips, ones he would have killed to kiss. It was a mystery how he always looked so effortlessly good, even asleep.

“So, uh, Blade,” Caelus paused to think. Blade looked at him impassively, annoyed that he was talking to him. “How long have you two known each other?

For far more years than you could ever imagine. “For about ten years.”

Caelus gasped. “That's a really long time. You guys must be quite close, then.”

Blade stayed still as he felt Dan Heng move, but he didn't wake up. Perhaps he didn't care much about Caelus, but there was something else he did care about. “How did you meet Dan Heng?” he asked.

“Oh, we met in the cafeteria some time ago. Then, we bumped into each other again at the pharmacy. What a coincidence, huh?”

The jacket guy. He felt his own stomach turn at the realization. He was really hoping it might be Stelle—she usually dressed in a slightly more casual style. Even now, she was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a plain white shirt for a party.

“So, are you two friends?” Blade wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. However, not knowing wasn't much better either.

Caelus shyly looked away. “Well… I hope so.”

He liked him. Blade could tell. His expression gave him right away.

Dan Feng had multiple lovers in the past. It was nothing new. Blade would often find him in the company of different men and he’d just look the other way. Even if it hurt, he accepted it as part of his promise to serve him. However, the thought of Dan Heng dating someone now caused Blade's heart to painfully twist in his chest. He didn't know why exactly, but it just felt worse than before.

“I’ve heard many good things about you,” Caelus said. Blade knew he meant good. He really did. But God, he hated it. He hated all of it. “I hope we can get along.”

He didn’t answer. If he had, it would have been with a lie.

(...)

“Hey,” he woke up to the sound of Blade’s soft voice. “We’re here.”

Dan Heng slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t even notice he had fallen asleep. There was no one else in the car, except for Blade, who was leaning over his seat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Dan Heng was still a bit disoriented, trying to recognize his surroundings with narrowed eyes. “Was I asleep the whole trip?”

Blade smirked mockingly. “Yeah. My shoulder is a bit sore, but it’s fine.”

A faint blush tinted his cheeks. Did he sleep on Blade the whole time? His voice came out as a whisper. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“It seemed like you needed to rest,” he said. “Come on. Party’s waiting.”

Dan Heng eventually got out of the car. The others stood under the moonlight, shivering in the middle of the street. It was a chilly night. Fortunately, he had Caelus’ jacket with him—he had brought it with the intention of returning it to him, but perhaps he would keep it for a little longer.

“Let’s get going, please,” March begged. Her dress was not long enough to shield her from the freezing cold. “I feel like I’m gonna freeze to death.”

They started making their way toward the immense house. City lights twinkled in the distance, like tiny, glistening stars in the night sky. Even from several meters away, he could feel the booming of the speakers. The music was quite loud. Dan Heng hoped he wouldn’t go deaf so young.

“Your friend is pretty scary.”

Dan Heng turned, and there was Caelus, walking beside him with his hands tucked in his pockets. One of his eyebrows arched involuntarily.

“Are you talking about Blade?” he questioned with a hint of disbelief. That’s absurd. In all the years he's known him, not once did he consider Blade to be intimidating. In fact, it was quite the opposite. “He’s not scary at all.”

“Yeah, he is. You just don’t notice it ‘cause he’s your friend,” Caelus countered. “He’s got that… intense look in his eyes. Like he’s ready to kill me. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overreacting.”

As if he needed to check it out for himself, Dan Heng glanced at Blade. He spotted him walking ahead with Stelle by his side, seemingly teasing him. He just ignored her.

Well, maybe he could come off as a bit intimidating sometimes. Dan Heng had never really thought about it, likely because he’d been best friends with Blade for years and had been there during each one of his phases, watching him grow from a douchebag teenager to a grumpy adult. He still remembered that time in high school when Blade temporarily took in a stray cat, and he’d find him sleeping curled up with it every night; or the time Dan Heng hurt his knee, and Blade patched it up with a SpongeBob Band-Aid because it was the only one he had on hand. How could he ever find that scary?

But as he observed Blade more closely, he kind of understood. Blade was quite tall and always wore that cold, distant look in his eyes. He rarely smiled around other people. Anyone who met him would probably think Blade didn't like them, so it was expected that Caelus would think so, too.

“I’m sure it’s not like that,” he reassured. “You just need to get to know him better.”

Caelus shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Suddenly, Dan Heng realized he was still wearing his jacket. “I forgot to return your jacket last time. Do you want it back?”

“Nah, just keep it,” he said, grinning. “It suits you better, anyway.”

Dan Heng smiled back.

The huge entrance of the house welcomed them in, immediately embraced by a soothing warmth. The place was bathed in the glow of fluorescent lights, flickering pink, then purple, then red. Two lengthy stairs led to the second floor, positioned at both ends of the room: in the middle, a group of drunk people jumped and danced with plastic cups brimming with beer, all to the pulsating beats of electronic music. Dan Heng felt a little dizzy just at the sight of it.

Someone’s hand grabbed his own. It was March’s. “Don’t get lost!” she shouted into his ear, her words fighting to be heard over the blaring music.

They went through the crowd until they reached a long couch further inside the house. Sampo was there with some of his friends, clearly drunk. The moment he caught sight of them, he got up to greet them, staggering a bit on the way. “ Heyyy. I’m so glad you could make it! Shit’s crazy, right?” he stumbled over his words a little.

Stelle wrinkled her nose. “You’re seriously fucked up.”

“Hey, don’t be mean. I’m totally fine,” Sampo whined. Then, he looked around as if he was lost. “Where’s my man Blade? He didn’t come?”

What was he talking about? Of course he did. Blade was right behind them just a moment ago.

Dan Heng turned around, looking for him.

He… wasn’t there.

“Oh, shit,” Stelle blurted out, eyes widening. “We’ve lost Blade.”

(...)

He never should’ve come here in the first place.

Blade didn't even register the moment he lost sight of the others. He was just trying to walk through the crowd, following right behind Stelle, when he accidentally bumped into someone. Then, when he turned around, the others had disappeared. Fucking great. The night just couldn't be better.

He suddenly remembered that he now had a phone and took it out of his pocket. He looked for his chat with Dan Heng and tried to send a message. No signal. Of course. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Remaining calm, he walked over to one of the stairs and stood there, next to a couple passionately making out on one of the steps. Gross. Next, he tried to pick out some of his friends in the crowd; among the many bouncing heads, none seemed to belong to any of them. March’s hair should’ve stood out from the rest, making her easy to spot. But she was nowhere to be found.

Blade sighed, taking a moment to just sit.

“Hey,” a playful voice called from behind him. “Are you lost?”

Blade glanced over his shoulder to find Jing Yuan standing behind him, holding a can of beer. An amused grin played on his lips, as if he was delighted by the whole situation. Were the gods punishing him a second time?

He lent him a cold, emotionless stare. “Do I look lost to you?”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “Honestly, you look like you don’t even want to be here.”

Well, he was right about that. Blade really wanted to get the fuck out of this place. But not without getting Dan Heng first.

“Why are you here?” he asked, raising an accusatory eyebrow. “It feels like you are stalking me.”

Jing Yuan took a long sip of his beer. The fluorescent lights above them flickered yellow, matching his honey-coloured eyes. Blade noticed that he had all of his hair down, falling heavily onto his shoulders. He’d never seen him wearing his hair like that before.

Then, Jing Yuan smirked. “Well, actually, this is my house.”

Blade blinked, followed by a moment of silence.

“Wait, what?” The information finally sunk in. “You fucking live here?”

“Well, not exactly. This is just my family’s ‘getaway’ house,” he explained carefully. “We come here whenever we feel like escaping the city.”

Blade took a minute to study his surroundings: the lengthy staircase they were on, the luxurious burgundy furniture scattered throughout the room, and the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He couldn’t quite grasp the idea that all of this belonged to him. In their past lives, none of this would have seemed remotely possible.

So, he’s rich in this life. It actually made sense—that explained why he always wore that arrogant expression on his face.

Blade crossed his arms. “So I’m guessing your parents don't know shit about this.”

Jing Yuan shrugged. “I don’t think they would even care. They’re not in town, anyway.”

“Don't you care if this place gets trashed?” he asked, genuinely confused. “There’s literally a couple about to fuck on the stairs. I don’t think that should be allowed.”

Jing Yuan laughed, as though he had just cracked a really funny joke. Blade simply stared at him, trying to recall the last time he heard that laugh. A really long time ago. It tugged at his heart a little.

“Shall I escort you to the others?” he asked once he calmed down. “It’ll probably take you a while to find them on your own. Unless, of course, you want to stay here and enjoy the show.” His gaze went to the couple a few steps away from them.

Blade quickly stood next to him. “No, thanks.”

“Follow me, then,” another playful grin played on his lips as he added, “and don’t get lost this time.”

Blade snorted. “Fuck off.”

They stepped around the couple, making their way to the other end of the room. This time, it was easier for Blade to keep up with him; he wasn't someone easy to lose sight of. Jing Yuan was notably tall, towering over the others, and his thick hair made him stand out in the crowd. In a flash, they’d already crossed the room, approaching a group of people gathered at the back.

All his friends were there, and a wave of relief washed over him as he spotted them. His gaze swept over each familiar face. Gepard, the one from the other night, was also there, sober as a rock. His eyes searched for Dan Heng, and when they found him, it turned out he was already looking back at him. He was fine. That’s all that mattered to him. 

Just as he was about to smile at him, his attention shifted to the person next to him— Caelus. His arm rested casually over his shoulders, hanging loosely at his side. Suddenly, he leaned down to whisper something in his ear, wearing a goofy smile on his face. His stomach turned.

“Here he is!” Sampo appeared out of nowhere next to him, throwing himself onto his shoulders. Blade shifted uncomfortably under his weight. They weren't even that close. “I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”

He grunted under his breath. “Get the hell off me.”

“As grumpy as ever,” Sampo sighed, as if the situation was truly exhausting. “How do you expect to get a girlfriend with that attitude? Or boyfriend. I don't judge.”

Jing Yuan carefully took the beer from his hands. Blade silently thanked him. He was on the verge of punching him in the face, feeling really pissed off for some reason. “Hey, buddy. Maybe we should ease up a bit on the drinking.”

“Don't be a party pooper,” he complained, sounding like a child throwing a tantrum. “C’mon. It’s time for a game.”

Blade sighed and took a seat across from Dan Heng, making a conscious effort not to look at him. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing him so close to Caelus once again.

Since Jing Yuan had taken away his beer earlier, Sampo picked up another one from the table. “So, does everyone have their drinks?”

Gepard snorted heavily. “Are we going to play another round of truth or dare?”

“Nope. Now it’s time for Never Have I Ever.”

Blade grabbed a can of beer. Since he had gotten pretty drunk last time, he decided to be more cautious this time. There were about ten people, all sitting in a circle on the ground, waiting for the game to start. Sampo popped open his can with a loud click and glanced around the table.

“Let's start with an easy one,” he said, smirking. “Never have I ever kissed someone.”

Everyone around the table took a sip.

The game kicked off with easy questions that made everyone drink—likely to get them a bit tipsy before the real fun began. Someone brought up getting into a fistfight with someone, and Blade was among the few who took a drink. After all, the things he had done in his past life still counted, even if he was no longer Yingxing. 

As time passed, the questions got more and more personal. Questions about love. Girls. Breakups. Stuff Blade didn’t really like talking about, especially with Dan Heng being there.

An unknown face spoke this time. “Let’s make things interesting. Never have I ever had sex.”

Blade took a sip of his beer, not paying too much attention. But then, he felt Dan Heng’s eyes staring at him a bit too intently, and suddenly he remembered —Blade hadn’t had sex in this life. That was Yingxing. And, of course, Dan Heng had no idea about that. It's not like he was forced to share every single detail about his life with him, but they were best friends. Dan Heng had told him about his first time when they were teenagers, yet Blade never said anything. But now, he absolutely knew about it.

He swallowed, wishing for the first time he was drunk.

At the table, Sampo clutched his stomach with one hand, looking quite bad. Perhaps even worse than last time. He really shouldn't keep drinking.

It was March's turn now. She seemed quite drunk as well, wearing a bubbly smile on her face. “Oh, I got one! Never have I ever… been in love.”

Blade squeezed tightly the can in his hand. That's not the question he was expecting.  

It was easy for him to talk about sex. Sex could be done without love, with someone you didn't truly care about. It was all about reciprocity: you give something, and they give something in return. Love, on the other hand, was different. It wasn't as mechanical, simple, or reciprocal. And it was painful.

Blade glanced at Dan Heng, perhaps hoping that he would drink, but he didn't.

Of course.  

Dan Heng had never been in love with him. He already knew that. So why did it upset him so much, now? What changed?

Blade brought the beer can to his lips, and just as he was about to take a sip, Sampo threw up on the floor—directly onto the expensive rug. Talk about bad timing. Those around him quickly stood up, walking away as if his vomit was radioactive or something. 

Even if the situation wasn’t exactly ideal, he had to thank Sampo’s excessive drinking habit for saving him from taking that sip.

He glanced at Jing Yuan, who was staring at the rug with a hopeless expression, as if he had just been sentenced to death.

“My parents are going to fucking kill me,” he muttered.

Blade didn’t doubt that.

(...)

As expected, the party ended immediately after that.

With everyone gone, the space felt bitterly hollow. Plastic cups were scattered across the floor along with spilled beer and traces of dirt. The neon lights continued to flash above them, but with no more music playing in the background, it just looked dull. Out of place, like lightning on a sunny day. Blade couldn't imagine having to clean up this place alone—he was grateful for the small apartment he shared with Dan Heng.

While the others were busy tidying up, Blade headed outside to get some fresh air. The cold wind ruffled his hair, but he didn't mind.

To his surprise, Dan Heng was out there too. He stood there with his back turned, gazing at the night landscape. The grasslands swayed gently in the wind, and a cricket's song echoed in the distance, filling the space with a persistent crick, crick, crick.  

Blade walked up to him from behind, reminiscing all the times he had watched Dan Feng's back before.

“Hey.”

Dan Heng turned his head and welcomed him with a warm smile. “Hey.”

Blade stood next to him and gazed at the night sky. Beyond the city's reach, the stars sparkled even more brightly, like small lanterns in the distance. Despite the chaos of tonight, this sight made it all feel worthwhile.

“What a night, huh?” he said, glancing at him from the side. “I never thought I’d see Sampo throwing up on a rug.”

Dan Heng chuckled. “Me neither.”

Something was definitely troubling him. Blade could see it in his face—he had that certain look in his eyes, the one he always wore when he’s trying too hard to focus on something else. He had seen it before back in high school, like that time he got a poor grade on a math test and was fighting against the tears. Dan Heng usually kept all of his problems to himself unless he asked first.

Blade tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to keep them warm. It was unusually cold that night. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Dan Heng seemed surprised that he even noticed. “It’s nothing.”

“You can’t lie to me,” Blade said. His voice was warm against the cold night. “I know you too well. Just tell me.”

They both shared a moment of silence, letting it settle between them. The stars twinkled in the sky like silent spectators. Whatever was troubling him clearly had a connection to Blade; otherwise, he wouldn't be so hesitant to tell him.

Suddenly, he heard Dan Heng's voice again, soft and low against the chirping of crickets. “You never mentioned it.”

Blade glanced at him, but Dan Heng actively avoided his gaze. “Mention what?”

“That you had sex.”

He stared at his feet, observing the dirt stains on his shoes. “It was a long time ago.”

For the first time, Dan Heng turned to face him. His blue eyes shimmered under the moonlight, a frown creasing his face. Blade wanted to kiss that frown away. Maybe he was a bit drunk. “Blade, I’ve known you for a long time. I just… I can’t understand why you never told me about it.”

He shrugged. “I just didn’t think it was that important.” 

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Blade didn’t really care about any of the people he had slept with in the past. It was just a one night thing, with no feelings in between. Simple. Forgettable .

“But it is,” he hesitated. Again, that troubled look in his eyes. Blade wished he could take all that away. “Sorry. I guess I was just worried that you don’t trust me enough to tell me these things.”

Oh, he had no idea. Blade would willingly confess to any crime if he asked. He would pour out his whole heart to him, except for this one thing. Dan Heng could never know about it—their shared past, his love for him. Things could end really badly if he did. So, Blade would take each of his secrets to the grave, until he was utterly rotten inside, just as he had already done in the past. And he’d do it all over again.

“You’re my best friend,” he said. And he meant it. “Who else would I trust, if not you?”

Dan Heng blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his words. However, he soon broke into a relieved smile, going back to how things always were. “You’re a jerk,” he teased, the playfulness back in his tone.

This.  

That is what Blade wanted to protect. Even if it meant his heart would shatter into pieces, he wanted to be by Dan Heng’s side. Seeing that smile, hearing his laugh—those were the things he longed for the most.

“I was being sweet,” he teased back. “Not my fault your heart is cold as stone.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Blade smiled as the two walked back to the big house. At least, he would try not to get his heart broken.

As the two stood next to Stelle's old car, now stained with dirt, Dan Heng turned to him. “So… how was it?”

Blade frowned, oblivious. “How was what?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” he sighed, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. Beautiful. “I mean the sex.”

Blade smirked, feeling already the subtle effects of alcohol on his body. Making him want to make a move. Something he really shouldn't do. It was a bit risky, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. “Why? Wanna know all the details?”

“Don’t be gross,” he snorted. “I was just wondering if I knew them.”

He did. But she’s probably dead now.

He hummed. “I don’t think so.”

“Hey guys,” Caelus appeared beside them, holding March in one of his arms while Stelle followed behind. She seemed completely sober. “We’re good to go. Just be careful with March back there. She’s pretty drunk.”

She mumbled incoherently into his arm. Blade could only hope that he wouldn't end up with vomit in his lap on the way back.

“What about Sampo?” Dan Heng asked.

“He’s gonna stay with Jing Yuan tonight,” Stelle said. “Poor guy.”

She wasn’t talking about Sampo.

Together, they helped March into the back of the car, while the others settled into their seats. The warmth of the car immediately embraced them as soon as they were all inside, leaving the cold of the night behind. Stelle turned on the radio, and an old pop song started playing through the old speaker. 

He felt Dan Heng’s head on his shoulder again, but this time, he just closed his eyes, letting sleep wash over him. The car’s engine roared beneath them.

That’s the moment he decided. This is okay, he thought. It was more of a hopeful affirmation. Yeah. I’m okay.

Chapter Text

Present-Day

“Don’t you think it would be nice to be on the beach right now?”

The old fan in the corner of the room screeched painfully. It was probably older than him, and Blade felt somewhat sorry for its whole existence. He turned his head, staring at Dan Heng. The two of them were lying in their own beds, almost suffocating in the heat of the room. They couldn’t really complain; after all, they weren’t paying for the apartment.

Blade chuckled. “I don’t think we can afford that. Look around.”

“I know. But just imagine,” Dan Heng raised his hands, gesturing towards the tiny glowing stars on the ceiling of their room. Blade stared at his fingers, twitching slightly, as if they were trying to reach them. “Being at the beach at night, the sky filled with stars. Lots of sand everywhere around you. The soothing sound of waves.”

Blade smiled a bit. “It does sound nice.”

He’s never been to the beach before. In the past, Dan Feng had told him about traveling together, but as expected, it never happened. Maybe, if they had survived the war, they could’ve gone to the beach together. It’s hard to say.

“We should do a trip together some day.”

Blade glanced at him, the words feeling all too familiar. It hurt a bit. “To the beach?”

Dan Heng nodded.

He smirked. “So you’re inviting me?”

“I’m not paying for you. Bring your own money.”

“Haven’t got a job.”

“Then get one,” he rolled his eyes. “Maybe you could work with me. At the cafeteria. We could use more people, anyway.”

“What, isn’t Luocha enough?” he teased.

Dan Heng chuckled. He had joked before about Luocha looking a bit lazy. He took breaks to smoke a bit too often. Either he did it on purpose, or he had a serious smoking problem. “Oh, shut up. Like you’d be better at it.”

Blade felt somewhat offended by that. “I’d obviously be better at it.”

“How about next time you come with me?” Dan Heng said with a smirk. Blade obviously had no idea what he was getting into, but he was too proud to back down now. “We’ll see how skilled you are.”

A sense of déjà vu swept over him. Where had he heard that before?

Before agreeing, he had to ask. “What about your boss?”

Dan Heng shrugged. “I think he’s taking a short vacation. Won’t be here for the next couple of days.”

“Fine. It’s a deal, then.”

“Deal.”

Then, Dan Heng sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.

“Should we lock our pinkies?” he asked. Blade chuckled at first, thinking he just made a joke. A silly joke. But then he noticed that he was being serious.

“I feel like we’re a bit old to do that.”

Dan Heng didn’t seem to care. “It won’t be a real promise unless we do.”

“That’s not…” he paused. A sigh left his lips. “Fine.”

Blade also sat on the edge of his bed, the tips of his feet meeting the cold floor. Although this all seemed a bit silly to him, he did it anyway. Dan Heng reached out, sticking out his pinkie. Waiting for him to do the same. Blade stared at it for a few seconds, shook his head, and joined his. For a few moments, they sat like that, just looking at each other with their fingers linked.

Suddenly, they heard knocking on the door. They both turned their heads at the same time, their fingers parting. Blade immediately missed the contact.

He stood up, trying to shake off that feeling. “I’ll get it.”

Much to their surprise, it was Sampo who stood behind the door. They hadn’t seen him since the party, and Blade kind of assumed he was dead. There was a pair of green, round sunglasses atop his head that looked kind of silly on him.

“Oh, you’re alive,” he mocked. 

Sampo just ignored him. How rude.

“Hey, I see you two are free right now,” he said with a smile, tilting his head to peer inside. Dan Heng stared back. “We’re heading to the community pool with a few friends. Wanna join us?”

Blade actually hated the community pool. It was too much for him—the strong smell of chemicals, the chaos of children running around and stumbling over one another. The constant barking of the lifeguard. He couldn’t understand how anyone could have fun in a place like that. 

“Not really,” he muttered. “Have fun. Bye.”

Blade closed the door.

Dan Heng stared at him as he walked back to his bed. “Why did you say no?”

“Because the community pool sucks,” he said matter-of-factly. Blade sat back down and looked at him. “You’re not going to tell me you want to go, are you?”

He deadpanned. “I’m dying here.”

“Do you seriously want to swim in children’s pee?”

Dan Heng rolled his eyes. “It’s not children’s pee, Blade.”

“But children pee in there.”

“They clean the pool.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do they, really?”

“Look, if you don’t want to go, it’s fine. Just stay here,” Dan Heng said, getting up from the bed and heading towards the closet. “But I’m going.”

Blade let out a loud snort. Dan Heng really made things difficult for him. It was already obvious what he was going to do—he’d follow him there, because he always did, and it would suck. He already knew that. But he’d do it anyway, just because it was Dan Heng. He had followed him into this life, and now he’d follow him again to the fucking community pool.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’m going too.”

A satisfied smile played on Dan Heng’s lips. “It’ll be great. You’ll see.”

Blade didn’t answer. He said the same thing about the party, and we all know how that ended up.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Everyone knew.

He had underestimated how powerful Dan Feng’s influence actually was. Only a few weeks had passed since he started working for him, and people were already treating him differently. They no longer looked down on him. Now, when he entered a room, people would move out of his way. They’d glance at him and mutter Dan Feng’s name under their breath as if it were a forbidden word. They knew about the mark. The wound on the back of his neck had healed by now, though the skin remained slightly swollen. It hadn’t fully taken shape yet, but with time, it would. At least it didn’t hurt anymore.

Yingxing really didn’t know what to do with all the attention he was getting.

He stood awkwardly in the corner of the lavishly decorated room. He was the only one without a drink in hand. He wasn’t allowed to drink during work hours, which, in his case, meant all the time. He was also not supposed to leave Dan Feng’s side at any moment, but he had specifically asked him to leave him alone with an ‘important guest’. Who knows what he meant by that.

And now, here he was, hiding away like a stray dog with no place to be.

The mansion belonged to someone significant, though Yingxing hadn’t bothered to ask who. Dan Feng attended gatherings like these almost every week, obligated by his position, but Yingxing loathed these kinds of events. He had no desire to speak to any of these people unless absolutely necessary.

His gaze flickered toward the grand doorway. It had been at least twenty minutes since he last saw Dan Feng. Should he go look for him? He wasn’t supposed to disobey orders, but it was also his job to stay by his side.

The longer he hesitated, the more uneasy he felt.

“He’s fine,” a man’s voice spoke from behind, smooth and laced with amusement. “He just went to pour himself another glass of wine.”

Yingxing turned around, his grip tightening on the sword’s handle.

The man before him didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed amused by the reaction. He was tall, dressed in opulent robes embroidered with gold, the fine details shimmering under the soft glow of the chandeliers. Evidently someone of importance, though Yingxing wasn’t sure how important. His long hair was loosely tied back in a half-ponytail, with unruly strands falling over his shoulders.

Both of his hands went up in surrender.

“I’m a friend.”

But he didn’t trust him.

“I don’t know you,” Yingxing admitted bluntly.

To his surprise, the man burst into laughter, earning curious stares from those in the room, as if they were witnessing an unique phenomenon.

He was clearly tipsy. A bit more than that, actually.

“So, Dan Feng doesn’t talk about me? That’s quite a disappointment.” The man shook his head, smiling crookedly. “But I do know who you are. Dan Feng has mentioned you before. Yingxing, am I correct?”

There was a brief hesitation before he nodded. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” The man extended a hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jing Yuan, general of the Luofu. An old colleague—and good friend—of Dan Feng.”

The title hit him like a wave.

General.

One of Dan Feng’s colleagues. One of his friends. And he had nearly drawn his sword against him. What in the world had he been thinking?

Yingxing stiffened, scrambling for composure. “I—I’m sorry, sir.”

He blinked. What a strange man.

“Should I just address you by your name, then?”

Jing Yuan’s lips curled into an easy smile. “I’d like that.”

As they spoke, two young women passed by, their curious gazes lingering for just a moment too long. It was then that Yingxing became aware of the attention on them. The entire room seemed to be watching, some discreetly whispering behind their glasses of wine, others openly staring. The weight of so many eyes prickled against his skin, and he shifted uncomfortably.

He felt Jing Yuan’s hand on his shoulder, a touch so brief that he could’ve easily imagined it.

“Shall we go for a walk?” He glanced around before adding, “It’s a bit crowded in here.”

Yingxing hesitated. He was meant to stay in a place where Dan Feng could easily find him. “I don’t…”

“Don’t stress over him too much. This area is guarded by soldiers,” he reassured. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

Yingxing wanted to take his word.

They left the room.

He walked alongside Jing Yuan, noticing the way others instinctively lowered their heads in silent acknowledgment as they passed. It made him wonder what kind of person he truly was.

At a glance, he didn’t seem particularly intimidating. In fact, there was an air of carelessness about him. The influence of alcohol made it even more pronounced, adding a slight clumsiness to his movements. If it weren’t for the people around, Yingxing would’ve probably believed that he was lying about his title.

Yet, one fact remained undeniable. Jing Yuan was a close friend of Dan Feng’s. And if there was one thing Yingxing knew for certain, it was that Dan Feng did not place his trust lightly. There had to be something beneath that lazy demeanor—some kind of strength, some kind of worth. Dan Feng wasn’t one to waste time on those who weren’t deserving of it. 

He knew that well enough.

“Were you the ‘important guest’ he talked about?” Yingxing asked as they walked.

Perhaps he should refrain from prying into Dan Feng’s personal life, but curiosity got the better of him.

Jing Yuan arched an eyebrow.

“Is that what he called me? How interesting,” a chuckle escaped his lips. “Seems like he still struggles with the word ‘friend’. But yes, I am. If you’re curious about our conversation, I might tell you.”

Yingxing frowned. “I’m not supposed to ask.”

But that didn’t stop him.

“We were talking about you, actually.”

At that, he paused.

“Oh... I see.”

Well, yes, he was intrigued now.

Jing Yuan smirked playfully, seeming satisfied with himself. “I figured that would pique your curiosity.”

They stopped by the stairs. Yingxing wouldn’t come down as long as Dan Feng remained on this floor, so he chose not to follow him. Jing Yuan didn’t insist on it either.

He stared at him from the staircase. His honey eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint under the dim lights of the room.

“You are special,” he muttered, careful, so as to not scare him. 

A low, sultry jazz tune hummed in the background. For a moment, Yingxing wondered if he had misheard him. “What?”

Jing Yuan’s smile deepened.

“He’s never taken any of his students to work for him before,” he mused, tilting his head slightly, eyes still fixed on Yingxing. “Until now, that is. So, there must be something special about you.” He let the words linger for a moment before adding, almost offhandedly, “Perhaps you and I should spar sometime. We’ll see just how skilled you really are.”

Yingxing felt his lips curve into a smirk. He never could resist a challenge, and sparring against a general certainly promised to be interesting.

“I can’t say no to that.”

Jing Yuan let out a low chuckle, waving his hand in a lazy farewell as he turned away. “Very well. See you soon.”

Yingxing watched as he disappeared down the hall, the faint echoes of his footsteps swallowed by the music. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

He should probably start looking for Dan Feng now.

(...)

Present-Day

The community pool was incredibly crowded, making it difficult for him to even walk. As soon as he stepped a foot inside, dressed in small black shorts and a plain t-shirt, the desire to turn around and leave struck him. Dan Heng walked ahead of him, firmly holding onto his wrist so that he couldn’t escape. He was trapped.

A little boy dashed past him, making him stumble. He grunted quietly. This really sucks. While he wasn’t usually too picky, he valued his personal space too much, and places like these brought out the worst in him. It brought back memories of those events he had to accompany Dan Feng every week: big mansions full of drunk, pretentious people, bubbly alcohol and boring conversations with guests. Only this was far less fancy.

“Hey!” Sampo’s voice rang in his ears. “Look who’s here.”

He has been spending more time with Sampo than he’d like, and he’s afraid he’ll start viewing him as a friend or something. He didn’t need any more friends; Dan Heng alone was enough. Blade stayed by his side, letting him speak for him.

Dan Heng forced a smile. “We’ll just hang out here for a while.”

“We’re okay with that,” he said, grinning at his friends. “Right, guys?”

A group of men around him nodded. Blade was only familiar with Gepard. Maybe they were closer than he thought at first.

Then, he spotted Jing Yuan reclining on a beach chair a few steps away. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and his head was tilted back, fluffy hair falling to either side of his head. A small amused smile played on his lips. Even though he still wasn’t overly fond of him, seeing him right now brought a certain relief to him. At least he had something to focus his attention on other than the lively crowd surrounding him, with children running and screaming like animals.

He felt Dan Heng get close to his ear. “Are you coming to the pool?”

Blade frowned, ignoring the slight tingle Dan Heng’s voice provoked in him. “I’d be insane if I did that.”

Dan Heng chuckled. “I’m going to call Stelle. Stay around.”

“I’m not going to run away, Dan Heng,” he said, a touch of sarcasm present in his voice. “You don’t need to keep me on a leash.”

He smirked teasingly. “Not sure about that.”

He watched him for a moment as he walked away, then quickly moved towards where Jing Yuan was, hoping it would distract him a little from whatever he was currently feeling.

He stood directly in front of him, blocking the sun with his body. “I see you’re still alive.”

With a smile, Jing Yuan lifted his head, his sunglasses still covering his eyes. “You don’t seem too thrilled about it.”

Blade sat down next to him. The sun burned him through his shirt, but he wasn’t going to take it off. Not around so many people. The missing scars on his body made him feel exposed, vulnerable, like a fragile thing. Before, the marks on his skin were proof that, despite being wounded, he could not break. But now he felt like he actually could, and it was terrifying. So he better just keep the shirt on.

“Should I be?”

Jing Yuan laughed. “You’re ruthless.”

“So, what happened with your parents?” Blade asked. It’s not like he was particularly interested, but he needed a distraction from his thoughts, and this was it. “Did Sampo offer them his soul in exchange for forgiveness, or something?”

A brief pause. 

“I took the blame.”

Blade blinked. “What?”

“I told them that I was the one who threw up on the rug. I mean, what else could I do?” he sighed tiredly. “Of course, I had Sampo clean it himself, at least. My parents didn’t take it all that badly, though they were pretty pissed. Guess I won’t be throwing parties anymore. Not that I actually care.”

Blade really didn’t expect that. That was quite… considerate of him. Perhaps he had the wrong idea of who Jing Yuan was in this life.

“Why do you seem so surprised?” Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, a gesture all too familiar to him. Then, he smirked. “Did you just find out that I’m actually a good guy?”

Blade rolled his eyes. There it was. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Jing Yuan asked, pushing his glasses up onto his head. The honey color of his eyes glinted in the sunlight. “This doesn’t seem like the kind of place you'd visit in your right mind.”

“You’re right,” he snorted. “I’m only doing this for Dan Heng, to be honest.”

He stole a quick glance at Dan Heng just as he was taking off his shirt. Blade felt himself swallow, almost involuntarily. He really shouldn’t be staring at him, especially in a public place like this, but for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Dan Heng’s silky skin glistened with sweat, bathed in a slightly orange hue from the sunlight. His back muscles clenched as he pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side as if it were just a dirty rag. Blade had learned over the years to develop some kind of self-control, but it seemed that it wasn’t working very well lately, because now he had these… fantasies. It was like his mind had taken control of his thoughts and he could no longer push them to the back of his head, rising back to the surface. The moment Dan Heng went underwater, it felt as if Blade had just snapped out of a dream.

He blinked a few times. What was wrong with him?

“You do a lot of things for him, don’t you?” Jing Yuan asked, and for a moment, Blade had no idea what he was talking about.

“What?”

“I mean Dan Heng,” he clarified. Jing Yuan didn’t seem to notice the way he was staring at him just now, like a lovestruck idiot. “It just seems like you follow him a lot.”

“Guess I do,” he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. It didn’t really work out. “He’s my best friend. That’s normal.” 

The words came out more defensively than he intended at first. Every time he mentioned the word ‘best friend’, there was a kind of burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t used to be there before, but he tried not to focus too much on it.

Jing Yuan’s lips curved into a slight smile. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Blade’s palms felt sweaty. Maybe he should’ve taken off his shirt.

He glanced at Dan Heng again. It seemed like March and Stelle had arrived while he wasn’t paying attention, because now they were standing by the pool, their legs dipped into the water. Dan Heng had his back turned to him, thick droplets of water sliding down his skin.

“But you shouldn’t do things that you’re not comfortable with, you know?” Jing Yuan added, sounding like he was actually worried about him. Blade couldn’t imagine why he would be. They weren’t even friends. “That’s what friendship is about.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna kill someone for him, alright?” he said, slightly annoyed. Although he had killed for him before, so technically that wasn’t true.

Jing Yuan flashed a playful smile. “You definitely seem like you would.”

For some reason, that made him laugh a little. The burning sensation in his stomach eased.

“You think I look like a mass murderer?”

“I never said ‘mass.’ I’m not sure you should be confessing your crimes so openly,” he teased. Blade was relieved that he didn’t press the matter any further. It’s like he already knew how to talk to him.

It had always been this way with him. Jing Yuan always knew how to handle his bad attitude, his bursts of anger, all of his anguish and guilt. Knew how to talk to him when he didn’t want to listen. No one else besides Dan Heng could do that. Blade was a bit grateful that it hadn’t changed, even after reincarnation.

He chuckled. “My bad.”

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Yingxing had lost track of where he was. He had circled the mansion so many times, wandering through endless hallways and empty rooms that served no purpose, that he no longer knew where he stood. There were old paintings framed in gold and statues of semi-naked women all around him, in what appeared to be a small gallery.

He was completely alone.

With a sigh, he stepped back into the hallway. When he had asked around, several people mentioned seeing Dan Feng walking this way, accompanied by someone else. And yet, here he was, staring down an empty corridor where there was no sign of life except for him.

You are special.  

Jing Yuan’s words echoed in his mind. 

If only that were true.

Jing Yuan likely didn’t know the full story. How, at first, Dan Feng had wanted nothing to do with him. How he had practically begged him to let him stay, to give him a chance. If he hadn’t done that, if he had simply accepted Dan Feng’s initial decision, he wouldn’t even be here now. It had nothing to do with being special. He had simply been desperate enough to cling to any opportunity that came his way.

Dan Feng was better than him. He always had been. He always would be. He didn’t need him—not now, not then, not ever.

But none of that mattered. Pity or not, chosen or not, Yingxing had made a vow. And if he wasn’t special, then he would just have to make himself indispensable.

A noise echoed from a distant room, as if something had been thrown to the floor, making a loud crack.

Yingxing tightened his grip on the sword’s handle. He needed to be careful. One of Dan Feng’s first lessons was the importance of stealth—if your enemy is unaware of your location, you already have the advantage. From there, it’s just a matter of being clever.

Those words had been drilled into him from the start, and now, they rang in his mind as he took a slow, measured step forward.

The door was slightly open. He stopped just outside, straining his ears for any sign of movement inside. His heart pounded against his ribs, fast, insistent.

Yingxing had only been working under Dan Feng for a few weeks. In that time, he had trained relentlessly, memorized every lesson, perfected every technique. But training was one thing—this was real. This was the first time he faced real danger.

And he wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or thrilled.

Yingxing leaned in, peeking through the small opening in the door, just barely.

At first, there wasn’t much to see. The room was nearly pitch black, except for the faint silver light coming from an open window. In the dimness, Yingxing spotted the silhouettes of two people, barely visible. Their outlines were blurred, but he could tell one of them was Dan Feng. That much was certain. What wasn’t certain was what, exactly, was happening.

He spotted a hand moving down a leg. A face buried in the curve of someone’s neck. Dan Feng’s long, messy hair became visible. And then he spotted his bare skin, covered in scars. A sweet sound came out of his mouth…

Oh.

Yingxing took a sharp breath.

Why did it take him so long to understand what was happening?

Yingxing tried to step back, but his foot caught against the ground with a sharp click. Dan Feng’s head jerked up at the sound, but he managed to escape before being seen.

He wasn’t sure how he found his way back to the main room, only that he did. That was all that mattered. Despite the loud jazz music and the chatter of the guests around him, Yingxing could only hear the loud beating of his heart against his ear.

Beat, beat.

He somehow made his way through the crowd, reaching the other side of the room. A flash of white from the corner of his eye—Jing Yuan. Their gazes met briefly before he glanced away.

Another beat.

The stares burned into his skin. People were always staring.

He just needed to be left alone.

The moment he found an emptier room, he pressed his back against the wall and exhaled. His hands curled into fists at his sides. This shouldn’t have affected him so much. Dan Feng was a grown man. Of course, he had sex. Even if it was with other men. Yingxing didn’t even know he liked men. Not that it mattered. He just… wasn’t expecting to see it. To hear it. That breathy sound that had left Dan Feng’s lips...

A slow, burning heat coiled in the pit of his stomach, crawling up his spine like a sickness.

Yingxing shut his eyes. But the image was already seared into him.

How was he supposed to face Dan Feng after this?

“I’ll just assume you didn’t deliberately ignore me.”

The sudden voice nearly made him jump. Jing Yuan stood beside him, a teasing lilt in his tone. “That’s not the most polite way to treat a friend, you know.”

Yingxing hadn’t even noticed him enter the room. Hadn’t felt him approach. That realization alone made his stomach sink. Losing awareness like that was unacceptable in his line of work. He had let his guard down over something so… stupid. Worse, he had left Dan Feng alone with some man—though given the circumstances, that hardly seemed like a threat.

The thought of quitting crossed his mind.

But then, he remembered.

If you were ever going to leave me, I would have to kill you.

Dan Feng had warned him about this before. He couldn’t simply walk away now. He was trapped.

“Are you okay?”

Jing Yuan’s tone was unexpectedly soft.

The question caught him off guard. Such simple words, and yet so powerful at the same time. How did he even notice?

“I’m fine.”

The words echoed in his head. Maybe, if he repeated them long enough, he might actually convince himself.

However, Jing Yuan didn’t look convinced. “You can’t really believe that you can lie to me.” His voice had lost its teasing lilt, settling into something more serious. “Does it have anything to do with Dan Feng?”

But he didn’t say. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“You can talk to me,” he insisted, gentler this time. Was he always this gentle? He couldn’t tell.

Yingxing swallowed, trying to push the lump in his throat away. For some reason, in that moment, he wanted to trust him. He seemed like the safest person to confide in, the one person who wouldn’t judge him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it difficult.

“I saw him.”

That was all he said.

He didn’t try to explain further. He couldn’t. However, it didn’t seem necessary. Even with the little explanation his words provided, Jing Yuan’s gaze softened, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

He smiled compassionately. “Is that so?”

For a moment, Yingxing had to remind himself that this was still the general of the Luofu—a man who had seen war, death, and things far worse than whatever this was.

“Dan Feng may excel at his work, but he’s not very careful when it comes to his… partners,” Jing Yuan added, his tone turning light, almost mocking. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it eventually.”

Yingxing blinked twice. Partners? ‘Get used to it’? 

“It’s fine. I was just a bit startled,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it or if he was just trying to make the situation easier to swallow. “I thought… I thought he was hurting him.”

Jing Yuan’s smile returned, as playful as before, as if the entire conversation had never been anything more than a casual exchange. “Who knows,” he said with a shrug, his tone mischievous, “Maybe he’s into that.”

“Yingxing.”

That voice was unmistakable.

Dan Feng stood at the doorway, posture as immaculate as always, hands tucked behind his back. His clothes were perfectly arranged, every fold and seam in place, as though nothing had happened at all. But if Yingxing allowed himself to notice, the signs were there—the faint swelling of his lips, the way his hair was tousled as if it had been tugged at, and the shirt that clung unevenly to his frame, slipping off his shoulder and exposing a portion of his collarbone. Yingxing had to look away.

His eyes darted around the room. People were staring. Still, Dan Feng didn’t seem to mind the gazes of those who watched. He was untouchable, unbothered.

“I see you two have already met,” he noted.

His words were aimed at both of them, but his gaze never left Yingxing, locked with an intensity that made him feel as if he were being dissected.

Jing Yuan’s lips curled into the familiar smirk. “I didn’t expect you to introduce us, so I took the liberty.”

Dan Feng stood before him, his green eyes locking onto his own, shining brighter than ever. “Shall we go?” he asked softly, as if reading something in Yingxing’s expression that no one else could.

He hesitated for only a fraction of a moment before nodding; a movement that felt automatic, as though his body was still bound to the will of the man in front of him.

After all, he still served him.

Without another word, they turned and walked away from the room.

(...)

Present-Day

Dan Heng raised his head from under the water, inhaling deeply. The water felt exceptionally cold, causing him to shiver a bit, but the warmth of the sun against his skin offered some comfort. He really wished Blade would swim with him. It’s not like he particularly enjoyed the community pool, he just wanted to spend some time together.

Ever since the party, Dan Heng had been feeling strange. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. The fact that Blade had kept a secret from him for so long didn’t sit well with him, though he couldn’t explain why it bothered him so much. Blade’s sex life was only his own business, but Dan Heng couldn’t help but wish that he had at least shared something with him. He always did. So now he couldn’t shake the thought of what other secrets Blade might be hiding from him, almost consuming him entirely.

“Hey,” Stelle’s voice rang in his ears. “You look like the little mermaid.”

Dan Heng looked up to find March and Stelle standing before him in their swimsuits. March’s was a bright pink that dazzled him a little. “Where’s Caelus?” he asked, wondering why he wasn’t there with them.

“He’s dead,” Stelle deadpanned.

March gave her a disapproving look. “Don’t joke about that!”

Dan Heng glanced back and forth between them, confused. What was going on?

“He’s alive. He just didn’t come because he’s moving out of my apartment. Finally,” Stelle cheered. “No more suffering through his shower concerts.”

“I’m not sure you should be sharing that,” March muttered.

“Don’t care. I’m a free woman now.”

Dan Heng chuckled, shaking his head. He moved closer to the edge of the pool as the girls sat on it, dipping their legs into the water.

“The water is so cold!” March shivered a little, then looked behind him. “Oh, who’s that with Blade? I’ve never seen him before.”

Dan Heng turned around, staring at the man next to Blade. He was at the party, he remembered. March probably didn’t, because she was too drunk.

“Oh, yeah. The rich dude,” Stelle nodded. “Can’t remember his name right now.”

Although the girls had moved on to another topic, Dan Heng kept staring. Blade was laughing. A slight pang tugged at his chest at the sight. Naturally, he wanted him to have other friends than him, but… Blade didn’t smile like that with anyone. Never. And he barely even knew this guy. Dan Heng had only seen him for the first time at the party. How could he get so comfortable with him so fast?

“Hey, where are you going?” Stelle’s voice trailed behind him.

He didn’t even realize when he got out of the pool and started walking towards them, but he was already in motion.

A group of girls stared at him as he walked, and Dan Heng suddenly felt too self-conscious about his own body. He’d left his shirt by the pool, and it was already too late to go back and get it.

Dan Heng was actually pretty insecure. Not even Blade knew, so that’s one secret he kept away from him. The only one. People usually told him that he was attractive, but he just… didn’t feel that way. When he looked in the mirror, he could only spot flaws about himself. There were a few pimples on his skin, especially on his back. He was too thin, his eyes too small. And that was just the beginning. So he walked faster, hoping the feeling would go away.

Blade glanced at him as soon as he stood in front of them. His brow furrowed. “You’re shaking.”

Dan Heng didn’t think that it was that bad. “Water’s too cold,” he said.

“Told you so,” Blade sighed. “But you didn’t want to listen.”

“I remember you said it was children’s pee.”

“And I stand by it.”

Dan Heng rolled his eyes. The man kept staring at him, without saying a word. “Where’s the towel?” he asked, feeling the need to warm up a bit.

Blade looked around. “A towel? I don’t…”

A silence fell between them, and soon enough, they both came to the same realization.

“We… forgot to bring a towel,” Blade mumbled. “Shit. Should I go grab it?”

Dan Heng hugged himself, trying to stop the shaking. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Blade frowned. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

The man beside him, who had not said anything until now, stood up and handed him a towel. Although he remembered seeing him at the party, this was the first time he had him so close. “Here. Take mine,” he said. “I brought it just in case.”

Dan Heng stared at the towel in his hands, feeling a kind of bitterness in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was. “I don’t know your name.”

“Jing Yuan,” he spoke gently. There was a sense of familiarity about him, in the way he looked and smiled at him, but Dan Heng couldn’t recall ever seeing this man before. “I’m a friend.”

He stared at the towel for what seemed like hours, but probably didn’t last more than a few seconds.

“I’ll just dry in the sun.”

Dan Heng turned around and headed towards the other side of the pool, away from the crowd. He knew he had just been disrespectful, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to be nicer. Not right now.

Blade had been his closest friend for years, supporting each other through their toughest times. But now this mysterious man comes along and effortlessly makes him laugh and smile as if they’ve known each other all their lives, and Dan Heng feels somehow threatened by him. It was stupid and he knew it. Even if Blade made more friends, Dan Heng would still be his best. But he couldn’t shake the fear that perhaps he wasn’t being a good enough friend to Blade.

“Hey,” Blade called out from behind him. “Why did you walk away like that?”

Dan Heng shrugged, keeping his tone casual. “No reason.”

He took two more steps, feeling the weight of Blade’s hand on his shoulder.

“Dan Heng,” he called out once more. “Look at me.”

Even though he didn’t want to, he did. Blade’s red eyes searched his face, and for a moment Dan Heng feared they might see right through him.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

Dan Heng sighed. “No. I’m just… freezing.”

“You should’ve taken Jing Yuan’s towel.”

He frowned at the mention of his name. “I don’t know him.”

They fell silent for a moment, just listening to the sounds of children running around the pool and the lifeguard’s piercing whistle. Seriously, this place sucked. Blade was right about that.

Dan Heng sighed at the warmth of the sun against his skin. “Where did you meet him?” he asked then.

“Remember that time when I came back from the bar drunk?”

He shook his head. “How could I possibly forget about that?”

“Well, now you know,” Blade paused, a smirk playing on his lips. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re jealous of him.”

Dan Heng cringed at the mention of that word. His voice came out a little higher than he intended. “I’m not.”

“Oh, you totally are,” he teased. “But you shouldn’t be. You’re my only friend.”

Dan Heng ran his hands over his face, feeling embarrassed. “You’re making it sound like I’m a terrible friend,” he muttered. “I do want you to have other friends.”

“I know.”

Dan Heng said nothing. Though he was still wet, with tiny droplets of water trickling down his body, at least he was no longer quivering from the cold.

“We should probably leave now,” Blade suggested. “I don’t think I can last another minute in this place.”

For the first time, Dan Heng wholeheartedly agreed.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Yingxing followed behind him, his eyes lingering on Dan Feng’s back as they made their way toward the mansion’s exit. The distant murmurs were fading, leaving only the sound of their footsteps on the ground and the soft rustle of fabric. He couldn’t fathom how Dan Feng managed to do this week after week—sitting through hours of political arguments, historical banter, and other tiresome exchanges. It felt unbearable to him, a constant performance for people who seemed more interested in their status than anything real.

Dan Feng’s voice broke the silence, so soft it almost seemed like he wasn’t meant to say it. “Are you enjoying the attention?”

Yingxing blinked, surprised, before glancing at him, wondering what his expression was. But Dan Feng’s face was unreadable, a cool mask in place.

He paused, considering his response. “That’s not the word I would use.”

Dan Feng’s eyes flickered briefly to him, then returned to the path ahead. “What’s the word, then?”

His gaze swept over the people still scattered around them. “Startled.”

He caught a glimpse of Dan Feng’s lips curling into a smirk, so slight it was almost imperceptible.

“You’ll get used to it.”

It seemed like he had a lot of things to get used to, more than he ever expected.

They turned down an empty hallway, and suddenly, they were outside the mansion. The night sky held no stars, as if their glow had faded away. Yingxing closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind brush past him, tugging at his hair, gently caressing his face. But as he stood there, the image of Dan Feng came to him with an intensity that startled him. The texture of his skin, the hand trailing up his thigh, the sounds he made—everything from earlier flashed in his mind in a vivid, almost painful memory. Yingxing snapped his eyes open, the image dissipating like smoke in the wind.

Dan Feng was looking at him now. He’d caught him.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, his voice low and almost too calm.

Yingxing’s throat tightened as he swallowed. He had been foolish to think that he wouldn’t notice. The man was too perceptive, too aware of everything around him, always with his sharp eyes, his calculating mind. But even now, he tried to deny it.

“I saw nothing.”

Dan Feng didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stood there, eyes closed, as if collecting himself. Yingxing wondered, not for the first time, whether Dan Feng was replaying those very same memories in his mind. “If you hadn’t,” he said finally, his voice softer now, “you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.”

Yingxing’s gaze dropped to the ground. Dan Feng was right, of course.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” he murmured.

“I know you didn’t,” Dan Feng said quietly. “It was my mistake. I should’ve been more careful.”

For just a second, Yingxing wondered why he was doing this—working for him. There were so many things about Dan Feng that he didn’t understand. Right now, it felt as though he hardly knew him at all. The mark on his neck throbbed, sending a sharp sting through his skin, like a reminder of the decision he had made.

But there was something else, something far more complicated. He had tried to push it aside, that feeling, but it kept creeping back, stronger each time. It wasn’t right. Yingxing knew it wasn’t appropriate to feel this way about someone he worked for, someone who had taught him everything he knew. He shouldn’t be harboring these thoughts. But every time the image of Dan Feng replayed in his mind, a new layer of jealousy took root—jealous of the man who had touched him so intimately, of the sounds he had coaxed from him. He didn’t even know when or why this had begun, but it was like a forest fire, swelling and spreading throughout his being, almost consuming him entirely. The more he tried to contain it, the stronger it became.

He had to stop it. Control it. But it was far stronger than his will.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

The moment he said it, regret washed over him like a cold wave, and he immediately wished he could take it back. He had overstepped, crossed a line, just like that time when he had impulsively reached out to take his hand. But this time, it felt far worse.

Yingxing dared a glance at his face. He was angry. Furious, even. It was painted so clearly across his features, and it sent a chill crawling down his spine. He had never seen Dan Feng like this before. He rarely allowed his composed facade to crack.

“What I do and who I do it with is none of your business.”

He could taste the bitterness in his every word, as they were spat out and lashed at him. Yingxing remembered Jing Yuan’s words, and in that moment, he realized how terribly wrong he had been.

“I am too tired for this,” Dan Feng muttered, turning his back to him, dismissing him without another glance. “We’ll talk in the morning. You should go home.”

Yingxing frowned as he took a step toward him. “But I must stay by your side.”

He turned his head just enough to meet his gaze.

“I’d rather not look at you at the moment.”

Yingxing felt a sudden, sharp pang in his chest. He didn’t think those words could hurt him as much as they did.

In that instant, something shifted inside him. He understood now. To continue serving Dan Heng, to fulfill his role, he would have to bury everything. Every feeling, every desire, every shred of longing—he would have to bury it all deep inside. All of his hatred, love, and longing, none of it mattered anymore. He wasn’t allowed to be selfish. Not now, not ever.

Yingxing turned and left, the night seeming colder than it had ever been.

(...)

Present-Day

Dan Heng was dreaming. He found himself standing in the middle of a green field, the aroma of sunflowers swirling around him. A man was walking towards him. His face was a blur, but his long, dark hair stood out. Dan Heng said something to him, possibly a joke, and his laughter filled the air, echoing in Dan Heng’s ears. Warmth flooded his chest. It was a familiar, comforting feeling. Then, the man said a name—not Dan Heng’s, but one that sounded oddly similar. It was…

“Dan Heng.”

He opened his eyes to find Blade’s face above him, wearing a smile that didn’t seem real. Like he was still dreaming.

“Blade? What…” he muttered, glancing at his phone in confusion. “It’s 3 AM.”

“I know,” Blade whispered. It definitely didn’t seem like it. “Want to go swimming?”

“You mean right now?” Dan Heng frowned. Suddenly, the idea of still being in a dream didn’t feel so far-fetched. This wasn’t like him at all. “Are you on drugs?”

Blade chuckled, the sound bringing back memories of his dream. “I’m not. I just felt like going for a night swim.”

Although the situation was particularly strange, Dan Heng shrugged it off. “Where to?”

“Community pool.”

“I thought you hated the community pool.”

“I do. When it’s full of people,” he remarked. “But who would go swimming at this hour?”

Dan Heng raised his eyebrows. “You are.”

“You know what I mean.”

He stayed silent, thankful that the lights were still off and he couldn’t see his expression. It was pretty late already and he had work the next day. But at the same time, the idea of joining Blade for a night swim was tempting, so he didn’t really know what to do. Also, it was the first time Blade had ever suggested something like this, and it probably wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Blade reassured him. “I’m not going to force you.”

Dan Heng blurted out the words, more desperate than he intended. “I want to.” 

“Oh, you do?” He seemed surprised. “Well then, let’s go. Don’t forget your towel.”

He rolled his eyes. “I won’t, asshole.”

They grabbed a few things before heading down the street toward the community pool. However, as they got closer, Dan Heng couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this was a mistake. They hadn’t even considered the possibility of the pool being closed, or worse; being caught by a police officer patrolling the area.

And so it was.

When they got there, they found the door secured with a rusty chain. The pool was surrounded by a relatively high fence, so there was no other way to get through. At least there weren’t any guards around.

“Should we just go home?” Dan Heng asked. The place was completely deserted. “We can’t get in.”

“Let’s climb over.”

“I… wait, what?”

Before he could say another word, Blade had already crossed the fence with such speed that Dan Heng barely registered his movement. Their backpacks were already on the other side, so all he had to do now was climb over. He blinked twice in astonishment.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asked, causing Blade to burst into laughter. “I’m being serious.”

“I just want us to have fun tonight,” he said, but still, that didn’t explain his erratic behavior.

“If we get caught, we’ll go to jail.”

“There’s no one here,” he pointed a finger at his surroundings. “And I don’t think we’ll get arrested for breaking into a community pool, Dan Heng.”

“You don’t know that.”

Blade chuckled. Then, reaching out a hand from the other side of the fence, he insisted, “Come on. I’ll help you over.”

Dan Heng knew it was wrong. Deep down, he knew they could get in trouble for this. But also, for some reason, he didn’t really care. So he grasped the sides of the fence and started climbing at a considerably slower speed than Blade. As he reached the other side, he nearly stumbled, saved only by Blade’s firm grip on his hand.

“See? Everything’s fine.”

Blade didn’t let go of his hand immediately. Dan Heng held on tightly as he tried to steady himself.

“How are you so good at this?” he asked, a bit breathless. “There’s so much about you I don’t know. You really are full of surprises.”

Blade smirked teasingly. “I’ve got my secrets.”

Dan Heng wanted to know. Each one of them.

They left their backpacks near the pool’s edge. It was odd to see the place so empty. Dan Heng moved closer and dipped a hand in, checking its temperature—it was freezing. He immediately pulled it out, turning to Blade.

“It’s really co…”

The words dissolved in his mouth as he watched Blade remove his shirt, tossing it next to his backpack. Dan Heng rarely saw Blade without clothes, so this was all new to him; almost as if he were seeing him for the very first time. He had long, slender limbs, with a trail of hair running up almost to his abdomen. His skin was pale and smooth. Dan Heng didn’t even realize he was staring until Blade jumped into the pool, sending a few splashes his way.

“Oh, shit, it’s freezing,” Blade exclaimed, then looked at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

Dan Heng nodded, slowly taking off his shirt. He moved closer to the edge, feeling the cold breeze brush against his skin.

“I’m not sure I want to do this,” he muttered. The water was really cold. He may actually freeze to death now.

Blade reached out his hand once more. “Come on.”

Dan Heng took it. Only, this time, Blade pulled him with such force that he fell right into the pool without even a warning. The cold pierced through his entire body, sending shivers down his spine. Even underwater, he could hear Blade’s laughter echoing in his ears.

Dan Heng came out to the surface, shouting, “You’re a jerk!” between breaths.

He stared at Blade’s slightly blurred face. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m never trusting you again.”

“That’s too bad.”

Blade splashed water on him. Dan Heng did the same. Soon, the two of them were splashing water against each other, completely forgetting the cold they had felt moments ago. This is fun. A smile spread across Dan Heng’s face as he successfully pulled Blade under the water, feeling like a child again. Maybe breaking into the community pool wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“We should play a game,” Dan Heng suggested. Blade’s long hair clung to the sides of his body, soaking wet.

Blade raised a questioning eyebrow. “A game?”

“Yes,” he said, gesturing with one finger. “Turn around.”

To his surprise, Blade obeyed without even  questioning what it was for. Dan Heng delicately placed a finger against his wet back and proceeded to write a word.

“What are you doing?” Blade asked. He tried to turn around, but Dan Heng stopped him.

“It’s the word game,” he explained shortly. “You have to guess the word I’m writing.”

He picked up on the sarcasm in his voice. “That’s a children’s game, Dan Heng.”

But Dan Heng paid no mind. They literally were at the community pool, anyway. He traced the word ‘cinnamon roll’ onto Blade’s back, his finger gliding across the wet skin.

He suddenly stood up. “Cinnamon roll.”

“Hey, you got it quite fast,” Dan Heng smiled. “See? It’s easy. Now it’s your turn.”

He turned around, waiting for Blade to start writing. It took him a while to think. Then, he felt his finger tracing down his back, taking soft turns on his skin.

Dan Heng frowned. “Did you just write ‘Beach’?”

“Yeah. It was the only thing that came to mind.”

It was Dan Heng’s turn once more. Blade turned his back to him, and he placed his finger on it. However, as he was about to write a word, something caught his attention. Freckles. He blinked, a bit surprised. Blade had freckles. They were small and barely noticeable, but they were there, scattered across his skin. Dan Heng had no idea. He also hadn’t noticed how smooth Blade’s skin felt compared to his own. So instead of writing a word, Dan Heng’s finger began to trace each freckle, connecting them in his mind. Memorizing every inch of his skin, unsure of when he would have the chance to see it again. Almost wanting to see it, but not quite. His gaze fell upon a peculiar-looking freckle on the back of Blade’s neck, usually hidden by his hair. Dan Heng felt strangely drawn towards it, his finger instinctively tracing a path upward, wanting to touch it.

“What’s the word?”

Dan Heng paused abruptly. “What?”

“The word you’re writing,” he explained, barely turning his head to catch a glimpse of his face. “I can’t figure out what it is.”

Right. The word.

“I was…” he paused. “Uh, I wrote ‘Asshole’. That’s the word.”

“Really?” Blade chuckled. “I’m so bad at this.”

Dan Heng swallowed. Why did he lie to him? For some reason, it suddenly felt like something he wasn’t supposed to say.

“Maybe we should go. The sun is rising.”

Dan Heng glanced at the sky, noticing soft shades of orange and yellow rising over the horizon. He suddenly remembered he had work tomorrow.

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

None of them said anything the entire way back to the apartment, leaving a trail of water droplets behind them. Dan Heng glanced at the sun and thought about the night he just had. If anyone else had told him to go swimming in the early morning, he probably wouldn’t have done it. But he was glad he did.

“You’re smiling,” Blade noticed. He had a red towel wrapped around his body, dripping with water. “See? I told you it would be fun.”

This time, Dan Heng didn’t argue. “It was.”

They reached the apartment and went straight to bed, only to be awakened a few hours later by Dan Heng’s alarm.

Chapter Text

Five hundred years ago

Yingxing had been good. 

Ever since the fight outside the mansion, he had been nothing short of obedient. Remarkably so. It turned out that if he simply ignored everything, if he buried his emotions deep enough, life became simpler. He ignored the heat that crept up his spine whenever Dan Feng touched him, convinced himself it wasn’t there. He turned a blind eye to the men who came and went from his home, even as resentment simmered in his gut. He had shut more doors than he cared to count. The sting of it had dulled over time, no longer searing like an open wound. But it still hurt—more than any cut, bruise, or scar he had endured in the past. It didn’t matter. He did it anyway. Because that was the only way to stay by Dan Feng’s side.

And he wanted to. More than anything.

So, Yingxing discarded every emotion that wasn’t useful. Except one.

Anger.

Anger was his sharpest weapon. He fed on it, sharpened himself against it, let it mold him into something unbeatable. It became his driving force.

Yingxing slashed at the wooden doll in front of him. It had been here for years, even before he became Dan Feng’s student, used by countless hands to hone their skills. But tonight, Yingxing didn’t need practice. He needed something to hurt. So, he directed all his fury towards it instead.

The dummy bore the scars of countless blows, with numerous cuts, scratches and dents on the old wood from years of use. 

It reminded him a bit of himself.

His sword met the target again and again, frustration pouring out in each brutal stroke. He was angry. At himself, at his weakness, at the way his heart clenched whenever he looked at Dan Feng. Angry at the depth of his admiration, at the way his emotions weighed on him like chains. He was so, so angry. All the damn time.

With a powerful strike, he slashed through its chest, causing the wood to split down the middle. The doll crumbled into pieces at his feet. Yingxing stood there, breathing heavily, just staring at its fallen corpse on the ground.

“What did it do to you?”

Yingxing turned around, his fingers clenching around the sword’s handle. Dan Feng leaned against the doorframe, his keen green eyes locked onto him. Who knows how long he had been standing there. Perhaps long enough to witness the murder of the dummy.

Yingxing forced himself to take a steady breath. The tension in his muscles began to ease, though something in him still twisted with unease. Dan Feng didn’t look angry about the mess, but Yingxing still felt the need to apologize.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said, slowly closing the distance between them. “It was quite entertaining to watch.”

Dan Feng stood next to him, staring at the doll on the ground. Yingxing could smell the vanilla scent from him. It made his nose tingle a little.

“Is there something on your mind?”

The question caught him off guard. He was grateful that Dan Feng wasn’t looking at him, otherwise, he might’ve given himself away.

“Why do you ask?”

Dan Feng gestured at the broken doll. “The first time I brought it here, I was sixteen years old. At the time, I didn’t even know how to wield a sword. I can still recall the sleepless nights I spent just trying to make a mark on it.” 

Yingxing listened intently, trying to picture a younger Dan Feng struggling with the same challenges he faced once. The nights spent beneath the moon, desperately trying to master the sword. He imagined the frustration, the failures, the falls, and yet the determination to rise again and try once more. It seemed almost impossible to reconcile with the man before him. It was difficult to imagine Dan Feng ever being bad at anything.

“Most of my students have left their marks on it over the years,” Dan Feng continued, “but not you. You never needed it. So I can’t help but wonder why you would now.”

Yingxing frowned. Those early months of training were a bit of a blur.

“I didn’t?”

He shouldn’t have been so surprised. People had always told him he was good. It wasn’t new, not even coming from Dan Feng.

He nodded slightly, a hint of pride evident in his expression. “You were always too good for that.”

Suddenly, the weight of the sword in his hand felt too heavy. He thought of every match he had lost against him. Every strike that had landed against him. Every scar, every cut, every time he had collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. Dan Feng had never made it easy for him. And he never, not once, felt good. There was always an urge to become better, stronger. Even now.

“So?” he insisted.

Yingxing searched for an excuse, but none came to mind. He had always been a terrible liar.

“I just felt like it.”

Dan Feng hummed. He reached for one of the swords hanging on the wall, his fingers brushing against the hilt before unsheathing it with ease. The blade gleamed as he turned toward Yingxing, pointing it forward in challenge.

“How about a duel with me, then?” he proposed. There was a daring glint in his eyes, just like the first time they faced each other. “It’d be more fun to spar with someone who can actually fight back, don’t you think?”

Yingxing’s fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword. It had been so long since he last fought Dan Feng.

“Right now?”

“Yes,” Dan Feng smiled, the familiarity of the conversation settling in. “Unless you’re scared.”

That was all it took.

At that, Yingxing raised his sword in challenge.

“Never.”

They began to circle each other slowly. Yingxing’s pulse quickened as he studied Dan Feng’s stance, the way his weight shifted, the slight movements of his wrists. There was something thrilling yet terrifying about facing your own mentor in combat. He knew exactly how dangerous those hands could be—the same hands that had guided him through every lesson now poised to strike against him.

Then, just as he prepared to make the first move, Dan Feng stopped, withdrawing his blade slightly.

“Let’s make things interesting.”

Yingxing arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

A playful glint flickered in Dan Feng’s eyes. “The loser owes the winner a favor. Whatever they desire.”

Yingxing’s breath caught in his throat.

It was a bet—the first he had ever made with Dan Feng. He had won countless bets before, claiming prizes from peers who underestimated him. But this... this was different.

He tried to imagine it. For Dan Feng to owe him a favor... It was tempting, to say the least. However, the consequences of losing against him could be significantly bad depending on what he had in mind.

The odds were even.

But Yingxing wasn’t one to back down. 

“I accept.”

A slight grin spread across Dan Feng’s face.

He had to win.

Yingxing barely had time to blink before Dan Feng lunged forward to attack. The impact of his sword meeting his sent a sharp vibration up his arm. Too weak to absorb the force, Yingxing staggered backward, barely managing to block the next strike. Dan Feng pressed forward, his attacks relentless, each swing carrying enough power to drive him further into a defensive position.

Then, just as quickly as he had attacked, Dan Feng suddenly backed away.

Yingxing took the brief reprieve to catch his breath, feeling the ache settling into his muscles. His grip on his sword tightened, knuckles turning white. His breaths came in rapid, uneven gasps.

Has he always been this strong?

Dan Feng stood opposite him, his composure still mostly intact, though his chest rose and fell slightly faster than before. There was something dangerous in his expression; something that made Yingxing’s pulse quicken.

Yingxing had fought countless opponents before, but this was different. This was Dan Feng. He had trained under him, watched him from a distance, always knowing that no matter how strong he became, he would always be a step ahead.

If he wanted to win, he had to push past that.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to forget everything else. The years of familiarity, the way his heart always seemed to betray him in moments like this.

Because if he couldn’t bring himself to hurt Dan Feng first, then he’d never be able to beat him.

Yingxing charged forward, this time with full intent. As expected, Dan Feng effortlessly blocked every single one of his strikes. The room echoed with the furious clashing of their swords, sparks flying from the sheer force of their blows. He moved like a storm. It was infuriating. He had never expected fighting Dan Feng to be easy, but the sheer disparity between their skill levels gnawed at him.

Still, he refused to stop.

He had to think. Had to find an opening. But it was impossible when Dan Feng was giving him no time to strategize, no moment to breathe.

Yingxing threw all his weight into his next attack, his blade striking true. Dan Feng barely had time to react before he was forced back, stumbling slightly.

This was it.

His heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t waste a second, rushing in to press the advantage—only to stop short when Dan Feng lifted his sword and dragged its tip lightly along the floor.

His breathing was heavier now. “You’ve gotten stronger,” he noted, dragging a smile. “But it’s still not enough.”

Yingxing felt a twinge in his chest at his words.

Of course, Dan Feng knew exactly how to get under his skin. He knew how to wield words as sharply as he did a blade, striking where it hurt most.

If Dan Feng was investing this much effort into the fight, then the stakes of the bet must be higher than he had initially thought.

Gritting his teeth, he lunged again, this time faster, fiercer. The air around them grew heavy with the force of their battle, each strike ringing louder than the last. But Yingxing didn’t stop. He refused to stop. He kept pushing until there was only a small gap between them, separated by the keen edges of their blades. Yingxing stared into those green eyes, searching for any sign of vulnerability. Anything at all.

And then, he saw it.

A small opening. Barely noticeable, but there. A slight tremor in Dan Feng’s grip. A moment of hesitation.

Without thinking, Yingxing moved.

His sword struck forward, and in a blink, the blade sliced across Dan Feng’s cheek.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

Yingxing felt the hammering of his own heart as he stared at the thin line of red trailing down Dan Feng’s pale skin.

For the first time, he had drawn blood.

His breath nearly caught in his throat. Until this moment, he had never even come close to scratching him.

Dan Feng’s expression didn’t change, but he reached up, running his fingers over the fresh wound. A single drop of blood clung to his fingertip. He studied it for a moment before humming softly.

“Interesting.”

Yingxing barely heard him. He paused, lowering his sword. “Dan Feng—”

Before he could finish, cold steel pressed against his throat.

Yingxing froze.

It all happened so fast that he didn’t even register it. Dan Feng’s sword was there, poised at his neck, a breath away from slicing into his skin. The sharp edge sent a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t step back. Even in the face of death, his gaze remained fixed on the blood trickling down his cheek.

“Never lower your guard,” Dan Feng warned, his grip firm on the sword. “No matter what.”

Yingxing swallowed against the blade. “You’re hurt.”

A tense silence settled between them, which neither of them tried to break. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Dan Feng lowered his sword.

“You lost.”

Yingxing frowned, momentarily thrown off by Dan Feng’s words. But then, it clicked—the bet. He’d been so preoccupied with the blood, with the fight, that he’d completely forgotten about it.

Dan Feng reached into his pocket, retrieving a handkerchief. Without a word, he pressed it against his cheek, dabbing gently at the smear of blood. The crimson smudged slightly, streaking against his pale skin before fading beneath the cloth.

“I want you to come with me.”

The words lingered heavily in the air, leaving room for him to ask.

Yingxing swallowed. “Where?”

“To the gala. Tonight.”

He barely had to think before scoffing. The only things he knew about these kinds of events were that they were meant for the elite, the kind of people who spent their nights dining on absurdly expensive food and pretending to enjoy orchestral music while secretly competing over who could boast the loudest. There was no reason for him to be in a place like that.

“You won’t need my protection there.”

Dan Feng shook his head, looking slightly disappointed. “You don’t understand.”

He frowned. “I don’t.”

“I’d like you to come with me… as my companion.”

Oh.

Yingxing blinked, once and then again. 

His mind stalled for a moment before the word properly settled. Companion. Not a bodyguard. Not a servant. He was being invited to stand beside Dan Feng as an equal, dressed like he belonged there, walking among high society as if he were one of them.

It didn’t make sense.

Why would Dan Feng want him?  

Before he could stop himself, the question slipped out. “Why me? I’m just a mere server.”

Dan Feng’s expression darkened ever so slightly at the word ‘server.’ He turned his face away, exposing the side where the cut had been, though the blood had already dried.

“I’m aware it’s a lot to ask,” he said at last. “But there’s no one I trust as much to accompany me. And you’ve proven yourself worthy just now.”

The words echoed in his mind.

You’ve proven yourself worthy.

So it had never been a bet. It was a test. Dan Feng had always intended to win. The moment he’d raised his sword and challenged him, this outcome had been set in stone. Yingxing had walked straight into it, but strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

Dan Feng had been with plenty of people before, but in the end, none of them mattered.

He trusted him.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.

“I don’t own a suit,” Yingxing muttered instead.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I can get one for you.”

His mouth opened before he could think. “Don’t you care what people will say?”

The silence that followed stretched unbearably long. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. The idea of standing beside Dan Feng, of everyone whispering about how improper it was for them to be together like this—one of them a noble, the other a mere worker, both men… It was a risk, and a dangerous one at that.

But even as the fear twisted inside him, another truth burned just as fiercely.

He wanted to go.

Dan Feng was silent for another moment. Then, he looked up at him, tentatively. Careful. “Do you?”

The question caught him off guard, but the answer was clear.

He didn’t.

With just a simple glance, Dan Feng seemed to read his thoughts. He nodded in silent agreement. “Meet me back here in a few hours.”

With a wave of his hand, he turned and left.

Yingxing remained where he was, staring after him. His thoughts slowly began to make sense, weaving together like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. And when the mental fog cleared, only one question lingered in his mind.

What the hell was he going to do?

(...)

Present-Day

Dan Heng headed off to work like any other normal day. Despite waking up that morning feeling slightly more tired than usual, he paid little mind to it. It was probably because he wasn’t getting much sleep these days: he kept having these strange dreams, haunted by that mysterious long-haired man whose face he couldn’t recall. It didn’t stop, and there was more and more of them each day.

Luocha was already at the café when he arrived. Usually, it was the opposite, but today Dan Heng did walk to work slower than usual.

He shot him an odd look as he walked through the door. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

Dan Heng was too tired to argue. “What do you mean?”

“You look shitty.”

He held back a snort. It sounded like something Blade would say.

“I’m just tired. I can still work.”

“Well, you’re going to scare away all the customers like that,” Luocha said with a frown, as blunt as always. Then, he pulled out a small concealer out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Put this on after you’ve changed into your uniform.”

Dan Heng took the concealer, raising an eyebrow. “Do you always carry this around?”

Luocha shrugged, returning his attention to his phone. “You never know when you might need it.”

Dan Heng didn’t argue against that, because he did have a point. Although he hadn’t checked himself in the mirror that morning, he was sure he must not look good at all.

He made his way to the back of the store, where the only locker room shared by all employees was. It was a small room, and honestly the lockers occupied most of the space. His locker was tucked away in the back corner, the letters on his name tag having almost completely faded; now it only read ‘Dan’. Fortunately, there was no one else with that name.

His body slumped against the small bench. Dan Heng took his time putting on his uniform, even if it meant that Luocha might scold him later. How many times had he covered for him while he took a suspiciously long time to smoke? He might as well do the same for him.

It could’ve been minutes or hours by the time he was finally done changing. Before going back to work, Dan Heng made a quick stop by the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. And…

Shit.

He looked really bad.

Dan Heng almost felt ashamed for walking down the street before looking like that. His hair was visibly tangled, implying that he’d made no effort to comb it this morning, which was indeed the case. There were bags under his eyes, a pimple on his cheek, and his skin looked terrible. He had never looked worse.

After applying the concealer, he looked slightly better. At least he didn’t look as scary anymore. For that, he had Luocha to thank, after all.

Back at the counter, all he had to do was wait for the customers to arrive.

(...)

Each of his regular customers asked him if he was okay.

Dan Heng wasn’t entirely sure how serious the situation was. All the sweet, old ladies who frequented the store asked if he was feeling alright and even tipped him extra, which wasn’t all that bad, but he still felt utterly bad about it. A few rough nights of sleep shouldn’t make him look like he was on the brink of death. They were probably just overreacting. Besides, he felt fine. Sure, his body was exhausted and his head was pounding, but it wasn’t anything new. He felt like that at least three times a week.

He still had about two hours left of his shift and was already counting down the minutes until he could get back to his apartment and sleep until the next day. If something happened, then Blade would take care of it. He was capable enough.

Despite his body clearly betraying him, it was a normal day. Boring. Only six customers came in so far, likely because it was a Tuesday. Luocha was now on a break, as usual, and Dan Heng was dying of boredom. Whoever had once said working in a coffee shop was fun clearly had never worked in one.

He glanced at the tray of pastries and noticed there were still a few cinnamon rolls left. Instantly, his thoughts turned to Blade. Sometimes he forgot he had bought him a phone, and now he could bother him whenever he wanted.

So that’s exactly what he did.

Dan Heng double-checked that no one was about to enter the store, though he’d probably hear the bell if someone did, and then took out his phone.

Dan Heng

Would you like me to bring you a pastry?

He waited for a response, which came surprisingly fast.

Blade

Do you even need to ask?

Dan Heng smiled faintly at the screen. A sharp throb shot through his head, causing him to instinctively shut his eyes in pain. He really wished he had an aspirin on hand. He had taken the last one left in his locker on a particularly stressful day and then forgotten to restock them.

His phone vibrated again, causing him to snap his eyes open.

Blade

I didn’t hear you leave this morning.

Dan Heng

I didn’t want to wake you up.

Blade

What’s wrong with you?

Dan Heng frowned at the message. It didn’t help him in any way.

Dan Heng

Nothing. I’m fine.

Blade

You usually say goodbye.

Dan Heng

As I said, I didn’t want to wake you up.

I was just being considerate.

Blade

That’s weird.

He grunted loudly. Not him too.

Dan Heng

Blade, I’m really fine.

I have to get back to work now.

Talk later

Blade

Fine.

See you at home.

Dan Heng sighed wearily. He had nothing to do at work, but he really didn’t want more people questioning him, so perhaps it was better to just endure the boredom for now.

“Hey, uh,” he heard a tentative voice in front of him, speaking softly. “Is this a bad time?”

Dan Heng looked up, his eyebrows raising as he spotted Caelus standing in front of the counter. Clearly, he hadn’t heard the bell. He glanced around for someone else, but it was just him. Not that Dan Heng minded.

“Not at all.”

Caelus smiled warmly. It had been a while since he’d last seen him, and he felt like he had missed out on a lot of things.

“Did you come for coffee?” he asked.

Caelus tapped his fingers on the counter. “Nope, just to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Stelle told me you were moving.”

“Oh, yeah! It’s all done, finally,” Caelus replied with relief. “I couldn’t keep living in the same place as her. She always played horror games at night with the volume at maximum, and I couldn’t sleep…” he paused, realizing he might be oversharing. “Not that I’m scared of horror games, obviously. I’m an adult.”

Dan Heng found it funny that Stelle had said something similar last time.

He felt grateful that Caelus hadn’t asked about his appearance. He had probably already noticed how bad he looked, as it was hard not to, so his silence was more out of politeness than anything else.

“How’s the new apartment?” he asked, trying to keep him talking. That way, he could forget about the throbbing headache for a little while.

“It’s… fine,” Caelus said with a slight frown. His face was too expressive to mask his true feelings. “Well, it… sucks a bit, but that’s okay! It’ll probably get better once I can afford more furniture. I didn’t have much at Stelle’s, so it’s still pretty empty. I’m looking for a job to—”

Dan Heng didn’t notice his attention slipping away. The words coming out of Caelus’s mouth sounded like incoherent babbling, and he soon found himself struggling to even keep his eyes open. He felt overwhelmingly tired. His head throbbed, and now his eyes hurt too, as if the pain was slowly spreading. Seriously, what was happening to him?

When he glanced back at Caelus, he noticed that his cheeks were flushed. Dan Heng wondered what could’ve embarrassed him. Honestly, he hadn’t been paying much attention to him, which would normally have made him feel guilty, but now he was too tired for that.

Then, Caelus opened his mouth again, and Dan Heng managed to make out a few words.

“Maybe I could invite you over someday… if you want.”

He nodded almost absently. He really wanted to pay attention, but his mind wasn’t really obeying him, which was ironic because it was his mind.

Caelus’s voice took on a worried tone. “Hey man, are you okay?”

Dan Heng said nothing. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Wait, let me…” Caelus gently placed a hand on Dan Heng’s forehead, and his expressive face twisted into a grimace. “Jesus, you’re burning with fever. You shouldn’t have come to work today. You seriously need to rest.”

Wait.

A fever?

Dan Heng rarely got sick. Even as a child, he had only been sick twice, and each time he couldn’t get out of bed for an entire week. It was always like that—when he got sick, it hit hard, leaving him all weak and dizzy. But he wasn’t a child anymore, and he couldn’t afford to take time off. Dan Heng still had to work, because that’s what adults do. He had responsibilities now. Besides, calling in sick meant finding someone to cover his shift, and that was always a hassle. He couldn’t…

His mouth suddenly felt too dry. He couldn’t recall having drunk anything in the last few hours.

“I can’t,” he managed to say.

Caelus shook his head. “I’ll take you home.”

Dan Heng really wanted to fight. Maybe he was sick, but he could still work. He had to. However, his body suddenly felt too heavy to manage on his own, so when Caelus helped him up, he simply let him. 

After all, there was no way to resist an unstoppable force.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Yingxing couldn’t hide his surprise as he stared at himself in the mirror. The navy blue suit hugged him just right, fitting almost perfectly. It was obvious it had been tailored specifically for him. The fabric was impossibly soft against his skin, luxurious in a way he wasn’t used to. Despite the short time it had taken to make, there were no signs of rushed craftsmanship. Every stitch, every fold, was impeccable.

He shouldn’t have been so shocked. With Dan Feng’s influence, he could easily get anything he wanted. But he hadn’t expected it to be for something like this. For him.

Jing Yuan’s words echoed in his head once more.

He knew better than to let himself think that way. This wasn’t truly for him. Dan Feng simply needed a companion for the gala, and Yingxing was the safest, most convenient choice. It could’ve been anyone.

However, a very deep part of him acknowledged that, while he might not be exceptionally special as Jing Yuan said he was, he held a certain advantage in Dan Feng’s life. That realization sparked a sense of greed within him.

“Are you done?”

Yingxing turned at the sound of Dan Feng’s voice, barely catching himself before holding his breath.

Dan Feng stood in the doorway, dressed in deep blacks, blues, and soft whites, each color complimenting him effortlessly. Beneath the layers of white, smooth fabric, a tight black shirt clung to his frame, its sleeves extending all the way to his fingertips, leaving not a trace of skin exposed. It hung in long, fancy folds, with subtle silver thread patterns along the edges. Around his neck sat a dark lace collar, subtly framing his face, drawing attention to the sharp lines of his jaw. Even the cut on his cheek, now nearly healed, seemed to add to his composed, almost regal air.

It took him a moment to remember that Dan Feng had just spoken to him.

Not trusting his own voice, Yingxing nodded.

Dan Feng walked up to him cautiously, taking slow, measured steps. Yingxing looked away, pretending not to notice the way his eyes roamed over him. He kept his focus on his own hands until Dan Feng stood directly in front of him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked at last, finally meeting his gaze. There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes, one he couldn’t quite understand. “Is the suit to your liking?”

He nodded again. “It’s perfect.”

There was nothing but pure, raw honesty in his voice.

Dan Feng hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing more. There was no remark on how he looked, no comment on the way the suit fit him. But Yingxing hadn’t expected one. Dan Feng was always careful with his words, always measured, never saying more than necessary.

A compliment would have been too out of line.

“Let’s go,” Dan Feng said, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Without another word, Yingxing followed.

(...)

Yingxing stood still in the driveway, staring at the mansion’s entrance. The sight before him felt like something out of a storybook, almost unreal. In all his time working for Dan Feng, he had witnessed countless luxuries, but nothing quite like this.

Towering stone walls loomed over him, while the strains of violins and the enchanting melody of a piano danced through the air, sending a shiver down his spine. Each window offered a small glimpse of the mansion’s interior, revealing fancy velvet furnishings and huge chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of every room. The gentlemen were dressed in expensive suits, only to show off how rich they were, while the ladies, draped in gowns far too heavy for comfort, clung to their arms like ornaments.

Yingxing shifted uncomfortably. He felt out of place in his own skin, as if he was wearing a disguise that didn’t quite fit. This place was clearly not meant for someone like him. It was a world apart, too lavish, too distant from his own reality.

“Is there something wrong?”

The sound of Dan Feng’s voice snapped him out of his trance. Yingxing turned to face him, and for a brief moment, the contrast between them felt glaringly obvious. It always had been.

From the beginning, their differences had been undeniable. Yingxing had long been aware of that, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised by it. But there was something different about Dan Feng. There was no arrogance in the way he carried himself, no pretentiousness, no insatiable greed. He moved through these circles effortlessly, yet never seemed entirely of them. At times, it was easy to overlook the fact that he was, indeed, one of them.

But now, standing in front of such luxury, it was almost impossible to ignore just how different they really were. They were worlds apart.

They would never be the same.

“No,” he muttered, ignoring his own discomfort. “All good.”

Dan Feng studied him for a moment but said nothing. “Then let’s go.”

Without thinking, Yingxing stood behind him, like he always did. It was instinct by now.

He glanced absentmindedly at the couples walking past them, making their way toward the mansion’s entrance. Some people were already casting curious glances their way. The weight of those stares made his skin crawl. Yingxing felt himself shrinking, as if by doing so, he could vanish from everyone’s sight. He hated all the attention. It was yet another thing that separated him from Dan Feng, among many others.

“Stand next to me.”

Yingxing blinked. Dan Feng waited a few steps ahead of him, his expression inscrutable as he looked back at him.

“What?”

Dan Feng’s voice softened just a fraction, so subtle that it might’ve been just his imagination. “You’re here as my companion. You should stand by my side.”

Oh.

Yingxing had nearly forgotten. It felt unnatural, standing at Dan Feng’s side, as if they were equals. Because they weren’t.

Hesitantly, he stood next to him.

“May I hold your arm?”

Dan Feng wasn’t looking at him. If Yingxing counted, this would only be the second time they had touched. It wasn’t as if physical contact was forbidden between them, but it simply… didn’t happen. Such things were typically reserved for romantic couples, which they clearly were not.

But here, in a place where couples walked arm in arm, it seemed appropriate. Expected.

And Yingxing would be a fool to refuse.

“Of course.”

Dan Feng’s hand rested delicately on his forearm, applying just enough pressure to be felt, almost like a ghost touch, yet undeniably present. He could feel the warmth of Dan Feng’s body against his own, vivid, real. Not something he had imagined.

It felt good.

Too good.

But feelings were dangerous things.

And if he wasn’t careful, they would destroy him.

Stop it. Control it.

They walked side by side into the mansion’s interior, which was somehow even more extravagant than its exterior. The main room was big, more so that despite all the people gathered around, it still felt somewhat empty. Long stairs curled up to the next floor, leading to countless rooms, each no doubt just as luxurious as this one.

A soft piano tune played faintly in the background. The temperature inside was colder than expected.

Yingxing didn’t recognize anyone’s faces, which was expected, but it still left him feeling uneasy. As they walked by, people glanced in their direction, whispering softly under their breath, which didn’t help his nerves at all.

Suddenly, he sensed Dan Feng leaning in.

The sides of their arms touched as his face drew closer. “We won’t stay long.” His eyes scanned the crowd, never quite meeting Yingxing’s gaze. “There are some people I need to speak with first. You may do as you wish in the meantime.”

A pause. A flicker of hesitation. Then, before he could stop himself, Yingxing asked—

“Are you going to leave me?”

He regret it instantly. He shouldn’t have said that. Yingxing was here as Dan Feng’s companion, nothing more. His presence was incidental. Dan Feng had no obligation to stay by his side, let alone bring him along in the first place.

He stole a glance at him, trying to see his expression.

But instead, he caught something entirely unexpected.

Dan Feng’s green eyes flickered toward him, and for the briefest moment, there was no cold detachment, no anger—just something soft. Something almost… fond. The corners of his lips twitched, the subtlest shift that anyone else would have missed.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

Dan Feng’s hand slid off his arm, suddenly breaking contact. Yingxing tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. It had been nice while it lasted.

“I’ll come find you once I’m done,” Dan Feng added, his tone returning to its usual, composed cadence. “Enjoy the party.”

And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Yingxing wasn’t sure how he would manage to enjoy the party, not with the way people around him were staring. They probably wondered what someone like him was doing in a place like this, amidst all these high-ranking individuals. He didn’t recognize a single face, but it was obvious—everyone here was someone important, someone with influence. After months of being by Dan Feng’s side, he had almost become accustomed to the glances, the hushed whispers of his name. But this... this was different. It was too much. Too many stares. Too many eyes on him. It made his skin crawl.

Oh, he truly hated being the center of attention.

His hand instinctively reached for his hip, only to find the absence of his sword. His fingers brushed against the empty space, and a wave of regret washed over him. He should have brought it. It provided him with a sense of comfort and safety, almost like a talisman of good fortune.

Without it, he felt exposed, vulnerable.

“You look like some lost puppy.”

Yingxing instantly recognized the mocking tone in the voice behind him. He followed the sound to find Jing Yuan standing behind him, holding a glass of wine.

As soon as he appeared, the people around them turned their attention elsewhere, giving them a much-needed moment of privacy. Yingxing stifled a sigh of relief, but kept his face carefully composed, not wanting to show just how much he appreciated it. He was all too aware of the smirk that Jing Yuan wore, that look full of knowing and teasing, and he didn’t want to confront it.

Before he could think of an answer, Jing Yuan spoke again, his eyebrow arching in that signature way that made it clear he was enjoying this.

“I see you’ve come here as Dan Feng’s companion.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Yingxing frowned. They had barely entered the room. How could Jing Yuan know that already?

So he asked.

“How do you know?”

Jing Yuan’s mouth curled up further, clearly entertained. “Word travels fast, my friend. And that’s all anyone else is talking about. It was impossible not to overhear.”

Yingxing snorted involuntarily. “I’m sure it was.”

Jing Yuan took a sip of his wine, momentarily falling into silence. Yingxing quickly glanced around him, searching for his companion. It might have been intrusive of him, but he was undeniably curious. Every other guest in the room had a woman on their arm, yet Jing Yuan seemed to be alone.

He speculated about who Jing Yuan had come with tonight. Most likely, it was a woman. Perhaps a lover, if he had any. Truth be told, Yingxing didn’t know much about the man. He could be married or even have children.

Since Jing Yuan always referred to them as friends, Yingxing decided to take the risk. 

“Where’s your companion?”

Jing Yuan didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as if he’d been waiting for the question all along. “She’s in the bathroom,” he replied casually. “I figured it was a good moment to come over and have a word with you before she returns.”

Yingxing nodded thoughtfully. “Is she…?” 

His words trailed off, swallowed by uncertainty. He didn’t want to pry too much into Jing Yuan’s personal affairs. After all, he was still a general.

Just like that time at the party, Jing Yuan seemed to understand him despite his vague words.

“She’s nothing of mine,” he replied. His lips absentmindedly reached for the rim of his glass, only to be disappointed to find it empty. “Barely an acquaintance. It’s required to have a companion at these events, which I find absurd. Nevertheless, rules are rules.”

Yingxing simply nodded, because he didn’t really have much to say about that.

“What about you?” Jing Yuan raised his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly toward him. “Do you have a significant other?”

His brows furrowed at the question, almost instinctively. He had no reason to be surprised, though. After all, it only made sense that Jing Yuan would ask, considering he’d been the one to inquire first.

Yingxing patted his hips once more, seeking some comfort in the empty space. “Not yet.”

He wasn’t sure why he said ‘yet.’ Dating was the last thing on his mind, especially with everything that was happening.

Jing Yuan nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, if you’re ever looking to meet someone, I could introduce you to some potential candidates.”

His mind instantly drifted to Dan Feng, but he forcefully pushed the thought aside. No. He shouldn’t think about that. He had long accepted that his love for Dan Feng would never be returned, so there was no point in holding onto any hope or desire.

But at the same time, he was waiting. It could take months. Years. Decades. It was foolish, probably the most foolish thing he’d ever done, but still, a small part of him clung to the ridiculous hope that maybe, just maybe, Dan Feng would one day love him. If not in this life, then maybe in the next.

He really hoped it would be this one.

He sounded blunt, almost rough. “I’m not.”

Jing Yuan studied him for a moment, his brow raised, and for a second, Yingxing wondered if he was annoyed. But then, a knowing smile crept onto Jing Yuan’s lips.

“I thought so.”

Yingxing blinked, caught off guard. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replied with a lazy shrug. “Just thinking out loud.”

Jing Yuan lazily glanced back before turning his attention back to him.

“I’m afraid our conversation must end here,” he said with a sigh. “But if you're looking for somewhere quieter, the third floor is nearly empty. There should be a room there you can use. I’ll let Dan Feng know where to find you.”

Jing Yuan started to walk away, but Yingxing felt a pull to say something. Jing Yuan had been there for him from the start, even without being asked, and he truly appreciated that, though he rarely showed it.

He hurriedly spoke the words before Jing Yuan could disappear completely.

 “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

He paused briefly to glance at him, his expression betraying a hint of surprise, almost as if he hadn’t expected it. It was the first time Yingxing had ever said those words to him. But then, a wide, genuine smile lit up Jing Yuan’s face.

“Anytime.”

(...)

Present-Day

Blade had spent the rest of the afternoon doing nothing. Typically, on days like this, he would just lie in his bed, watching something on his new phone, even though he always claimed to hate it. It was a love-hate relationship.

But he simply couldn’t do that right now because he was certain something was wrong with Dan Heng.

Call it intuition or paranoia, whatever you want, but Blade had a keen sense for when things were off. He knew Dan Heng’s habits like the back of his hand. Dan Heng had a very specific way of doing things, almost like a routine, and he usually didn’t break that order for anything in the world. That’s why last time he had taken him for a night swim; to break the routine and spend some time together, more than anything. But this situation was just plain weird.

Dan Heng hadn’t said goodbye to him before leaving. Blade knew that because he had heard him. Yes, he’d lied to him about it. But he just wanted to see his response, especially since Dan Heng already knew about his poor sleep schedule, which only heightened his suspicions further.

Now, he was just waiting for Dan Heng to return to the apartment, which would be in about two hours.

His phone buzzed, and with a vague gesture, he glanced at the message.

Unknown

Hey uh

Sorry about this

Dan Heng forgot his keys

Can you please open the door?

Blade frowned, then glanced at the door. Was this some sort of scam? Like what happened with the lady last time. Blade still felt embarrassed whenever he thought about it. He’d gotten quite good at technology after that, simply because he didn’t want Dan Heng to keep making fun of him. But then, if this was a scam, how did this person know about Dan Heng?

Another message popped up.

Unknown

This is Caelus btw

Oh.

He would’ve actually hoped it was a scam.

Blade hurried to the door and swung it open. His eyes first landed on Caelus, who was standing awkwardly on the mat that said ‘fuck off’, and then on Dan Heng, who looked... really unwell. Sweat glistened on Dan Heng’s forehead, and his complexion was unnaturally pale. One of Caelus’ arms was firmly around his back, providing support. Blade’s grip tightened on the edge of the door.

He didn’t really think too much before the words came out of his mouth. “What the hell did you do to him?” he blurted out.

Caelus’ free hand quickly shot up in surrender, his eyes widening.

“Woah, man, hold on! I–I didn’t do anything,” Caelus said quickly, his words stumbling over each other. “He’s sick. I just brought him home. Stelle’s waiting outside with the car.”

Finally, Dan Heng raised his head, and their eyes met. Blade had never seen him this sick, and honestly, he didn’t know what to do. It was always Dan Heng who took care of him. But now...

Blade reached out and grabbed Dan Heng’s arm, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. He was burning up. That couldn’t be good. He sent one last glance at Caelus, perhaps feeling a bit bad for accusing him like that, and nodded at him.

“Thank you for bringing him.”

Then, he slowly closed the door.

Blade could feel his palms getting sweaty as he stood there, a knot of worry tightening in his stomach. Memories from his past life and his current one swirled together in his mind; flooding his chest with unfamiliar emotions and heightening his anxiety.

“Sorry,” Dan Heng’s low voice from behind pulled Blade out of his thoughts, laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Blade let out a long, heavy sigh, releasing all the anxiety within him.

“I know,” he said, surprised by the softness in his own voice. “I’ll run you a bath.”

“You don’t have to do that, Blade. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he frowned. “Just wait here.”

Honestly, the thought of taking care of Dan Heng, despite being a bit scary, didn’t seem too bad. It actually felt good to do something for him.

He walked to the bathroom and turned on the cold water tap, watching as the tub slowly filled. The steady sound of running water filled the room, effectively drowning out his thoughts. Hopefully, this would help the fever go down. In truth, Blade hadn’t been very cared for throughout his life. His mother had been around for only a short while, and then it had been just him. Whether it was karma he had to pay, Blade wasn’t sure. But that’s just how it had always been for him.

Once it was ready, he led Dan Heng to the bathroom. He watched as Dan Heng tentatively dipped one hand into the water, only to quickly pull it out as if it were toxic.

“Blade,” he called, his voice incredulous, “the water is freezing.”

“It’s supposed to be like that.”

Dan Heng frowned. “Do you want me to actually die?”

Blade crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “You’re quite fussy for someone who’s sick.”

“I told you I’m fine. I don’t need this,” he gestured towards the tub. “I just need to get some sleep.”

“Just get in the tub already.”

Blade turned around, already on his way out of the bathroom to give him some privacy, when he heard Dan Heng’s soft voice behind him.

“Are you going to leave me?”

Blade stopped, a sense of deja-vu washing over him suddenly.

His voice came out small, hesitant. “Do you… want me to stay?”

Dan Heng shrugged. “What am I supposed to do here alone, anyway?”

“Have a bath, like a normal person would.”

“I don’t even want to have a bath, so the least you could do is stay with me.”

Blade hesitated, but he really couldn’t say no to Dan Heng.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, turning his back on him and staring at the whitish walls. At least that would afford him some privacy. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Dan Heng made a noise with his mouth, but no words came out. He paid special attention to the sounds around him: the rustle of his shirt sliding off his body, the soft click of the zipper as his pants came down, the steady patter of water hitting the walls of the tub. Each of his senses was on high alert. Then, the room fell silent once more.

“Done.”

Blade turned around again, finding Dan Heng with half of his body inside the tub, arms resting on either side. He was visibly shaking, and he shot him a look of disdain as Blade walked up next to him, taking a seat on the toilet lid. It was the closest thing resembling a seat in the room.

Dan Heng arched an eyebrow at the faint smile on his face, his jaw trembling slightly. “Is this funny to you?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re clearly laughing at me.”

“Not laughing. Just… enjoying the situation.”

Dan Heng rolled his eyes. “That’s the same as laughing.”

Dan Heng leaned his head back, shutting his eyes as it met the wall behind him. The water lapped gently around his wet body, and Blade could do nothing but watch. That’s what he always did. He looked at Dan Heng the way one looks at a statue in a museum—within sight but perpetually out of reach.

“Do you believe in past lives?”

Blade felt his own heart skip a beat.

The question hit him like a bucket of ice water, making his blood run cold. He wasn’t expecting that. Blade glanced at his face, only to find that he was already looking back at him, his eyes half-lidded, peering at him through black lashes with a spark of curiosity in them. Testing him. Some things never changed.

“Why are you asking that?” he asked instead, his tone cautious.

Dan Heng shrugged, causing the water to ripple gently around his shoulders. “I’m just curious.”

“I do.”

Blade figured that being honest wouldn’t necessarily make Dan Heng suspicious about their past together. After all, there was no actual proof of their history, aside from his own memories of it all.

Dan Heng raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Blade leaned back, his back resting against the uncomfortable marble of the toilet, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“Why is that surprising?”

“You just don’t seem like the kind of person to believe in things like that.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

But to be honest, if it weren’t for the undeniable evidence of his own memories, Blade wouldn’t really buy into the concept of past lives. So maybe Dan Heng had a point after all.

“What about you?”

He tried his best to hide the obvious curiosity in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Dan Heng said thoughtfully. He seemed to have grown accustomed to the cold water, the trembling in his body ceasing completely. “If it’s true, I can’t even imagine who I would’ve been in my past life.”

How could Blade even begin to describe Dan Feng? There were no words that could capture him entirely. He was one of those people you couldn’t describe to others; you just had to know him for yourself.

“Blade.”

He looked at him again, pulling himself out of his own thoughts.

“What is it?”

“Do you think we’ll be friends in our next life?”

Blade acted like he was thinking, even though he’d known the answer for quite a while now.

I hope we aren’t.

He loved Dan Heng. He truly did. And he would always be by his side, no matter what. But it was also... painful. Being constantly reminded of his unrequited love was something he was already used to, and yet he still ached for it. In this new life, it felt even more unbearable, as if his own body was trying to sabotage him, threatening to tear him apart. The price for loving too much. Too deeply.

He simply couldn’t do this again.

“Who knows,” Blade said, trying to pass it off as a light-hearted joke. “We might end up not liking each other.”

Dan Heng didn’t say anything back, but he looked… puzzled.

They stayed like that for a while longer, until Dan Heng got tired of being inside the tub, and they both went to sleep.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

For the past hour, Yingxing had wandered around the third floor, and just as Jing Yuan had told him, it was nearly empty. The people there seemed too absorbed in their own worlds to notice him, with a few drunks scattered about and others just seeking a little peace of mind, much like he was. It didn’t take long for him to find a massive, empty room; one that was larger than his own house. He made himself comfortable there, waiting for Dan Feng to come looking for him.

Despite the luxury that surrounded him, the room felt oddly bare. The enormous bed took up most of the space, and Yingxing briefly wondered why anyone would need such a large bed. Then he quickly decided he didn’t want to know. What really caught his attention, though, was the huge window that spanned almost an entire wall. It offered a breathtaking view of the landscape. The room remained cloaked in darkness, and Yingxing didn’t bother turning on the lights. He felt it unnecessary, and honestly, the chandelier looming above him seemed a bit intimidating—too grand for his liking.

He lost track of time as he stared at the view, unable to tell exactly how long he spent mesmerized by its beauty. It brought him a sense of calm and peace that he desperately needed.

“I finally found you.”

Yingxing spun around at the sudden voice, startled to find Dan Feng standing in the doorway. The dim light hid most of his expression, but Yingxing could tell he wasn’t angry.

“Didn’t Jing Yuan tell you where I was?” he asked, his brow slightly furrowed.

“He did,” Dan Feng affirmed, taking slow steps toward him. “He said you’d be on the third floor, but didn’t specify which door. It took me a while to find it.”

Dan Feng stopped beside him, eyes focused on the view. Yingxing stole a sneak glance at him, noticing how the moonlight delicately accentuated his features, casting soft shadows that seemed to dance across his face. He could almost see its reflection in his greenish eyes. There was a faint smile on his lips, a rare sight, and Yingxing almost didn’t want to break the moment.

“I didn’t get to thank you,” Dan Feng spoke up, his voice low.

Yingxing’s brow furrowed instinctively. It wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

“For what?”

“For coming with me,” Dan Feng said thoughtfully. “I know it wasn’t an easy favor to ask. I wouldn’t have insisted if you’d refused, even if it was a bet. But you agreed, and for that, I’m truly grateful.”

Yingxing didn’t say anything back, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t quite find the right words.

It was the first time Dan Feng had ever thanked him, and it caught him off guard. He had never expected such acknowledgment. Everything he did for Dan Feng, he did willingly; but there was a warmth now spreading in his chest, knowing that Dan Feng appreciated him.

All of a sudden, the background music ceased, replaced by the soft, gentle melody of the piano, softly whispering through the walls. The song was slow, intimate, and almost romantic, and as Yingxing listened, he could easily imagine the couples on the floor, moving to the rhythm of the melody.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yingxing noticed Dan Feng turning towards him. He reached out his hand, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

“Would you like to dance?”

The question carried a cautious, tentative tone, almost as if Dan Feng was testing him, curious to see how he’d react. Another test.

Yingxing could tell that he wasn’t entirely sober. The slight slur in his voice, the way his words seemed to struggle for fluidity, was barely perceptible, but it was enough for him to notice. He’d come to understand the little signs, the nuances that others might miss.

His heart picked up its pace, beating against his chest in a rhythmic thrum. He wondered if Dan Feng could hear it too. “I… don’t know how.”

Dan Feng smiled gently at him.

“In that case, this is the perfect occasion for you to learn.”

Before Yingxing could process the meaning behind his words, Dan Feng’s hand was in his, a gentle and careful gesture, the warmth of his skin pressing against his own. The touch was cautious, almost tentative, as though Dan Feng didn’t want to overwhelm him.

Gloved fingers brushed over his with a feather-light touch. Yingxing half-expected his own body to betray him under Dan Feng’s touch, but he managed to keep his composure, even though his heart was pounding loudly in his chest, almost deafening. However, the moment Dan Feng’s other hand slid down his back, resting there with a firm, possessive pressure, everything changed. A shiver ran down his spine, the sensation both electrifying and unnerving, leaving him breathless.

The contact was too much to handle, yet it was exactly what he craved, as if his body had been starved for it. He had never known he could feel so much with just the slightest touch.

“You’re too tense,” he heard Dan Feng say. “Loosen up. No one’s watching us.”

If only it were just that.

Yingxing thought about the meaning behind those words; the reason they were dancing in a room so far removed from the eyes of the others. He imagined what might happen if someone walked in on them. The horror on their faces, as if they had just witnessed a crime, for their actions would be seen as just as bad in their eyes. It was sickening, immoral, and many other words that meant all the same.

But maybe there was some truth to it, because Yingxing didn’t feel sorry in the least for what they were doing. If that made him wicked, then so be it.

So he took deep, slow breaths, letting the cool air filling his lungs, and with each exhale, he let go of the doubt, the fear, and the uncertainty that clung to him.

As soon as Yingxing followed his guidance, Dan Feng gave him a small, approving nod.

“Good. Now, let’s work on your posture.”

Dan Feng directed his hand to rest on his shoulder, until the two of them were firmly holding onto each other, drawing them close enough for him to catch the scent of Dan Feng’s cologne. It was unexpectedly sweet, a hint of vanilla tinged with the faint bitterness of wine. It smelled good.

Dan Feng gave his hand a light squeeze, a motion that held more reassurance than command. “Follow my lead.”

Together, they began to move around the room, each step carefully placed—one step forward, one to the right, then back again. While the movements weren’t that challenging, Yingxing struggled to find the rhythm at first. He stepped on Dan Feng’s foot more than once, but each time, Dan Feng simply smiled, his touch guiding him with a calm firmness.

As they continued, their movements became more fluid, their bodies syncing naturally. It was like two puzzle pieces falling into place. They danced gracefully around the room, their steps barely making a sound on the crimson carpet. Surprisingly, Yingxing found himself enjoying it. For once, it felt like the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.

“You’re quite good at this,” Dan Feng remarked, his voice tinged with surprise as they spun across the floor.

Yingxing couldn’t help but smirk, his confidence growing with every word. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Well, after you’ve stepped on my foot six times, it’s a bit hard not to be.”

The teasing tone in Dan Feng’s voice made Yingxing’s heart skip. It was light, playful—a side of him Yingxing rarely saw, and it made him smile in return.

Yingxing hadn’t noticed the moment they’d gotten so close until their chests were nearly touching. He stole a glance at Dan Feng’s face, surprised to find him already looking back. In the background, the music seemed to grow louder, enveloping them as they moved to their own rhythm, their feet tracing slow circles around the room. It would only take one step, just one, to close the space between them completely.

But then, the music abruptly stopped, cutting through the moment like a knife. Dan Feng moved away, pulling back, and suddenly the distance between them felt immense—painfully so.

“I should head back downstairs,” Dan Feng said quietly, his eyes avoiding Yingxing’s. The teasing tone was gone from his voice, his lips now pressed into a tight line. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready to leave.”

And with that, Dan Feng left him alone once more.

(...)

After a few minutes, Yingxing made his way back downstairs to the first floor, where the air buzzed with lively conversation and laughter. While he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about being surrounded by a crowd, he also found staying alone in that room too overwhelming, haunted by the memories of Dan Feng’s touch and how they’d danced around the luxurious room. At least the lively chatter would drown out the echoes of his thoughts.

He stood in the corner of the room, watching as others chatted happily, unaware of the thoughts swirling in his head.

“Boring night?”

Yingxing turned his head at the sound of a voice, spotting a tall woman standing beside him—her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, a few strands carelessly falling over her forehead, looking significantly less elegant than the people around her. Almost as if she didn’t quite belong there.

He shrugged. “Not exactly my kind of party.”

She smiled over the edge of her champagne glass. “Well, looks like we have that in common.”

Yingxing stole a quick glance at her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t look familiar, just like everyone else in that room.

“Where’s your companion?” she asked, idly tracing the rim of her glass. The slight slur in her speech suggested she was a bit drunk. “You look alone.”

Yingxing raised an eyebrow, glancing around her. There was no one beside her either. “So do you,” he remarked dryly.

“Oh, darling, I’m not alone,” she chuckled, raising her right hand to show the diamond ring around her finger. Yingxing hadn’t noticed it before. “My husband must be nearby, probably busy flirting with some other girl,” she added with a wry smile.

Yingxing nodded absentmindedly, the meaning of her words slowly sinking in.

“Wait, what?”

“There’s no reason to be surprised,” she said nonchalantly. Yingxing stared at her smile as if he had never seen one before, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t mind it at all. I don’t even love him.”

“Then why did you marry him?”

Maybe he shouldn’t pry into her private life, but then again, he hadn’t exactly asked her first. She told him all that on her own.

Her smile took on a hint of mischief. “Because it benefited me. Marriage isn’t just about love, darling. I wanted a comfortable life, and I’ve got it. That’s all that matters to me. Besides, now that I’m married to a man, people will no longer suspect me.”

Yingxing found himself trying to unravel the enigma of this woman. She was undeniably peculiar. The casual manner in which she talked about all these things as if they were trivialities, freely sharing details of her private life with a total stranger. Because, after all, that’s precisely what Yingxing was to her—a stranger. They knew nothing about each other.

“What’s there to suspect?”

She tilted her head slightly. “Think a little harder.”

Yingxing frowned, not understanding what she meant. Her words hung in the air like a puzzle waiting to be solved. But he tried, anyway. He tried to contemplate them further, about the ways one could be suspected… And then, suddenly, it all fell into place. Dancing in an empty room, hidden from prying eyes, pretending to be someone you’re not... she was talking about that. A feeling all too familiar to Yingxing, one he dared not to say out loud.

He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Why would you tell me that?”

Now that Yingxing knew what she was talking about, her smile took on a totally different meaning.

“Because I’ve got the feeling that you understand.”

Yingxing’s hand instinctively reached for his sword, but once again, it found nothing. He felt his mouth dry, an uneasy sensation settling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like the direction of this conversation. It was bordering on a dangerous territory that he didn’t want to tread, and he wasn’t even sure how she even knew about that. The feelings he desperately buried deep within himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile now carried a hint of reassurance. “Don’t worry, honey. Your secret’s safe with me. I just wanted to have a chat. I’ve been hearing about you all night, and naturally, it piqued my curiosity.”

Yingxing blinked, mouth still dry. “What… are people saying about me?”

“Oh, just nonsense,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “All they ever talk about is money, power, and influence. They’re too narrow-minded to see beyond those things. It’s extremely boring.”

The woman glanced around with a bored expression before turning back to him, the smile returning to her face.

“Anyway, I should go back to my husband,” she said with a sigh, her tone tinged with resignation. “It was a pleasure talking to you, darling, although I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again.”

As she turned to leave, Yingxing took a step forward, feeling a sudden urge to know more about her before she disappeared into the crowd.

“At least tell me your name.”

The woman turned slightly, a few strands of hair falling messily over her face. With a last glance back at Yingxing, she raised her glass in farewell.

“Kafka.”

Yingxing stood in the middle of the lively room, now alone, thinking about the conversation he had just had, the sound of voices and clinking glasses fading slowly into the background. His back subtly pressed against the wall behind  him for support. Despite the discomfort gnawing at his stomach, he pushed aside those emotions, burying them deep within himself as he had done so many times before.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice another person sidling up beside him.

“Yingxing,” Dan Feng’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Are you ready to leave?”

Slowly, he turned to face him, the faint echo of his thoughts lingering in the back of his mind. “Yes,” he replied, almost begging. “Let’s go.” 

With one last glance around the room, he followed Dan Feng out into the night, the night’s events still swirling in his thoughts.

After all, she was right.

That was the last time he ever saw her.

(...)

Present-Day

It was night, and Blade couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t want to look at his phone; the screen was too blinding, and he didn’t want another distraction keeping him from sleeping. So, he just lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and counting the stars painted on it.

It was one of those nights when he found himself dreaming about the past, but this time, it wasn’t a nightmare; it was a memory. He dreamt about that one time they had danced together, the only time they ever did, and how Dan Feng’s hands had held his, almost lovingly. Deep down, Blade knew Dan Feng never loved him. Yet, he allowed himself to be deceived by the warmth of his touch and the look in his eyes, like a mouse lured into a trap, yearning for something that could never be. Sometimes, the emotions became too much, all bottled up inside him, making it hard to breathe.

“Are you okay?”

Blade jumped at the sound of Dan Heng’s voice. He wasn’t expecting to hear it so late at night.

He rolled over in bed, turning to face Dan Heng’s side of the room. It was too dark to make out his expression. “I’m… fine. Why?”

A sigh echoed from the other side of the room.

“I just… sensed it.”

He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he didn’t try to find out.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Blade said instead, raising an eyebrow even though Dan Heng couldn’t see his expression. “Are you okay?”

Dan Heng’s voice came out tired. “I guess I could be worse.”

“Is that why you were awake?”

“No,” he muttered, pausing for a moment. “I… was having a weird dream.”

Blade sat on his bed, propping himself up on his knees. He knew sleep wasn’t going to come easily tonight. “About what?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The silence stretched on longer than usual, feeling like hours had passed. Blade wondered if Dan Heng ever dreamed of the past, just like he did. It was unlikely, because he didn’t remember a thing, but a part of him still hoped. He wondered if Dan Heng dreamed about him—whether, at least in his dreams, he remembered who Yingxing was. That would be enough.

“Nothing,” Dan Heng said eventually. “Can’t remember now.”

Well, he couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting it.

“Should I turn on the light?”

“Yeah.”

Blade reached out his hand to the small night lamp beside his bed, its smooth surface cool to the touch. With a quiet click, he switched it on, and the room was bathed in a soft, dim light, drowning out the fluorescent glow of the star stickers on the ceiling. It wasn’t much, but at least it was better than being completely in the dark.

Blade turned his head toward Dan Heng, a faint smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight. Dan Heng wasn’t exactly looking his finest. His hair was tousled into a wild mess, sticking out in every direction, showing exactly where he’d been lying on the pillow; but at least his dark circles weren’t so prominent anymore.

Dan Heng frowned at him. “What’s with the stare?”

“You look like a mess.”

“Well, I just woke up,” he grumbled, his frown deepening. “You should see yourself.”

The sound of his own laughter caught him off guard, breaking through the tension in the room. He rarely ever saw Dan Heng getting angry.

“Being sick really puts you in a bad mood, huh?”

“I hate it,” Dan Heng sighed. “I’m stuck doing nothing but lying in bed all day, and it’s so boring.”

Just as he was about to speak, an idea popped into his head—something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. It might not have been the brightest idea, but Blade’s mind wasn’t exactly clear at the moment.

Blade reached for his phone, his fingers tapping on the screen as he searched for a song. Too many years had passed since then, and he couldn’t even recall the name of the tune that played when he and Dan Feng danced together in that room, the gentle sound of the piano echoing through the walls. He settled for a similar one, a little slower than the original, but it would do anyway. Setting his phone down, he climbed out of bed, now met with Dan Heng’s puzzled expression in the dimly lit room.

“Blade, what’re you doing?” he asked, darting his eyes between him and his phone. “It’s late.”

“Get up,” Blade said, reaching out his hand. “Dance with me.”

Dan Heng blinked, a look of open surprise crossing his face. He stared at the hand in front of him, then slowly lifted his eyes to meet Blade’s, a trace of insecurity in them. “I…” he paused, hesitant. “I don’t know how.”

Even as he tried to mask it, a pang of pain pierced his chest. Once, he had heard himself say those exact words, guided by Dan Feng’s gentle hands across the room. Though it had been over five hundred years ago, he remembered it all very vividly—every movement, every touch, every word spoken. It was hard to spot the differences between them, so painfully evident. But he would do it anyway, because it didn’t change how he felt. Not in the slightest.

His smile was just as gentle. “Then, this is the perfect occasion for you to learn.”

He directed his own words towards Dan Heng, hoping they might trigger any memory, any feeling buried deep within.

But there was nothing.

Slowly, Dan Heng took his hand, pulling himself up from the bed. Blade mirrored Dan Feng’s movements from that time: one hand gripping Dan Heng’s, the other gently trailing down his back. Memories rushed back, flooding Blade’s mind with a mix of warmth and bitterness. He felt Dan Heng shudder slightly under his touch, a fleeting reaction before he tensed up abruptly, his muscles stiffening with tension.

“Blade, this is…”

Dan Heng stopped himself, holding back his words before they could spill out. His eyes weren’t on his face.

His tone was careful. “Do you want to stop?”

Blade waited until he noticed Dan Heng shaking his head, feeling his body relax slightly under his touch. Slowly, Dan Heng’s other hand found its way to Blade’s shoulder, the touch hesitant and uncertain.

“Follow me.”

They began to move around the room. The space was notably smaller and much less luxurious, but they still managed, making the most out of it. Blade took the lead, guiding Dan Heng through each step with patience, just as Dan Feng had once done for him. At first, Dan Heng stumbled a lot, stepping on his foot a couple of times. However, as they continued, he began to pick up the rhythm, his movements growing more confident with each step, until he was gliding across the floor with surprising grace. It seemed almost as if he was guiding him now.

“How are you so good at this?” Blade asked, genuinely surprised. “You said you didn’t know how to dance.”

A hint of arrogance flashed in Dan Heng’s eyes, impossible to miss. 

“Maybe I was a dancer in my past life.”

Blade couldn’t help but laugh, the sound carrying a weight of irony, only because he knew the actual truth. Dan Heng arched an eyebrow, his hand gently squeezing Blade’s shoulder.

“What’s so funny?”

Blade shook his head slowly, feeling the smile on his lips. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own little world. Blade was acutely aware of his own heartbeat, the sound of it echoing in his ears, strong and quick.

“Why not?” Dan Heng asked, rolling his eyes in a playful manner. “You can’t possibly know.”

But Blade did know. He knew everything about him: his name, his friends, the things he loved, but especially the things he hated. He knew the subtle nuances of Dan Feng’s expressions, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled or the slight furrow of his brow when he was deep in thought. He knew all the little quirks that made him unique, like the way he tapped his foot when he was nervous or how he always reached for the same mug when making tea. Perhaps it was unfair and even advantageous to hold that knowledge over him, but that’s just the way it was.

“Because, Dan Fe–”

Blade stopped.

It was as if the entire world froze in that moment, hanging on the precipice of that word. It caught in his throat, stealing the air from his lungs and leaving him momentarily breathless.

He almost said it.

It had never happened before. Not even in the beginning, when the memories were fresh and vivid, and every glance at Dan Heng’s face brought them rushing back; he had spent countless hours repeating Dan Heng’s name in his mind, willing the name Dan Feng to fade away until it no longer appeared in his thoughts. And yet, despite his efforts, here he stood, on the verge of saying what he’d worked so hard to bury.

Dan Heng tilted his head at him, completely unaware of the panic rising within him. “What were you going to say?” he asked, his voice gentle and curious.

Blade’s tense shoulders eased slightly. At least, he hadn’t noticed.

As the music faded into silence, Blade slowly moved away from Dan Heng, breaking all physical contact between them.

“I think we should go to sleep.”

Dan Heng seemed confused for an instant, but then he shrugged it off. “Oh, yeah… we should.”

They both got into their own beds, the room falling back into darkness as he turned off the light. Blade knew that he’d acted too strangely. But he just… he couldn’t keep going. Not after almost letting slip the truth.

He had let himself grow too comfortable, too complacent. Once again, he had become overconfident, and the cracks were beginning to show—the slip-ups, the lingering stares. Just like before. Despite his reincarnation, every single trait he disliked about Yingxing lingered within him, haunting him like a ghost.

It couldn’t happen again.

So maybe it was time to put some space between them, at least until he could gather himself once more.

Just until then.

Chapter Text

Five hundred years ago

Yingxing was at another event that night.

This one, however, was different from the rest. It wasn’t as formal or fancy as the ones he usually attended—it was just a casual hangout at Jing Yuan’s place, supposedly.

It seemed to be a yearly tradition of his: inviting friends over to his house to share wine and enjoy each other’s company late into the night. Yingxing didn’t really need to be there, yet Jing Yuan insisted he join. He would’ve declined, but when Dan Feng also asked him to join, Yingxing found himself with little choice in the matter.

So there he was now.

Jing Yuan’s house turned out to be quite different from what he had imagined. From the outside, it looked much more imposing, with those big white pillars and tall, narrow windows offering glimpses into each room. However, once they stepped inside through the heavy, dark oak doors, it was like entering a whole different world. It almost looked like a poet’s home, despite Jing Yuan being far from one, with large bookcases filled with books and stacks of papers covering the desk. What really surprised him, though, was all the plants scattered around the place. They were everywhere—tucked in corners, sitting on windowsills, and even hanging from the ceiling in funky little holders. Some of his books were even about botany. Who would’ve thought?

As he took it all in, the comforting smell of firewood filled the air, making him feel right at home.

Well, wasn’t this nice.

“Welcome to my home,” Jing Yuan greeted beside him, his voice carrying a bit too much enthusiasm. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

He took a quick look around, ignoring the curious glances some people cast their way. It seemed like quite a crowd for a casual night out with friends. However, none of the faces seemed familiar to him.

Yingxing felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look.

“I’ll meet with you later,” Dan Feng said, and then added in a low voice, “don’t wander too far.”

Right after, he smoothly made his way over to a group of people, exchanging friendly greetings with those who were familiar to him.

Oh, he’d never get used to this. Not even in another life.

“They’re all friends,” Jing Yuan reassured him, now speaking directly to him. He held a glass of wine in his hand, gently swirling its contents. Yingxing had almost forgotten he was there. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yingxing frowned slightly, looking away. “Why would I be worried?”

Jing Yuan smiled softly at him. “You seem to get a little anxious in big crowds, so I was just making sure.”

How did Jing Yuan actually notice that about him?

He thought it was best to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“You seem to have quite a large number of friends for someone of your rank, General,” he remarked.

At that, Jing Yuan chuckled.

“Well, not all of them are friends. Some are fellow colleagues of mine, but we’re in good company. I promise.”

Yingxing found it difficult to imagine having such a large group of friends. Working for Dan Feng definitely didn’t help him, as he constantly had to be wary of potential threats lurking among those around him.

Eventually, it just became a part of his routine.

Suddenly, Jing Yuan gestured towards him with his glass. “Wine?”

The sweet aroma of grapes filled his senses, both intense and captivating.

Yingxing shook his head, politely declining the offer. “I’m not supposed to drink.”

Well, he wasn’t supposed to drink during work hours, and he wasn’t really working at the moment, so it wouldn’t be against the rules. However, it still felt... inappropriate.

Jing Yuan shrugged, bringing the rim of his wine glass closer to his mouth.

“Suit yourself.”

From the crowd, a tall, slender man with long blond hair motioned for Jing Yuan to join him. A large group of people surrounded him, and Yingxing instinctively took a step back. He had no intention of getting involved in that. He silently hoped that Jing Yuan would just go away and leave him alone, which would be a welcome relief.

But from the mischievous smile on Jing Yuan’s face, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Why don’t I introduce you to my friends?” Jing Yuan suggested, his smile spreading even wider. Clearly, the wine had already gotten to his head. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet you.”

Yingxing frowned, unable to hide his annoyance.

“Jing Yuan, don’t–”

But before he could utter another word, Jing Yuan had already placed a firm hand on his back, gently guiding him through the crowd.

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy,” he heard Jing Yuan say with a laugh. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

There was no point in trying to stop him. He wouldn’t listen. So, Yingxing reluctantly walked beside him, grumbling under his breath.

Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be bad to meet a few more faces.

A few seconds later, they arrived where the blonde man stood, surrounded by five other people who all turned their attention to him. 

This was not how he imagined his night would go.

He felt Jing Yuan give his back a reassuring pat before withdrawing his hand.

“Everyone, this is my friend, Yingxing,” Jing Yuan introduced, flashing a warm smile in his direction. The empty wine glass in his hands had mysteriously been replaced by a full one. When did that happen? “I doubt there’s anyone here who doesn’t know him. He’s quite famous these days.”

This time, the blonde man spoke up, raising both eyebrows. “Ah, is this Dan Feng’s student? I thought I recognized him from somewhere. What a coincidence.”

“Oh, he’s no longer his student,” Jing Yuan clarified, casting a knowing glance at Yingxing. “He works for him now.”

“I see,” the man nodded. “That’s quite impressive.”

Yingxing watched him closely, taking note of his sharp features. He appeared to be someone of importance, meticulously dressed all in black and white. It almost looked like he had just come from a funeral. As their eyes met, Yingxing wondered if he too was another of Dan Feng’s acquaintances. It seemed likely, given that he knew Dan Feng. But then again, there weren’t many who didn’t know who Dan Feng was, considering his reputation.

When he stole a quick glance at Jing Yuan, he realized that the man was waiting for a response. Eventually, Yingxing blurted out the only thing that came to mind.

“I don’t know you.”

The man blinked twice, clearly taken aback by his remark. Perhaps it would’ve been more appropriate for Yingxing to pretend to know him, but that wasn’t the case. However, before the man could respond, Jing Yuan’s cheerful laughter cut in.

“Don’t worry. He said the same thing to me when we first met,” Jing Yuan reassured with a playful smile, seemingly finding amusement in the situation. Then, locking eyes with Yingxing, he added, “Yingxing, meet Luocha, a reputable merchant. While many may call him a friend, I say it’s best not to be too trusting.”

Yingxing frowned. Was this meant as a warning?

“Don’t scare him off,” Luocha snorted, shooting Jing Yuan a disapproving glance before turning his attention back to Yingxing. “You’re welcome to do business with me anytime. I’m harmless.”

“If he says so.”

Clearly, Jing Yuan was drunk, so it was unlikely anything coherent would come out of his mouth at the moment.

The blond man, with a hint of fascination, raised an eyebrow at him. “So, is it true what they say?”

Yingxing tensed slightly.

“About what?”

“Well, I’ve heard my fair share of stories about Dan Feng as a mentor,” he explained, pausing to take a sip of his wine before continuing. “His reputation has been quite solid over the years. I’ve always wondered whether any of those rumors were true, but I figure you, as his student, would be the best judge of that.”

He tilted his head.

Yingxing was well aware of the rumors surrounding Dan Feng. Even before becoming his student, during his days as an apprentice, people spoke plenty about him. Dan Feng’s reputation preceded him—stories of his relentless training methods, of how he pushed his students to their limits until they couldn’t bear it anymore. It was all people talked about whenever his name was mentioned in conversation.

Now, Yingxing could attest to many of those rumors actually being true. 

Yes, Dan Feng was ruthless, but there was also a softer side to him. It was something no one ever talked about. They didn’t see Dan Feng for the man he was behind the sword. But those who knew him best understood that there was more to Dan Feng than met the eye. They saw the kindness in his gestures, the empathy in his eyes when no one else was looking.

Of course, he wouldn’t say that out loud.

“Wouldn’t you know that already, as his friend?” he countered. 

He didn’t trust Luocha. While he hadn’t said anything outright dangerous, there was an unsettling aura around him. Talking to him felt like stepping into the lion’s den.

Luocha chuckled as if he found something amusing. 

“You’re sharp. He’s trained you well,” he remarked with a nod of approval. “But you see, Dan Feng is quite secretive. He wouldn’t divulge his methods even to his closest friends.”

He certainly understood why Dan Feng wouldn’t.

“In that case, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

Luocha sighed, feigning disappointment. “I guess it’ll remain a mystery.”

Yingxing’s eyes darted around the room, hoping to catch sight of Dan Feng—or any means of escape. This wasn’t a conversation he enjoyed, but Jing Yuan seemed too distracted to ask for help, and Yingxing was too polite to simply walk away. 

Unfortunately, there were no signs of Dan Feng anywhere. It was a mystery how he managed to disappear into the crowd so effortlessly. 

“How long have you been with him?” Luocha asked casually. It was a simple question, nothing too hard to answer.

Yingxing tried to count the days spent by Dan Feng’s side. From the months of training to starting work for him, time seemed to slip away unnoticed. In a matter of months, it’d be two years since they met. Two years. It felt like a significant amount of time, yet also like nothing at all. There was still so much to uncover about him, so much to adapt to. This was just the beginning.

“For over a year,” he replied.

“Oh?” Luocha raised an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised. “Well, he’s certainly kept you around longer than the rest of his students.”

Yingxing wished he could meet some of Dan Feng’s former students. Their identities were carefully hidden, making them almost impossible to track down. He had tried to find them himself, hoping to seek their advice, yet his efforts were all in vain. He never managed to locate them.

“May I see the scar?”

He blinked. 

“Which one?”

“The one in your neck,” Luocha clarified. Yingxing soon realized he was referring to the scar that Dan Feng had given him—the mark symbolizing his loyalty to him.

With a hint of hesitation, he turned around and brushed his hair aside, revealing the back of his neck. Few had seen the scar up close: most of the time, it was kept well hidden under his hair, even if everyone knew of its existence. It was a private mark, a secret intimacy shared between them. Yet, he stood there, feeling vulnerable, allowing him to see.

A moment later, Luocha hummed softly.

“You must like him quite a lot.”

Yingxing turned around too quickly. “What do you mean?”

Luocha tilted his head, his tone careful. “To let someone leave such a mark on you, you must have strong feelings for them,” he mused. It seemed like no one else was paying attention to their conversation. “Admiration, envy, devotion… love,” he added with a crooked smile. “Those are a few examples. I highly doubt any of his other students would’ve been willing to subject themselves to such a thing. So, I’m curious as to why you would.”

Yingxing clenched his fists. He wanted to speak, but his mind was blank. How could he answer that without exposing himself? No one, not even Dan Feng himself, had ever questioned him about it before. 

There was only one answer.

But then, he felt the gentle pressure of a hand on his lower back, a touch that felt almost reassuring.

“May I ask what you’re discussing with my student?”

He almost sighed in relief as he heard Dan Feng’s steady voice beside him. The people around them quickly turned their heads, and even Luocha seemed surprised to see him.

Dan Feng cocked his head in Yingxing’s direction. “Is this man bothering you?” he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. “Pay him no mind. He’s all talk and no bite, like a little puppy.”

The smile on Luocha’s face faltered for a moment. Yingxing wanted to feel satisfied, but in fact, he was a bit… intimidated. From the way Dan Feng’s fingers dug into his shirt, he seemed tense as well, though the expression on his face showed otherwise.

“I was merely asking him why he wanted to work for you.”

With an almost wry smile, Dan Feng retorted, “Well, that’s none of your business, is it?”

After that, Jing Yuan stepped in between them. “Gentlemen, let’s not do this right now, shall we? It’s a lovely night.”

Luocha reached up to the collar of his own shirt, unbuttoning it. “Everything is just fine. Although I can’t help but wonder why Dan Feng is getting so worked up over this, ” he said with a tentative smile, glancing briefly at Yingxing. “After all, he’s just a servant, isn’t he? So I don’t see what’s so special about him. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

Yingxing tensed up. The conversation seemed to take a turn for the worse. Now, with everyone’s curious eyes on them, it felt like they were the center of attention, watched by silent spectators.

Yingxing knew better than to intervene between the two of them, so instead, he reached for Dan Feng’s hand, guiding his fingers to rest lightly on his wrist, just above his pulse. Beneath his touch, Yingxing could feel the frantic rhythm of Dan Feng’s pulse. It was a sneaky touch, one that probably went unnoticed by anyone else in the room. But as he felt Dan Feng’s tense muscles gradually relaxed under his touch, he knew that his presence was appreciated.

Then, Jing Yuan placed a firm hand on Dan Feng’s shoulder, almost like a warning. “That is enough.”

The room fell into a tense silence, and yet he didn’t understand Jing Yuan’s sudden shift. But then, he noticed it: Dan Feng’s clenched fists, ready to strike.

Jing Yuan had intervened just in time.

“I’m afraid he’s had a few too many drinks,” Jing Yuan said eventually. There was no longer any trace of discomfort on his face, but it may be all an act. He smiled gently in his direction. “Yingxing, would you mind escorting him upstairs?”

He nodded silently, guiding Dan Feng through the crowd, away from the prying eyes that followed their every move. Whatever happened next, Yingxing trusted that Jing Yuan could handle it on his own.

(...)

Present-Day

Where do memories go?

It’s a question Blade has pondered countless times before. Once completely forgotten, where did they go? Did they simply cease to exist, like ashes from a fire that had once burned? Or did they remain hidden, waiting for something to bring them back?

It wouldn’t be until years later that he’d find the answer.

Memories were like ghosts, haunting the corridors of your own mind, lurking and creeping from the shadows. And they didn’t really go anywhere.

They haunted.

“Hey, wake up,” Stelle said, turning around on her seat. “We’re here.”

She parked the car right outside Jing Yuan’s house. However, it wasn’t the same house as before, but his own. No one had been there until now.

Jing Yuan hadn’t been particularly specific about his invitation. It was, much like in the past, described as a casual hangout—at least, that’s what he said. He had called them earlier that morning, and Blade found no reason to decline, especially since Dan Heng had a day off from work.

Blade stole a glance at where Dan Heng was seated. Almost conveniently, Caelus was sitting right in the middle, further widening the distance that already existed between them.

They hadn’t been talking much lately, and Blade knew it was mostly his fault. He’d been avoiding Dan Heng as much as possible, but it was challenging; after all, they were still living together. Each night, Blade would find Dan Heng in his bed, and he’d quietly try to slip into his own without waking him. 

To everyone else, it might seem like they had gotten into a fight, but they hadn’t.

Blade was just scared. 

If Dan Heng had noticed that Blade was deliberately keeping his distance, he never confronted him about it. It was strange, but he decided not to ask. He needed this distance. What happened last time couldn’t happen again.

He couldn’t let Dan Heng know.

As they stepped out of the car, Blade took in the front of the house for the first time. It seemed notably smaller than what he remembered—he couldn’t help but compare, despite his efforts—but somehow more… present.

Jing Yuan waited for them at the entrance, standing by the small staircase that led into the house. When their eyes met, Blade noticed an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Welcome to my home,” Jing Yuan greeted, looking at each of them. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

There weren’t many of them—no more than four or five people could fit into Stelle’s car, if they squeezed together enough—so the group was the same size as last time. However, once they opened the door, Blade couldn’t be certain how many there’d be inside. In the past, Jing Yuan had quite a few friends, and his ‘casual meetings’ often resembled the crowded events Blade used to attend with Dan Feng.

He trailed behind Dan Heng as they entered Jing Yuan’s house, following closely behind him.

“Thank you so much for inviting us!” March expressed her gratitude with a bright smile. “You have a lovely home!”

Jing Yuan smiled gently.

“No need to thank me. Oh, and feel free to grab a beer if you’d like one,” he offered. “There are some cans at the bar. Help yourselves to whatever you like. You’re my guests.”

Caelus walked over and grabbed a can, his eyes widening. “This isn’t normal beer. This is, like, super expensive.”

“Hey, leave one for me!”

Stelle chased after him. Since she didn’t have to drive back, it seemed like she wasn’t going to hold back this time.

Everyone seemed delighted, admiring the surroundings and helping themselves to cans of beer from the bar. The jovial atmosphere was almost contagious. However, as Blade glanced around the room, he suddenly froze in place.

No.  

He felt a tickling inside his chest, which he soon realized was panic. 

It couldn’t be.

That’s all it took for him to realize. Just a glance.

It was the same house.

Blade could recognize it even after years.

From the outside, it didn’t look like it. The building had clearly been changed and renovated after all these years, nearly unrecognizable from before. But inside, it was exactly the same. The distinct scent of firewood filled the air, one he knew all too well. It reminded him of long, warm conversations by the fireplace and the comforting taste of tea.

Everywhere he looked, the furnishings, the decorations—it all remained the same. It was overwhelming. A wave of nausea washed over him, twisting his stomach into knots. It was as if he had stepped back in time, confronted once again by the ghosts of his past.

Was this some sort of trap? Were the gods testing him yet again, to see how much he could take?

“Blade,” Dan Heng’s voice pulled him back, and for a moment, that name sounded foreign to him. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked. It was all coming back together, even the memories he had tried to bury: being with Dan Feng in that room, the gentle touch of his hand, the harshness of his words afterwards. 

Blade tried to stop it before it consumed him completely.

“I’m just tired.”

This time, Jing Yuan intervened.

“Perhaps we should settle the rooms first,” he suggested. “You can rest if you’re feeling too tired. It’s pretty late.”

Oh… right. Blade had forgotten.

They were going to spend the night there.

He didn’t even know why he had agreed to it in the first place. It was an unusual invitation; never before had he spent the night at Jing Yuan’s home, not even in the past. Perhaps he thought it would be a good opportunity to create new memories, to replace the ones from his past with something tangible and present. At that moment, he could never have imagined this outcome: that instead of running from the past, he would be running straight into it. As if he had just hit a wall. 

It felt as though his past was haunting him at every turn. Like quicksand, every attempt to escape or even move a little only seemed to drag him deeper and deeper into it.

In the end, he would drown.

“Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”

Jing Yuan led them upstairs, following the same path he knew all too well: these were the same stairs he had helped Dan Feng climb, hundreds of years ago. Only now, the carpet had been removed and replaced with a new one. A new memory.

He glanced at Dan Heng.

Did he remember anything?

It had to be there, somewhere. The memory. Perhaps buried deep inside him, waiting for something to trigger its return. He refused to believe that everything was lost forever.

But he knew that, even if that were true, Blade couldn’t say anything.

A price as high as being remembered from your past life should be paid for a much higher price.

There was no one on the first floor. They waited there while Jing Yuan stood in the middle of the hallway, gesturing towards the doors.

“You can choose whichever room you like best,” he said, offering a helpful smile. “They’re all empty, anyway.”

Quickly, the group dispersed, each member heading off to find a room for the night. But Blade could barely move. One of those rooms had to be. He couldn’t tell now which one it was, the room he had once shared with Dan Feng. And truthfully, he was terrified to find it.

This wasn’t just any house.

It was a house filled with memories, one he never imagined he’d return to.

“Do you need help finding a room?”

He could only stare at Jing Yuan in silence, wondering. Had he been living in this place all this time without remembering a single thing? Was his past so insignificant, so easy to erase?

Why couldn’t he do the same?

“You look a bit pale,” he remarked, sounding somewhat concerned. “Come with me.”

Without a word of complaint, Blade followed Jing Yuan as they made their way to an empty room, while the rest of the group continued to roam around. The place was just as big as he remembered, and the hallways remained as confusing as ever, looking like labyrinths.

Jing Yuan held the door open, inviting him in.

“You can rest here,” he said. “It’s all yours.”

Blade walked into the room and glanced around.

Although still ridiculously large, the room had... changed. The carpeted floor had been replaced entirely by sleek, dark wood, which seemed to swallow the whole place like a black hole. The window, which had once flooded the room with natural light, was now smaller, and the lights seemed brighter than before.

There was only one thing that remained the same.

The bed.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Jing Yuan said from behind. “If you need anything, just call.”

And so he was left alone.

Blade stood still in the empty room, just listening to the silence around him. However, if he paid attention, he could feel it; the ghosts of his past, lurking in the shadows. They were all over the place: under the bed, within the walls, their hands reaching out through the cracks. And if he listened closely, he could almost hear them, too—the echo of Dan Feng’s voice, soft and haunting.

He couldn’t stay there. He had to get out.

Blade sprinted out of the room and down the empty hallways, until he could no longer recognize his surroundings. All he wanted was a place where he could try to forget.

Wherever he looked, he would see him.

Blade had to forget. At least for one night.

He arrived at a balcony, where a refreshing breeze hit his face. It was eerie dark outside. Blade stepped closer to the railing, inhaling deeply.

“Tough night?”

Blade turned to his side and found Sampo standing there, watching him with a drowsy smile.

“We’ve all had one of those.”

He crossed his arms, feeling suddenly exposed. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Well, this is the only spot where you can find some peace of mind,” he said, gesturing awkwardly with his hand. He seemed a bit out of it. “It’s so boring downstairs. The beer tastes like shit.”

Blade looked at him closely. There was something off about him, more so than usual.

“Are you high?” he asked.

It wasn’t that he genuinely cared, but rather for... personal reasons.

Sampo raised both hands, shaping them like guns. “Bingo,” he said with a smirk. “Had to find a way to have some fun, y’know? Don’t tell Jing Yuan, tho.”

Just what he wanted.

Blade was well aware of how terrible of an idea it was.

He had never taken drugs before, and had never planned to; until now, at least. He felt desperate and simply wanted a quick and simple solution. It was undoubtedly risky, and he knew that: if he ran into Dan Heng, he had no idea how he would handle it. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember it tomorrow. But maybe that was precisely what he desired—to forget everything.

After all, he was no longer Yingxing. He had no reason to stay sober anymore.

“How can I get some of that?”

Sampo stared at him with wide eyes, clearly surprised but also amused at the same time.

“Ha! Didn’t know you did drugs,” he said with a chuckle. “Who would’ve guessed? And here I thought you were plain boring.”

Blade glared at him. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

But then, his expression shifted when Sampo retrieved a small plastic bag from his pocket and waved it in front of his eyes without a care.

“Just take one of these.”

Sampo let him take it without resistance. Blade extracted a small capsule of a light color from the bag and examined it closely. He had no idea what it was.

He glanced at Sampo. “What do you want for it?”

However, Sampo simply waved a hand. 

“It’s on the house.”

Blade didn’t buy that for a moment.

“What’s the catch?” he asked, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “Are you going to make me take it and then ask for something in exchange?”

Suddenly, Sampo burst into laughter.

“Man, you’re really paranoid, huh? You’re like a damn cop,” he said, leaning over the balcony railing. “There’s no catch. We’re friends, aren’t we? Just take it. I mean it.”

Oh, they sure as hell weren’t friends.

But Blade took it anyway.

He stared at the small pill between his fingers for a few more seconds. If he wanted to back out, now was the time. There wouldn’t be another chance. Once he put this in his mouth, there would be no turning back.

It only took him another second to make the final decision.

He placed the pill on his tongue and swallowed it without hesitation. He could feel it slide down his throat, until it was finally gone.

Beside him, Sampo laughed. “You’ll feel the effects in no time. This stuff kicks in pretty quickly.”

Blade took a deep breath, feeling surprisingly at ease now. At least, he had taken care of that: the ghosts of his past wouldn’t haunt him, even if it was just for tonight. That’d be enough.

He glanced at Sampo, suddenly remembering something.

“What does this do?”

Blade hadn’t even asked him about it before taking the pill. Maybe he should have. It was definitely too late now.

Sampo simply smiled at him.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Dan Feng was quite drunk. 

Yingxing hadn’t noticed before, but now everything fell into place: Dan Feng’s odd behavior, his unsteadiness, the heat radiating from his skin. It became even more apparent as he observed the way Dan Feng was clinging to him as they climbed the stairs to the first floor. They had never been this close before, their bodies nearly touching.

However, his duty was to get Dan Feng to a room safely, and that’s precisely what he did.

The room they stepped into was ridiculously spacious. Yingxing didn’t understand the purpose of so much unused space. Otherwise, the room looked fine, undoubtedly far more expensive than anything he could afford. But what really caught his eye was the bed, covered with silk sheets and velvet curtains drawn closed, hiding whoever might be sleeping in it.

He carefully helped Dan Feng lie down on the sheets. Even though it wasn’t late, it seemed like the night was already over.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he said.

Yingxing turned around, ready to leave.

“Forgive me.”

He met Dan Feng’s gaze, who was staring back at him with narrowed eyes. 

He couldn’t recall ever hearing those words from Dan Feng’s lips, not even during the times when he was wounded by his blade. Dan Feng wasn’t a man of apologies, and Yingxing was well aware of that.

“For what?”

“It’s only my fault he messed with you,” Dan Feng confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Luocha has a habit of meddling in others’ personal affairs. It’s just his way of doing business: he thrives on secrets and manipulates people with them. Knowing his usual tactics don’t work on me anymore, he turned to you instead.”

For the first time, he could see the guilt reflected in Dan Feng’s eyes, a piercing shade of dark green.

Yingxing pondered all the rumors he’d heard about him over the years—stories about his mentorship, his personal affairs, his business. He wondered if he, too, had once fallen into his trap; if he had confided in the wrong person. There had to be a reason why he no longer trusted people easily.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Yingxing assured. “I didn’t say anything to him. I wouldn’t betray your trust.”

“I know that,” Dan Feng’s eyes swept over his face with hesitation. “I wasn’t concerned about myself. I was worried about you. ”

Dan Feng’s voice carried a subtle softness, tinting each word he spoke. In the quiet of the moment, Yingxing could hear his own heartbeat, slow, echoing in his ears.

After all, he’s just a servant, isn’t he?

Luocha’s words echoed in his mind. Harsh as they were, there was truth in them. Logically, Yingxing was insignificant. His own life held little value, which was precisely why he’d pledged to put it on the line for Dan Feng—so there was no reason for him to worry about him. This was, after all, their agreement.

“You shouldn’t,” Yingxing spoke softly. “I’m here to serve you. Whatever happens to me doesn’t matter.”

Dan Feng stared at him with an expression that was hard to read, his lips firmly pressed together.

When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“You don’t understand, do you?”

Yingxing frowned. He really didn’t.

The white light streaming through the window made Dan Feng look just like a figure from a dream.

“Yingxing,” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “Have I ever told you why I tried to push you away that day?”

Oh, he knew perfectly well what day he was talking about. 

He shook his head.

Dan Feng smiled, but there was a hint of pity in it. “It’s because I cared about you.”

Yingxing said nothing.

Memories of that day flooded his mind: quick flashes of Dan Feng’s face, records of the sharp words that came out of his mouth, the burn of the iron against his neck. His thoughts wandered back even further, to the months before he became Dan Feng’s student, when he was just a lonely young man driven by passion alone. Those days of relentless training late into the night, fighting against invisible enemies, only to wake up early in the morning and do it all over again. So much time had passed since then.

Back then, he would never have imagined where he would be now or how drastically things would change. But now, standing beside Dan Feng, he could see the culmination of all his hard work. What he had achieved.

And for the first time, he felt proud.

“I had never cared for a student before,” Dan Feng kept going. He was talking very slowly, influenced by the effects of alcohol. “It was… terrifying, to be honest. So, I convinced myself that pushing you away was the right thing to do. And maybe it was. But then you asked to work for me,” a spark of unspoken emotion flashed in his eyes. “Perhaps the sensible choice would’ve been to let you walk away that day, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Partly out of my own selfishness, I admit. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Yingxing stood there, simply staring at the soft contours of Dan Feng’s face, his heart pounding loudly in his ears like a distant melody.

I always thought he never cared.

He realized, little by little, that everything he believed was wrong. And as he did, he also acknowledged that, just like so many others, he too had misjudged Dan Feng.

Perhaps he couldn’t see beyond the blade either.

“Come closer.”

Yingxing blinked, and almost without thinking, he found himself leaning closer to Dan Feng on the bed.

Carefully, Dan Feng lifted his hand toward him, his fingertips trembling slightly before resting on Yingxing’s cheek. The touch felt like fire, all consuming and overtaking, yet Yingxing wasn’t sure if it was his own skin or Dan Feng’s that burned. The room was utterly silent, broken only by the sound of their shallow breaths. Dan Feng’s gaze didn’t meet Yingxing’s at any moment, but rather focused on his own hand as it moved.

Slowly, his fingers traced along the curve of Yingxing’s neck, silently admiring. It stopped at the mark on the back. His mark.

He traced the scar with two delicate fingers, as if examining it closely. 

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked.

Yingxing swallowed before finding his voice. “Regret what?”

“Working for me,” Dan Feng said, meeting his gaze. “Do you ever wish you could leave?”

He could see it in his eyes, all of it: the doubt, the insecurity, the fear. It mirrored Yingxing’s own feelings, reflecting everything he despised about himself. In that moment, he realized how little he truly understood about Dan Feng, how much of an enigma he still was.

Yingxing looked him straight in the eyes, trying to convey, even if it was fake, unshakable confidence. “Never.”

Dan Feng smiled softly. 

“Then, I’m glad.”

It was already quite late, and it was clear that Dan Feng was in no condition to return home, so he would stay there for the night. It was impossible for Yingxing to stay with him, even if he wanted to.

With careful steps, he turned around and began to make his way out of the room.

“Yingxing.”

He stopped.

“I… have been lying to you.”

Yingxing glanced back, catching sight of Dan Feng’s silhouette on the bed. His features were obscured, making it hard to make out his expression.

“You’re free to leave me whenever you’d like. You’ve always been.”

He was briefly thrown off by the comment, unsure at first what he meant.

“What…” 

But then, he remembered.

If you were ever going to leave me, I would have to kill you.

Yingxing’s pulse quickened. “But you told me…”

“I know what I said,” he interjected, his tone too gentle, as if he were explaining to a child. It only made him angrier. “I never really intended to kill you. That was a lie.”

He only realized his fists were clenched when the pain throbbed through his knuckles. 

Why the fuck would Dan Feng even lie about that?

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, struggling to keep his voice steady. Unfortunately, he wasn’t nearly as good as Dan Feng at controlling his emotions. “Was the promise, the loyalty test, the... scar, all just a lie?” 

He waited in silence for Dan Feng’s response, but when none came, his frustration only deepened: because he knew perfectly well that he already had his answer.

This was his answer.

Yingxing had trained tirelessly for this. Fought for this, for all of it to mean nothing. But what infuriated him the most—the very thing he had once admired about him—was Dan Feng’s calmness. It almost seemed like he didn’t fucking care. And perhaps he didn’t.

“What if I betray you?” he blurted out, his pride wounded. It felt like everything had been for nothing. That feeling was spinning through his head relentlessly. All this time, Dan Feng had only laughed in his face while he believed he was actually doing something. “What if I were to pull out a knife and hold it against your neck? Would you just stand there and let it happen?” 

He paused, drawing in a deep breath. Although he didn’t really want to hear the answer, he continued.

“Tell me, Dan Feng. If I deserve death for my sins, won’t you be the one to put an end to it?”

Dan Feng stood very still, the heavy silence in the room weighing on Yingxing like a physical burden. For a moment, Yingxing wondered if he had fallen asleep. However, just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard Dan Feng’s voice again, as soft and measured as before.

“I can’t, Yingxing.”

His hopes came crashing down with a heavy weight. Foolishly, he had held onto the faint hope that Dan Feng would agree, that he would be the one to put an end to the life he had devoted to serving him. 

“Did you ever need me?”

Dan Feng visibly recoiled.

“Yingxing…”

“I want a straightforward answer,” he interjected firmly. “Yes or no.”

He needed to know. He had to know if, throughout all this time, he had fulfilled his duty. That’s what he had devoted his life to. 

Him.

After a few seconds, Dan Feng finally spoke.

“No.”

Of course.

He knew that already.

There was a loud thud against the door, and only then did Yingxing realize it had been his own fist slamming into it. Some splinters had buried themselves in his skin, drawing blood, but he didn’t care.

“You said you cared about me,” he muttered, and a bitter laugh forced its way from his throat. It sounded almost painful. “But I don’t believe that’s true. I think you don’t actually give a shit about me. Or anyone, for that matter, besides yourself.”

Dan Feng said nothing again.

Say something, he pleaded, but the words never came out of his mouth. Tell me I’m wrong. Please.

Lie to me again.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

He despised the raw pain in his own voice, yet he could no longer hide it. Yingxing was hurt. His pride was hurt.

Dan Feng finally looked him in the eyes, and for a single moment, Yingxing wished they had never met at all.

“Because I want you to have the choice,” Dan Feng explained carefully, as if he were handling something fragile. And Yingxing hated it, he hated it with every fiber of his being, because Dan Feng was never this careful. “I want you to stay with me because you choose to, not because you feel obligated.”

Yingxing clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his own flesh.

“And what If I don’t?”

There was a moment of silence, marked only by the single tick of the clock’s hands.

“Then, I won’t stop you.”

Yingxing stood there, blinking, until a new anger overtook him. He left the room without looking back and walked with furious steps towards… Well, he didn’t know exactly where he was going. All he knew was that, halfway there, Jing Yuan stopped him.

To his surprise, the place was almost empty. However, he was in no condition to take note of anyone else.

“Leaving so soon?” Jing Yuan asked. His breath smelled of expensive wine, though he seemed less drunk than before. “It’s still quite early. Have you already taken Dan Feng to his room?”

Please, let me go, he pleaded silently.

He nodded.

“Perfect, then. How is he feeling?”

“He’s good.”

Yingxing didn’t mean for his words to come out so abruptly. Jing Yuan raised both eyebrows in response.

“I see. Well, in that case…” he trailed off, and then Yingxing noticed Jing Yuan’s gaze fixated on his hand. It was bleeding quite badly. “What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing,” Yingxing replied, withdrawing his hand from view. “I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t look fine at all.”

He felt Jing Yuan’s hand gently rest on his shoulder.

“Come with me.”

Jing Yuan led him through his own home to a small bathroom at the end of a hallway. Yingxing didn’t really  need any of this—yes, his hand was bleeding and it hurt, but he had endured far worse injuries in the past. The scars on his body attested to that. Physically, he would be fine. All he needed now was to leave.

Jing Yuan reached for a small first aid kit, while Yingxing stood to the side, quietly watching him.

“Sit down.”

Yingxing glanced at his surroundings. “There’s nowhere to sit.”

“On the floor, then.”

For some reason, he obeyed, sinking to the floor. He no longer had the will to fight, and instead wanted this whole thing to end quickly.

The bathroom floor was really cold, but remarkably clean. Jing Yuan settled beside him, leaving just enough space between them for the first aid kit. Yingxing found the scene somewhat amusing: watching a general as esteemed as Jing Yuan seated on the bathroom floor, like a child who had scraped his knees while playing outside.

He let Jing Yuan tend to his wounds. He turned out to be quite good at it—the process was surprisingly painless, without any stinging or burning.

As Jing Yuan bandaged his hand, Yingxing heard him speak.

“Will you not tell me what happened?” he asked.

He said nothing.

“You know,” Jing Yuan continued, still not looking at him, “you might think I’m only doing this for Dan Feng, but you’re mistaken. You’re my friend as well. I hope you realize that.”

Yingxing stared at the bandages, carefully wrapped around his hand, noting how they gently embraced his wounds. He flexed his fingers slowly before closing his hand into a fist.

“I don’t understand.”

Jing Yuan looked at him attentively. “Understand what?”

“Why you care.”

He couldn’t bring himself to meet Jing Yuan’s gaze, not yet. He felt ashamed of his own vulnerability. How could he ever believe he could protect Dan Feng when he was so weak? It made sense that Dan Feng would lie to him. Dan Feng never truly needed him, and deep down, Yingxing had always known it.

“Why wouldn’t I care?”

“Because I am worthless,” he suddenly snapped. He had meant to say this to Dan Feng, but he didn’t. Perhaps he was afraid that he would agree. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yingxing.”

He lifted his gaze to meet Jing Yuan’s. There was no pity in his eyes, but something else.

“Is this because of what Luocha said?”

He took a moment to think. “Maybe.”

It was a combination of everything: Luocha’s words, his own insecurities, and now Dan Feng’s lie. It had become too much to bear.

“Don’t let his words affect you. Luocha has no idea what he’s talking about. You work for Dan Feng, not him,” Jing Yuan tried to reassure him. “Your relationship is special.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that.”

The room was cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft, melodic music that filled the room. Yingxing thought it was just the right moment for him to leave. After all, his hand had already been tended to; there was no reason for him to linger any longer. 

But then, Jing Yuan spoke.

“Yingxing,” he whispered, “you love him, don’t you?”

Yingxing felt his own heartbeat falter. This was the last thing he needed right now: to have his own secret thrown in his face, as if it were common knowledge, as if everyone already knew. But he couldn’t bear the thought of others knowing, especially not Dan Feng. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t meant to notice. He wasn’t supposed to say it, because, deep down, even Yingxing hadn’t fully come to terms with the fact that he loved him.

“You can’t tell him.”

That was the closest thing to a confession he was willing to make.

“I won’t,” he reassured. “I swear.”

Yingxing clenched his fist, the one that wasn’t bandaged. He might end up hurting them both. “How long have you...?” he trailed off, unable to finish the question.

But again, Jing Yuan understood, as he always did. 

“A while. But don’t worry, I don’t think anyone noticed,” he replied with a soft smile. “And certainly not him, either.”

Yingxing sighed.

He wondered what might have given him away, but he didn’t dare to ask. Perhaps he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Jing Yuan asked. It was an honest, innocent question, as if he couldn’t imagine why Yingxing hadn’t done it already.

But there were so many reasons, he couldn’t possibly list them all. Not now, at least.

“I will never.”

Jing Yuan raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Because it won’t be reciprocated,” Yingxing stated firmly, as if it were an indisputable fact, something impossible to happen. “I could never be what he needs. And eventually, I’ll lose him.”

There was a pause.

“Well, you don’t know that.”

Yingxing frowned. 

“And what do you know?”

Jing Yuan looked surprised for a moment. His eyes stared at his face just for another second before looking away.

Even if it were reciprocated—though he knew it never would be—he didn’t feel deserving of him. He traced a hand over the scar on the back of his neck, remembering how much it had hurt at first. But then, he felt a sense of pride . It made him feel special, knowing that Dan Feng had chosen him. Needed him, even if only a little. But that, too, was a lie.

“You put too much pressure on yourself,” Jing Yuan said, almost as if he could read his mind. “But you cannot help that you’re human, Yingxing. And so is Dan Feng. No matter how great you perceive him to be, he’s just as human as you are. And he struggles too.”

He struggles too.

Yingxing stood there for a moment, pondering Jing Yuan’s words.

He really wanted to know what Dan Feng struggled with. Perhaps, if he did, it would be easier to understand him.

Suddenly, Jing Yuan stood up from his side, straightening out his clothes. “I’m afraid I must leave now. But I believe you two should have an honest, heart-to-heart conversation. It would do both of you some good,” he suggested earnestly. “And don’t fret. Your secret is safe with me.”

And with that, their conversation was over.

(...)

Present-Day

Blade was ecstatic.

He had never experienced anything quite like this before, not even in the past: this sensation was new, stimulating, almost addictive. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Blade felt genuinely happy. He couldn’t feel any anguish; he wasn’t aching for his past, as if it had finally decided to leave him alone. And remarkably, he wasn’t thinking about Dan Feng. In fact, he wasn’t thinking about anything at all. He was just blissfully happy, as if he had just been born again.

As Blade wandered through the hallways once more, they seemed to shift and move with him as he walked, almost as if it were dancing. He couldn’t help but wonder why he had never tried this before. How did it never occur to him? This was pure bliss. He could’ve been happy this whole time. 

Maybe this was heaven.

Had he died again?

No. Yes? 

Maybe. 

He didn’t know.

Blade placed a hand on his chest. His heart was pounding so rapidly it felt like it might burst at any moment. But that couldn’t be a bad thing—he didn’t feel bad at all. On the contrary, he felt better than he had ever felt before.

He gazed up at the lights on the ceiling, their brightness nearly blinding him. Had they always been this bright? He couldn’t remember. 

But oh, how good it felt not to remember.

He wondered if this was how people normally felt: living ordinary lives, unburdened by memories of their past. Was this how Dan Heng felt now that he had forgotten about him? A perpetual, liberating happiness? 

For a brief moment, Blade felt a pang of envy towards him. Dan Heng had never experienced anguish, never been tormented by the past. He had never been haunted by the same ghosts as Blade. And he never would. But that feeling didn’t last long: because now, he was one of them. He had forgotten everything. He was free.

“You’re free, Yingxing.”

Blade heard himself laugh—a distant, unfamiliar sound that almost felt like it hadn’t come from himself at all. Maybe he should find Dan Heng and tell him everything. He was so happy that he no longer cared about anything else.

He couldn’t understand now why he had been so frightened before. Right now, he felt like he wasn’t afraid of anything. So Blade took off down the hallway to look for Dan Heng, determined to tell him everything he had been hiding.

Downstairs, the air buzzed with lively chatter. Besides their group, there were other friends of Jing Yuan scattered around the place, unfamiliar faces to Blade; but he was already accustomed to mingling with strangers, and in his current state, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He navigated through the crowd, searching for Dan Heng, but he had no clue where he could be. He hadn’t seen him in… how long? An hour? Twenty minutes? Blade had lost track of time entirely. It was confusing.

At one point, he crashed into someone.

“What the hell?”

It was Stelle.

March smiled at him, her light pink hair seeming to glow under the dim lights of the place. Blade didn’t realize he was staring until March’s voice echoed in his ears. “Hey, Blade! Feeling any better?”

He blinked, confused.

Oh, that’s right. He had been feeling bad earlier. Since taking the pill, his thoughts had become somewhat muddled.

Stelle shot him a strange look. “Hey, what’s up with you?” she asked, crossing her arms. “You’re acting almost as strange as Sampo. Have you seen him?”

Blade mulled over that name for a moment. However, every time he tried to focus on something, his mind seemed to drift away.

“I don’t know who that is.”

Stelle frowned. “What?”

“Do you know where Dan Heng is?”

She glanced at March, and then at him.

“Don’t know. I lost track of him a while ago,” she shrugged. “Try looking in his room.”

Blade didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned around and made his way back up to the first floor. He couldn’t recall seeing Dan Heng there earlier, but maybe he just missed him.

Each step he took felt like he was floating, as if he were an astronaut in space, lifted by gravity. As they walked, it seemed like the walls moved along with him, almost as if they had a mind of their own. Blade wondered how much of this he’d remember tomorrow—probably nothing at all. Even in his daze, he still had some level of awareness, like a small voice right in the back of his mind. At this moment, that inner voice was telling him that all of this was absurd. That he was acting like a fool and needed to get his shit together. And Blade knew that, but he honestly didn’t give a damn.

But as he walked, he realized he had no idea where he was. The deeper he ventured into the hallways, the more disoriented he became

At this point, he was lost.

Blade’s head spun, and he reflexively shut his eyes. He wasn’t feeling too good anymore. Was the drug starting to wear off? What happened?

He took another step.

“Yingxing.”

And then, he froze in place.

Blade stood still in the hallway, as if his body had turned to stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to face the person standing behind him, despite every fiber of his being urging him to do so.

That was Dan Feng’s voice.

No. It couldn’t be.

But what if…

He’s back!

His heart raced, thudding against his ribs.

He’s dead. That inner voice, now louder, tried to break through. He’s been dead for a long time. This isn’t real. Don’t be fooled.

Slowly, he turned around, almost afraid that when he did, he would be met with an empty hallway. 

But there he was.

Dan Feng smiled at him. He looked exactly the same as the last time Blade saw him, as if nothing had changed. His eyes glowed a deep emerald color under the dim hallway light, looking like two precious stones. It was him. It really was him. Blade wasn’t dreaming.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” Dan Feng asked, moving closer. “Are you not happy to see me?”

But he was.

He just couldn’t tear his gaze away from it—his face. Blade never imagined he could yearn for something as ordinary, as simple as a face. How long had it been since he last saw him? He couldn’t remember anymore. But it didn’t matter, because finally, he was here.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

Dan Feng tilted his head, his long hair falling to one side. “What are you talking about? We just saw each other. I didn’t take too long, did I?”

Blade frowned.

Had he somehow returned to the past? That couldn’t be possible. However, as he glanced around, he realized that his surroundings had changed. All signs of modernity had completely disappeared, as if he had been transported back in time. He even found himself dressed in someone else’s clothes—Yingxing’s clothes.

But what about Dan Heng?

“You seem a bit unwell,” he said, his hand gently slipping over Blade’s. “Come, let’s take a walk.”

He simply followed him.

Dan Feng’s hand felt warm in his own. They had never held hands before. Not like this, at least. It struck Blade then just how many things they had never done together, how many opportunities were now forever lost.

He’s not real.

Again, that voice.

“What’s troubling you so much?” Dan Feng asked.

Blade looked at him, and once again, felt the anguish eating away at him from within.

“You’re not real, are you?”

It couldn’t be. It felt too good, too perfect. And Blade knew he was too cursed for anything this wonderful.

Dan Feng met his gaze.

“Oh, I am real,” he assured, his hand gently resting on his cheek. “If you don’t believe me, should I just prove it to you?”

And then, he kissed him.

His lips tasted like heaven, like the sweetest nectar dripping from a blossom. It was intoxicating, electrifying, everything he had ever dreamed of and more. Yet he also tasted like poison, seeping into his mouth and coursing through his veins like a slow-burning fire, consuming him from the inside out. It was perfect. Horrible. He wished it would last forever. But at the same time, he just wanted to pull away, to never touch him again.

And just like that, he knew it wasn’t real.

Because Dan Feng would never have kissed him. His mouth was forbidden, and he would never have been deserving of touching Dan Feng’s lips. It would’ve been too dishonorable, too shameful.

But that didn’t stop him from drawing him even closer, ensuring he couldn’t escape.

If it wasn’t real, then he’d make the most of it while it lasted.

For the first time, Blade made no attempt to hold himself back. He hadn’t realized until now just how hungry he was. Maybe if he could devour him whole, he’d finally feel satisfied. Cured. Even though Blade knew that would be impossible.

But at least he could try.

Dan Feng threw his head back, almost as if he could read his mind. But if he was on his mind, then he surely knew what he was thinking. He only left wreckage in his wake: bite marks, shameful imprints on his skin, anything and everything that screamed his presence. He had spent so much time in silence. Blade would recall the men he had been with and be consumed by an uncontrollable rage. I can be better than them. He just needed to show him.

He no longer felt ashamed. His hand trailed down Dan Feng’s back, beneath all the light layers of clothing, and touched his skin. Blade’s fingers gently traced the scars of battle, feeling the rough texture beneath his touch.

“You’re so desperate,” Dan Feng said slowly, almost tauntingly. “I can feel it, you know? How lonely you feel. How much you miss me.”

Blade felt Dan Feng’s hand on the back of his neck, delicately tracing the scar he had inflicted.

“If you desire to be with me so much, why don’t you die?”

Blade suddenly froze.

“What?”

Dan Feng had uttered those words so softly, as if he had just confessed his love for him. A confession of love and death.

Slowly, he pulled his hands away from him, putting a bit of distance between them.

Blade could see it clearly now.

The ghost from his past, standing right in front of him.

“Oh, why the horrified look?” Dan Feng asked, tilting his head. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of me now. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I don’t…”

“What now?” he raised both eyebrows. “You know whatever you’re about to say isn’t true. Weren’t you the one who was willing to sacrifice your life for me? You even asked me to end it for you. So, isn’t this just the same?”

Blade took a step back. Then another.

Dan Feng would never have said something like that.

But even as he escaped, he could still hear the echo of Dan Feng’s voice behind him.

Blade found himself in a bathroom, the same one where Jing Yuan had once tended to his wounds; he recognized the cold floor tiles they had once sat on. But he couldn’t tell exactly what was real anymore—he didn’t even know if this was the present or the past, as if both timelines had finally become one. Then, that would mean that he’d no longer be Yingxing’s shadow.

He’d be free.

But did he truly want to be free, after all?

Wasn’t he clinging to his past simply because he didn’t want to let go of Dan Feng? The memory of him?

Back then, he had a choice: when all the memories of his past life came flooding back, he could’ve chosen to ignore them. To move on. But instead, he looked for him. He looked tirelessly until he found him, perhaps hoping it would be him. But deep down, Blade knew it wasn’t.

And yet, he still stayed.

He leaned over the sink, feeling the beads of sweat on his face. His heart was beating too loud. Too alive.

Just for a second, his eyes flicked up to the mirror.

But the one who stared back at him wasn’t his own reflection, but Yingxing’s.

He heard a faint knock. Blade took a few steps back from the mirror just as the bathroom door creaked open, and someone cautiously peered inside.

“Ah, sorry! Didn’t know you were in there,” Caelus apologized. Surprisingly, Blade felt relieved to see him: if he was there, then this had to be the present. Unless they had met before. “I thought it was empty. By the way, I think Dan Heng was looking for you…”

Suddenly, Caelus fell silent.

“What?”

He slowly opened his mouth.

“What the hell happened to your hand?”

Blade blinked. 

“My hand?” he echoed, slowly.

What was wrong with his hand?

Caelus shot him a bewildered look. “It’s bleeding!”

Blade glanced down and saw drops of blood falling from his hand, splattering against the white tiles. It took him a moment to process it. How did he do that to himself? And when? He didn’t remember.

But then, he looked at the mirror. 

It was broken.

Blade stared at his shattered reflection in the mirror, or what was left of it. Yingxing’s image had disappeared.

Had he done that?

“Man, that looks pretty bad,” Caelus remarked, looking genuinely concerned. Why would he care? Blade had been nothing but a jerk to him. He didn’t deserve his concern. “Uh, let me help you.”

Caelus tried to touch him, but Blade jerked away.

“Leave me alone.”

A sharp stab of pain shot through his injured hand. Blade wasn’t quite sure how bad the cut was; he couldn’t really get a good look at it. He could probably use the help.

But he knew he wouldn’t take it.

“Hey, easy there,” Caelus raised both hands defensively. “I, uh—I’ll go find Jing Yuan. Just wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Blade waited until he was alone.

Like hell he’d wait.

Slowly, he left the bathroom and headed in the opposite direction from where he had come. Eventually, he would get somewhere.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Dan Feng wasn’t very easy to love.

He had known this from a very young age, but it only intensified as he grew older; he hadn’t received much love or care as a child, and as an adult, he struggled to give or receive either. But he yearned for it deeply: he craved kindness, the touch of another, and he would’ve given anything to have it.

That was his first mistake.

Once, he was young and innocent, his trust easily given to anyone who showed him a bit of that kindness he craved for. 

And so, he was betrayed for the first time. It was almost humiliating to admit that all it took to get him was to show him a little affection. 

But that wasn’t the only time.

He remembered all of it. Each stab in the back, each betrayal; the faces of those who had laughed in his face, almost solid in their bitterness. Oh, he certainly remembered how it felt.

The very first person he killed was himself.

Over the years, Dan Feng had grown cruel, even brutal. People constantly spoke about it, and little did they care if he listened or not. He had been called a monster. And perhaps he had started to believe it himself: after all, someone so merciless, so indifferent to violence, could hardly be anything else than that.

People were terrified of him. Terrified of what those hands could do. Yet, he felt no shame for any of these ugly traits. Instead, he found shame for the ones that rendered him human —the absurd longing for connection, for the warmth of human touch.

It was pitiful.

Eventually, he came to the realization that love was not a necessity to get what he wanted. If he desired human touch, he could easily get it, and those who sought him out for similar reasons had no desire for love either. It was simple, so painfully simple that he wondered why it’d never occurred to him sooner. 

If what Dan Feng craved was a deeper connection, then he had a list of options. Mentorship served as a good excuse for that. 

He never trained anyone for more than seven months. It was enough time to prevent the relationship from becoming a nuisance, and he could just go back to his solitary existence until the cycle inevitably repeated itself. He felt no remorse for the students he had previously left behind, nor would he for the ones yet to come.

There was an order. Control. It was a system that worked, every single time. And Dan Feng reveled in its structure, the predictability of it.

But it all fell apart in the name of Yingxing.

Since the day Yingxing stepped into the room as a young, nervous apprentice, Dan Feng felt it—the connection, the promise of satisfaction. With just a single glance, he recognized the untapped potential. 

And so, he began training him. He was determined to shape him into an indomitable force. Someone like him. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the bond between them only grew stronger, deeper.

He just never imagined how deep.

Soon, it became unbearable. Dan Feng knew well that if he let this continue for longer than seven months it would only pose a problem, one that he might not be able to come back from. There was a noticeable difference this time, a danger he couldn’t understand where it came from. All he knew was that he had to put an end to it, once and for all, before it spiraled out of control—the control he cherished so dearly.

And so he tried, time and time again. But no matter how much he tested him, how harsh and brutal he was, Yingxing refused to give up on him. 

And then…

“I want to work for you.”

At that moment, the meticulous system he had built from scratch crumbled into pieces. It wasn’t merely the words that unnerved him, but that feeling: the excitement inside him, like a wildfire threatening to consume everything in its path. Because he was desperate to keep him. But he was even more scared that if he did, Yingxing would eventually leave him after he realized what a monster he was.

That’s what he was, after all.

So, he had lied. He had made promises he knew were beyond his reach. His threats were just hollow echoes. Dan Feng knew himself well enough to know that he’d never be able to kill him, even if the day came when he had to. But Yingxing believed him, and that’s what mattered most.

For the first time in his life, Dan Feng felt safe enough to let his guard down, to trust someone without fearing betrayal. 

Deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last. Sooner or later, his emotions would get out of control, leading him to do something that would inevitably push Yingxing away. But there was one thing he clung to: the promise he had made.

That was, until he decided to tell him the truth.

“You’re leaving so soon?”

Dan Feng glanced back at the man lying half-naked on the bed. There was a striking resemblance to Yingxing, and of course, that was no coincidence.

He had deliberately sought out someone who looked just like him.

Dan Feng had never been very picky about his partners. Physical appearance or backgrounds mattered little to him, as he had no desire in getting to know any of these men. He only cared about fulfilling his own desires.

However, over time, his needs changed.

At first, it was just attraction. Dan Feng found himself drawn to men who shared some resemblance to him, even if only slight. But as time passed, he became greedier. Mere similarities were no longer sufficient enough, he wanted more. It started with something as simple as hair—long and dark like his. But then it was also his body. His voice. Dan Feng began to look for men who resembled him as closely as possible, although they were never the same. Still, it was enough to quiet his thoughts, if only temporarily.

Dan Feng straightened his clothes without paying too much attention. He had already wasted too much time in that place, only because he was feeling more stressed than usual. He never stayed with them longer than necessary, and he was never, ever affectionate afterwards.

“Yes. I have important matters to attend to.”

Although it brought some relief, it also made him feel a bit… disgusted with himself. Disgusted by his actions and all the things he had done. Every single time. It had become almost routine, this cycle of relief followed by self-loathing.

He felt the man’s hands on his shoulders.

“That’s a shame,” he said, smiling against the curve of Dan Feng’s neck. “I was hoping we could do this again.”

Dan Feng’s stomach turned.

Now that the illusion had shattered, Dan Feng could see all the flaws that set him apart from Yingxing, not just physically, but intellectually as well. He felt compelled to apologize to Yingxing for even thinking that this man resembled him in any way. It was almost offensive.

“Get your hands off me.”

He walked towards the door with heavy steps, not even sparing a glance at the man’s face as he spoke the words. 

“I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Like that, he left.

But the truth was, Dan Feng had nothing to do. Ever since what happened with Yingxing, he had not been attending any events or meetings. Nobody knew a single thing about him. People were probably speculating that he was either dead or had quit, but in reality he was just… on pause. As if his world, the order of things, had stopped working correctly.

Yingxing hadn’t spoken to him for the past few weeks. In fact, Dan Feng hadn’t seen him at all. He couldn’t bear to think that Yingxing had abandoned him after all, not like this, at least.

But it was driving him insane —the silence, the distance. Every time Dan Feng imagined this situation, he pictured Yingxing yelling at him, spitting on him, or even hitting him. That’s what he deserved. 

Somehow, this was much worse.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home just yet. Lately, he found it unbearable to be alone. He’s been spending a lot of time outside: in strangers’ houses, in motel rooms, anywhere but his own. It was degrading.

This time, he found himself heading to Jing Yuan’s house.

It wasn’t far from his own place, but Dan Feng took his time, walking slowly as if willing the night to pass quicker. When he arrived, the lights were still on. He hoped Jing Yuan wouldn’t have any guests at this hour, because he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing anyone else right now.

He knocked on the door, and a few minutes later, Jing Yuan opened it. He was dressed in his pajamas.

“Look who it is,” Jing Yuan said with a hint of mockery, though he actually seemed relieved to see him. “What brings you here at this hour? Do you want to have a sleepover?”

He sighed. “I’d just like some company.”

Then, Jing Yuan smiled gently at him.

“In that case, come in.”

Jing Yuan’s home felt warm and cozy inside. The stove was on, creating a faint hum in the background that filled the silence. 

The realization hit Dan Feng that the last time he saw Yingxing was in this very place. It didn’t help a bit.

Jing Yuan made his way to the bar, already holding a bottle of wine in his hands. “Care for a drink?” he offered.

“Yes, please.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most prudent decision to drink at this hour, but Dan Feng couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides, his muscles were now starting to feel a bit sore, so it wouldn’t actually hurt to relax a little.

He took the drink from Jing Yuan with a nod of gratitude.

“So,” Jing Yuan began, his fingers tracing lazy circles along the rim of his wine glass, “what’s been on your mind? It’s been a while since we’ve caught up.”

Dan Feng heard himself sigh. “Let’s not talk about me.”

Jing Yuan was already familiar with the story. Before he disappeared, he had told him. Countless times, Jing Yuan had tried to reassure him, insisting that Yingxing just needed time. He’ll come to you, he would say, just wait.  

But that sense of security only lasted the first week.

Jing Yuan leaned back on the sofa, letting out a small chuckle. “He’s really getting to you, isn’t he?”

Dan Feng tightened his grip on the wine glass. It was almost empty now. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you this stressed out before. Not even for work,” he added, taking a sip of his wine. “It’s almost amusing.”

What exactly did Jing Yuan find amusing about the situation?

Dan Feng decided to let it go for now. “Has he said anything to you?” he inquired instead, although he was confident that if he had, Jing Yuan would’ve told him.

There was a pause. 

“What could he have told me?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything from him in the last few weeks, either.”

“I meant before all of this,” Dan Feng fixed his gaze on what was left of his wine. He was uncomfortably aware of how desperate he sounded, and he hated it. “The last time we were here. Did he talk to you?”

The pause that followed felt even longer than the previous one. Dan Feng’s doubts began to grow. This wasn’t normal. Although, lately, nothing was.

“No,” Jing Yuan said after a moment, “he didn’t. But maybe you should try talking to him, don’t you think?”

The suggestion baffled him. He made it sound so simple.

“I can’t.”

Jing Yuan smirked. “Oh, you absolutely can. You just don’t want to.”

Dan Feng’s brow furrowed. “You don’t even know the whole story,” he retorted, slightly annoyed.

Jing Yuan knew nothing about his relationship with Yingxing. There were layers upon layers, tangled and intertwined, far too many to explain at this moment, and Dan Feng wasn’t sure he could, even if he tried.

“Perhaps I don’t,” Jing Yuan agreed, still smirking. “But I know you. We’ve been friends for years. I can see you’re afraid he’ll leave you. But deep down, you’re also expecting it,” he paused, his tone softening. “I think you might even want him to leave, because it would simplify things. You wouldn’t have to face any of ‘this’ anymore. And wouldn’t that be a relief?”

Dan Feng clenched his fists, wishing Jing Yuan would just stop talking.

“But at the same time, you care about him. So you find yourself trapped in indecision, and in the end, you do nothing.”

Dan Feng stood there, blinking. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling dizzy from the wine or from what he just heard. And the worst part was that Jing Yuan might even be right. Was he really that predictable, that transparent? Did others also see through the vulnerabilities he worked so hard to hide?

“I should go.”

He delicately set the empty wine glass down on the table and made his way to the door, not bothering to wait for Jing Yuan.

He heard his calm footsteps behind him, and for a moment, he felt envious. He envied Jing Yuan’s composure in every situation, how he seemed to care for nothing at all. He didn’t need to compress his emotions or put on a façade. If only Dan Feng could be like that.

“I hope you’re not mad at me,” he said. “I only meant well.”

“I know,” Dan Feng nodded. And he really did. “It’s just been a long night.”

Jing Yuan studied him for a few more seconds, then sighed and walked over to open the door.

Outside, the cold air contrasted sharply with the warmth of Jing Yuan’s home. Dan Feng felt the chill seep into his bones, piercing and light. But, it was good. He needed to clear his head. It had truly been a long night, and all he wanted now was a few hours of sleep before facing a new day.

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by, even if it was brief,” Jing Yuan smiled warmly. “If you need anything, you know you can talk to me.”

Dan Feng nodded in appreciation, thanked him, and then left.

The entire walk home, Dan Feng tried not to think. But Jing Yuan’s words had struck a nerve, whether intentional or not. The reason why he had revealed the truth of his promise to Yingxing was because, for the first time, he wanted him to decide. Until now, Dan Feng had always been the one to decide whether someone stayed or left. He hadn’t cared much about what the other person wanted. But with Yingxing, it was different. He cared. That’s why he needed to be certain that Yingxing truly wanted to be by his side, even if it meant risking losing him entirely. However, deep down, he did hope that Yingxing would leave. After all, everything would be so much simpler if he did.

He was a coward.

It took him longer than usual to get home. He took the long way, crossing through a vast, empty park that was mostly deserted at this hour. The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its gentle glow over the entire block.

But this time, his house was not alone. Someone stood at the entrance, patiently waiting for him by the door.

“Dan Feng.”

He would recognize Yingxing’s voice anywhere, even in the darkest of nights.

Dan Feng stood to the side, silently staring at the man now materializing in his garden: long, dark hair, slender figure, a sword at his hip. Whether he was there to kill him or spare him, it didn’t really matter. It had been so long since he last saw Yingxing that he rejoiced in simply hearing his own name being spoken by him.

Calmly, Dan Feng made his way to the door and held it open for him.

“Would you like to come in?”

Yingxing walked in without saying a word.

This time, Dan Feng followed behind Yingxing as they navigated the corridors of his own home. He could sense that something had changed: there was a certain tension in the air, both thrilling and dangerous. But Dan Feng wasn’t afraid. He knew, deep down, that Yingxing would never hurt him. So he allowed him to wander through his home without asking about his intentions.

Though it was not necessary.

Yingxing moved about the room, looking around as if it were his first time there. His back was turned, and from where he stood, Dan Feng could see the scar clearly on the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

His voice was soft as a whisper as he spoke. When Yingxing finally turned to look at him, his eyes held an emotion that was hard to read.

Dan Feng crossed his arms. “Should I be?”

Yingxing took another step closer.

“You don’t even know what I came here for, yet you let me into your home.”

“You’re always welcome in my home, Yingxing,” Dan Feng said, looking straight into his eyes. “Even if you intend to kill me.”

For a moment, insecurity betrayed Yingxing’s expression. But Dan Feng’s words were genuine. He didn’t mind if Yingxing wanted to kill him; he might even welcome it. To be killed by the very hands he had once trained would be an honorable fate. One, perhaps, someone like him didn’t truly deserve.

“I’ve just come to talk.”

“Then, before we begin, would you mind if I make some tea?” he asked. Actually, all he wanted was for something warm to hold. It’d help ease his nerves. “I haven’t been home for quite some time, and it’s awfully cold in here.”

Yingxing leaned back against the couch. 

“Take your time,” he said.

He turned on the stove, the soft hum filling the space as he waited for it to warm up. Even from the kitchen, he could still keep an eye on Yingxing through a small window: there he was, eyes closed, leaning against the couch, his breathing steady. Peaceful. Dan Feng wondered where he had been all this time, and whether he had been looking after himself. It felt selfish to worry about him now, especially after the harm he’d caused, but he couldn’t help it.

He would always worry.

A few moments later, he was back in the living room, cup in hand. As soon as he took a seat, Yingxing opened his eyes, looking momentarily drowsy.

“So, tell me,” Dan Feng encouraged, fixing his gaze on him. “What have you decided?”

He noticed Yingxing’s shoulders tense, his relaxed composure now gone.

“I’ve decided that I will stay.”

And just like that, Dan Feng felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. Moments ago, he had been scared—fear of Yingxing leaving, fear of him staying. But now, he was relieved. 

He had decided he wanted Yingxing by his side, even if it hurt.

However, Yingxing was not done yet. “I’ll stay,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “but on one condition.”

Oh. 

Dan Feng really hadn’t been expecting Yingxing to set conditions. Suddenly, the situation became much more intriguing. 

But he was willing to do anything he asked of him.

Dan Feng rested his chin on the back of his hand, interested. “And what might that condition be?”

Yingxing smiled slightly.

“I want to be involved in everything.”

A brief pause.

“Everything?” Dan Feng echoed.

“Yes,” Yingxing nodded. “I want to know every single one of your secrets. I don’t care what they are. If you want me to stand by your side, you’ll have to trust me completely from now on. You won’t lie to me ever again — and I will continue to protect you, because I swore to you. That’s my condition.”

Dan Feng stood there, his half-drunk cup held loosely in his hand, contemplating his words. It was a dangerous deal, one that he knew would bring more harm than good. However, if that was the cost he had to bear to keep Yingxing close, then he was willing to do it. What did it matter, at this point?

He parted his lips as if to speak, but then stopped himself.

There was one secret that he dared not tell. It haunted him whenever he looked into Yingxing’s eyes, for Dan Feng knew, deep down, how wrong it was to feel this way, to yearn for Yingxing. And yet, despite his best efforts to suppress it, the longing persisted.

Maybe it would always be there.

“I’ll share all of my secrets with you, except for one,” he stated then. “That’s my condition. It seems only fair if we each have our terms, don’t you think?”

Eventually, Yingxing nodded.

“Very well,” Dan Feng said, reaching out his hand towards him. “Shall we make it official, then?”

Yingxing glanced at his hand, and with a faint smile, he took it.

Their agreement was now sealed.

Dan Feng twirled his now-empty tea cup thoughtfully. “When would you like me to tell you? We can set a date, if you wish.”

There was so much to say—years upon years of history to unveil—that he wasn’t even sure how or where to begin. He never imagined he would share all of this. The only person who knew his history was Jing Yuan, simply because he had been there.

But then, he noticed Yingxing take a seat across from him. “Right now.”

“Now?” Dan Feng blinked. “It’s quite a long story, you know.”

“I’ve got time.”

He glanced out his window, at the darkness outside. It seemed he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

“Make yourself comfortable, then,” he suggested, getting up to pour himself another cup of tea. The first of many. “This might take some time.”

And so, Dan Feng began to spill out all his secrets, one by one. He told him about his years of training, when he first met Jing Yuan, and all the hardships he endured. He even told him about every time he had been betrayed and used in the past. 

Then, he dove into the darker truths—the first time he killed a man, the second time he killed an innocent. He talked about the lives he had taken, the weight of guilt heavy upon his shoulders. He confessed his sins, his crimes, his affairs; though he dared not speak of the men who bore a resemblance to Yingxing. By the time he finished, it had already become daylight: they had spent the entire night in conversation, emptying the teapot that Dan Feng kept refilling throughout the hours. And just as Dan Feng had spoken ceaselessly, Yingxing had not said a single word all night. He simply listened with a serious face, nodding occasionally to signal his attention.

By the end, Dan Feng wasn’t certain if he had made the right decision. He felt more vulnerable than ever, and the lack of reaction from Yingxing only made it worse.

“So, what do you say?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Do you think I’m a monster now?”

Yingxing finally met his gaze. There was no trace of hatred or fear on his face.

“No,” he said, slowly. “I feel like I’m seeing you for the very first time.”

Dan Feng didn’t know exactly what those words meant. 

But he did know that a new chapter in their friendship had begun: one where they would trust each other more deeply.

One where they would be together for a long time.

(...)

Present-Day

Blade hadn’t been talking to him.

Dan Heng had tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, but the truth was quite the opposite: he couldn’t stand the silence, the growing distance between them. They had never been distant. From the moment he met Blade, he had always been there for him. Not a day went without seeing his face, hearing his voice, feeling his presence beside him. He had become a part of his routine. And Dan Heng had always hoped it would stay that way.

But lately, things have been changing.

He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he could sense it—not only around him, but also within himself. It started with those dreams he kept having all the time: night after night, they grew more vivid, deepening his already troubled sleep patterns. But it wasn’t just the dreams that troubled him. Then there was this inexplicable feeling, a gnawing panic that gripped him whenever he was around Blade. He first noticed it when they danced together, coming from deep inside him, but he couldn’t find an explanation for it yet. Was it fear? Anxiety? Or something else entirely? 

He didn’t want to think about it.

So, at first, Dan Heng also tried to ignore Blade. He thought that maybe this distance would be good for him too.

But it turned out to do the opposite.

“What’s with that face?”

Dan Heng looked to his side. Caelus smiled at him, and he suddenly realized that he had become completely lost in his thoughts.

“What face?”

“You look troubled,” he remarked. “What’s wrong?”

Dan Heng winced. Was he making a face? He didn’t think so.

“This is just my usual expression.”

“See, I don’t buy that,” Caelus said, crossing his arms. “Just a moment ago, you looked perfectly normal. Then your whole face changed. What’re you thinking about?”

Dan Heng sighed, leaning against the stair railing. It was the only spot in the house where there were no people, offering him some peace and quiet.

“I was thinking about Blade,” he admitted, because there was no point in lying. At least not about this. “We’ve been a bit distant lately.”

Caelus nodded. “Did you have a fight?”

“No. Everything’s fine.”

Those words tasted bitter as he said them. But he wasn’t lying. Everything was fine.

Until now, at least.

“It’ll probably be fine,” Caelus said casually, as if it were a common thing. “Friends drift apart sometimes. It’s normal, you know? Doesn’t mean you guys won’t be friends anymore. Maybe you just need some space.”

Dan Heng already knew that. Of course he did.

But this felt different, for some reason.

After a quick sip of his beer, Caelus shifted his stance. “Although you two seem pretty close, it does make me wonder sometimes…”

Dan Heng waited for him to finish the sentence, but he never did.

“Wonder what?”

He shrugged. “I mean, you guys live together, been friends for ages, and you’re practically inseparable… you see where I’m going?”

He tapped his foot on the ground.

It was that feeling again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, my bad,” Caelus apologized, waving his hand dismissively. “Forget I said anything.”

Dan Heng glanced at his nearly full can of beer. He didn’t really feel like drinking today, but he grabbed one anyway, just so he could feel something in his hands. It helped ease his nerves.

“I’ll go grab a refill,” he lied, turning away. “If you happen to know where Blade is, let me now.”

Dan Heng walked slowly towards the kitchen, paying little attention to the people around him. Despite it being his first time here, he felt strangely familiar with the place. It didn’t take him long to find it.

But he wasn’t alone.

He stood at the door, watching Jing Yuan with his back turned. He still wasn’t quite sure why he had invited him over. It wasn’t as if they got along particularly well, and he knew it was mostly his fault. While Jing Yuan had always been kind to him, Dan Heng had made no effort for them to actually get along. Maybe he should give him a chance, to really get to know him.

But, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Jing Yuan turned around, and their eyes met.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Dan Heng set his beer down and poured himself a glass of water straight from the sink. The taste was almost chemical, but he paid it little mind.

“Are you ignoring me?”

He heard Jing Yuan’s voice behind him, the words coming out a bit slow, as if he were drunk.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

To his surprise, Jing Yuan laughed. Dan Heng turned around, glass of water in hand, to find him leaning over the counter with his elbows.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he smiled, as if he already knew the answer. “Can I ask why?”

Dan Heng looked away. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so you do like me?”

Well, he didn’t say that, either.

Dan Heng held onto his glass of water a little tighter, not sure what to do next. In the end, he just said what he thought was most appropriate.

“I don’t know you.”

Jing Yuan looked at him for a few seconds.

“Ha. You’re right,” he admitted, taking a sip of his beer. “But you also know that’s not the whole reason.”

Oh, he already knew that. And he definitely didn’t like the fact that Jing Yuan seemed to know as well.

Dan Heng stared at him. He had so many questions. This man appeared out of nowhere, and everyone else just welcomed him so easily, even Blade. But there was something strange about him, something off, and nobody else seemed to notice.

“What’s with the stare?” Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow. “If there’s something on your mind, just ask.”

Who are you?

Dan Heng looked away.

“Excuse me.”

He walked around the counter and made his way toward the kitchen door.

Even without turning around, he could hear Jing Yuan moving around behind him. When he spoke, his voice carried a slow, almost mocking tone.

“Regardless of how you feel about me, just know I’m not your enemy.”

Dan Heng paused by the door.

“What does that mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Jing Yuan’s face. His honey-colored eyes seemed to glow even brighter under the kitchen light.

“You’re smart,” Jing Yuan said, mustering a smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

Dan Heng frowned, but didn’t try to guess what he meant. Instead, he briskly made his way out of the kitchen and into the bustling crowd. Blade had to be around somewhere, and he was determined to talk to him. Forget about keeping a healthy distance. This night had dragged on for far too long, and he wasn’t going to let it end without having a conversation.

He searched every face, every pair of eyes, hoping to find his. High school wasn’t something Dan Heng often thought about, but this situation brought back memories: every party he went to, no matter who he was with, he always looked for Blade. Often, he’d find him tucked away in a corner doing nothing, yet just his presence brought him a sense of comfort. He’d look at him and instantly know that if anything went wrong, Blade would be there in an instant. With Blade by his side, he never felt the need to worry.

Dan Heng forced himself to focus.

“Oh, there you are!” He glanced to his side and met March’s surprised expression. “Where have you been all night? A few people have been asking about you.”

Has any of them been Blade?

He held back the question.

“Sorry.”

Stelle fixed him with a serious look. “We bumped into Blade earlier,” she said, arms crossed over her chest. “He was acting a bit weird. You should go check on him.”

Dan Heng frowned. What could that possibly mean?

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs, probably.”

Without another word, Dan Heng turned around and headed towards the stairs. Despite his efforts to push aside any unsettling thoughts, a sense of worry crept in. It was unusual to see Stelle so serious.

He reached the first floor and systematically searched every room, even those whose contents were a mystery to him. Despite his thorough search, Blade was nowhere to be found. There was no sign of him. Frustrated, Dan Heng finally resorted to pulling out his phone and trying to call him, hoping he’d pick up.

The call went straight to voicemail.

“Shit.”

He walked deeper into the hallway, looking for any clue that could lead him to Blade.

After a while, he came to another closed door. Dan Heng no longer had hope of finding Blade there, but he kept trying. His hand reached for the handle, but it slipped, and he noticed it was wet.

He glanced at his hand.

There was blood on his fingers.

With a firm push, he swung the door open and was greeted with the mess inside. Broken glass on the floor, blood in the sink, staining the marble. Dan Heng felt his heart sink at the sight. It had to be Blade’s. Though he couldn’t be certain, deep down, a sinking feeling in his gut told him it was. He desperately hoped he was wrong.

He came out of the bathroom, the strong thumping of his heart echoing in his ears. No. There was no time for that. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t let his own emotions overwhelm him.

Looking down, he noticed a faint trail of blood on the carpet, leading towards the end of the hallway.

Dan Heng followed the trail. With each step, it felt as though he were descending further into a nightmare. At some point, he even considered that all of this was just a dream—that perhaps he had fallen asleep earlier, and none of this was truly happening. That would’ve been ideal. But the pounding of his heartbeat felt too visceral to be anything but real.

To his surprise, at the end of the hallway, there was one last door. It was made of glass and opened onto a small balcony overlooking the back of the house. From where he stood, Dan Heng could see through to the other side.

There was Blade.

As Dan Heng carefully opened the door, he was greeted by a rush of cold wind, sending a shiver down his spine. Compared to the warmth inside, the night air felt crisp and biting.

His eyes fell upon Blade’s figure, standing with his back turned to him, and for some inexplicable reason, Dan Heng felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him. It was as if he had seen this exact scene before, though he couldn't quite place when or where. Like a scene from a forgotten memory.

“Blade.”

He was taken aback by the tremor in his own voice. Was he nervous?

Blade turned around.

His eyes were nearly entirely black. Dan Heng had to blink a few times, trying to recognize the sight before him. He hardly looked like himself at all.

“Is it really you?” he asked.

Dan Heng frowned. “What?”

As he watched Blade take a few steps closer, Dan Heng couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It was as if... that wasn’t Blade. Dan Heng couldn’t tell exactly what was off, but he knew for certain that something was definitely wrong with him.

Blade studied him carefully. “How can I be sure it’s really you?”

“Blade, what the hell are you talking about?”

Dan Heng tried to push aside the quick pounding of his heart. He was nervous for reasons he didn’t fully understand. But more than anything, he was scared. But it wasn’t Blade that he was afraid of—no, it was something deeper, more insidious.

He gazed into Blade’s pupils, and suddenly, something clicked.

“Are you high?”

Blade was slow to respond.

“I… think so.”

Well, it started to make a bit more sense now. 

Yet, Dan Heng couldn’t understand why he had done it. Blade had never taken drugs before. He didn’t even drink excessively.

“What did you take?” he asked, growing more urgent when Blade didn’t respond, “Blade, please tell me. What was it?”

“I don’t know.”

Dan Heng’s frustration morphed into anger.

“You took something without even knowing what it is? How could you be so reckless? I just… I don’t understand,” he clenched his fists, fighting to keep his composure. “You don’t even know how worried I was. After seeing all that blood, I thought something terrible had happened to you...”

Dan Heng hadn’t even realized that his hands were shaking until now. All the nerves he had been suppressing over the last few minutes were finally surfacing.

But it wasn’t just the nerves; it was also the torrent of emotions he had bottled up inside of him. Everything was spilling out, and he couldn’t hold it back now.

“Why?” Dan Heng frowned. “You do all these… things that I don’t understand. Sometimes it feels like you’re someone else entirely.”

He wanted Blade to deny it, to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear: that everything was fine, that he was fine. That he was still himself. But that reassurance never came.

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

Blade kept his eyes on him, patiently waiting.

Dan Heng gathered his courage. After the night he’d had, he deserved honesty. He was finally done pretending it didn’t bother him.

“Are you hiding something from me?”

He locked eyes with Blade. Even though he had said that he wanted the truth, a part of him secretly hoped the answer would be no; that there were no secrets between them. But who was Dan Heng to dictate that? After all, he was harboring secrets of his own. Perhaps honesty was the last thing he should demand of him.

“Yes.”

He knew it.

“What is it?”

For the first time, Blade looked away.

“I can’t say.”

Dan Heng stared at him, searching for answers beyond words, when he remembered something. The first time he saw Blade drunk, he said something about him being too much like someone else. Dan Heng wasn’t sure why this memory came back to him now. It had been weeks since then, and at the time, he hadn’t given it much thought.

You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Blade beat him to it.

“I may need to lie down.”

Dan Heng glanced down at his hand. It was still bleeding.

“How did you even do that to yourself?”

Blade shrugged. “I think I punched a mirror.”

Dan Heng sighed. 

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

He took Blade by the arm and started leading him back down the hallway. Blade could probably walk perfectly fine on his own, but Dan Heng no longer trusted him to do so. Thankfully, there was no one else in sight.

Dan Heng made a quick stop at the bathroom, grabbing a handful of bandages while carefully stepping over the shattered glass. As he did, he couldn’t help but wonder how—and why—Blade had ended up like this. He had so many questions. However, he knew he couldn’t really expect coherent answers from Blade in his current state.

When they resumed walking, Dan Heng turned to him.

“Which one is your room?” he asked. When Blade didn’t respond immediately, he raised an eyebrow. “You do remember which room is yours, right?”

“Yes,” Blade nodded, sounding hesitant. “I just... I don’t want to go there.”

He wanted to understand. He really did.

In the end, Dan Heng ended up taking him to his own room. At that moment, all he cared about was stopping the bleeding and letting Blade get some rest.

He left the lights off, relying on the moonlight filtering through the window to light up the room as he guided Blade towards the bed. 

With a steady hand, Dan Heng began to tend to Blade’s injured hand. Neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much to say; Dan Heng knew that none of his questions would be answered. So instead, he focused on his task, and surprisingly, he was doing it well. Dan Heng wasn’t even sure where he had acquired this skill.

“Your hands are covered in blood.”

The sudden sound of Blade’s voice startled him.

He stole a glance at his own hands and, indeed, they were.

“I don’t mind.”

Blade’s bandaged hand closed over his own, the touch gentle and hesitant, as if he didn’t want to startle him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Dan Heng couldn’t bring himself to look at Blade, so his eyes remained fixed on both hands together.

He desperately wanted to express how he was feeling. He wanted to get it off his chest, but he didn’t even know where to begin. It wasn’t just worry. Dan Heng almost felt like he was suffocating. He had never felt like this before, and it was utterly terrifying in a way he never wanted to experience again.

“It’s been a long night,” he said instead, falling silent once more. “You should get some rest.”

Dan Heng pulled his hand away.

“Goodnight, Blade.”

He got out of bed and began to walk out of the room, until he heard Blade’s voice behind him.

“Would you rather forget everything or not be remembered at all?”

Dan Heng turned around and caught sight of Blade’s silhouette seated on the bed. His long hair danced gently in the breeze, and something about the image of him triggered memories from his dreams. It almost felt like he was trapped in one.

“What do you mean?”

He tried not to read too much into the oddness of that question. After all, Blade likely had no idea what he was talking about.

Blade leaned in, a curious expression on his face. “Let’s say you had to choose,” he began, “would you rather hold onto the memories of everyone you’ve loved, even if they’ve forgotten you? Or would you choose to erase their faces from your mind to spare yourself the pain? But once you’ve decided, you can’t go back. It’s a choice you’ll have to live with forever.”

Dan Heng took a moment to think about it. No one had ever asked him such a question before.

He thought about every single person he had met so far. He thought of his friends: their faces, their laughter, the memories that bound them together. But amidst the sea of faces, one stood out above all others—Blade. He had been there all his life. Where would he be without all those memories?

The choice was clear.

“I don’t think I’d want to forget you,” he decided. “I’d rather live with your memory than live with none at all.”

Blade gave him a look that he found quite hard to read, but Dan Heng was certain of his answer. More certain than ever.

He turned around and left the room at last.

Chapter Text

Five hundred years ago

It was New Year’s Day.

Yingxing was surprised by how quickly time had flown. It had been months since his unannounced appearance at Dan Feng’s home, and looking back, he could see how much things had changed: not only his relationship with Dan Feng, but also his relationship with other people. The way they spoke of him.

Now, whenever Dan Feng’s name was mentioned, so was his.

He couldn’t deny that he rather enjoyed it. There was a certain satisfaction in being associated with Dan Feng, in being mentioned in the same breath as him. He took pride in being recognized as his peer.

Life had been good to him.

“You’re looking quite cheerful,” someone observed, yet even without looking, he could tell it was Jing Yuan’s voice. “The festive atmosphere suits you well, doesn’t it?”

Yingxing looked at him, but his eyes were instantly drawn up to his head, where a silly little Christmas hat rested, white pom-pom and all. There was something almost hilarious about seeing a high-ranking general like himself wearing something so silly.

“That hat looks ridiculous.”

Jing Yuan put a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt.

“Now, why are you insulting my hat?” he retorted playfully. “I think it looks just fine. Would you like to try it on?”

“No, thank you.”

Yingxing cast a glance around the room. Jing Yuan’s home had never felt as cozy as it did right now. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow all over the space. Laughter filled the air. The joy in the room was palpable, infectious even. It looked like something out of a movie. Yingxing had never celebrated New Year’s as a child, but he imagined that if he had, it would’ve been something like this. He had to admit that Jing Yuan knew how to throw a party.

Although he’d never admit it to him, or he wouldn’t stop bragging until the day he died.

Yingxing scanned the room for Dan Feng. He hadn’t seen him at all since he arrived, but it didn’t surprise him, knowing how busy he always was. However, hours had passed, and he couldn’t help but wonder where Dan Feng might be now.

“Got something on your mind?”

He glanced at everyone in the room, knowing there was only one possible response to that question.

“Just wondering where Dan Feng could be,” he admitted. “He’s missing the party.”

“Oh, you know how he is,” Jing Yuan replied, casually waving his hand. He didn’t seem concerned at all. “It shouldn’t surprise you anymore. Dan Feng will show up whenever he pleases.”

A voice from the crowd called out Jing Yuan’s name, but he couldn’t quite make out who it was.

“Seems like someone’s looking for you.”

Jing Yuan nodded, “Seems like it.”

Yingxing expected him to leave, so he just stood still, waiting. However, he was surprised by one of Jing Yuan’s arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders, drawing him into a half-hug.

He was unsure of how to respond at first. They had never been physically affectionate before, and despite knowing each other for years, it still felt a bit awkward. Not in a bad way, but in that ‘first-time-hugging’ kind of way.

Carefully, he patted Jing Yuan’s right shoulder.

“Happy New Year, friend.”

Jing Yuan slowly let go, and Yingxing couldn’t do anything but chuckle.

“You could’ve just given me a pat on the back, you know.”

A mischievous smile played on Jing Yuan’s lips.

“Oh, I know,” he said, gesturing to his head. “But I had something else in mind.”

Yingxing frowned, unsure of what he meant.

Was there something on his…?

But then, his fingers brushed against the soft, white pom-pom on Jing Yuan’s stupid Christmas hat, and suddenly it clicked.

Yingxing glared at him. “Are you serious?”

Jing Yuan’s laughter resonated through the room, too hearty for a General like him. He behaved almost like a child sometimes.

“You look good!” he exclaimed as he left.

Yingxing slowly shook his head, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Once again, he found himself alone, standing in a corner of Jing Yuan’s cozy living room like a bystander. But he rather enjoyed the solitude; being constantly surrounded by people could be exhausting.

The only exception to this rule was Dan Feng. He never seemed to tire of his company.

He scanned the room once more, just in case he could be hiding somewhere. He always knew how to make himself invisible in a crowd.

“Looking for something?”

Yingxing smiled at the sound of his voice.

“You’re here.”

He found Dan Feng standing right behind him.

Yingxing couldn’t help but stare, captivated just by the very sight of him. He had seen him hours ago, but it still felt like a really long time. Dan Feng looked beautiful under the cozy Christmas lights, painting his skin in warm shades of red and orange; it was as if he carried the sunset on his face. A living painting.

Dan Feng tilted his head. “Did you think I left?”

“I couldn’t find you.”

“I’d never leave without telling you,” he reassured. “Don’t worry.”

Yingxing really wanted to ask where he had been. He was certain that if he did, Dan Feng would tell him. Ever since that day, he had been telling him everything, just like he had asked him to.

But he didn’t.

Whatever business Dan Feng had been busy with, he didn’t want to know.

“What is this?”

Now, he was talking about the Christmas’ hat.

“It’s Jing Yuan’s. I’ve recently discovered that he enjoys embarrassing me in public.”

Dan Feng laughed.

“Just recently? He’s always enjoyed that.”

Yingxing snorted, taking that stupid thing off his head. Despite its silliness, it was a reminder of how close the two of them had become over time. He couldn’t help but feel a bit good. 

And a bit stupid, as well.

“Oh, come on, why are you taking it off?” Dan Feng teased, his voice light and affectionate. “It looked so cute on you.”

He blinked, staring at Dan Feng in surprise.

He just… complimented him.

Yingxing wasn’t really expecting a compliment from him, even if it was just teasing. Dan Feng didn’t even seem to realize what he said or the effect those simple words had on him, but that’s just how it always was. Yingxing was always too aware of everything Dan Feng did, and even though it was his duty to watch over him, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed it.

Cute.

Heat rose to his ears, and he almost wanted to smack himself for it. Seriously, what was he, a fifteen-year-old?

Dan Feng glanced around the room.

“Quite the celebration, isn’t it?” he observed, and when his eyes met Yingxing’s again, there was a certain spark in them. “Would it be a shame if we just left?”

He paused.

“Right now, you mean?”

“Yes,” Dan Feng replied calmly. “There’s a place I’d like to show you. But if you’d like to stay, then…”

Well, he couldn’t say no to such an invitation, could he?

“Let’s go.”

Yingxing trailed behind Dan Feng as they made their way to the outskirts of Jing Yuan’s home, their footsteps echoing softly against the ground. The sun had yet to set, and he believed they still had an hour or two of daylight. 

He stared at Dan Feng’s hair, the way it swayed gently in the light breeze.

“May I ask where you’re taking me?”

“That’s a secret,” Dan Feng replied, a playful lilt in his tone. “It wouldn’t be as exciting if you knew, would it?”

Yingxing arched an eyebrow. “Am I expected to just follow you blindly?”

Dan Feng tilted his head slightly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Yingxing couldn’t help but feel a little anxious, even though he didn’t want to admit it. If they ventured too far from Jing Yuan’s house and something went wrong, there wouldn’t be anyone around to help them.

No. Yingxing shook his head firmly. Don’t think about that.

Everything would be okay.

“Then, at least tell me this,” he insisted. “How long until we reach our destination?”

Dan Feng took a moment to consider.

“Depends how fast you are.”

Yingxing paused.

What could that possibly mean?

(...)

From the top of the hill, Dan Feng watched as Yingxing struggled to make his way up.

He had contemplated bringing him to this spot for quite some time, yet only now did he actually follow through with the idea. However, he hadn’t expected Yingxing to struggle this much with the activity—he had assumed that after all that rigorous training, he would’ve built up some stamina. And yet, there he was, sweating and panting even though he was barely halfway to the top.

Nonetheless, it was truly an amusing sight.

Dusk was setting in the sky. They needed to get there before nightfall, or else the surprise would be spoiled. Dan Feng folded his arms, looking down at Yingxing.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be so bad at hiking?”

To his surprise, the sweet sound of Yingxing’s laughter echoed through the air, filling his chest with warmth. It was a rare treat to hear Yingxing laugh, so he made a conscious effort to savor the moment, trying to keep the memory vivid in his mind. It felt just like something out of a dream. 

Perhaps he’d dream about this moment in the future.

“You never taught me how to do that,” Yingxing replied. He took a deep breath, and Dan Feng watched as his chest rose and fell slowly.

“I never considered it my job to teach you how to walk.”

He was obviously playing, but Yingxing still rolled his eyes. However, Dan Feng knew him too well to know that he wasn’t actually annoyed.

“I’m a swordsman,” he retorted calmly, “not a hiker.”

Dan Feng shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, just so he could see him better.

“Well, today you’re both, so hurry up.”

After another five minutes, he finally caught up to where Dan Feng was waiting. Close up, the sight was even more mesmerizing—the way Yingxing’s skin glistened with sweat under the late afternoon sun, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. Dan Feng couldn’t help but envy the way the sun kissed his skin, wishing it were him instead. If they didn’t have to keep moving, he would’ve gladly spent all day admiring him.

Just a few months ago, he would’ve handled this situation a lot differently. He would’ve pushed him to train harder, to do better. Perhaps he would’ve taught him some lesson about the duties of a swordsman; but now, Dan Feng simply couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him without a word.

Oh, how soft he had become. How weak.

That couldn’t be good.

But there was no time to worry about that. So, with a daring glint in his eyes, he met Yingxing’s gaze once again.

“Keep up with me,” he said with a smirk. He knew that even without saying it outright, Yingxing would understand exactly what he meant.

And he did.

Yingxing returned the smirk despite his exhaustion. “Is that a challenge?”

Dan Feng tilted his head slightly.

“Would a challenge motivate you?”

“Maybe,” Yingxing hummed. “It depends on the reward.”

Dan Feng couldn’t hold his smile. He always enjoyed competing against Yingxing. Even before training him, he still considered him a formidable rival—but now, after all these years, Yingxing had changed. Dan Feng never knew what to expect with him. Perhaps it was this unpredictability that fascinated him the most, the thrill of the unknown, for someone as controlling as him. What he did know, however, was that he would never lose against him.

Though he had something else in mind.

“What do you want?” he inquired.

Yingxing seemed to think about it, though he likely already had the answer in mind.

“The answer to a question,” he said eventually. “A question of my choosing.”

Dan Feng raised his eyebrows.

“After all, you still have questions? I believe I’ve told you everything you wanted to know,” he stated, crossing his arms. “But very well. If you win, I will truthfully answer any question you ask.”

“What about you?” Yingxing looked at him carefully. “What would you want if you win?”

Now it was Dan Feng’s turn to pretend, but he already knew the answer.

He had no intention of winning.

If he wanted to, he could easily do so, especially given Yingxing’s poor hiking abilities. It wouldn’t even require much effort. But this time, he wanted to let him win.

He was doing all of this for him, after all.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Yingxing didn’t insist.

“Are you ready?” Dan Feng asked, pointing his finger forward. “That’s our destination. If you get there before me, you win. Simple as that.”

The road ahead wasn’t too long. They could probably reach their destination before nightfall, leaving a few minutes to spare for conversation before the big surprise. Surprisingly, Dan Feng felt a bit nervous about it. He wasn’t accustomed to arranging surprises for others, but Yingxing wasn’t just anyone. He was… special. And in that same vein, Dan Feng wanted to give him something just as special in return.

Yingxing nodded decisively. He had that same look of determination in his eyes as when they sparred together.

Dan Feng had already thought about what he was going to do next. His plan was to run a bit, just enough to seem like he was really trying, and then let Yingxing pass him. It was quite easy to follow.

They stood in their places, as if they were truly competing against each other, and waited for Dan Feng’s signal.

“Now!”

But to his surprise, Yingxing began running faster than Dan Feng had ever seen him run before.

He stood still for a second, blinking rapidly, before he started running after Yingxing.

He almost couldn’t believe it. Just moments ago, Yingxing was struggling, panting and sweating just from a short walk, but now he was sprinting up a hill with astonishing speed. There was a raw energy in the way he moved, a fierce determination that put a wide smile on his face. Slowly, Dan Feng’s initial plan to let him win was abandoned as he found himself trying to catch up with him. They raced through the tall grasslands, the wind tousling their hair as if they were kids again, and for a moment, Dan Feng imagined this must be what true freedom felt like. And then he thought that if he were to be reborn, he’d want to start all over again with him by his side. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for them to rewrite their story right from the beginning—away from wars, violence, and judgment. They could be free together.

That would be a good life.

In just a few minutes, they made it to the top of the hill. The view from up there was stunning, and they both took a moment to appreciate it without saying a word.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” Yingxing finally broke the silence. “It’s… beautiful.”

“It is.”

Yet Dan Feng wasn’t interested at all in the scenery. He was looking at him.

“Now that you’ve won, what’s your question?” he asked. Yingxing turned his head towards him with a slight frown. It made him chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about our little competition.”

“No, just… let me think.”

Yingxing spoke up again after a brief pause.

“What’s your dream?”

Dan Feng paused, caught off guard by the question. He tried to find the right words, but couldn’t. 

He wasn’t expecting that.

Yingxing smirked at him. “Speechless?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “I just don’t understand why you’d be curious about that. It doesn’t seem all that important.”

No one had ever asked him about his dreams before. Not because he didn’t have any, but because they didn’t matter. Someone of his caliber didn’t need dreams. There were so many other things Yingxing could ask about: details about techniques, fighting tactics, or even military strategies. Dan Feng was full of valuable knowledge, and talking about his silly little dreams seemed far from useful.

Yingxing shrugged.

“I just want to know you better,” he said. “I think that’s important.”

Such a simple reason.

But there was nothing simple about Dan Feng. Every action or word from him seemed to set off a chain of consequences, some pleasant and others not so much. So, Dan Feng didn’t really know what to expect now if he answered his question.

“I wanted to become a pianist.”

Dan Feng looked away, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment. Such childish dreams. They seemed so foolish now, so far out of reach. The idea of someone like him pursuing such a noble profession felt almost absurd.

He expected Yingxing to laugh at him, to agree that he was incapable of such a thing; as if hands like his could ever be worthy of playing an instrument so delicate, so pure. But instead, Yingxing simply looked at him with genuine curiosity.

“I didn’t know you played the piano.”

“I used to,” he said, and he could still remember the feeling of his fingers gracefully running over the keys, almost as if they had a life of their own. “But not anymore. It’s been way too long since I last played.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as the sun slowly descended over the horizon.

“What about you?” Dan Feng asked back, finally meeting his gaze. “Was becoming a swordsman always your dream?”

Yingxing smiled playfully.

“Win the next challenge, and I’ll tell you.”

How clever.

However, Dan Feng wasn’t about to give up so easily. He had been doing most of the answering so far, and now it was his turn to pose a question.

And when he set his mind on something, he made sure to get it.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

Yingxing gave him a curious glance. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything you’d be willing to share,” Dan Feng replied calmly, as if he didn’t mind.

But in truth, he wanted to know everything about him: his fears, his passions, his likes and dislikes. The things he dreamed about when he slept. Oh, there was so much he craved to know. But Dan Feng also knew he couldn’t ask for everything at once, so he settled for a simple request. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Yingxing chuckled softly in response.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” he teased.

Dan Feng snorted. 

“That’s not fair. I’ve told you everything about me.”

“Not everything,” he murmured. “There’s one thing you haven’t told me.”

That.

Oh, Dan Feng certainly hadn’t forgotten about it.

At that moment, something occurred to him—a bad idea, undoubtedly. It was a risky move, one he knew he might come to regret. He didn’t know the exact reason behind his impulse: perhaps it was the thrill of seeing Yingxing’s reaction, the excitement of surprising him, that led him to make such a reckless choice.

“Would you like to know?”

The words spilled out almost impulsively, and just as he had anticipated, Yingxing’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze locking onto him.

“We’d be breaking the terms of our contract.”

Dan Feng nodded.

“That’s right.”

But he didn’t care about breaking the rules. He’d already broken enough of them throughout his entire life to keep pretending to be morally upright.

One could surely say that he’d lost his mind.

As Yingxing took a while to think about his answer, Dan Feng began to wonder.

He tried to picture himself finally saying those words out loud. After carrying the secret for so long, he’d gotten used to its weight, and letting it go now felt almost inappropriate. Those words had become sacred to him, and he thought perhaps he’d burn just for saying them aloud, like some sort of instant karma. But he was willing to do it if that’s what Yingxing wanted—he would do anything for him.

After a moment of silence, Yingxing finally spoke.

“I don’t think we should.”

Dan Feng smiled slightly.

“As you wish.”

His eyes went up to the sky, watching as the last vestiges of light slowly faded. Dan Feng knew it was almost time.

“Let’s go,” he urged. “There’s still one more surprise waiting.”

Just as he started to make his way down the hill, Yingxing’s voice caught his attention once again.

“I used to be afraid of blades.”

Dan Feng turned around, staring at him with surprise.

“And yet you chose to become a swordsman,” he observed, intrigued. “May I know why?”

His eyes admired Yingxing’s face, noticing how his features softened in the darkness—the soft curve of his nose, dark hair framing the sides of his face, and those deep, red eyes staring at him. Dan Feng would never get tired of looking at him, even when they’re both old and wrinkled. 

“The best way to overcome fear is to conquer it,” Yingxing explained. “You can’t be afraid of what you control. That’s how I became a swordsman — not out of passion, but out of fear.”

Oh, if only Dan Feng could also conquer his fears. He’d be the most powerful person in the world.

But until then, he could dream.

(...)

It was already dark.

As an experienced swordsman, Yingxing knew perfectly well how difficult it was to fight in the dark. Back in his student days, Dan Feng would test his skills by switching off all the lights and attacking him in the middle of the dark. It forced him to rely solely on his other senses—hearing, touch, even his sense of smell—to locate his opponent. Terrifying as it was, it helped a lot. And while Yingxing’s senses were now pretty sharp, he still feared that they wouldn’t be enough, especially around Dan Feng: it was like his presence threw everything off balance, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Maybe that’s why people say love can be a weakness.

“How much longer are we going to be out here?” he asked tentatively. Dan Feng walked ahead, leading the way through the darkness. “It’s not safe.”

“Oh, come on,” Dan Feng mocked, “don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Yingxing grumbled. He always knew what to say to get a reaction out of him.

“I’m just being cautious.”

“Well, don’t be.”

He pointed forward.

“We’re already here.”

They both stopped at the heart of a field tucked between the hills. Yingxing glanced around, wondering what Dan Feng found intriguing about this place. It was completely deserted.

He turned to Dan Feng with a skeptical expression. “This is the place?”

Dan Feng nodded. “That’s right.”

Well, great.

“Feels like I’m going to be murdered here.”

Dan Feng chuckled, the sound echoing through the stillness of the air.

“Don’t be so negative,” he teased, his tone light. “It’s not that bad. You’ll see that pretty soon.”

Yingxing arched an eyebrow. “Is the surprise that you’re going to kill me?”

“Do you really think I’d go through all this trouble just to kill you?” Dan Feng asked, incredulous. “There are much simpler ways to do that.”

Yingxing shook his head. 

“That’s not exactly reassuring.”

As he stood there, he remembered the last conversation they had a few months ago, the one that led them to this moment. Sometimes, he wondered where he’d be right now if he hadn’t agreed to stay.

Perhaps he would’ve worked for someone else. After all, there were plenty of masters in need of a protector, if he could be considered that, and with his skills and experience, securing a position wouldn’t have been difficult. Perhaps, a couple of years later, their paths would have crossed again at some random event, and Yingxing would reminisce about all the time they had shared together in the past, as if he were some old but never forgotten lover. 

Would he still be in love with Dan Feng by then? Even if they hadn’t seen each other for years. 

Guess he’d never know.

Dan Feng turned to him.

“Close your eyes.”

And he did.

The next few seconds were tense. Yingxing’s senses were on high alert: he detected the subtle sounds of movement around him, light footsteps rustling through the grasslands, seemingly moving away. For a moment, Yingxing wondered if Dan Feng was planning to abandon him right there. Almost immediately, he pushed the thought aside— no, he wouldn’t do such a thing.

And then, he felt a gentle flutter against his ear.

What the hell was that?

“Now, open them,” Dan Feng requested softly.

Yingxing obeyed.

But as soon as he opened his eyes, any unease he felt quickly melted away, for the scene before him was one of the most breathtaking sights he had ever witnessed in his life.

Hundreds of fireflies rose into the sky, transforming the once desolate space with their gentle glow. They danced around him, fluttering their little wings curiously as they sparkled in the darkness, like stars brought down to earth. Yingxing turned slowly, his eyes wide with awe as he took it all in: he had never imagined that such beauty could exist in a place like this. 

“This is…”

He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He struggled to find the right thing to say.

Dan Feng chuckled softly behind him. “I told you, didn’t I?”

He turned to face Dan Feng, the fireflies surrounding them both.

“What is this place?”

“Back in my student days, this place was my own refuge,” Dan Feng explained, staring at the fireflies dancing around him. “I used to come here every time I needed some peace of mind. But now, I thought I’d share it with you.”

He smiled gently at him. So gently, Yingxing could have sworn it was love.  

But that could never be, right?

“Happy New Year, Yingxing.”

And Yingxing smiled back.

“Happy New Year.”

(...)

Present-Day

Blade wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he knew it had been a while.

The sun was already up, its warm rays streaming through the window and hitting him right in the face. Blade grumbled quietly and rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position to go back to sleep; it felt like he hadn’t slept well in years. But as soon as he did, a sharp pain shot through his head, and he suddenly remembered everything.

The pill he took. Dan Feng appearing in front of him. His injured hand, Caelus. Dan Heng taking him to his room.

So, last night wasn’t a dream. It really happened.

Shit.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and found himself staring at a nice wooden ceiling, not like the one in his apartment. For a moment, he missed the little stars attached to his own ceiling, the coziness—and he missed Dan Heng, because everything reminded him of him. As he woke up, Blade realized something else.

He had dreamed of Dan Feng that night.

It was a nice, lovely dream about that night at the firefly sanctuary. A dream of the two of them running up the hill, laughing and playfully competing with each other. That’s all it was about. And yet, remembering it made Blade feel even more miserable.

He felt so stupid.

Taking that pill didn’t make things better. Not only did he remember everything, but something even worse had happened.

He saw Dan Feng.

Not only did he see him, he felt him. Touched him. It seemed so real—the solidity of his body, the contours of his face, the rhythm of his heartbeat. He even kissed him, and it was the absolute best and worst thing that had ever happened to him, because now he couldn’t get it out of his head, replaying the memory over and over again. It embarrassed him even more to know that it was all his imagination. Maybe he wished it really was Dan Feng’s ghost.

A wave of nausea hit him, finally pushing him out of bed. He realized he was still in his clothes from the day before, and his bandaged hand was now stained with dried blood. But he didn’t really care about that.

When he stepped out into the hallway, Blade noticed that there was no one else around. The other rooms were empty, showing no signs of anyone else having slept there, and the floor looked freshly cleaned. For a moment, Blade suspected that he had somehow ended up in an alternate reality, and considering everything that had happened, it seemed possible. But he could hear someone moving downstairs, cooking something in the kitchen, and that had to be real. At least, that’s what he hoped.

He wasn’t surprised to find Jing Yuan there. After all, it was his home.

Blade just watched him for a moment. Jing Yuan moved gracefully around the kitchen, his long, fluffy hair tied back and an apron tied around his waist. He hummed a tune softly to himself, occasionally pausing to taste the food he was cooking before continuing where he left off. It was reassuring to see that, at least, he hadn’t changed.

When Jing Yuan’s eyes met his, he nearly jumped.

“Oh, you’re alive,” he said. “Come, sit at the table.”

“Um, good morning,” Blade muttered, scratching the back of his neck. He hadn’t realized how awkward the situation was until now. After all, they didn’t share the same closeness as they did in their past life—they had barely known each other a month ago. “What time is it?”

“It’s really late,” he chuckled. “Definitely not morning.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I’d slept so much.”

“Not at all,” Jing Yuan reassured him. “I’m sure you needed rest.”

Blade stood there for another moment. Even though it was the same house he had been to hundreds of times, it felt strangely foreign to him now. Was he supposed to go and sit at the table just like that? Was that allowed? Wouldn’t Jing Yuan mind–?

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Jing Yuan was giving him a strange look.

“I’m starving.”

“Well, I made this just for you.”

Jing Yuan removed his apron and placed a plate on the table. There was a generous amount of food, more than what Blade typically ate, but the aroma was enticing. Jing Yuan hadn’t prepared anything overly fancy; instead, he focused on making a nutritious meal—with proteins, carbohydrates, and vitamins. It had everything.

“Have the others left?” Blade asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, hours ago,” Jing Yuan nodded. “Nobody woke you up because you were very tired. It doesn’t matter anyway, I can take you home.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

Blade finally sat down at the table. However, Jing Yuan didn’t join him; instead, he stood off to the side, simply watching him eat. Great, that didn’t make him feel pressured at all.

He took a hesitant bite, fearing he might not like it. However, it was delicious, so much so that it actually surprised him. It was prepared just the way he liked it. Only Dan Heng knew his preferences when it came to food.

It was probably just a coincidence.

“This is really good.”

Jing Yuan smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Blade continued eating in silence, unsure of what else to say. Perhaps he should ask Jing Yuan something, try to get to know him better in this life too. Maybe they couldn’t recreate the same relationship they once had, but they could still be friends.

But he didn’t get to speak.

“So, I heard Sampo gave you something last night.”

Blade almost choked on his food.

“How… do you know about that?”

Jing Yuan looked momentarily displeased, as if he had expected Blade to deny it. But he wasn’t really trying to hide it. It wouldn’t make sense to do so.

“Let’s say I had a lovely conversation with him,” he explained shortly. It didn’t seem ‘lovely’ at all. “I also ran into Dan Heng as he was leaving your room, and he told me about it.”

Blade shrank in his seat, his appetite suddenly vanishing. He just stared at his half-eaten plate for a moment. He actually hadn’t thought about that—the fact that Dan Heng had seen him in that state, and now he would have to explain himself. But how could he explain something he couldn’t talk about? How could Dan Heng understand something he himself didn’t remember?

“Why did you do it?” Jing Yuan asked, almost as if he had read his mind.

But he couldn’t explain it to him, either.

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Then who are you going to tell?” Jing Yuan’s arms folded across his chest, his expression now one of genuine anger. “It doesn’t seem like you have many options.”

What the hell?

Blade frowned. “Are you actually mad about this?”

“I’m just disappointed,” Jing Yuan shook his head. He looked him in the eyes, and for a moment, Blade was able to recognize the friend he once knew. It was like he was back. “You’re being reckless. This isn’t the way to handle your problems.”

“Well, you don’t even know what my problems are,” he retorted. And it was true. He hadn’t told Jing Yuan, nor did he plan to tell him. “Stop acting like you know everything.”

“Then tell me!”

“I can’t!” Blade finally snapped, his own frustration boiling over. “You barely know me, why the fuck do you care?”

“You know that’s not true.”

Blade paused.

“What?”

Jing Yuan didn’t respond right away. But Blade couldn’t wait patiently for him to speak up, so he insisted.

“Jing Yuan, what the hell are you talking about?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Jing Yuan said slowly, locking eyes with him. And in that moment, it was definitive. It really was him. “I know it’s you, Yingxing.”

(...)

Five hundred years ago

They lost track of time.

When they finally decided to head back, it had gotten pretty late. Yingxing walked side by side with Dan Feng, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet hills as they headed back to Jing Yuan’s house. But Yingxing wasn’t ready for the night to be over—it had been perfect so far, he wanted it to never end. Sometimes he wondered if it was even real, but then he’d hear Dan Feng’s voice beside him, calling his name with such warmth, and he’d know it was.

If he could freeze time and live in one moment forever, this would undoubtedly be it.

Dan Feng walked with his hands tucked behind his back, admiring the night scenery as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. They hadn’t spoken for a while, and Yingxing couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Oh. He got caught.

“You’ve been quiet for a while,” he excused. “Is there something on your mind?”

Dan Feng flashed him a half-smile. “I was thinking about you, actually. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Yingxing turned to him, a curious expression on his face. “What is it?”

“What’s your favorite place in the world?”

He stopped walking, and Dan Feng followed shortly after. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Why the sudden interest?”

“I’m just curious about the places you’ve been,” he explained shortly. “Well?”

He took a moment to think about it; however, he knew his answer would be disappointing either way. Yingxing had never left Xianzhou before and he didn’t think he ever would. For him, there was nowhere else he’d rather be—this place was home. His home. Leaving this place would also mean leaving Dan Feng, unless he went with him. And Yingxing would never leave him.

“I haven’t been anywhere,” he confessed. “Just here.”

“Is that so?” Dan Feng hummed, tilting his head. “Then, if you had the chance to go anywhere in the world, where would you choose?”

“What is this?” Yingxing raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “Am I being interrogated?”

“I’d just call it friendly conversation.”

Even though Dan Feng’s question was a bit unexpected, Yingxing tried to think of an answer. No one had ever asked him this before, since he came from a place where leaving wasn’t an option; unlike Dan Feng or Jing Yuan, he didn’t have the luxury to dream about traveling. Even now, recognized and respected by others, he still felt like the same humble swordsman he once was. So, when he thought about a place he’d like to go, there was only one that came to mind.

“I’d like to go to the beach.”

The distant chirping of a cricket filled the air.

“Interesting,” Dan Feng mused. “I didn’t think that’d be your choice. May I know why?”

“There’s not much to it, really,” he admitted. “I just want to see the ocean once before I die.”

Dan Feng nodded thoughtfully. 

“The ocean,” he repeated, as if testing the idea in his mind. “Well, then, let’s make it happen.”

Yingxing looked him in the eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go see the ocean,” he said with a smile, then added, “together.”

Yingxing was at a loss for words. Not because he didn’t want to go with him, because he would follow Dan Feng anywhere, but because he didn’t understand. The way Dan Feng looked at him, that sweet smile on his lips—all these mixed signals he struggled so hard to decipher, even though the answer was so simple.

“Why me?” he asked. “You could go with anyone.”

Dan Feng’s next answer would be even simpler.

“But I want to go with you, because you’re my best friend.”

Yingxing blinked at the expression on Dan Feng’s face, and for a moment, he wished he could capture this moment in his memory, to revisit it whenever he pleased. If only he had known from the start how deeply he would come to love him. If only there had been a warning, like a small voice in his head saying, “Be careful.” Would he even have listened?

But maybe, if there had been any, they wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.

At that moment, Yingxing finally understood why Dan Feng trained him so hard back then—because, in a real ambush, there’s no warning. Sometimes, you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s already over.

When Yingxing saw the man moving towards Dan Feng with a sword in hand, he knew that one of them would die that very night.

Hundreds of regrets flashed through his mind in an instant: if only he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have noticed the threat in time; if only he had insisted they return before it got too late; if only they had never left Jing Yuan’t house at all, where they were safe. He considered all the ways tonight could have turned out differently, with both of them alive and well. It was too late now.

Yingxing knew perfectly well that there wasn’t enough time to draw his sword without the attacker striking Dan Feng first. Every possible scenario that ran through his head led to the same outcome: Dan Feng dying while he did nothing. There was no way he was going to let that happen.

He wouldn’t let Dan Feng die for anything in the world.

Right at that moment, Yingxing knew exactly what he had to do, as if all his training had prepared him for this very instant. This was his destiny. And he was ready, more ready than he had ever been.

Everything happened so fast.

He almost didn’t recognize himself as he moved forward, pushing aside before that man could harm him. There was no sound, no scream, as if all the noise in the universe had gone out at that very moment. Total silence. But he did feel the impact of the sword against his body, sharper than any pain he had experienced before. Yet despite it all, he found a strange sense of calm. Gratitude, even, that this attack finally gave him the chance to redeem himself. To do things right. And he knew deep down he had made the right choice.

Then, everything went black.

(...)

However, Yingxing didn’t die. It wasn’t his time, or so people said after he woke up. They called it luck, surviving such an ‘incident.’ Please. As if he had accidentally stumbled onto that man’s sword. As if he wouldn’t willingly do it all over again without a second thought.

But soon, he’d wish he had died.

He woke up to the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced. Words weren’t enough to describe it. It felt like his insides were clawing their way out of him, pressing against the confines of his abdomen. Every inch of his body burned as if consumed by flames. He wished he was dead. He really did. This wasn’t supposed to happen—he wasn’t supposed to live. Why did he live? Where was he? What had happened?

He didn’t know what day it was. His eyes were open but he couldn’t even see at all. There were spots in his vision, like little ghosts that seemed to mock him from above.

Yingxing tried to breathe.

All that came out of his mouth were incoherent noises, unrecognizable even to himself. In that moment, he felt stripped of his own humanity.

Gentle hands grabbed his arm, but he barely felt the touch.

Someone spoke to him, their words soothing and confident, yet the hands holding him were shaking, almost as if the owner couldn’t believe them. Yingxing wanted to say something, but the pain consumed him, leaving him unable to do anything besides grunting and panting and squirming like a worm.

Then someone stuck something in his arm. He barely felt it. But soon after, he fell asleep again.

A deep sleep.

The next time he woke up, he knew it had been a while.

Surprisingly, he felt... nothing at all. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting against the blinding overhead lights. At least he could see now. He wasn’t at home or anywhere familiar—he was in a hospital. Yingxing glanced around, taking in the plain, boring walls, two empty chairs beside his bed, and a glass of water nearby. Without thinking, he drank it all in one gulp.

The pain returned the moment he tried to get up.

His body collapsed back onto the bed. He looked down and realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt—instead, his entire body was covered in bandages, leaving hardly any skin visible. The bandages were so tight they felt almost suffocating.

He tried to get up once more.

This time, he succeeded. He took a few steps away from the bed, trying to get used to the feeling of walking again. It hurt, but he endured it. There was only one thing that mattered to him.

Where was Dan Feng?

He headed straight for the door and yanked it open, a cold wind hitting him immediately.

On the other side stood Jing Yuan, waiting.

They stared at each other for a moment, as if neither could believe what they were seeing. Yingxing glanced around, searching for Dan Feng, but he wasn’t there. 

Then, Jing Yuan stood up.

“Oh, you’re alive,” he said amusedly.

Yingxing snorted. He had missed that dry humor of his.

“Unfortunately.”

His eyes widened for a moment. That didn’t sound like him at all. It must have been days since he last spoke; his voice sounded strained, as if he were forcing it out of his throat. Despite how rough he sounded, Jing Yuan didn’t comment on it.

“I’d recommend you go back to your room before Dan Feng sees you,” he said, calmly placing his hands behind his back. “You need to rest well to fully recover.”

Yingxing shot him a look. “Where is he?”

Jing Yuan hesitated for a moment.

“He’s… taking a short nap.”

Yingxing would’ve pressed for more answers, but standing still was becoming almost unbearable. Jing Yuan gently placed a hand on his back.

“Come on,” he encouraged, “let’s get you back to your room.”

Once he was back in bed, Yingxing felt a lot better. Only then, as he took in his surroundings, did he notice the flowers and presents scattered about, adding color to the otherwise dull room. Jing Yuan took one of the chairs next to his bed, crossing one leg over the other patiently.

“Why are you here?” Yingxing quipped, attempting a light-hearted tone. “Are you slacking off at work?”

“I’m here to take care of you,” he explained. “When you’re left alone, you try to escape like a bird in a cage.”

His eyes widened. “Have I woken up before?”

“Oh, you definitely have,” Jing Yuan chuckled. “The poor nurses had quite a time trying to keep you still. They had to sedate you.”

He didn’t remember that at all.

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“Not too long,” Jing Yuan explained carefully. “The doctors are amazed at how well you’re recovering. You could’ve died instantly, you know.”

Yingxing fell silent. Honestly, he didn’t remember a single thing from that moment, but he was desperate to know. Something had definitely happened while he was unconscious, and he was determined to find out what it was.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Jing Yuan leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m not very familiar with the events of that night, either,” he began. “But from what I understand, someone attacked you, and you were badly injured. Dan Feng brought you back to my place, and I found you both unconscious on the street. That’s all I know.”

Yingxing tried to piece together that night in his head with this new piece of information, but it still didn’t make sense. How did Dan Feng manage to carry him to Jing Yuan’s house alone? And most importantly, what did he mean by both of them passing out? 

Why would Dan Feng pass out?

“What happened to–”

“I think that’s enough questions for now,” Jing Yuan interrupted, rising from his seat. “You need to rest. I’ll be just outside the room in case you try to sneak out again — don’t think I won’t stop you. I take my job very seriously.”

Yingxing decided to let it go for now.

“I’m sure about that.”

Jing Yuan smiled warmly at him. “Just so you know, I’m glad you’re okay.”

With that, he left the room.

Yingxing lay still, just staring at the ceiling. He continued to mull over everything that had happened in the last few hours. It had been so long since he’d seen Dan Feng, and it felt like an eternity. He missed his face. He wished he could just close his eyes and find Dan Feng there when he reopened them.

He tried. But even after he opened his eyes again, Dan Feng wasn’t there.

It seemed like the drugs were kicking in again.

Moments later, exhaustion overtook him, and he slipped into sleep.

(...)

Yingxing woke up once again hours later.

For the first time in months, or maybe even years, he had deep, uninterrupted sleep: no dreams, no sudden alerts waking him up at night. It was refreshing, even though his body still ached and burned in places he had never felt before. Oh, if only he could always sleep like this. Perhaps he should start doing drugs.

He got up from the bed. His bandages were itchy, and now that they were soaked with dried blood, they clung to his skin like glue. He was used to wearing bandages, but never this many.

There was a mirror in the corner of the room. Yingxing approached it slowly, each step causing his muscles to stretch painfully, and he stood in front of it. And, well, he looked just like someone on the brink of death. It wasn’t a surprise.

Slowly, he loosened the bandages tightly covering his abdomen and chest, revealing the scarred skin beneath. He removed them one by one, witnessing for the first time the damage that had been inflicted upon him. Amidst the dried blood and moist patches, there it was: a wound nearly the size of his arm. Though it was now closed with stitches, he couldn’t shake the image of it torn open, a grotesque glimpse into his insides, and he felt nauseous at the thought. He had never been stabbed with a sword before, and now, having seen it, he couldn’t understand how he had survived. Yingxing stood bare-chested before the mirror, simply staring at himself, as if at some point it would finally make sense.

“That’s going to leave a scar.”

Yingxing turned around, surprised to see Dan Feng standing in front of the door. He hadn’t heard him enter, but he didn’t mind.

Oh, how relieved he was to see him.

He managed a small smile. “What’s one more, right?”

Dan Feng took a few steps towards him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen him in a while, but he looked different. More tired. Slightly thinner. Yingxing noticed the scarf around his neck. He had never seen him wear a scarf before, but it was quite cold in there, so he didn’t really mind.

“Should I call the nurses?” Dan Feng inquired. 

Despite the severity of the wound, Dan Feng didn’t seem fazed at all. But Yingxing did notice him avoiding direct eye contact, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Don’t bother them,” he said. “It’s pretty late, and they need rest.”

“And you need to be checked.”

“I can handle it myself.”

But deep down, Yingxing recoiled at the thought of touching the wound. It looked so… repulsive. Worse than any injury he had seen on his body before.

Dan Feng crossed his arms. “I don’t believe that.”

Then, he moved to a nearby cabinet and took out some new bandages. 

Yingxing could tell that something wasn’t right. 

Perhaps others couldn’t see past Dan Feng’s well-crafted facade, but he could. He’d known him for too long and too well to be fooled. He had developed the ability to tell when Dan Feng was pretending and when he was being truthful, and right now, it was the former.

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

Yingxing met his gaze. Maybe it was the lighting in the place, but Dan Feng’s eyes seemed a dark, muted green.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Please, let me,” Dan Feng insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

He couldn’t really say no, could he?

Yingxing sat on the edge of the bed, which emitted a faint squeak under his weight; beside him lay a stack of clean bandages and patches, ready for use. Dan Feng joined him, positioning himself slightly closer, as he carefully tended to the wound on Yingxing’s abdomen with practiced hands. The soft hum of the stove in the background filled the room. It was peaceful. Quiet.

“Where were you?” he asked, his tone unintentionally sounding accusatory. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”

Dan Feng met his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the wound. “I was there the first time. You just don’t remember.”

Dan Feng’s hands were gentle as he wrapped the bandages around him. His fingers barely brushed his skin, as if he was deliberately avoiding contact—but Yingxing wanted him to touch him. He craved the feel of those hands on him, all over him, until he knew their touch by heart. He wanted to recognize every line on his fingertips just by sight. Yingxing wanted to pull him closer, to feel the warmth of his skin against his own, to lose himself in the sensation of Dan Feng’s touch. He wanted to memorize the way his hands moved, the way his touch felt, and keep it with him. But he did nothing. He wouldn’t have dared.

As Dan Feng was focused on his injury, Yingxing stared at his face. He was definitely thinner. It wasn’t his imagination. He looked disheveled, and although the circumstances weren’t exactly the best, it was a bit much. The bags under his eyes showed that he hadn’t slept well lately.

“Are you okay?”

He didn’t really think twice before asking.

Dan Feng looked up, and those emerald eyes almost pierced through him.

“I’m fine,” he reassured calmly, though a hint of embarrassment flickered in his eyes, as if he felt self-conscious about his appearance. “Do I look bad?”

Yingxing could have said so many things. He could have assured him that even at his worst, he’d still be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. It didn’t really matter what he looked like. He could have said that, despite being on the brink of death and experiencing agonizing pain, he didn’t regret a single thing, because having Dan Feng tending to his wounds with such care felt like a dream come true.

He could have told him he loved him.

Instead, he played it safe.

“You just seem tired,” he searched his face for any clue. Any confirmation. “Have you been sleeping well?”

He really meant to say ‘at all’, because it seemed like he hadn’t.

Dan Feng smiled at him. Perhaps it was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but it did just the opposite. “Don’t worry about me. It wasn’t me who was stabbed, was it?”

Once Dan Feng finished bandaging him, his hands lingered on him just for a moment longer before pulling away.

“You… saved my life,” Dan Feng said, almost like a whisper. “I’ll always be grateful.”

Outside, the whisper of the wind beat against the window. Dan Feng rose from the bed, causing it to squeak once more.

“I should go,” he said without looking at him. “It’s crucial for you to get some rest.”

Yingxing didn’t want him to leave. He always felt lighter when Dan Feng was around, or maybe that was just the effect of the medication coursing through his body. Either way, he wanted him to stay. He knew it without a doubt.

Almost instinctively, he reached out and grasped Dan Feng’s wrist.

“Don’t… you want to stay?” he asked, his voice soft.

Dan Feng looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“With you, you mean?”

Yingxing nodded. 

He was starting to feel a bit dizzy.

Dan Feng seemed to take forever to reply, at least that's how it felt to Yingxing. They stayed like that for a moment, carefully holding his wrist between his fingers, feeling his heartbeat beneath his fingertips. It was beating quite fast.

“I shouldn’t.”

He gently pulled away.

“I’ll visit you later,” he said quietly. “Goodnight.”

The room felt colder after he left.

(...)

Present-Day

For the first time, Dan Heng couldn’t focus on his work.

He was usually a diligent worker, and anyone would agree. He worked hard, fulfilled his responsibilities, and gave his best. But right now, he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His mind kept wandering back to Blade, replaying the events of the previous night over and over again.

He felt guilty about leaving, but it was already late, and he couldn’t afford to skip work. He was so tired of working. Luocha was sick, and Dan Heng was the only one working at the café. The fact that it was a slow day didn’t help either—he had nothing to occupy his head, nothing to distract him. And he desperately needed a distraction.

So he texted Caelus.

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but he did it anyway.

Caelus arrived in a few minutes. Dan Heng knew it was him the moment the doorbell rang, without even raising his head.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Slow day, huh?”

Dan Heng nodded. “Painfully slow.”

Dan Heng not only ignored what happened last night, but also Blade.

It was strange. He wanted to blame it on that weird drug Blade took, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that. He still needed to talk to him. He wanted to talk to him, but his work always got in the way. One of these days, he’d quit. It wasn’t like he needed it anymore, anyway.

He had already gotten what he wanted.

“Where’s Blade?”

Hearing his name spoken aloud startled him. It’s like he knew what he was thinking.

“I guess he’s still at Jing Yuan’s place. I haven’t talked to him yet.”

But he would. Soon, he hoped.

“Oh, thank God,” Caelus sighed, looking genuinely concerned. “I was so worried yesterday when I found him in the bathroom with his hand hurt like that–”

“Wait,” Dan Heng interrupted. “You found him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Caelus scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “He seemed a little... out of it when I tried to help him. I thought he might be on something, so I went to find Jing Yuan. But then I couldn’t find him.”

So that’s what happened. Dan Heng was slowly trying to piece together the events of that night like a puzzle.

“Do you… have any idea what happened?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “I thought you’d know. When I got there, he was already hurt. He was probably just... experimenting or something. Don’t know.”

But that wasn’t like Blade—at least not the one he knew. He was always extremely cautious, almost in an overprotective way, especially when it came to anything potentially dangerous. Dan Heng could always rely on him. So he knew something must have happened, or else he wouldn’t be acting like this. He knew him too well.

Right?

Caelus reassuringly squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him. If he’s with Jing Yuan, he’ll be fine — he’ll take good care of him.”

Dan Heng knew that Caelus was just trying to help, but instead, it only annoyed him more. Because he should be the one taking care of Blade, not Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan was just a stranger, while he had known Blade forever; and he had always taken care of him when he was sick. That should be him.

Well, Blade wasn’t the only one acting weird now.

“What’s with that face?” Caelus chuckled, leaning over the counter. “You don’t like Jing Yuan?”

Was he making a face again? He couldn't really tell.

“We don’t really get along.”

“Huh, really?” Caelus teased. “Because it seems like you’re a bit jealous to me.”

Dan Heng’s expression twitched at the mention of that word.

Well, maybe he was a bit jealous, but it was normal to feel protective over a best friend, right? Blade had been his closest friend for as long as he could remember. Naturally, he didn’t want anyone coming between them. But still, the word made him feel uneasy.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure, whatever,” Caelus waved a dismissive hand. “Wanna hang out later?”

Dan Heng thought about what Blade could be doing right now. He didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t want to think about it, but for some reason, he couldn’t help it. It was stronger than him. Maybe he should text him.

“Yeah.”

No. He said he needed a distraction.

And he’d do just that.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Dan Feng woke up to the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest.

He had dreamed about that night again.

For the past few days, he had been dreaming about the same thing over and over again. He knew exactly how it began and how it would end, and yet he kept waking up with a start every single night. It was getting old already. Dan Feng sighed, a shiver running through his body as the image of Yingxing’s corpse flashed in his mind. 

He knew Yingxing was alive and well, but he still had to get up and check, just in case.

Dan Feng crossed the dark hallway to Yingxing’s room. He had been sleeping poorly, the most uncomfortable he had ever slept in his entire life. Ever since he became someone of his rank, Dan Feng had grown accustomed to the finest luxuries, though he didn’t care much for material things. Yet, he was willing to give up all that and more for Yingxing’s well-being. 

He wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably at home knowing that Yingxing was dying.

He didn’t knock on the door; instead, he opened it carefully, trying not to wake him. As he expected, Yingxing was there, still breathing, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Dan Feng watched him for a few seconds, feeling a mix of relief and guilt churning inside his stomach like a snake, coiling tighter with each of his own thoughts. The nagging feeling that he should be the one in that bed, not Yingxing.

If anyone deserved to go through this, it was him.

A sharp pang in his throat made him turn and leave the room. It always happened at night: the pain and swelling would become almost unbearable, yet another reason he slept so poorly. Often, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, needing to calm himself down, just like now.

Dan Feng locked himself in an empty bathroom, away from the nurses and the watchful eye of Jing Yuan, who must’ve been asleep somewhere. Standing before the mirror, he slowly removed the scarf that wrapped around his neck.

Once again, he felt a wave of deep shame as he stared at the hand marks on his neck. They were just another reminder of how useless he had been that night.

What happened after Yingxing was injured felt like a blur, almost as if it had all been a dream. Dan Feng might have convinced himself it was, if not for the marks on his body that spoke otherwise. He remembered that man throwing himself on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He recalled those hands, large and calloused, wrapping around his neck. It wasn’t the first time he had been so close to death, but it had been the first time Dan Feng thought about just… giving up. Not fighting back. With Yingxing’s lifeless body just steps away, the least he could do was join him. Even if only for a moment, Dan Feng felt liberated. He would finally be free from his personal torment, from the sins his own hands had committed, and he would leave this world with the person he loved.

Maybe that could’ve been the case if Yingxing hadn’t survived the blow.

Even though he couldn’t remember it, Dan Feng knew he had taken that man’s life; and the fact that he didn’t even care that he did reminded him once again why everyone thought he was a monster. 

Now, he carried the evidence of his final act in the marks that adorned his neck.

No one else knew he’d nearly been killed, except Jing Yuan. Dan Feng made sure to hide any signs of it, and for the first few days, he stayed quiet so others wouldn’t hear the strain in his voice. And, of course, he hadn’t told Yingxing.

But it tormented him. He kept looking behind his back, scanning every dark corner, in case someone might be lurking. Every time Dan Feng closed his eyes, he relived that night all over again. How lovely it was at first. How blessed he felt. At that moment, he should’ve known that nothing so perfect could be meant for him; however, what was most humiliating was that he hadn’t even sensed it. Dan Feng hadn’t even known about the man who had come so close to ending his life, were it not for Yingxing.

Suddenly, Dan Feng heard a noise behind him.

His hand automatically reached for the knife hidden at his hip, pressing it against the neck of the person standing behind him. Panic seized his bones, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Not again. Not now–

“It’s just me.”

His eyes slowly moved up to his face, and he was met with Yingxing’s worried gaze. His grip on the knife loosened, but even if he had intended to harm someone, he wouldn’t have been able to—his hand was shaking so violently that he could barely keep it steady. Weak. Pathetic.

“I’m… sorry.”

Get yourself together.

Yingxing didn’t make a move. He stood still, looking at him with the kind of pity one might reserve for an injured puppy on the street. 

Dan Feng despised that look.

“You should be in bed. It’s…”

Yingxing didn’t let him finish.

“He hurt you.”

Oh, right.

Dan Feng suddenly became aware that his neck was exposed, and he hadn’t managed to cover it fast enough.

“I’m fine. This isn’t–”

“That doesn’t look fine, Dan Feng.”

Yingxing took a step closer. 

At the same time, Dan Feng stepped back.

He didn’t want Yingxing to come any closer, only because he was afraid he might break. And if he did, there would be no turning back. Yingxing would never look at him the same way again. He would see him as the way he actually was: a weak, pathetic little man. Dan Feng’s emotions were raw, and if it hadn’t been for Yingxing’s sudden appearance, he might have been able to hide them in time, just like he always did.

“How did he do this to you?” Yingxing’s voice held genuine concern. “I thought I had stopped him.”

Dan Feng shook his head slowly.

“You did,” he assured him. “It was me who couldn’t stop him afterward. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Yingxing frowned. “You promised not to keep any more secrets–”

“You were dying, Yingxing,” he interjected. Those words were suffocating him, the mere thought that Yingxing could have died because of him. “I didn’t even know if you would make it. You have no idea how scared I was–”

The weight of the confession hung heavy on Dan Feng’s shoulders, and he fell silent almost immediately. If he kept talking, he might end up saying something he didn’t mean to.

“Has anyone looked at your injury?”

“No,” Dan Feng replied, dismissing his ghastly reflection in the mirror. “There’s no need for that.”

“Let me do it, then.”

He took another step back.

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

Then, Yingxing’s gaze softened, if only for a moment. “Well, I disagree.”

The next time Yingxing moved closer to him, Dan Feng didn’t back away. He remained still as Yingxing’s hands gently tilted his neck toward the light, so that he could see his wounds up close. His hands were the only part of his body not covered in bandages, and his fingers felt tender against his skin. Soft and careful. Dan Feng avoided looking at him directly, but he couldn’t resist stealing a glance at his face, quick enough to catch the slight frown in his brows, the flicker of disgust in his eyes at the sight of the bruises, a stark shade of purple on his skin. They were ugly, and Dan Feng knew that, but he took them as a testament, not as a wound; the last will of that man was impregnated in his body. A man whose life he had taken. The least he could do was bear them in silence.

“I’ll go get some ice,” Yingxing said, carefully pulling his hands away. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Dan Feng could’ve left if he wanted to, but he stayed. It wouldn’t do him any good anyway. When Yingxing returned to the room, he was carrying a small bag of ice.

He stood next to him.

“I think you’ll be more comfortable if you sit on the floor,” he suggested.

And Dan Feng obeyed. 

He found it almost funny. When had the roles reversed? Now he was the one supposed to do whatever Yingxing asked of him?

Surprisingly, he didn’t really dislike the idea.

He pressed the ice pack to his neck, feeling the cold numbing his muscles.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Yingxing’s voice came out like a whisper.

Dan Feng sighed, “There’s not much to tell.”

“Then just tell me that,” he insisted. “Please. I need to know.”

“I… don’t recall much about what happened,” Dan Feng decided to be honest. “After seeing you fall to the ground, I just froze. Then, that man took the opportunity to attack me. I’m not sure how I managed to fend him off. All I remember is taking care of him, even though I wasn’t in my right mind at the moment, and carrying you back to Jing Yuan’s house.”

Dan Feng set the bag of ice aside. Then, Yingxing took out a bandage similar to the ones he had all over his body, and carefully wrapped it around his neck.

“Promise me you won’t do that ever again,” Dan Feng said in a quieter tone. He was almost begging. “You were lucky this time, but a wound like that could kill you in an instant.”

Yingxing’s hands paused.

“You already know I will.”

“Yingxing–”

“I swore to you,” Yingxing interjected, finally meeting his gaze. “If you truly care about me, you will respect my wishes.”

Dan Feng clenched his fists. He knew Yingxing wouldn’t back down, but he had to try nonetheless.

“What about what I want?”

Yingxing held his gaze for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by the question. “And what do you want?”

The answer was so simple.

He wanted to be with him. He wanted to go somewhere far, far away; away from all this, where it’d be just the two of them, alone and well. He wanted them to be free.

He wanted so much, yet he could have so little.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Then I won’t,” Yingxing smiled softly at him. “I didn’t die this time, did I?”

Yingxing secured the bandages around his neck.

“It’s done.”

He got up from the ground, and soon after, Dan Feng followed, his hand instinctively moving to his neck to feel the bandages. He felt a little better now. Lighter.

“Why don’t you come sleep in my room?” Yingxing suggested. “Take the bed. I can sit in one of the chairs while you sleep.”

Dan Feng immediately refused.

“No, no, I can’t do that. You need to rest.”

“I’ve had enough rest,” he insisted. “But you need more sleep than I do right now. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

Dan Feng considered it for a moment.

Would he be able to sleep soundly with Yingxing beside him?

Dan Feng’s eyelids drooped heavily. He hadn’t slept properly in what felt like years, and now, the promise of a good night’s sleep called out to him like a siren’s song.

He hesitated.

“You swear?”

Yingxing smiled. “I already did.”

He accompanied him back to his room. Though it was still dark outside, with Yingxing beside him, Dan Feng no longer felt fear of what might lurk in the shadows. And he finally realized—the reason why he had become weak; the reason why he suddenly stopped being attacked from behind, and Dan Feng was finally able to taste a little of what it felt like to live in peace, was all because of Yingxing. Since he was at his side, he was left alone. He felt safe. 

He was able to live a normal life. It was all thanks to him.

Maybe he did need him, after all.

That night, Dan Feng slept better than ever. And he knew, once again, that it was all thanks to Yingxing.

(...)

Present-Day

I know it’s you, Yingxing.

He stood there, staring at Jing Yuan as if he had suddenly become a stranger. It had been ages since he had been called by that name, ages since he had been recognized as Yingxing, the once-honorable swordsman; but he still remembered it. Oh, if he could only forget. Blade grew accustomed to the feeling of not being recognized, of being forgotten, and he, too, tried to bury those memories of himself. He thought that no one remembered him. That Yingxing had really died, now that there was no one left who knew his name.

But now…

“You… remember me?”

Jing Yuan stood firm.

“I do.”

“Since when?”

Blade hoped it hadn’t been for long. 

“Since that time at the bar,” he said quietly. “I recognized you from the moment I saw you. I wasn’t expecting to find you there.”

It hit him like a bucket of cold water. That was a month ago. For a whole month he had been lying to him, pretending not to know him. A whole month in which Blade felt more alone than ever. Ever since that encounter at the bar, the memories had only grown stronger, crashing over him like relentless waves. Every night, he was haunted by the past, tormented by the memories of the man he once was.

A man who was remembered.

Blade couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed Jing Yuan by the collar of his shirt, feeling his blood pulsing through his veins, driven by an urge to do something, anything, to stop what he was feeling. But Blade didn’t even know what he felt. Was he angry at Jing Yuan for not telling him sooner? Or was he relieved, even happy, to be remembered by his old friend?

“Are you going to hit me?” Jing Yuan asked, unfazed. He was just as calm as in his past life. “Go ahead. It won’t make you feel any better.”

His grip tightened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blade’s voice was rough, almost breaking. 

He needed to understand, needed some clarity over his thoughts.

“You know why,” Jing Yuan looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “I couldn’t risk it. I had to be sure you remembered first.”

“And how were you sure I remembered?”

Jing Yuan looked away briefly before meeting Blade’s eyes again.

“Last night, after Dan Heng had left, I went into your room to check on you. You were talking in your sleep, and I listened,” his voice lowered, as if his own words caused him pain. “You said his name.”

Blade’s hand fell to his side, releasing the collar. He stepped back, his anger dissolving into panic. “Do you think he heard me?”

“I doubt it. And even if he did hear, he wouldn’t know who you were talking about,” Jing Yuan said, his tone calm. “I don’t think he’d remember.”

Although that was supposed to be comforting, Blade’s chest tightened. He had hoped that if Jing Yuan remembered, then perhaps Dan Heng did too. Maybe he had also been pretending not to remember all this time.

“I… I don’t understand,” Blade muttered. “I thought I was the only one who could remember everything. How come you...?”

Jing Yuan sighed, as if the situation exhausted him.

“Do you even know why you remember?”

Blade fell silent.

Was there a reason?

“Let’s sit down,” Jing Yuan suggested, motioning towards the kitchen. “I’ll make some tea. There’s a lot to talk about.”

When Jing Yuan returned to the living room, he carried a small tray with two cups of tea. Blade smelled it—it was black tea. Jing Yuan placed one cup in front of Blade, who found himself staring at his own reflection on the surface.

“So, I assume you don’t know too much about the return of memories,” he began, crossing his legs. “It’s not very common, but it can happen. However, it's not something that just occurs randomly. There’s a reason behind it, and it’s often tied to a significant regret from your past life — a strong desire that couldn’t be fulfilled.”

Blade straightened in his seat, paying closer attention.

A strong desire.

“If you don’t fulfill your desire, it’ll keep coming back to you in your future lives until you do. Then, you’ll be free. That’s all I know.”

He crossed his arms. “Then, how do I know what my desire is?”

Jing Yuan shrugged.

“Try to think about it,” he suggested. “Was there anything you truly wanted to do before you died?”

Blade tried, but there wasn’t anything he truly yearned for, at least not to still torment him in another life. He had achieved everything he wanted. He had got all the things he wanted, got the recognition he sought, and acquired the power he hungered for. He had never aspired for anything too extraordinary. He was humble.

Yet, when it came to a strong desire, only one thing came to mind.

Dan Feng.

It would make sense if Dan Feng was his desire. After all, his memory was still haunting him in this life. But what did he truly want? In the past, Yingxing never expected Dan Feng to love him back. He had embraced his role as Dan Feng’s only best friend, sparring partner, and former student, and only admired him from afar.

“I’m… not sure,” he admitted. “I’d never thought about that.”

Jing Yuan lowered his voice.

“Well, I might have an idea.”

Jing Yuan had already finished his cup of tea, while Blade’s remained untouched. He poured himself another as he spoke.

“You were going to confess your love for him.”

Blade’s eyes widened. “What?”

That couldn’t be. Yingxing would’ve never…

“It’s normal that you don’t remember,” he explained calmly. “It happened very close to the day you died. But I remember you telling me that, after the war, you planned to confess to him. You seemed quite determined about it.”

Blade found it hard to believe, but he doubted Jing Yuan would lie about something like that.

“Then, what am I supposed to do?”

Jing Yuan’s look told him everything.

“You already know what.”

And he did.

He had to finish what he had started—actually, what Yingxing had started. But that wasn’t what he wanted now. Telling Dan Heng wasn’t in his plans. There had to be another way. Maybe that wasn’t even his desire. How could he even be sure of that?

But he was only fooling himself. Blade knew deep down that he had to do something about his own feelings. If he didn’t, history would just repeat itself. He couldn’t keep running from it, couldn’t keep hiding.

Blade shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Jing Yuan probed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve faced war before. You’ve been on the brink of death—no, you actually died. Is admitting your feelings really scarier than all that?”

Blade let out a sigh. Jing Yuan was right, but he didn’t want to hear it. He just... needed some time. All this had already been too much for him. After the tumultuous night he had, he wasn’t expecting to find out that Jing Yuan had remembered him all this time, that someone remembered him.

The silence between them felt comforting in a way. He really needed that.

“How do you even do it?” Blade thought out loud after a while. “Living here, surrounded by memories... I think I’d lose my mind.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “Because I don’t run from my past,” he said, closing his eyes. A faint smile played at the corners of his lips. “I cherish it. You and Dan Feng were my closest friends — I treasure the memories we made together. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. And now, I see this as a second chance to redeem myself, to make things right.”

Blade listened intently. It was an... optimistic way of looking at things. If only he could see things that way, too.

“You said there’s a reason we remember,” Blade murmured. “What’s yours?”

Jing Yuan looked at him as if he weren’t expecting him to ask.

“I have countless regrets about my previous life. So many things left undone, so many words left unsaid,” he explained. Then, more softly, he added, “But what I regret most is not helping you more.”

Blade said nothing. It seemed Jing Yuan didn’t really want a response, just someone to listen, so that’s precisely what he did.

“After you two died, I spent the remaining years thinking about all the things I could’ve done. I lost the only two real friends I had, and all I did was nothing. I was useless until the very end.”

Blade couldn’t disagree more. If only he knew how much he had helped him when he needed it. He was a real friend.

Jing Yuan looked at him, his eyes filled with regret. “You know, I let him die that night.”

Blade froze.

He was talking about that night, the one they both died. His memories of the event were extremely vague and hazy, like watching an old videotape, but he recalled what had happened. Blade knew that they had been fatally wounded, and there was nothing anyone could have done to save them, so what he was saying simply didn’t make sense.

“You probably don’t know what I mean,” he said with a humorless laugh. “You were already gone by then, but Dan Feng held on a bit longer. He was still breathing when I got there. His injuries weren’t as fatal as yours. I could’ve saved him–I know I would’ve saved him, but he…”

Jing Yuan paused. His eyes were filled with pain, as if he were reliving everything as he spoke, and Blade didn’t dare interrupt him.

Until he spoke.

“He asked me to let him die.”

What?

No, that didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense anymore. Dan Feng wasn’t the type of person to just... give up. He wouldn’t give up. Blade knew that. 

But did he, really?

“I wish I had done more, but I know that if I had saved him at that moment, Dan Feng would never have forgiven me,” Jing Yuan said quietly, as if speaking more to himself than to Blade. “I had never seen that look in his eyes. He really didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t there.”

“What… does that mean?” Panic surged within him, a knot tightening in his chest. He didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to confront that possibility. “Why would Dan Feng die for me?”

Jing Yuan met his gaze, and in that moment, it seemed as if he only just realized.

“Oh, you still don’t know.”

Blade fell silent.

No.

It couldn’t be true. Because, if it were, then Blade would be the greatest fool alive. He refused to believe it until he heard it.

“You’ve finally figured it out, haven’t you?”

“Please, tell me it’s not true,” he pleaded. Even if it was a lie, then that’s what he wanted. “Tell me he didn’t love me.”

But Jing Yuan said nothing.

Dan Feng loved him.

He…

Blade stood up, feeling suffocated. He needed air. Or maybe what he needed was to scream, to vent his frustration on something with all his strength—or to simply disappear. Because now, everything became painfully clear. It had always been clear.

A rush of memories flooded his mind all at once. That time they danced together at the gala, hidden away in a room on the third floor. Dan Feng’s soft-spoken words of affection, asking him to go with him to see the ocean. Saying that he was his best friend. And then there was that moment at the firefly sanctuary, the way Dan Feng had looked at him. All this time, he had misinterpreted those looks—mistaking tenderness for pity, kindness for mercy. Blade realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had misunderstood it all—every glance, every gesture, every touch. What a fool he had been.

It was love. It had always been love. Dan Feng had looked upon him with love from the very beginning, and he hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even dared to think it could be possible. He always believed Dan Feng was too great to love someone like him.

And now it was too late.

His mind became infested with millions of possibilities. What would have happened if he had told him. What would have happened if he had only dared. 

He could have kissed him. He could have held him. He could have…

Blade felt a hand on his shoulder. Jing Yuan now stood in front of him, looking at him as if he might collapse at any moment.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “If I had known it would affect you like this, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

But Blade shook his head. 

“No. If you hadn’t told me, I never would have realized,” he murmured, and then added, “I’m such a fool.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly.

“But you can change that now, can’t you?”

He made up his mind.

“Do you think he still loves me?” he asked, feeling as though he had been transported back in time, to a younger, more fearful version of himself, afraid of love and rejection.

Jing Yuan smiled reassuringly. “I believe the bond between you two is special, far beyond my understanding.”

Blade felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was already quite late, and he had forgotten about returning home—to his home where Dan Heng was waiting for him.

And he would return to him.

“Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

Jing Yuan gave an honest smile.

“Glad I could help.”

But before he left, he had to let him know first.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Blade assured, and he meant every word. Because he knew just how noble Jing Yuan was, and how much he appreciated Dan Feng as a friend, to ever do such a thing on his behalf. “Dan Feng made that choice for himself. But you were there for him until the very end. I know how grateful he’d be if he were here.”

And he could tell, just from the look in his eyes, how much it meant for him.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Months passed, and Yingxing healed. Before long, he was wielding the sword again, the only physical reminder of that night being the scar on his abdomen. He seemed more confident in himself since the incident, as if it had somehow strengthened him.

But Dan Feng couldn’t move on.

He still had nightmares about that night, and they were getting worse. He was afraid of being left alone, so he had been relying on Yingxing much more lately. Dan Feng hated feeling this way, hated feeling so weak. It was as if a part of him was stuck on that moment, while another part struggled to move forward. A constant back and forth. It seemed like it would never end.

Dan Feng lunged forward with his sword, and Yingxing effortlessly blocked the attack. They had been sparring every day for quite some time now. It began during Yingxing’s recovery to help him regain his swordsmanship, but soon it became their routine. They would wake up very early each morning and spar until they were exhausted. 

However, Dan Feng could tell that Yingxing was holding back—he knew Yingxing’s skill better than anyone, and he knew even better what he was capable of. Yingxing had never needed to hold back around him, and he didn’t like it one bit. Dan Feng didn’t need pity; what he needed was a real challenge. But that wouldn’t happen if he continued to treat him as if he were fragile.

“Stop doing that.”

Yingxing briefly lowered his sword, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going easy on me,” Dan Feng replied bluntly.

For a moment, Yingxing’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t expected Dan Feng to notice. How naive.

“I’m not–”

“Do you think I can’t tell?” Dan Feng interrupted, launching another attack, this time catching Yingxing slightly off guard. “Have you already forgotten who trained you?”

But still, it didn’t take much for Yingxing to dodge. He had always been good. Too good. Dan Feng had always acknowledged that, even back then as his mentor. But now, he truly saw just how talented Yingxing really was. A formidable rival. And he could tell that he was still holding back: if he wanted to, Yingxing could have easily ended the fight by now. He had the upper hand. However, none of his attacks were decisive, and Dan Feng could tell that he was making a conscious effort not to defeat him. But he refused to accept victory handed to him. If he couldn’t win on his own merit, then he wouldn’t win at all.

“Fight me,” he ordered, purposefully launching an attack he knew Yingxing would have to counter. “I can take it.”

But Yingxing didn’t retaliate. Once again, he evaded the strike, and that only made him angrier.

“Dan Feng, I don’t think this is a good idea...”

There was that soft, careful tone.

No. Dan Feng didn’t need that. He didn’t need to be cared for, he didn’t need comfort. He just needed to prove that he was still good.

So, he lunged forward once more, barely giving Yingxing any time to react. He didn’t really know what he was looking for. Did he want to hurt him? Did he want him to fight back, to use all of his strength against him? Or perhaps, deep down, he wanted to be hurt instead?

Maybe that’s what he was seeking. Yingxing had been severely injured, and that had only given him more strength—it was a testament to his courage. People admired him for it. Maybe he was jealous. Dan Feng had no such thing. His scars weren’t sufficient. He needed something more significant, anything to reaffirm his worth.

This time, Yingxing was unable to block the attack with his sword. It flew to the side, hitting the wall with a loud clang as he stumbled backwards, crashing to the ground. He looked up with wide eyes, like prey about to be devoured. The fight should have ended right there—Yingxing was now unarmed, and wouldn’t keep fighting. He won. 

But Dan Feng didn’t stop. It wasn’t enough.  

He pressed forward, firmly pinning Yingxing beneath him with all his weight. Even though Yingxing was more muscular than him, Dan Feng’s agility gave him the upper hand. He moved swiftly, trapping Yingxing with his legs, further immobilizing him. Dan Feng’s long hair fell across his face, the strands brushing against his skin, and he couldn’t help but wish it were shorter; it was always getting in the way. Yingxing remained still beneath him, his breaths heavy and labored. He didn’t look away for a moment. 

Dan Feng could feel the warmth of his body right through the layers of clothing. The sensation was almost overwhelming —had they ever been this close before? Had he ever felt him like this?

“Dan Feng,” he breathed.

Dan Feng’s sword lay ominously between them, just a few meters from Yingxing’s face. But even then, there wasn’t even a single hint of fear on his features. That look on his face—Dan Feng didn’t know what it was. Was it pity? Mockery? What exactly was it?

“Stop looking at me like that!”

Yingxing tilted his head slightly. “Like what?” he asked calmly.

“Like I’m about to break,” he muttered. “I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m weak.”

There was a pause.

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

Slowly, Dan Feng lowered his sword until it rested by his side.

What was he even thinking, acting like that?

“Did you think I was weak?” Yingxing asked suddenly, his eyes searching for Dan Feng’s. “Back when I was at the hospital.”

Dan Feng’s eyes widened. What a dumb question. 

“Of course not.”

“Well, this isn’t any different than that,” Yingxing continued. “You’re still healing. It takes time.”

“I’m not,” he retorted immediately. It wasn’t the same. They weren’t the same. “I wasn’t hurt. Not like you.”

“But you were. Wounds aren’t just physical. Your body might heal fast, but sometimes your mind takes a little longer. That doesn’t mean you’re weak, it just means you’re human.”

Human.

It was such a strange word. A strange concept—the idea that even someone like him could be considered human. Because that’s what Yingxing considered him to be. He saw him as a human, plain and simple, and not a monster.

Dan Feng finally stood up, releasing Yingxing from his grasp. He turned away, not wanting him to see just how vulnerable he felt. But maybe he needed to learn to accept his own weaknesses. Because in the end, he was only human.

“I still think you’re the greatest,” he said softly from behind. “This doesn’t change anything.”

He turned around to face Yingxing. And as he looked at him, Dan Feng realized how fortunate he was, and that realization brought him some comfort.

Yingxing retrieved his sword and returned to his position, ready to resume their fight.

“Let’s go again,” he said, a challenging smile on his lips. “I won’t hold back this time.”

Dan Feng smiled back.

But even though Yingxing said that he wouldn’t hold back, he continued to be gentle, because that was just his nature, and it couldn’t be helped. And even if Dan Feng didn’t really like it, he was thankful for it. Because he knew what Dan Feng needed at that moment wasn’t to be defeated, but to be comforted, and Yingxing understood that better than anyone. 

He always understood him better than anyone.

(...)

Present-Day

It was getting late, and Blade still hadn’t come back.

All of Dan Heng’s efforts not to think about it collapsed in a second. He kept pacing the room, checking his phone for any message from Blade and glancing at the door, hoping to see him standing there. What could be taking him so long? It didn’t make sense. He should already be home.

Memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. It wasn’t just the strange questions Blade had asked—it was something more, something unspoken. A name that lingered on the tip of his tongue.

Dan Feng.

Dan Heng hadn’t meant to pry. Right after leaving Blade’s room, he went back once more just to make sure he was okay. But he hadn’t expected to hear Blade talking in his sleep, and when he did, that name came out of his mouth like a mournful whisper. Dan Heng left immediately afterward, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Trying to figure out who it belonged to.

Because it wasn’t the first time he’d heard that name.

Dan Heng had completely forgotten about it, but once he heard that name again, the memory came back to him. Back when they were teenagers, Blade accidentally called him by that name once. Dan Heng didn’t think much of it at the time. But he couldn’t forget the look on Blade’s face when he realized his slip-up, eyes wide like he’d said something he shouldn’t have. For the next couple of days, he was unusually quiet, more so than usual. Dan Heng didn’t dare to ask, and so they never brought it up. Perhaps he should’ve said something. But now, he was convinced it wasn’t just a random slip of the tongue.

For some reason, he found that name familiar.

Just as he was thinking about that, he heard a knock on the door.

Dan Heng rushed to the door, swinging it open to reveal Blade’s face waiting on the other side.

“You’re back.”

He scanned Blade up and down, almost as if he were trying to find some sort of evidence. Immediately, he stopped himself. What was he even looking for?

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Blade apologized. “Can I come in?”

Dan Heng nodded. He’d always let him in.

Blade walked past him, entering the apartment, and Dan Heng closed the door behind him. He stood there, watching Blade as he glanced around the room as though it were his first time there.

“It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

Dan Heng crossed his arms. “We need to talk about last night.”

Blade turned to face him. Dan Heng couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something... different in the way Blade was looking at him.

“I know,” he said calmly. “What do you want to know?”

But nothing really came to mind. He wasn’t prepared for Blade to be so... compliant. It was almost as if he was a completely different person, compared to the one he met at Jing Yuan’s house the previous day. Now, he resembled the Blade from before: that self-assured, slightly cocky version he’d known when they were both too young to know anything about the world. The Blade who didn’t care about school and once convinced him to sneak into the community pool late at night. That was the Blade Dan Heng knew—the one and only best friend he ever had.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

Dan Heng wasn’t really sure why he had brought it up or what he was trying to achieve, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. He watched as Blade’s eyes widened in surprise, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You were my first friend,” Dan Heng continued. He thought that if he opened up, maybe Blade would do the same. He’d trust him. “I didn’t have anyone else. But you were always there, right from the start, like you’d been searching for me.”

Dan Heng avoided meeting his gaze as he spoke. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Sometimes... I’m afraid that might change.”

Things have already changed.

He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but deep down, he knew it was true. Things hadn't been the same for a while, and it frightened him. Dan Heng didn’t like change. He found comfort in the familiar, in having a sense of control. But when that sense of control slipped away, he couldn’t help but panic. He was comfortable with the way things were between him and Blade, and the idea of losing that stability was unsettling. He didn’t want things to change. He didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“It’s just... things feel different lately,” he said, struggling to find the right words. “We… we used to be so close. But now... it’s like there’s this distance between us that I can’t understand.”

For the first time, Dan Heng dared to look at Blade, and he was taken aback by the guilt in his eyes.

“I… didn’t know you felt that way,” he mumbled. “You should’ve told me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

Blade moved closer, and Dan Heng’’s heart skipped a beat, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar lately.

“You’ll always be my best friend,” he said softly, like he wanted to make sure Dan Heng really heard him. “That’s never going to change, no matter what. I promise.”

Blade’s hand slid over his in a careful touch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted at the party. I promise I won’t ever do that again,” he said, his voice sincere. “I’ve been going through a tough time lately. But we can go back to the way things used to be. What do you think?”

Dan Heng hesitated.

He had so many questions: about Dan Feng, about Jing Yuan, about himself even. If he didn’t ask them now, he might never get the chance. Because he knew things had changed, one way or another—they couldn’t just go back to how they were. He had changed. Lately, he felt different, with strange dreams haunting him every night. For the first time in his life, Dan Heng felt like he was going insane, and he had no idea why it was happening so suddenly. But Blade’s words were so soft, so tempting—a promise of normality that he desperately wanted to believe in. It was all he wanted, for things to never change; to not lose the one stable thing in his life.

He hesitated, glancing down at their hands where Blade’s fingers gently rested on his. Then he saw Blade smile at him hopefully, the kind of smile that was rare but genuine.

So he gave in.

“I’d like that.”

He was aware that he was making a bad decision. But the reason behind it was even simpler, sillier than a mere desire for things to stay the same.

He was a coward.

Blade let go of his hand and leaned back on his own bed, looking at him. “So, are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to all day?”

And so, Dan Heng started telling him, once again pushing aside the uncomfortable sensation in his chest.

Chapter Text

Five hundred years ago

Yingxing had been in love for nearly a decade.

He only became aware of the time passing when he caught sight of the old scar on his body—the one from the day he nearly died. What felt like only a few months ago was actually six years in the past, and many things had changed. 

He had grown older, more mature. New lines and wrinkles marked his face, along with a few more scars. His hair, once as dark as the deepest night, was now slowly turning white.

He had also started dating.

Yingxing had been seeing a woman named Yukio for some time now. She was strikingly beautiful, with long black hair that flowed down her back and deep green eyes. He couldn’t deny that part of his attraction to her stemmed from how much she reminded him of Dan Feng. Her grace, her calm demeanor, the way she carried herself with a quiet elegance—it was almost as if, by being with her, he could keep Dan Feng in some small way.

To be with him.

But that didn’t mean he loved her. 

Yingxing was certain his heart was too captivated, too enthralled by Dan Feng to truly love anyone else. The hold Dan Feng had on his heart was too deep now, he doubted he could ever fully give it to another. But he was a grown man. Perhaps his soul would always belong to him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be with someone else during lonely nights. 

After all, Dan Feng had many lovers for a reason.

Yingxing had decided that if he couldn’t have Dan Feng entirely, he would take whatever he could get from him. Whatever Dan Feng was willing to give, Yingxing would embrace with open arms. He had trained himself to be content with these crumbs of affection, never daring to ask for more, no matter how intensely he longed for it. There were times when the yearning almost felt like a physical ache. But he knew Dan Feng too well; pushing for more could mean losing what little he already had, and that was a chance he couldn’t afford to take.

So he clung to the belief that Dan Feng cared for him, even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted. And for now, that belief was enough to sustain him, enough to keep him going, even if it meant not having him at all.

“Are you leaving already?”

Yingxing turned his head to glance at the half-naked woman sprawled on the bed. This had become his routine over the past few weeks: sneaking out of Dan Feng’s home before dawn to go to her place, then returning just before Dan Feng woke up. He’d hardly slept at all, running in a constant state of exhaustion, but the routine worked for him. It kept his mind occupied, even if only for a few hours at a time. Trying to keep this a secret only made everything even more complicated.

But perhaps it was the secrecy that added to the thrill of the experience. Only one person was aware of it, and that was Jing Yuan.

After all, Jing Yuan had been the one who had introduced him to her.

Yingxing nodded, and said matter-of-factly, “I must return before Dan Feng wakes up.”

Yukio laughed softly.

“You make it sound like you’re cheating on your wife.”

Well, it kind of felt that way.

It wasn’t as if Yingxing owed him any romantic loyalty, after all, their relationship had always been one of friendship—but it still felt wrong, somehow. He had waited so long for Dan Feng to love him, only to come to terms with the harsh reality that it would never be.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he simply replied.

“Well, you know you’re welcome to visit anytime,” she said calmly, rolling over in bed to go back to sleep. “I don’t mind sharing.”

Yingxing frowned, but decided not to ask what she meant.

The stroll back to Dan Feng’s house was dark and quiet, his steps heavy as he walked. He hadn’t slept a single hour, and he thought he might collapse right there on the street. But he managed to reach Dan Feng’s home without any problem. 

Everything appeared exactly as he had left it: the lights were off, his coat hung neatly on the rack, and not a single servant in sight.

Yingxing didn’t live in Dan Feng’s house, but he often stayed for several days whenever he was too busy to return to his own home. It was more convenient to sleep there, in one of the many spare rooms, rather than traveling back and forth.

That’s why he had to be extra careful.

He moved quietly down the hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound against the cold, polished floors. Even in the dim light, Yingxing could navigate Dan Feng’s house with ease. He had memorized every detail over the years: the old-fashioned floral wallpaper, faded with time, and the sparse furniture that filled the already bare space.

“Where have you been?”

The voice cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and sudden. Yingxing flinched, spinning around to face the source of the sound, his heart racing as if he’d been caught in the act.

His breath hitched as he recognized Dan Feng’s silhouette in the darkness.  It was the first time Dan Feng had caught him sneaking in like this. 

He stood frozen, words failing him as he struggled to think of an explanation.

“Dan Feng,” he mumbled, “why are you… it’s really late.”

Yingxing couldn’t understand why he was so desperate to keep his affairs hidden from Dan Feng. It wasn’t as if Dan Feng had ever been secretive about his own liaisons—he’d even been caught in the act on more than one occasion. He had never shown any interest in what Yingxing did with whom outside their time together, and there was no reason to believe he would start now.

It wasn’t as though Dan Feng would care if he found out.

“I could ask you the very same thing,” Dan Feng replied calmly, taking a step towards the light. “These are rather dark hours to be outside, don’t you think?”

Dan Feng stood there, dressed in a simple white robe that clung loosely to his frame. However, it wasn’t his attire that grabbed Yingxing’s attention: it was the way Dan Feng’s long, braided hair fell over his shoulder, slightly tousled from sleep. He had never seen Dan Feng looking like that, freshly awakened from sleep.

“So?” Dan Feng’s voice broke the silence, his arms crossed, head tilted slightly in curiosity.

Yingxing blinked, suddenly recalling the question he had been asked.

“I just needed some air.”

It was such a weak excuse, but at least it was something.

“Is that so,” Dan Feng murmured, nodding slowly as if turning something over in his mind. Yingxing couldn’t quite tell what, but the contemplative look in his eyes made him uneasy. “Well, good night then.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back to his room, his robe trailing silently behind him.

Yingxing watched him go, left feeling a slight disappointment that nothing more had been said.

He seemed a bit… cold.

(...)

Dan Feng knew Yingxing was hiding something.

It wasn’t hard to notice. Yingxing was notoriously bad at keeping secrets, and after years together, Dan Feng could easily tell when something was off. He had been sneaking out in the early morning hours, coming back looking exhausted, despite claiming he’d slept well. It was undeniably strange.

Because of this, he had been waiting each night until he heard the door creak open and Yingxing’s soft footsteps making their way to his room.

What bothered him most was that Yingxing was lying to him.

Telling him that he had gone out for a walk. That he just needed some air. All lame excuses. Did he think he was so naïve? How dare he lie so blatantly to his face? It was almost insulting.

Oh, Dan Feng was going to find out what he was hiding. He was certain of that.

And he had his own means of doing so.

That night, as soon as Yingxing left, Dan Feng quickly exited his room and headed straight for the nearest servant, not even bothering to change out of his day clothes. His impatience drove him to act immediately.

“Where did he go?”

The servant’s eyes widened, a hint of fear evident. He was a young man, and Dan Feng knew that getting information from him shouldn’t be too hard. He had to know something. Servants may not show it, but they see and hear everything.

He stuttered, “Sir, I don’t—”

“Don’t waste my time with lies,” Dan Feng cut him off sharply, his impatience clear. “Tell me what you know right now.”

As expected, the servant soon began to divulge Yingxing’s secrets: his late-night outings, the times he asked the servants to stay quiet, and finally, the mention of a woman.

So, Yingxing was secretly seeing someone.

It shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did. 

After all, Yingxing was a grown man. He was growing older, with strands of gray now threading through his otherwise dark hair. And yet, the revelation still hit Dan Feng harder than expected. 

No, it wasn’t just a surprise—it was an intense, unfamiliar anger that he struggled to understand. Was he furious that Yingxing had kept this secret from him for so long, or was it the mere fact that he was seeing someone that upset him?

By the end of the week, Dan Feng had pieced together every detail he could about the woman in question.

Her name was Yukio. She was just a year younger than Yingxing. She had left Xianzhou for a few years to pursue her studies and had only recently moved back. As if that wasn’t enough, she was also employed by Jing Yuan. And it turned out Jing Yuan was well-acquainted with her.

The next morning, long before it was even dawn, Dan Feng was already on his way to Jing Yuan’s office, dressed in his finest clothes. It was the first time he had come to work for reasons that were more personal than professional, but what else could he do?

He wasn’t thinking clearly.

The moment he stepped through the doors, the secretary gave him a skeptical glance.

“Sorry, sir, but the General isn’t seeing visitors right now—”

“Tell Jing Yuan it’s me,” Dan Feng cut in sharply. 

There was no time for that. No time to waste.

He marched down the hallway, his footsteps growing faster and more furious, paying no mind to the secretary’s murmured protests behind him.

He might regret this later—or he might not.

At the moment, though, he was too consumed by his emotions to care.

When he reached Jing Yuan’s office, he swung the door open with a forceful shove, the sound echoing sharply through the quiet corridor. Jing Yuan looked up from his desk, his surprise evident as he saw Dan Feng standing in the doorway, his face set in a determined frown. 

Dan Feng stepped into the room, and crossed his arms in a commanding stance.

“Send her away.”

Jing Yuan blinked twice in surprise before a sly smile played at the corners of his lips, as though he’d been anticipating this very visit.

“Oh, Dan Feng,” he said, his tone laced with amusement, “what a delightful surprise.”

Dan Feng’s patience snapped. “Don’t start with that,” he said sharply, stepping closer. “Just do what I asked.”

Jing Yuan carefully stood up from his chair, closing the book he’d been idly reading with a practiced nonchalance, as if it were a performance. The subtle smirk on his lips and the deliberate pace of his movements only deepened Dan Feng’s irritation. It was clear that Jing Yuan was fully aware of the situation, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“Who exactly are you referring to?”

Dan Feng’s eyes sharpened into a glare, “I’m sure you know exactly who I mean.”

Jing Yuan let out an exaggerated hum. Then, with a knowing smile, he snapped his fingers. “Ah, I see. You must be referring to Yingxing’s… lover.”

The mention of Yingxing’s name paired with “lover” twisted something deep inside Dan Feng. It felt like a knife had been plunged into his gut and was now being cruelly twisted.

Jing Yuan leaned forward over his desk, his gaze sharp and curious. “Where exactly do you want me to send her, hmm?”

“I don’t know,” Dan Feng muttered, the words coming out more defeated than he intended. He hadn’t planned this far. “Just... somewhere else.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “And why would I do that?”

It was clear he was toying with him. He didn’t want to give Jing Yuan the satisfaction of seeing him struggle, but the emotions were overwhelming.

So he decided to stick to the facts.

“I know she works for you,” he stated.

Jing Yuan nodded approvingly.

“You’re well-informed,” he remarked. “But I’m curious why I should act on this. As far as I’m aware, she hasn’t done anything wrong. Unless you have a specific reason for wanting her sent away, which I’d be very interested to hear.”

Dan Feng’s fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white.

“She’s… distracting him,” he forced out, the words tasting like poison on his tongue. “Yingxing has barely been sleeping. I’m just… worried about him.”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully, as if mulling over Dan Feng’s words, but the slight smirk tugging at his lips suggested otherwise.

“Well, if all you want is for him to get a good night’s sleep,” he said, leaning back with a casual shrug, “why not just send him on vacation? There’s no reason to send anyone away, is there?”

Dan Feng blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the suggestion. Why was he being so difficult? He opened his mouth, grasping for more excuses as to why Yingxing shouldn’t be with that woman, but then it hit him.

He narrowed his eyes at him, voice lowering. “Jing Yuan, are you… doing this on purpose?”

The words slipped out before he could fully process them, and he watched as Jing Yuan’s expression shifted ever so slightly. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—satisfaction, amusement, or perhaps something darker.

“Maybe.”

There it was.

Of course. He should’ve expected that from the moment he stepped into the room.

Dan Feng huffed. “Why?” he demanded, a flush of anger coloring his cheeks. “Why the hell would you—”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Jing Yuan cut in sharply.

Dan Feng’s breath hitched. He stood there, momentarily stunned by the accusation.

“What do you mean?”

Jing Yuan sighed, a look of frustration crossing his face. “Do you even realize how you sound right now?”

Dan Feng shifted uncomfortably, still standing by the office door. What was he even trying to say? He didn’t have time for this. He just wanted this to be over soon, so he could go on with his life.

“Let me be clear,” Jing Yuan closed the distance between them, and his voice dropped slightly as he said, “It sounds to me like you’re just jealous.”

Dan Feng took an instinctive step back. 

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to ensure the door was securely shut, fearing someone might overhear their conversation. There was no way Jing Yuan could know about his feelings.

Right?

“I’m not…” Dan Feng began, but his words faltered. “This is not about jealousy—”

“I’m not blind,” Jing Yuan interrupted smoothly, his tone almost casual. “You’re not fooling anyone saying that you’re just worried. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re bursting with jealousy.”

Dan Feng felt a flush rising to his cheeks. This wasn’t what he had come here for. He hadn’t expected this kind of direct confrontation.

But Jing Yuan was right. 

He was consumed by jealousy. What else could explain why he had rushed out of his house to Jing Yuan’s office in the early hours of the morning? The very thought of Yingxing with someone else, especially that woman, was nearly unbearable. 

He recognized how selfish and unreasonable his feelings were. Dan Feng has done his own things. And yet, lately, he found himself unable to be with anyone else. It had been months since his last affair, and even the memory of those encounters felt… hollow. The men he had sought out to fill the void were no longer enough; their touches no longer brought him any real satisfaction.

Dan Feng wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Perhaps, deep down, he was clinging to the hope that Yingxing would never find anyone else. Maybe he wished that their lives would be so intertwined that no one else could ever come between them. 

He had hoped for Yingxing’s existence to be so devoted to him that he would spend all his years by his side—and by his side alone.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said in a quiet whisper.

Jing Yuan studied him carefully. “Is it really not?”

And Dan Feng, unable to hold back any longer, let the torrent of thoughts that had tormented him for months, even years, spill out.

“He’s my best friend. I was once his mentor. We’re too... compromised. A relationship like this—it wouldn’t be appropriate. There’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”

Jing Yuan’s expression softened into one of pity, just trying to understand. “And where exactly is that line?” he asked gently.

“I draw the line at love.”

Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed slightly. “That’s not something you can decide for yourself.”

“I’m not deciding,” Dan Feng replied, his tone growing firm. “I’m enforcing it. It can’t be any other way.”

Jing Yuan regarded him with a look of mild reproach. 

“If that’s the case, then why are you here?”

Dan Feng knew the answer to that question all too well.

Because he couldn’t tolerate it. Night after night, he would lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to Yingxing leave the house—and each time, he would feel a crushing pressure in his chest, like he was suffocating. He hated the sound of Yingxing returning home, knowing he had spent the night with someone else when he should have been with him. Dan Feng could tolerate the weight of his own unspoken love, even the fact that Yingxing would never be his, but he couldn't handle the presence of someone else in his life.

It was unreasonable, and Dan Feng knew that all too well. He couldn’t stop Yingxing from eventually meeting someone or falling in love. At least not forever.

Perhaps, deep down, he just wanted to hold onto him a little longer.

“Will you send her away or not?”

He knew it was a temporary fix, but he needed her out of sight—if only to ease the ache in his chest.

Jing Yuan sighed, a resigned look settling on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

For now, that was enough of an answer.

(...)

Dan Feng had always loved summer festivals.

Back in his student days, when he lived a solitary existence, consumed by endless hours of sword practice in the confines of his room, he would occasionally step out onto his balcony at midnight to watch the fireworks. From there, he could see the bursts of color illuminating the night sky; the cool breeze would brush against his skin, and he’d catch the faint smell of smoke lingering long after the last firework faded. The glow from distant lanterns would filter through his window, projecting soft shadows, and he’d stand there in the darkness, staring with longing.

He had never actually been to a festival, only watching from a distance; hoping that maybe, someday, he’d get to be a part of it all.

Tonight, however, that dream might just come true.

That morning, he got up unusually early. The sun had barely risen and he was already in the tub, trying to wash away any lingering shame from his conversation with Jing Yuan. The bathroom was silent except for the sound of water splashing. He could even hear the faint chirping of birds outside. 

He reached for the shampoo, its faint citrus scent filling the air as he worked it through his long hair. This was the part he hated the most. His hair felt like a constant chore, a responsibility he wasn’t always happy to shoulder. So many wasted hours of his precious time went into making it look presentable; hours that could’ve been spent training or meditating, anything but this. Dan Feng knew he could easily have one of his servants do it for him, like some pampered noble, but he despised the idea. The vulnerability, the intimacy of it—as if he himself was not capable of performing such a mundane act. He didn’t want anyone to see him so vulnerable, so exposed and dependent . That’s the very reason why he always took the time to wash himself, meticulously working through each knot and tangle.

As he rinsed out the shampoo, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water.

He looked despondent.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he finished washing his hair and stepped out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around himself, Dan Feng looked out the window at the rising sun.

A sigh escaped him.

He had to lighten up his mood.

Dan Feng dressed quickly in light, comfortable clothes and made his way downstairs. The sun poured through the window with its warm rays, lighting up the room even with the lights off.

His stomach rumbled, begging for a meal.

Dan Feng let out a groan.

He found the process of eating rather… tedious. In the days when his life was consumed by training, the gnawing hunger in his stomach was more of an annoyance than anything else. It took him too much time to finish off a meal, it felt like a waste of precious time. As he sat there, forcing down bites of food, he’d think non-stop about how much progress he could’ve made if he just didn’t have to stop. Eventually, he began to skip meals, eating just enough to sustain his energy and keep going. Hunger became just another benchmark of his progress, just another discomfort he could control.

But now, Dan Feng no longer had to live that way. Many years had passed since those relentless days, and he was no longer confined to that dark room, pushing himself to the brink; feeling his muscles ache and his bones protest beneath his skin.

So, he went and made himself a proper breakfast. Chamomile tea with a hint of anise sounded just right for the occasion.

As he sipped the warm tea, he looked out the window, taking in the peaceful landscape outside.

“Already awake?”

Dan Feng turned at the sound of Yingxing’s voice. That night, Yingxing had stayed in, and for the first time in weeks, Dan Feng slept deeply and soundly—the one thing he had been craving lately.

Did Jing Yuan actually do it?

He smiled slightly, “I could ask you the same. It’s quite early.”

Yingxing carefully walked up to him, his footsteps soft against the wooden floor. “Is there some of that for me?” he asked, nodding towards the steaming cup of tea in Dan Feng’s hand. “Smells good.”

Dan Feng was more than happy to share.

“Of course.”

He poured a cup for Yingxing, watching as the rich liquid swirled into the porcelain.

“Got something on your mind?”

Oh, so many things, Dan Feng thought. His mind was always churning, a relentless machine that never seemed to rest. It would almost be easier to answer when he wasn’t consumed by thoughts. But for now, he simply took a sip of his tea and let the warmth soothe him.

“Actually, I was thinking about the festival tonight…” he began, staring at the swirling tea in his cup rather than meeting Yingxing’s eyes. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming with me.”

He heard the clink of china against the table, the sound jarring and sudden. 

“Oh.” 

Dan Feng looked up to find Yingxing staring at him with a curious expression.

“If you don’t want to go,” he added quickly, “I won’t insist, you know that.”

“It’s not that,” Yingxing said, his smile softening. “I’m just surprised that something like that would catch your interest.”

Of course, Yingxing couldn’t know the real reason why he was interested in going.

“I must admit, I’m intrigued,” Dan Feng confessed casually. He wouldn’t openly admit how excited he actually felt about the occasion. “These kinds of events are quite traditional, I suppose. It wouldn’t be a bother to attend.”

“Well, then we should definitely go,” Yingxing said with a nod.

Dan Feng couldn’t help but smile as he took another sip of his tea.

He also wouldn’t admit how much he was looking forward to having Yingxing by his side that night, to watch the fireworks together—the words were there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them to himself.

(...)

Present-Day

As summer reached its peak and the days stretched out, growing hotter with each passing week, the anticipation for the summer festivals grew as well. The excitement was inescapable: everywhere you went, people were talking about it, and vibrant pamphlets were being handed out and plastered on every available surface, inviting everyone to join in the festivities.

On his way home from work, Dan Heng picked up one of the colorful flyers, his eyes scanning the vibrant, bold letters welcoming him.

Life had slowly returned to its usual rhythm, and the peace Dan Heng had so longed for slowly settled back into his life. And yet, deep inside, there was something that bothered him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

Still, he convinced himself that, eventually, it would fade away, just like all things do.

At least, he hoped so.

“We should go,” Dan Heng said as he entered the room.

Blade, still lounging on his bed, looked up with a puzzled expression.

“Go where?” he asked, clearly confused.

Without elaborating, Dan Heng handed him the pamphlet he’d picked up earlier. Blade took it, and as he scanned the colorful invitation, his eyes widened slightly, showing a sparkle of recognition; or perhaps something deeper, something akin to… melancholy. Dan Heng couldn’t really understand where it came from.

Blade looked up at him again, “Do you… really want to go?”

Dan Heng nodded firmly in response.

To be honest, Dan Heng wasn’t particularly interested in these activities at first glance. But after everything that had happened lately, he found himself craving a bit of... normalcy. He wanted to engage in simple, everyday pleasures, things that boys his age would do. Work and the constant stress of daily life had been overwhelming, and maybe, just maybe, he also wanted a break from that persistent feeling in the back of his head.

Blade, however, immediately rose from the bed with surprising enthusiasm. “Fine.”

Dan Heng wasn’t really expecting him to agree so quickly. His eyebrows arched in curiosity. “Really?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, though there was something off about his attitude. “It just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

Well, it caught Dan Heng by surprise as well. But there was something that was... calling to him—like a subtle pull he couldn’t quite ignore. It was as if some unseen hand was weaving the threads of his fate, drawing him toward this event with an almost magnetic force.

But of course, he couldn’t actually say that. It’d sound utterly insane.

“Should we invite the others?” Blade proposed.

Dan Heng hesitated, feeling a hint of… disappointment. He had expected it would be just the two of them alone.

But then again, did it really matter?

He pushed aside his own feelings.

“I’ll let Stelle know.”

Dan Heng pulled out his phone with a sigh of resignation and began typing out a message. Maybe he was overthinking things, letting the weight of recent events cloud his judgment. Blade seemed unfazed, moving on as if nothing had changed, so why was he struggling to do the same?

Everything was fine.

(...)

Except nothing was really fine.

Blade had thought he had everything under control. And at first, maybe he did. But after learning that his one-sided love had actually been reciprocated all along, he found himself unable to pretend that everything was okay. The weight of time had shifted things beyond repair, and now, it was too late to do anything about it.

Blade found himself lost in the past more often than not, revisiting memories he had shared with Dan Feng. He replayed those moments in his mind, analyzing every small action, every fleeting expression, every word Dan Feng had spoken when they were alone. The way his eyes looked at him, the smile on his lips. Blade could see it all so clearly now. It had always been there, the love.

Dan Feng, for all his control over his emotions, hadn’t been able to completely hide his feelings. Looking back, Blade realized the signs had always been there—the possessiveness, the occasional jealousy. The lingering touches. The quiet stares. But he had never connected it to love. He had dismissed it as just another aspect of Dan Feng’s controlling nature, rather than anything deeper. He never believed himself deserving of those feelings, his feelings, when it was never about deserving, but about receiving. Accepting. It seemed so unreal, that someone as great as Dan Feng could have loved him all along.

Dan Feng loved him.

And now, all Blade could do was repeat those words to himself, over and over again, as if they could somehow bridge the gap between past and present, between what was and what could never be.

He still remembered the night of the festival vividly. How beautiful Dan Feng looked, the way his eyes sparkled under the light of the lanterns—he should have told him right then and there. Why didn’t he?

The words haunted him every time he tried to sleep, echoing in his mind as he lay awake. Dan Heng was right there, so close and yet so far, the living embodiment of the man Blade once loved. The same face, the same body, the same voice —everything about Dan Heng reminded him of Dan Feng. Sometimes, Blade would find himself staring into Dan Heng’s eyes, searching, wondering if, deep down, some part of Dan Feng still existed within him. 

But then, reality would crash down on him, cold and unforgiving. Dan Feng was gone. They both were. What stood before him wasn’t the man he had loved, but someone new, someone who had started a life free from the burdens of the past. Neither of them were who they once were. They had been given a second chance, a clean slate.

But the knowledge didn’t make it any easier to forget the love he had lost, or the man who was now forever out of reach.

Blade couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss every time he looked at Dan Heng. It was as if he were mourning someone who was still alive, in a way.

So when Dan Heng suggested they go to the festival, Blade couldn’t help but feel a flood of memories rush back to him. The excitement in his eyes reminded him of the same spark he had once seen in Dan Feng’s—and now here was Dan Heng, unknowingly mirroring the same desires of a man who no longer existed.

And despite everything, he found himself unable to say no.

“You want me to come to the festival as well?” Jing Yuan asked, his surprise evident, cup of tea still in hand. “I’m not going to be the third wheel, am I?”

Blade let out a halfhearted laugh. “Nothing like that. The others are coming too. I just thought it would be easier with you there.”

Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Aw, you’re getting quite sentimental now, aren’t you? And to think you wanted to beat me up just a few weeks ago.”

“Can you blame me for that?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, the sound warm and light. He set his cup down, leaning back in his chair. “Of course I’ll go, if it helps.”

Though Blade wouldn’t openly admit it, he felt a sense of relief knowing that Jing Yuan remembered him. The weight of his entire past felt lighter now that he didn’t have to bear it alone.

He shifted in his seat, glancing around Jing Yuan's house with a contemplative look.

“Can you… tell me about him?” he asked quietly.

“About who? Dan Feng?” Jing Yuan’s tone was light and slightly amused. “You knew him yourself.”

“Not that well, apparently.”

“Well, you knew him much better than I did. He showed you a side of him that he never revealed to anyone else.” His smile grew slightly as he added, “Perhaps you’re interested in hearing about the time he admitted to being in love with you?”

Seeing the intensity in Blade’s eyes, Jing Yuan took it as a signal to continue, gently shaking his head.

“It was... complicated,” Jing Yuan said, a hint of fondness in his voice. “Every time I tried to talk to him about his feelings, we’d end up arguing. In many ways, he reminded me a lot of you,” he added with an affectionate smile. “Dan Feng once came to find me, completely frantic, when he discovered you were seeing someone. Just the night before the festival, in fact. It was actually quite amusing.”

Despite the years that had passed, Jing Yuan spoke of Dan Feng with a warmth and affection that made it seem as if he had never truly left. Blade turned away, a rueful expression crossing his face.

“Does it ever bother you, how things are with him in this life?”

Jing Yuan sighed deeply. 

“It kills me,” he admitted, taking a slow sip of his tea as if seeking comfort in the routine. “Dan Feng was my dearest friend. It hurts to see how different things are now. But there’s not much I can do about it — reincarnation is a cruel twist. You may be linked by fate, but you never know how those connections will play out in this life,” then, he added softly, “I’m just grateful he has you. That’s something, at least.”

“I’m sure he’ll come to like you, eventually,” Blade assured, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Jing Yuan gave a faint smile. 

“First, he’ll need to sort out a few things about himself,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Just like in the past.”

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Dan Feng dressed lightly for the occasion.

The night was especially hot, and even the faintest breeze did little to cool him down; deciding it was best to tie his long hair into a neat bun, he secured it with a silver pin he had found abandoned on his dresser. Dan Feng took one last look at his reflection in the mirror, checking himself over for what felt like the umpteenth time. It was almost embarrassing how much he wanted to look good for Yingxing, like a teenager getting ready for a first date. But he reminded himself that this wasn’t a real date.

Still, it seemed his heart was having a hard time accepting that, pounding with an enthusiasm that felt all too eager for something meant to be casual.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts, followed by the servant’s voice as they peeked into the room. “Excuse me, sir. Yingxing is already outside, waiting for you.”

Dan Feng’s heart skipped a beat.

He mouthed a quick ‘Thank you’ and hurried out of the room, his steps brisk and anxious. It would be fine, he told himself over and over as he walked down the stairs, focusing on deep, even breaths to calm his heart down. Everything would be fine.  

Once at the door, his hand reached for the handle and swung it open, almost as if expecting a surprise on the other side.

And surprise it was.

“I apologize,” Yingxing said, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I seem to have arrived a bit early.”

Dan Feng blinked rapidly, as if trying to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

Despite his extensive knowledge, he struggled to find the right words to capture Yingxing’s appearance. He, too, had chosen a light outfit for the evening, but this was the first time Dan Feng had seen his arms uncovered, the scars that were usually hidden now on display before his eyes. His hair was partially tied back, exposing part of his neck, with strands of white catching the light in a way that fascinated him. Dan Feng couldn’t deny how much he liked this look on him, even though he knew that aging was a natural part of life.

For a moment, he was tempted to reach out and touch Yingxing’s arm — yet he didn’t.

Dan Feng was about to offer a compliment when Yingxing spoke first.

“Did you change your hairstyle?”

Dan Feng’s hand instinctively touched his hair. “It was too hot to wear it loose,” he explained, his fingers brushing against the silver pin holding his bun in place. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to justify his choice. He glanced at Yingxing, taking in the sight of his partially tied-back hair. “You did the same, I see.”

Yingxing smiled and said, “Same reason.” His gaze lingered on Dan Feng for a moment before he added, “It really suits you. You look... different.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Different doesn’t necessarily mean good.”

A soft, almost resigned sound escaped Yingxing’s lips.

“I meant to say you look beautiful, Dan Feng.”

Dan Feng’s eyes widened slightly, and he nearly let out a surprised noise but managed to keep it in. 

It was the first time Yingxing had ever used that word to describe him. Dan Feng didn’t see himself as particularly beautiful; in fact, he often thought the opposite. But as he looked deeply into Yingxing’s eyes, he noticed the playful glimmer and the faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he were enjoying the effect his words had on him.

Dan Feng slowly shook his head, his left hand gripping the edge of his clothes tightly to keep himself in check.

“Aren’t you the charmer,” he quipped, feeling a light blush warm his cheeks. “Do you use lines like that often?”

Yingxing laughed, the sound sending a flutter through Dan Feng’s chest. “Perhaps. Is it working?”

“Stop it before I change my mind and go back inside.”

“I’m sorry,” Yingxing said, his eyes now gentle. “I really meant what I said.”

Dan Feng studied him for a moment longer before sighing. This felt… torturous.

Why was he doing this to him?

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, stepping ahead. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

“After you.”

He was really going to be the death of him.

(...)

The fireworks wouldn’t start for another hour.

Colorful booths lined the streets, each offering a variety of games with tempting prizes, from plush toys to delicate, hand-crafted items. Above, vibrant lanterns in shades of red and gold swayed gently in the evening breeze, their gentle glow casting a warm, enchanting light over the crowded streets. Performers in colorful costumes danced and twirled through the crowd, their movements graceful and captivating. 

The streets were packed with people, making it almost impossible to move, but for the first time, Dan Feng didn’t mind at all. In fact, he was excited.

It was a kind of excitement that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

“What do you want to do first?” Yingxing asked, tilting his head with a grin. “How about a little competition?”

Dan Feng snorted, feeling unusually playful. “Already looking to lose?”

Yingxing’s eyes widened in mock offense.

“Lose?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m going to lose? You seem quite confident.”

“Let’s say I’m a bit better at this than you.”

“Looks like we’re about to test that,” Yingxing shot back with a challenging grin.

Of course, they had only just arrived, and already they were gearing up for a bit of competition. Dan Feng found he didn’t mind this at all.

He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the challenge.

Their first stop was the darts stall. Dan Feng wasn’t particularly confident in his dart-throwing abilities. While he excelled at physical sports, darts required more than just strength—it demanded precision, hand-eye coordination, and skill, none of which he had practiced much. So, he was relying on something he rarely had:

Good luck.

“Do you want to go first?” Yingxing asked, leaning casually against the stall.

“Are you too scared to take the first shot?”

Two could play that game.

Yingxing shrugged and picked up a dart, “If you insist.”

He raised the dart to his right eye, focusing intently on the board while closing his left eye. Dan Feng couldn’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by the way the lantern light bathed Yingxing’s face in a warm red glow, making his eyes sparkle like crimson gems. His gaze drifted lower, tracing the smooth line of Yingxing’s jaw and the subtle movements of his muscles as he adjusted his aim; the defined contours of his shoulders, and the scars on his arms He just couldn’t look away, but thankfully Yingxing didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes roamed over him.

But then, the image of that woman flashed in his mind, a surge of jealousy twisting inside him like a storm.

What a way to ruin his mood.

A sudden bang snapped Dan Feng out of his thoughts. He looked up just in time to see Yingxing’s dart thud into the bullseye, earning a perfect score. The crowd around them cheered.

“Well, what do you think now?”

Dan Feng noticed the eager glint in Yingxing’s eyes, as if he was waiting for some form of praise. It was clear that this little contest had been more about impressing him than about the game itself.

Dan Feng decided to give him exactly what he was looking for.

“Quite impressive,” he said with a pleased hum.

It was his turn now. He remained still, holding another dart between his fingers. Even if he didn’t win this round, Dan Feng was in such high spirits that nothing could dampen his mood. He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and released the dart with a smooth flick of his wrist.

It landed neatly beside Yingxing’s, hitting the bullseye with a satisfying thud. 

“Look at that,” Yingxing said, clearly impressed. “You’re quite good, after all.”

They continued to play for a while longer until Dan Feng ultimately won the round. The game had been close, with their scores almost tied, but a brief distraction caused Yingxing to miss his final throw, sending the dart wide.

He didn’t even realize that almost an hour had passed until the crowd’s shouting grew louder and more intense, nearly deafening him.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Dan Feng frowned, feeling a flutter in his stomach. 

“We’ll miss the fireworks.”

“We won’t,” Yingxing reassured him with a soft smile. “Trust me.”

And Dan Feng did, without a second thought.

Not wanting to lose him in the crowd, Yingxing grabbed his wrist, dragging him through the crowded streets until they reached the back of an old building. Dan Feng watched as Yingxing pushed open a heavy door, the rusty creak filling the air, and realized they were in an abandoned building.

“Isn’t this a bit… illegal?” Dan Feng asked, raising an eyebrow. His amusement outweighed any real concern. He hadn’t expected Yingxing, who was usually so meticulous about following rules, to engage in such an act. 

“No one’s been here in a decade,” Yingxing replied, stepping aside with a courteous gesture so Dan Feng could enter first. “We’re not likely to get into any trouble.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Just like you used to go to the firefly sanctuary for peace, I used to come here all the time,” Yingxing said, then added with a timid smile, “though my hideout is nowhere near as impressive as yours.”

Dan Feng had no idea.

They climbed the stairs through a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The air was a bit musty and had a faint, unpleasant odor. Dan Feng briefly wondered how Yingxing found solace in such a place, but he chose not to ask.

At last, they climbed to the top of the stairs, and Dan Feng was pleasantly surprised to find themselves on the roof. Lanterns floated just above them, so close that he could almost reach out and touch them, glowing like red stars that had fallen from the sky. He took a few tentative steps across the roof, looking around in awe at the view. The lively sounds from the streets seemed distant and muted up here.

The view was… breathtaking.

“Do you like it?” Yingxing asked, watching him with curious eyes.

Dan Feng turned to him, almost in disbelief. “Do I like it? It’s wonderful.”

Yingxing chuckled softly, as if he thought Dan Feng was just being polite. “Don’t make it sound so grand. It’s just a roof.”

It might have been just a roof, but it was Yingxing’s special spot, and he was sharing it with Dan Feng. They were about to watch the fireworks together in a place that held meaning for him. To Dan Feng, it was nothing short of extraordinary.

“How did you even find this place?” Dan Feng asked, glancing around the small space with curiosity as he carefully skirted the edges. He then turned to Yingxing with an amused smile, “Are you just wandering from place to place, barging in wherever you please?”

Yingxing laughed lightly at the question. “I was just looking for somewhere quiet. This place seemed abandoned, so I decided to check it out. That’s how I ended up here.”

Dan Feng nodded thoughtfully, coming to a stop.

“What did you usually do when you came here?” he asked, rather intrigued.

He tried to picture a younger Yingxing sitting alone on the roof during lonely nights, gazing up at the moon and listening to the distant chirping of crickets. Perhaps he had spent time sunbathing while carefully covering his arms to protect his scars from burning.

Yingxing, as if reading Dan Feng’s thoughts, settled on the edge of the roof, letting his legs dangle freely. “I used to watch people,” he muttered.

Dan Feng raised an eyebrow. That’s not the answer he was expecting. 

“Is that so?” he asked, a smile of amusement touching his lips. “Did you ever watch me?”

Yingxing’s eyes met his with an intensity that made Dan Feng pause. 

“Especially you,” he replied softly. “No matter where I looked, my eyes always seemed to find you.”

He stood quietly, watching the warm red glow illuminate the side of Yingxing’s face.

“You used to pass by this building all the time,” Yingxing said softly, as if the memory was a cherished one. “Maybe that’s what drew me to this place. When I was your student, I thought that if I observed you enough from afar, I might come to understand you better. I thought I could… figure you out.”

Dan Feng found himself wondering how many times Yingxing had watched him without his knowledge, how many moments had passed with Yingxing’s eyes on him while he remained oblivious. How many times had Yingxing been so close, yet so distant. How many times...

“Did you?” Dan Feng asked, hesitating before adding, “Did you ever figure me out?”

Yingxing’s smile was small but genuine. “Not even a little.”

He let out a sigh.

Well, that was clear, he thought.

If Yingxing had truly figured him out, he would already know by now just how deeply he loved him.

“I think it’s starting,” Yingxing said, breaking the silence.

As the first firework burst in the sky, Dan Feng didn’t even turn to look. It was as if the night he had dreamed about during his youth had suddenly lost its significance. 

Back then, he had been so overworked that he often skipped meals just to squeeze in more hours of training. Nights blurred into one another, spent alone in the silence, working late into the darkness. That was all he knew—until he met Yingxing. Love was something he had never given much thought to, something he didn’t even consider himself capable of feeling. He’d read about it in books, thinking it was a rare and unattainable experience, something only a few lucky people ever found, far beyond his reach.

He thought back to all those years feeling so alone and abandoned and wondered what his younger self would think if he could see him now, standing here with someone who had come to mean so much. The only one who ever understood him. The only one who had stayed this long, despite everything.

Dan Feng realized that, after all, he was someone capable of love. It wasn’t something distant or unreachable anymore; it was real, standing beside him in the form of Yingxing.

Three words slipped from his lips as the final firework burst in the sky, the largest and brightest of them all, trailing a cascade of yellow. Three words that were swallowed by the roar of the crowd below, which erupted into cheers and applause. Words he didn’t think Yingxing had heard.

Words he would never say out loud again.

(...)

Present-Day

The night descended quietly, the darkness settling in faster than Dan Heng anticipated. He paused in front of the mirror, studying his reflection, the faint touch of red eyeshadow at the corners of his eyes, and he found himself wondering why he was putting so much effort into his appearance. After all, it was just a festival.

But even as he reminded himself of that, there was a lingering feeling—an excitement bubbling just below the surface, quietly persistent. He wasn’t sure exactly where it was coming from or what it was for, but it was there, and he could feel it, undeniably present.

Dan Heng was about to take off his makeup when he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” Blade said from the other side. “Should I ask them to wait?”

Dan Heng paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“No, I’m done,” he answered, giving himself one last look in the mirror before heading out.

Outside, Blade was waiting for him by the door. Almost all the lights were off, except for the one in the entrance, casting a dim orange light right where Blade was standing. Almost involuntarily, Dan Heng’s eyes were drawn to his hair, noticing it had been pulled back into a half-updo; a style he had never seen him wear before. Dan Heng felt a strange twist in his gut, as if he was unwell, but the feeling wasn’t exactly unpleasant. It was… unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite put into words. It was something new, something that made his chest tighten and his breath catch, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of what to do or say.

Blade glanced up and gave a brief nod.

“You look good,” he said honestly. “Are you ready to go now?”

Dan Heng raised a finger, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You… changed it.”

Blade looked momentarily confused. “What?”

He pointed to his own head. 

“Your hair.”

Blade blinked. His hand instinctively went to his hair, where his usually loose strands were now neatly pulled back.

“Oh, this?” he muttered, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Yeah, I did. I thought I’d try something different for tonight. It’s hot outside.”

Blade mentioned something about fireworks, but Dan Heng barely registered it. His attention was completely captivated by the way the light danced across Blade’s hair, casting little orange sparks in the dark strands. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, as if some unseen force was pulling him in. He knew he should stop, but he just… couldn’t.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Blade asked, one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity, though he didn’t seem particularly bothered. “Mesmerized, were you?”

Blade’s tone was light, clearly just teasing, but something about those words struck a nerve, making Dan Heng suddenly feel self-conscious.

He quickly looked away, feeling a faint blush rise to his cheeks. “Shut up.”

Blade looked like he was about to say something, but a horn blaring from outside cut him off. He glanced toward the door.

“Seems they’re getting impatient,” he remarked.

Dan Heng nodded, and without another word, they both stepped out, leaving the comfort of their apartment behind and heading into the night.

(...)

As they left the apartment complex, Dan Heng’s mood soured when he saw who was driving the van—instead of the usual Stelle, with her cheeky personality and humor, this time, it was Jing Yuan behind the wheel. He didn’t even know he could drive.

“You invited him?” Dan Heng asked, and only upon hearing his own voice did he realize just how annoyed he sounded. He hadn’t expected to be so bothered.

Blade shot him a quick, assessing glance. “Do you mind?”

Dan Heng bit back his frustration. It wasn’t like complaining was really going to do any good; they were already there, and Jing Yuan was the one offering them a ride. He reminded himself that, given the circumstances, he should actually be grateful.

But it was so hard.

“It’s fine.”

Dan Heng made his way to the van without hesitation. As he opened the door, he saw that the backseat was already packed with Caelus, Stelle and March, all squeezed together in a space that was clearly too small for three people—let alone four.

“Oh, hey,” Caelus greeted him with his usual easygoing smile. “Looks like we’ll be traveling a bit cramped.”

Dan Heng noticed his mood wasn’t the best, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  He was determined not to let his night be spoiled by… whatever was bothering him.

Even he wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

“I guess,” Dan Heng replied, attempting to keep his voice steady.

Meanwhile, Blade settled into the front seat next to Jing Yuan. Dan Heng watched silently from the side, noticing the smile that stretched across Blade's lips—a smile that seemed so natural and effortless, as if he’d practiced it a thousand times. The sight stirred a deep, unsettling twist in Dan Heng’s gut.

“Is everyone in their seats?” Jing Yuan asked, glancing over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.

However, Dan Heng was still standing by the car, looking at them all. Clearly, he didn’t fit back there. For a moment, he entertained the thought of returning to his apartment to watch the fireworks from his window instead.

“I don’t think there’s room for him,” Stelle said, her tone matter-of-fact, “I think we should strap him to the roof of the van.”

March immediately gasped. “We’re not doing that!”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully, analyzing the limited space in the van. “Perhaps we can squeeze him in up front…”

At that, Caelus’s voice timidly interrupted, barely above a whisper. 

“Well, if it helps with the ride, he could... sit on top of me.”

A brief silence fell over the van before Blade’s voice cut through. 

“He can just have my seat.”

Dan Heng’s fists clenched into the fabric of his clothes, the irritation inside him feeling almost unbearable. He was upset—not just because Blade had invited Jing Yuan without mentioning it first, as if he wasn’t his best friend for years; but because the ease with which Blade smiled at him almost felt like a betrayal.

He needed to retaliate somehow.

Without a word, Dan Heng crouched down and plopped himself down onto Caelus’ lap, who let out a startled noise.

“We’re settled now,” he declared flatly.

He refused to meet Blade’s gaze in the rearview mirror and instead focused on the window, taking in the familiar sights of Xianzhou.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jing Yuan cleared his throat and started the engine. 

“...Then, we’re off.”

(...)

The tension in the van quickly dissipated once they started moving. Stelle and Caelus immediately started bickering in the back, their playful argument becoming the new focal point and leaving Dan Heng’s discomfort behind. Dan Heng had to admit, he was rather… uncomfortable on Caelus’ lap, especially with his head constantly bumping against the roof of the van, but he had brought this upon himself, so he chose not to complain. Jing Yuan turned on the radio, and a smooth jazz tune filled the space. Despite the discomfort, he found the music somewhat calming.

Dan Heng’s mood lifted almost instantly when the distant rumble of drums grew louder, their intense rhythm cutting through the discomfort of the last fifteen minutes.

“Oh, we’re here!” March exclaimed, clinging tightly to Stelle’s arm, making her groan.

Jing Yuan parked the van, and everyone eagerly stepped out. Dan Heng was relieved to stretch his cramped legs after the awkward ride, loosening the tension from his muscles.

As he was getting his bearings, Caelus appeared beside him.

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if… that was a little awkward,” he said, looking genuinely apologetic. “I really didn’t mean to…”

Dan Heng couldn’t really fault Caelus for the situation—after all, he was the one who had chosen to sit on his lap. 

He offered a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” he said, his tone warm. “Don’t worry about it.”

Caelus gave him a friendly pat on the back. 

“Well, come on, then!”

They made their way down the street, the ground vibrating beneath their feet with the vigorous commotion. Blade and Jing Yuan were already ahead, walking side by side, and Dan Heng let out a quiet sigh.

He couldn’t deny it. He was jealous.

It was a feeling he had reluctantly come to accept, though it still made him deeply uncomfortable. The resentment toward Jing Yuan seemed to be tied to this jealousy, but Dan Heng was starting to question if there was… more to it. Could such intense feelings really be driven by something as simple as this?

He tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept resurfacing, more insistent each time.

However, as soon as they reached the main street, Dan Heng’s worries were momentarily forgotten.

Large, brilliant lanterns hung from above like floating red stars, projecting a warm glow over the throngs of people below. Music and the lively chatter of people filled the air, and it was almost impossible to hear each other without shouting over the sound. Dan Heng stood there, mesmerized, taking in the sight. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

The main attraction of the evening was the fireworks, which everyone eagerly anticipated, but there was still quite a while before midnight.

“We should make the most of the festival while we can,” Jing Yuan suggested, clasping his hands together. “Let’s split up and explore a bit. We can all regroup later to watch the fireworks together.”

Dan Heng was initially hesitant about the idea of splitting up. But as he stood there, he felt a gentle tug on his arm. 

He glanced to his side to find Blade standing there.

“You and me, then?” he proposed.

Dan Heng’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel the sudden, intense thump against his ribs, and his mind raced as he tried to make sense of the strange, exhilarating feeling.

After a moment’s pause, he managed to nod.

“See you in an hour!” Jing Yuan called out with a cheerful wave.

With that, everyone began to scatter, heading off in different directions to explore the multiple stalls, games, and attractions the festival had to offer.

The two of them wandered through the bustling crowd without a specific destination. The street was alive with the glow of lanterns hanging overhead, casting a warm, golden light over them. Games and stalls lined the streets, surrounded by a crowd of people that often made it challenging to get a closer look.

“Anything you want to try first?” Blade asked, glancing over at Dan Heng with a curious look.

Dan Heng scanned the various attractions. His eyes finally landed on a game stall a few feet away, where multicolored rings were stacked neatly, waiting for players to try their luck. The stall was adorned with bright lights and flamboyant banners.

“How about that?” Dan Heng suggested, pointing towards it.

Blade followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Ring toss? Really?”

Dan Heng shrugged nonchalantly. “It could be fun.”

“Let’s do that, then.”

After a few turns, they could finally play. A line of prizes was on display, ranging from plush toys to tiny crowns clearly meant for children. It was obvious the game was intended for kids, but since they were already there, Blade picked up one of the rings and glanced at Dan Heng with a playful smirk.

“If I win, should I get you a little crown?” he teased.

Dan Heng rolled his eyes, but a subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips, almost imperceptible.

The objective was simple: get three rings onto the small sticks to win. Blade raised the first ring to eye level, carefully calculating the distance, and with a practiced flick of his wrist, he sent it flying toward the target. 

The ring landed perfectly in the center of the hoop, scoring a point.

“Did you see that?”

Blade’s red eyes gleamed under the warm, orange lights of the booth. The intensity of his gaze made Dan Heng’s heart flutter, so he looked away, nodding with a half-hearted acknowledgement.

“Very impressive.”

Blade snorted beside him, amused by the lack of enthusiasm. “Could you at least pretend to mean it?”

Dan Heng crossed his arms. “It’s a kids’ game, Blade.”

Without warning, a ring of vibrant yellow appeared in his field of vision, right in front of Dan Heng’s face. He turned to see Blade holding it out to him, a challenge in his eyes.

“Your turn, then.”

How hard could it be?

He accepted the challenge.

He moved closer to the edge of the stand, mimicking Blade’s earlier stance. Blade stood beside him, quietly observing, his eyes studying his every move. Dan Heng wasn’t particularly invested in the game, but with Blade's eyes on him, he felt a compelling need to impress. He lifted the ring, and with a smooth flick of his wrist, sent it toward the target.

The ring soared through the air and landed perfectly, stacking neatly on top of the one Blade had thrown earlier.

Two rings out of three. 

Dan Heng turned to Blade, ready to make a witty remark, but the words caught in his throat when he saw the way Blade was looking at him.

“You’re still good,” he muttered, his voice quiet, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

Dan Heng never knew how to take that feeling, the nostalgia that sometimes colored Blade’s tone, as if he had already lived through these moments long ago.

“How about you take the last shot?” Blade’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Dan Heng looked back at the last hoop, feeling uncertain. If he made it, he would win the prize, but there was something else—an odd tingling sensation in his fingertips, almost like a warning.

He lifted the ring, aiming carefully at the target. Just as he was about to throw, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his head, causing him to falter. The ring slipped from his grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud. He heard a few sympathetic murmurs, but they were drowned out by the pounding in his head, the pain radiating through his skull.

Dan Heng’s vision blurred for a moment, and he clutched his forehead, trying to steady himself.

Blade’s hand gently rested on Dan Heng’s shoulder. “You okay?”

It took Dan Heng a few more seconds to fully regain his composure. He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Yeah, it was just... a bad headache,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I’m fine.”

But deep down, Dan Heng knew something felt off. It wasn’t like him to experience such sudden… pain.

They wandered through the festival, exploring various activities to do before the midnight fireworks started. They tried a few games, but nothing really captured their interest. That was until they heard the loud cheers emanating from a somewhat hidden corner of the street.

Intrigued, they followed the noise and discovered something that looked like a small, circular arena. In the center of the ring, two participants were engaged in a lively fight. But it wasn’t just any fight.

It was a sword fight.

It wasn’t a real duel, of course, but a playful contest with foam swords. The small crowd around the small space cheered for their favorite fighter as the combatants swung their swords with enthusiasm, trying to hit the opponent. It didn’t seem like either of them really knew what they were doing.

Dan Heng found himself inexplicably drawn to the scene. He had never swung a sword before, nor did he know the first thing about handling one. But there was something inexplicable that drew him to the ring, an irresistible pull just like the one that had led him to the festival in the first place—a sense that he was meant to be there.

Without fully understanding why, he turned to Blade and said, “Let’s try that.”

Blade looked at him, clearly taken aback.

“You... want to fight?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Do you even know how to use a sword?”

Dan Heng, however, was already moving towards it, driven by an inexplicable urge that he couldn’t ignore.

Dan Heng stepped into the ring as the previous fighters exited, the foam swords still lying on the ground. He turned to Blade, who was standing on the sidelines, looking a bit hesitant.

“Come here.”

He was surprised by the authority in his own voice, but Blade didn’t hesitate. He moved forward with an almost immediate compliance, as if the command had been second nature.

The moderator quickly outlined the rules: the match would consist of three rounds, and the player who won the most rounds would be declared the victor. He briefly explained the no-hit areas and how each round ended when one player successfully touched the other with their sword. 

The rules seemed straightforward enough.

The two of them took their positions in the center of the ring, surrounded by an eager crowd. Dan Heng picked up a sword from the pile, its texture rough and unfamiliar in his grip. He had no idea how to hold it properly, but somehow, it felt oddly fitting, as if the sword had always belonged there. He glanced at Blade, who had already assumed his stance, his grip on the sword confident as if the weapon were an extension of his own body. Doubts swirled in Dan Heng’s mind, but he pushed them aside and mirrored Blade’s posture.

Both stood ready, their eyes locked, waiting for the signal to start.

The moderator rang a small bell, and without hesitation, Dan Heng stepped forward, delivering the first blow. Blade, quick as ever, parried effortlessly, countering with a riposte aimed at Dan Heng’s left flank. Dan Heng’s reflexes kicked in just in time, narrowly dodging the attack, feeling the rush of air as Blade’s sword passed by. He swung his weapon again, this time striking Blade squarely in the side.

Dan Heng had won round one.

Off to the side, a cheerful “Nice try!” came from the moderator as the two returned to their starting positions.

“Well done,” Blade praised him with a small smile.

But Dan Heng didn’t accept the compliment so easily.

He studied Blade closely, his brow furrowing. Something about the exchange didn’t sit right with him. It had felt too easy, too smooth, like he wasn’t giving it his all.

He huffed, “You let me win, didn’t you?”

Blade blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Dan Heng to notice.

“Why do you think that?” he deflected, not quite admitting it. But Dan Heng had already figured it out.

He knew Blade had more experience than he was letting on. The fluidity of his movements, the quick ease with which he parried, all hinted at it. Even if Dan Heng didn’t know where or when Blade had learned to use a sword, there was no way he should’ve won that first round so easily.

“I’m not naïve,” Dan Heng replied, his voice firm as he prepared for the next round. “Don’t go easy on me.”

A gleam of something fierce sparked in Blade’s eyes, and he adjusted his stance, his posture more focused now.

The bell rang once more, signaling the start of the second round.

But this time, Dan Heng didn’t even have a chance to react.

In the blink of an eye, Blade crossed the arena with impossible speed, and before Dan Heng could process what was happening, the tip of Blade’s sword was pressed against his chest. He stood there, paralyzed breath caught in his throat, his own sword still poised in its starting position. He hadn’t even seen him move—the whole sequence had been so abrupt that it felt as if Blade had simply materialized in front of him.

The surrounding crowd cheered. For the first time, Dan Heng noticed just how many people had gathered to watch the fight. He hadn’t even realized when all these people appeared.

Dan Heng’s thoughts drifted back to the party, to what Blade had told him that time.

Whatever Blade was hiding—whatever secret he was keeping—could it have something to do with this?

“You didn’t see that coming?” Blade taunted, and Dan Heng couldn’t deny that he liked seeing this side of him, so full of thrill.

They both returned to their places, preparing for the third and final round. The outcome of this round would decide the ultimate winner.

For the first time, Dan Heng looked at Blade not as his lifelong best friend or the person he shared a room with, but as a formidable and respected rival. It was as if, through the clash of their swords, he was getting to know a new side of him, truly getting to know him in a way he hadn’t before. And Dan Heng could feel the eagerness coursing through his veins, the sensation of finally catching up to a new aspect of Blade that had always been there, just out of reach. 

It was exhilarating, so much so that he almost didn’t mind losing.

When the bell rang, Blade struck first, just as he had before. This time, Dan Heng focused intently on his footwork and, as he stepped forward, he managed to evade the attack, deflecting it with his own sword. Blade quickly followed up with a remise, but Dan Heng managed to counter, slowing down the advance and buying himself a moment.

His breath came in quick bursts, and he felt a strange tingle at the tips of his fingers. It was the same strange pull he’d felt before, an invisible force guiding his movements, and even if he didn’t fully understand it, Dan Heng chose to trust it and let it guide him.

“Had enough yet?” Blade quipped. Dan Heng responded with a snort, not missing the challenge in his tone. “Want me to go easier?”

Dan Heng countered with a smile. “I can handle more.”

Following the pull of that invisible force, Dan Heng advanced towards him. His sword met Blade’s with a forceful clash that seemed almost to resonate through the space around them, and if it weren’t for the circumstances, he could almost hear the clash of metals echoing through space, abrupt and unforgiving. He caught sight of the glint of excitement in Blade’s eyes as their blades met, and Dan Heng felt a surge of adrenaline: he launched another attack, and when Blade’s sword struck his own, he swung his own weapon around, landing a clean hit to Blade’s chest. The impact sent Blade’s sword falling to the ground, signaling the end of the round.

He stood there, breathing heavily with adrenaline still coursing through him. The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating his victory.

He had won.

Dan Heng raised his head to congratulate him, but he stopped short when he saw the look in Blade’s eyes, wide and filled with disbelief.

“Are you...?” he trailed off, his voice barely audible over the cheers and commotion. “How did you do that?”

But he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it. He had simply followed the instinctive pull that guided his movements, almost as if his body was operating on its own. It was a… familiar feeling.

A memory, perhaps.

Before Dan Heng could find a response, he heard a familiar voice from beside the ring.

“That was great!”

Caelus was there, a big smile on his face. And right next to him was… Jing Yuan.

“I didn’t know this was part of the festival,” Jing Yuan remarked, turning to Blade with a playful glint in his eye. “How about we have a sparring match? I owe you one.”

It took Blade a second to finally turn his gaze to Jing Yuan, and when he did, a small, knowing smile appeared on his lips.

“You still remember that?”

“Of course,” Jing Yuan replied, his smile widening.

Dan Heng watched them silently. He no longer felt anger or jealousy—just plain, utter disappointment. He stepped away from the arena and, without a word, started making his way back toward the bustling street.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Days had gone by since that night.

During those days, Dan Feng hadn’t seen Yingxing even once. He had been, very discreetly, avoiding him, fabricating unbelievable excuses to dodge their meetings, waiting for the moment Yingxing would see through the lies. But if he had, he hadn’t said anything. Yingxing had quietly accepted the distance, as respectful about it as always, and Dan Feng couldn’t decide whether he was grateful or irritated by it. 

Perhaps, deep down, he wanted Yingxing to be on his knees at his door, begging to see him again. He wanted him to miss him enough to forget about that woman and come back to him.

All foolish, wishful thinking.

But still, he kept wondering.

Would he have gone back to her anyway if he had heard what Dan Feng said that night?

Dan Feng’s stomach churned at the thought.

Three words.

That was all it took. Just three words, and their entire relationship could be irrevocably destroyed. A decade of shared moments, friendship, and built trust—ten years of silent, unspoken love could be undone by those three simple words. Words he dreaded more than anything. He never thought he could bring himself to say them, even if it were his last breath. Yet there he was, confessing his love beneath the fireworks, feeling as if he were confessing to a crime, deeply ashamed like a sinner. For in his heart, he was a sinner, and his love felt like an unforgivable offense.

The real reason Dan Feng had been avoiding him wasn’t because he was worried about being heard. It was because he was terrified he’d say it again. Now that he had let his feelings out, he had no idea how to take them back. He wasn’t sure he even could. So, rather than face the situation, he had been hiding away. And Yingxing hadn’t come to see him either.

The cruelest irony was that he missed him. Far more than he cared to admit. It was almost unbearable.

What a dreadful feeling.

Dan Feng paced his room, hoping that the movement would help ease some of his growing anxiety. A million possibilities ran through his head in just a second, faster than light.

What if Yingxing did hear his confession and simply didn’t want to see him again?

He paused to consider it.

Perhaps that would be for the best.

Just then, a knock came at the door, and a servant entered with a respectful bow.

“Sir, a young man requests to see you.”

Dan Feng’s heart skipped a beat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s the General,” the servant replied.

Jing Yuan?

Dan Feng’s mind raced as he tried to imagine why Jing Yuan might be here. Had he come to offer advice or simply check in? Or was there something more urgent?

“I’ll be there shortly,” Dan Feng uttered as calmly as he could manage. “You may go.”

“As you wish,” the servant said, bowing before exiting.

Once again, he was left alone.

Dan Feng quickly changed into something a bit more fitting and made his way to the door. As he stepped into the corridor, he noticed there was no servant in sight, as if they had ultimately vanished. He wondered if Jing Yuan had specifically asked to be left alone. Not that it actually mattered.

At the entrance stood Jing Yuan, his cheerful demeanor strikingly out of place.

“What brings you here?” Dan Feng’s voice came out sharper than intended.

Jing Yuan’s eyebrow quirked up in surprise.

“Not pleased to see me, it seems?” he replied, crossing his arms. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“As you might have noticed, I’m not exactly in the best mood right now,” Dan Feng retorted. “So, you can either say what you came to say or leave.”

“Understood,” Jing Yuan said with a smirk. “But are you in the mood for a party, perhaps?”

Oh.

That was… unexpected.

“A party?” he echoed, confused.

“Indeed, my friend!” Jing Yuan nodded vigorously. “It’s been far too long since I’ve hosted a proper event, so I thought, why not tonight? What do you think?”

Dan Feng frowned slightly. The suddenness of Jing Yuan’s idea and his excitement seemed a little… suspicious, even for him.

“And you… want me to come?”

Jing Yuan smiled. “Naturally.”

Alone.

It would be the first event he would attend entirely by himself. Dan Feng tried to pretend the thought wasn’t gnawing at him inside.

“Is that really the only reason you came?” he inquired, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, yes. What other reason would I have?”

Unfortunately, Dan Feng had known him for far too long not to notice when something was off. And yet…

“Fine,” he sighed, relenting. “I’ll be there.”

In the end, it didn’t really matter. Dan Feng figured he’d rather be among people, even if he was alone, than isolating himself in his room.

Jing Yuan’s smile widened, almost too eager. “Excellent! I’ll see you tonight then. Dress nicely!”

Dan Feng almost scoffed at that. As if he ever dressed anything but well.

(...)

By midnight, Dan Feng was already there.

He glanced around the room with little interest. The lively atmosphere did nothing to lift his spirits. Without Yingxing, he felt out of place. Normally, he and Yingxing would have been in the corner, making witty remarks about the guests’ fashion choices or sharing the latest gossip. That was how their conversations always flowed—natural, effortless. He clenched his glass and took a quick sip, hoping the drink might help drown out the thoughts. He even tried to engage in small talk with a few people, but it was all pointless.

The more he tried to ignore it, the more he felt Yingxing’s absence.

His eyes scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, that might distract him. His gaze wandered to the couples dancing, their movements fluid and synchronized, and he found himself thinking about that night at the gala.

Dan Feng remembered it all too well. Dancing had just been an excuse to be close to him, and a well-chosen one at that. Much as Dan Feng expected, Yingxing turned out to be a natural at dancing, even if it had taken him a while to master it initially. How many years had it been now? Seven, maybe eight? Since the last time they danced together. But he still remembered the feeling, the closeness, the act of becoming one. He could still recall the warmth of Yingxing’s hand in his, the gentle pressure of his touch, the way their bodies had moved in perfect harmony. Dancing, for him, had always been about merging with his partner, syncing their movements and breaths until they were indistinguishable from each other.

“What are you doing all by yourself here?”

Jing Yuan’s voice had that familiar, irritatingly cheerful tone, but Dan Feng still felt a strange sense of relief at finding himself in his company. 

Better him than anyone else.

“It shouldn’t surprise you that I’m a bit of a loner,” Dan Feng replied, trying to match his tone. “I’m not exactly the life of the party.”

Jing Yuan chuckled beside him. 

“I’m not surprised, just intrigued,” he remarked, glancing around before turning his attention back to Dan Feng. “You came by yourself.”

Dan Feng felt a jolt of discomfort in his chest, and he took another sip of his wine, hoping to numb the feeling. Was he becoming too dependent on it? He wasn’t sure.

“You did invite me specifically, didn’t you?”

“You know what I meant, Dan Feng.”

Of course, he knew. Unfortunately, he always knew—sometimes, he wished he could be ignorant of his own feelings. And it irritated him just the same that Jing Yuan seemed to see right through him as if he were transparent.

“Did you argue with Yingxing?”

Dan Feng looked away, feigning disinterest as he watched the couples dance. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then what happened?” he insisted.

As embarrassing as it was to say out loud, something inside Dan Feng urged him to speak. If he didn’t tell Jing Yuan, then who else would he confide in?

Certainly not Yingxing.

Dan Feng hid behind the rim of his glass, avoiding eye contact.

“I told him.”

Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Told him what?”

Dan Feng stayed silent, meeting his gaze with a knowing look, waiting for him to understand the meaning. His heart pounded in his chest, almost drowning out the faint murmur of background conversations and the clinking of glasses. 

Seconds ticked by, until realization dawned on Jing Yuan’s face. His eyes widened, the understanding settling in as he put the pieces together.

“You mean…” Jing Yuan trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but the shock in his eyes said it all.

“It was an accident,” Dan Feng murmured, his voice barely audible, a note of embarrassment creeping in. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. Not… like that.”

Jing Yuan studied him carefully. “And what did he say?”

His gaze dropped to his glass, where the deep red wine glistened under the soft lighting. The color reminded him of Yingxing’s eyes. He shifted uncomfortably, looking away.

“I don’t think he heard me.”

For the first time, Jing Yuan had nothing to say. There were no sly remarks, no wise advice, not even a joke—he simply stood there in silence, watching the couples swirl around the hall. It seemed he had deemed the situation a lost cause. Dan Feng found the situation hopelessly funny, even though he shouldn’t.

He took the opportunity to bring back the conversation from the other day. “Did you think about what I asked you?”

Jing Yuan’s expression went from confusion to realization.

“Oh, about that. Well, I…”

Before he could continue, a woman’s voice called out to Jing Yuan from across the room. The sound of light giggles filled the air. Dan Feng instinctively tightened his grip on his wine glass. 

Jing Yuan glanced back at him, his expression tentative, as if seeking permission to leave.

“It looks like we’ll have to continue this conversation another time,” he said, offering a slight bow. “Take care, Dan Feng.”

With a final, apologetic look, he turned and joined the group calling for him.

Dan Feng sighed heavily.

He had no intention of just standing there, so he set his empty wine glass down on a nearby table and walked out of the room. He wandered through the corridors, hoping to find a quiet spot where he could be alone with his thoughts. The firefly sanctuary came to mind.

Unfortunately, ever since the incident with Yingxing, that place no longer held the same comfort for him.

As he wandered, he couldn’t help but reflect on how Yingxing seemed to be woven into every aspect of his life. There wasn’t a place or a memory that didn’t remind him of him. It felt almost as if he were being… haunted. Like a ghost lingering just out of reach.

He turned a corner and found himself on a balcony. 

Dan Feng walked over to the railing, gazing out into the distance. Xianzhou lay under a serene silence, interrupted only by the soft chirping of crickets in the background. The breeze brushed against his skin, like a gentle caress, and he closed his eyes at the touch.

“I was hoping to find you here.”

Dan Feng’s heart sank at the sound of that unmistakable voice.

He turned around slowly, his bare back pressing against the edge of the railing, the cold metal sending an involuntary shiver across his body.

And, as always, Yingxing appeared even more handsome than Dan Feng remembered. If anything, the days apart seemed to have only enhanced his presence. It was bordering on infuriating how effortlessly charming he looked.

He wondered, with a touch of irony, if this encounter had something to do with Jing Yuan’s earlier request for him to dress well. If so, it wouldn’t surprise him in the least.

“Well, there aren’t many places to go, are there?” Dan Feng responded calmly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Once you’ve spent your whole life in this place, you start to realize how small Xianzhou really is.”

Yingxing moved closer, taking a few deliberate steps until he stood beside Dan Feng at the railing.

“You could always leave,” he suggested quietly.

Dan Feng glanced at him, a half-smile tugging at his lips. It was almost amusing that Yingxing thought he had that option, as if leaving were simply a matter of choice.

He folded his arms, seeking some comfort in the simple gesture. “Would you follow me if I did?”

Yingxing studied him with quiet patience, his eyes never leaving Dan Feng’s face.

“What do you think I’m doing now?”

Dan Feng opened his mouth, but no words came out. He turned his gaze to the distant horizon, now seeming less captivating than it had moments before.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Yingxing murmured softly. “Did I… upset you?”

The question caught him off guard, but it also confirmed something he had suspected all along.

Yingxing still didn’t know.

Dan Feng’s gaze wandered to the horizon before he replied, “What could you have possibly done to upset me?”

Yingxing’s brows furrowed as he tried to piece together the puzzle. “You’ve been distant since the night of the fireworks. I’m afraid it might have been something I said on the roof. I did not mean to…”

“It wasn’t anything you said,” Dan Feng interrupted.

Yingxing kept his eyes on him, waiting.

“Was it something I did, then?” he asked again.

So perceptive.

Downstairs, the music suddenly burst into life, filling the air with an electrifying energy. The violins, sharp and piercing, shattered the silence with an intensity that reminded him of lightning—abrupt, fierce, and impossible to ignore. Their notes climbed higher and higher, each one more intense than the last, until it felt like they might tear the very fabric of the night. Then the piano joined in, its gentle notes creating a delicate contrast against the raw intensity of the strings. If he listened closely, he could also pick out the rhythmic clicking of stilettos from the ladies’ heels, tapping against the polished wood as they danced. Dan Feng’s fingers twitched on the railing, eager, the music coursing through his veins, reverberating in his eardrums with a steady, insistent pulse. He hadn’t felt this way about music in a long time; not since his childhood, back when his hands were still innocent enough to touch the keys without guilt.

Yingxing tapped his fingers lightly on the railing, matching the rhythm of the music. 

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Dan Feng’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected Yingxing to be the one to take the initiative, and for a moment, he simply stared. There was no way to deny the eagerness that coursed through his veins at the invitation.

“Again?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “If I had known you were planning to dance, I might have practiced a bit more. It’s been a while since I last danced.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and this time, his hands slid around the back of Yingxing’s neck, fingers brushing just below the scar that marked his skin. The touch was gentle, and Dan Feng could feel the warmth of Yingxing’s body through the fabric of his clothes.

Yingxing let out a snort, a grin spreading across his face. “As if you needed any practice. You’re the one who taught me how to dance, remember?”

Yingxing’s hands settled around Dan Feng’s waist, pulling him closer. The proximity was far more intimate than the first time they had danced together, and as the memory of that first night flickered in Dan Feng’s mind, he released a soft, breathy sigh.

“How could I ever forget?”

They started to move slowly to the rhythm of the music, but it was less of a dance and more of a gentle sway, their bodies simply moving together, letting the moment settle around them. 

As they moved, Dan Feng noticed something different about him. For the first time since they met, Yingxing was wearing cologne, its smell light yet undeniably alluring. It was a somewhat fruity aroma. The change was subtle but it still threw him off, even though he found the fragrance rather pleasing. Yingxing had always been particular about such things, preferring his natural scent, which had never been an issue because he always smelled good. 

Yet it stirred something in him, unsettling and unfamiliar in a way he couldn’t quite articulate.

“What’s on your mind?” Yingxing asked, noticing Dan Feng’s hesitation.

As much as he wanted to focus on the dance, his mind kept wandering back to the things he’d been trying to push away: the unspoken confession; the lies Yingxing had told; and the looming presence of that woman in his life.

Until he had enough of it.

“Is she a good dancer?”

The question slipped from Dan Feng’s lips with a sly edge, almost before he could stop himself.

Yingxing paused, momentarily freezing in place. “...What?”

Dan Feng tightened his grip around the back of Yingxing’s neck, his fingers pressing into the nape of his neck with unyielding resolve. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” he said, feigning disappointment. He felt Yingxing stiffen under his touch, though he didn’t plan on shutting his mouth just yet. “You’re more guileless than I gave you credit for.”

Yingxing’s eyes widened slightly. “Dan Feng, I—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses,” Dan Feng cut him off. With a swift, deliberate motion, he took control of their dance, gently but firmly guiding Yingxing across the space. “I just want an answer. Is she?”

Dan Feng watched Yingxing’s face as he turned away, a flicker of guilt slipping into his thoughts. Was he being too harsh? 

After all, Yingxing hadn’t done anything truly wrong aside from lying to him.

Perhaps, deep down, Dan Feng was unconsciously punishing him for not hearing his confession. Perhaps he even felt a little hurt by it. Dan Feng had never shared his love with anyone else before, and yet here was Yingxing, failing to recognize it.

“I’ve never danced with her,” he confessed quietly, pulling Dan Feng from his thoughts. “Only with you.”

Dan Feng took a deliberate step back.

He clenched his hands behind his back, his nails digging into his palms with such force that they almost drew blood. The pain served as a small distraction.

“What do you like about her?”

Saying those words sent a sharp pang through his chest, but he pushed himself to listen. Dan Feng needed to hear it—he needed to know the truth straight from Yingxing’s lips. He had to know what made her so special, what this woman had that he didn’t.

Yingxing’s expression revealed a flicker of hurt. “Why do you want to know that?”

“I’m just curious about what kind of woman could make you keep secrets from me,” he said with a light, almost detached tone, as if it didn’t bother him at all. “Is she someone whose beauty is so breathtaking that it captured you the moment you laid eyes on her? Or is she exceptionally intelligent?” he went on, his voice steady and almost cynical, “or maybe she’s got a bit of both—stunning beauty combined with a brilliant intellect? What is it?”

There was a tense silence as Yingxing stared off into the distance.

“She’s…” he began, his voice trailing off.

Dan Feng watched him intently, and he finally broke the silence, his tone sharp and impatient. “What is it now? Just say it.”

Yingxing took a deep breath, finally admitting, “She reminds me of someone.”

His next words, whatever they were, died in his throat, and all his frustration seemed to dissipate with them.

“I suppose that explains it.”

“I didn’t really mean to keep it a secret,” Yingxing said, the guilt clear in his tone. “I just thought... you wouldn’t take it well.”

Dan Feng lowered his gaze. He couldn’t deny it—he didn’t like it at all. He had even gone so far as to ask Jing Yuan to find a way to send her away, unable to bear the thought of Yingxing being with someone else.

Finally, Dan Feng sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me. I’d much rather you be honest with me, instead of sneaking around in the middle of the night.”

Yingxing tilted his head.

“Is that why you were up so late the other night?”

Dan Feng managed a small, wry smile. “You’re not as sly as you think you are, you know,” he said, attempting a lighthearted tone. “I hear every time you leave.”

Yingxing murmured softly, almost apologetically, “That’s not what I intended at all.”

Dan Feng wished he didn’t know that already.

“Perhaps it’s best to leave this party,” he said, turning back toward the building. “I’m sure Jing Yuan will understand, as he always does.”

Just as he reached the door, Yingxing’s voice cut through the soft background music, firm and resolute.

“If you want me to leave her, just ask me to.”

Dan Feng halted, his hand resting on the doorframe.

Could he even do that?

He had asked Jing Yuan to handle it, but could he bring himself to utter those same words directly to Yingxing, with such finality and resolve? Could he bring himself to say it, as he had that night when he accidentally confessed his love?

Yet, in the depths of his heart, Dan Feng knew that saying those words wouldn’t change a thing.

“That’s not what I want.”

With those words hanging in the air, Dan Feng turned and left the room.

However, just a week after their conversation, Yingxing stopped sneaking out in the middle of the night. He resumed his normal sleep patterns, and they never, ever spoke of it again. 

But Dan Feng knew, most certainly, that he had stopped seeing her.

He would never know whether it was Jing Yuan’s intervention or a decision made by Yingxing himself.

(...)

Present-Day

Dan Heng pushed his way through the crowd. The night was turning out far differently than he had anticipated, and it was all because he couldn’t help but feel bad about Blade.

He had hoped for a moment alone with him, a chance to be close to him for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate; and he could hardly stand how close he was to Jing Yuan, the complicity that seemed to exist between them as if they had known each other for years, far more years than he had known him. Because to Dan Heng, it had always been about Blade, and it always would be.

Was he being selfish? Was he afraid that Jing Yuan might take Blade away from him? What was it?

Dan Heng didn’t realize he was being followed until he felt a hand grip his shoulder.

“Hey!” Caelus said, clearly exasperated. “What’s going on? You practically ran off!”

Dan Heng turned to face him, shaking off Caelus’ hand. They had moved to the edge of the crowded street, just out of sight of the ring.

“I’m just tired.”

Caelus stared at him in disbelief. “You think I’m stupid? It’s clear something’s wrong with you.”

Dan Heng didn’t respond, instead turning his gaze to an elderly couple on a nearby bench, their hands intertwined as they waited for the fireworks to start.

“It’s about Blade, isn’t it?”

At the mention of his name, Dan Heng’s attention snapped back to him, a knot of discomfort forming in his chest.

He didn’t even get a chance to say anything when Caelus sighed in frustration. “I didn’t realize it was this serious.”

Dan Heng frowned, irritated by the lack of clarity. He really wasn’t in the mood for riddles, and would actually appreciate having a moment alone. “What are you talking about?”

Caelus looked at him as if he was dealing with the most clueless person in the world.

“I mean, I figured you had a bit of a crush on Blade and just didn’t recognize it, but I didn’t expect you to actually be in love with him.”

And just like that, Dan Heng’s entire world seemed to crumble at the mention of that word.

He froze, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, drowning out everything else. The headache from before started creeping back. The voices around him seemed to dim, fading into an indistinct murmur. Love… That couldn’t be true, could it? No, Dan Heng was certain he would know if what he felt for Blade was love. It couldn’t possibly be that kind of love.

But then, why did his heart race like this at the mere mention of Blade’s name? Why did he find himself thinking about him constantly, even during the most mundane moments—whether he was making tea or reading a book, Blade was always there in the back of his mind. 

Why did he always find excuses to be near Blade, to spend time with him, even though they already lived together? Why did he find comfort in Blade’s presence in a way that felt so different from anyone else’s? 

These feelings didn’t make sense to him, and yet...what if they did?

And in that moment, the world around him felt both terrifyingly fragile and impossibly real.

Caelus sighed, the sound heavy with resignation, and it snapped Dan Heng back to reality. “You know, I used to like you when we first met, but I guess I never really had a chance in the first place. I’m just glad we could still be friends.”

Dan Heng barely registered the words, his mind still reeling. 

“I don’t…” he mumbled, his voice trailing off as he tried to process everything. “I’m not in love with him.”

The words came out weak and unconvincing, even to his own ears.

Caelus stared at him, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Wait… so you’ve never thought about it like that before?” he asked, incredulous, pointing at himself for emphasis. “Am I really the first one to tell you?”

Dan Heng nodded slowly. He had never let himself consider that his feelings for Blade could be anything more than friendship.

Caelus ran a hand through his hair, a weary look crossing his face. “I’m sorry, man. I thought you... well, I thought you knew.”

Clearly, he didn’t.

Suddenly, the murmur of the crowd around them grew louder, and both of them looked up, realizing that it was almost midnight. The fireworks show was about to begin. Caelus gently grabbed Dan Heng’s wrist, making sure not to lose him in the crowd.

“We need to get back to the group,” Caelus said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. He smiled softly, trying to offer some comfort. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

As they made their way back to the group, Dan Heng was all but dragged along by the crowd, simply following Caelus’ lead. He was grateful it was him guiding him, as his own thoughts were too tangled to walk on his own.

And right there, in the distance, Dan Heng spotted Blade’s back, and his heart skipped a beat.

How was he supposed to face him now?

“Oh, there they are!” March called out, waving energetically. “The fireworks are about to start. You’d better hurry!”

The crowd had gathered in the middle of the street, heads tilted at the sky in anticipation of the first firework to light up the night with its dazzling colors. 

But Blade wasn’t looking up—he was looking right at him.

“Hey,” Blade greeted, his tone unreadable. “You’ve been gone for a while.”

For just a second, he seemed momentarily distracted by the touch of Caelus’ hand on his wrist.

“I just went for a walk,” Dan Heng said, hoping it would be enough.

Blade’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he gestured toward the crowd and said, “Come with me.”

Dan Heng looked at Blade, surprised, and then at the still-empty sky. “Just us?” he asked, and then, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he replied, offering a small smile.

Dan Heng hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding, curiosity piqued. 

He followed Blade, stepping away from the bustling crowd and towards a quieter part of the festival. He had no idea where he was taking him, but it wasn’t like he really needed to know. However, after a moment of wandering around, they reached the back of an old, seemingly abandoned building. The structure was covered in moss and ivy, giving it a forgotten, almost mystical appearance. Dan Heng stood off to the side, watching as Blade walked up to the rusty door and began to pry it open. The whole scene felt a bit… illegal, but he chose not to comment.

After several attempts, it groaned open, revealing a dimly lit hallway shrouded in shadows.

“It actually opened,” Blade murmured in disbelief, peering into the darkness. “I didn’t think this place would still be here.”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of him. “How do you know about this place?”

Blade turned to him with a hint of a smile. “I used to come here a long time ago.”

Always so mysterious.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised now, considering you once broke into the community pool,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell coming from inside.

Blade chuckled softly. “Well, nothing came of that, did it?”

“Yeah, and be grateful for that.”

Blade rolled his eyes and gestured toward the open door. “After you.”

Dan Heng hesitated for a moment, inspecting the cracked walls and the dim, uninviting interior.

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the fireworks from somewhere... less alarming?”

Blade pointed to a door leading further into the building. “The real charm is up there.”

Dan Heng sighed as he stepped inside.

Maybe he did love him. After all, who else would go through such lengths for another person if not someone in love?

As Dan Heng ascended the stairs, each step groaned under his weight, the sound of Blade’s quiet footsteps following closely behind. He pondered what this place had been like years ago and what kinds of people had once called it home. Now, it seemed to be in disrepair, with decay evident in every corner. At the top, the door was easier to open, swinging open with just a gentle turn of the handle. Dan Heng led the way out, and Blade followed closely behind.

Standing beneath red lanterns, Dan Heng could see all of Xianzhou stretched out beneath him, so glorious in its nighttime scenery. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint sounds of the festival below.

“Does this place seem... familiar to you?” Blade asked, his voice cautious as he stood behind him.

Dan Heng glanced around, taking in the view of the sprawling city below. The sight was beautiful, but it didn’t evoke any personal memories for him. He shook his head. “Not really.”

He let out a thoughtful hum.

Dan Heng then asked, “Did you bring me here for some reason?”

Blade moved silently, taking a seat on the edge of the roof. Dan Heng watched the way the light danced across his face, finding it exceptionally mesmerizing.

“I just thought you’d like it.”

Dan Heng moved over to sit beside Blade, his heart pounding in his chest as if it was desperate to be heard.

“You seem a little sad,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure why he brought it up. He’d noticed a trace of sadness in Blade’s eyes throughout the whole evening.

Blade gave him a light, playful nudge with the back of his hand. “I can’t be sad when I’m with you.”

Dan Heng let out a small, awkward laugh, feeling his cheeks warm at the sentiment. “Don’t get all romantic on me,” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment.

They sat in comfortable silence, letting the night speak for itself. Dan Heng took in the scene—the sounds, the gentle warmth of the lanterns, and the comforting presence of Blade beside him. For the first time that evening, he felt a sense of peace.

“What’s something you’ve never told anyone?” Blade asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Dan Heng considered the question. It was almost ironic, given how many secrets he seemed to be holding from him.

He swung his legs over the edge of the rooftop, gazing out at the city below. “There’s nothing I haven’t told you,” he replied, though a small part of him knew that wasn’t entirely true.

There was something.

Blade nudged him playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Come on, you can’t have told me everything.”

Dan Heng thought for a moment, trying to push aside the pounding of his heart and the twisting in his gut, so familiar now. After a moment’s reflection, he came up with an answer.

“Actually, there is one thing,” he finally said. “I… don’t really like sweet treats. There.”

Blade’s eyes widened in surprise, and Dan Heng couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“How can you not? You work in the cafeteria.”

“That’s exactly why.”

He turned to Blade, hoping the look in his eyes would encourage him to be honest; hoping that he’d finally admit to the secret that he seemed to be holding onto so tightly.

“What about you?”

Blade opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the first firework burst in the sky, painting the night with vivid colors.

A cascade of vibrant colors exploded across the night sky, painting it in vivid shades of pink, yellow, and red. Each firework was followed by a shower of sparkling lights. But even with the beautiful sight in front of him, his gaze never left Blade’s face, trying to read his words. The booming fireworks created a deafening roar, causing his ears to ring, and a throbbing pressure began to build behind his temples.

Blade spoke to him, but the sound of his voice was drowned out by the noise. Dan Heng watched his lips move, struggling to make out the words, feeling disoriented and overwhelmed by the explosion of colors and sound around him.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Dan Heng could only shake his head slowly, too stunned to respond.

“I said…”

Blade leaned in closer, just as another firework burst in the sky, leaving a pink trail that looked like shooting stars.

“...That I’ve loved you for a long time.”

For a moment, everything seemed to stop—the world around him, the fireworks, even his own breath. Dan Heng stood there, stunned, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, almost louder than the explosions. 

Did he hear that right? Had Blade just said…?

“I was waiting for the right moment to tell you,” Blade continued, and it finally dawned on Dan Heng that this was real; that he hadn’t misheard. Blade’s voice sounded strained, like he was struggling to get the words out. “I wasn’t sure when would be the right time, but I just… needed to get it off my chest.”

He didn’t know what to say, but one question pushed its way out before he could stop it. “For how long?”

Blade looked at him, puzzled. “How long what?”

Dan Heng swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “How long have you… felt this way?”

Blade seemed momentarily taken aback by the question, and even Dan Heng didn’t fully understand why it mattered so much to him, but he felt a desperate need to know.

Then, he muttered, almost out of breath, “For as long as I’ve known you.”

Dan Heng blinked, his gaze fixed on Blade’s face as a new firework erupted behind him. For a moment, everything else faded into the background.

It was then that everything clicked into place.

The mysterious pull he felt—an invisible force guiding him, like a magnetic draw—wasn’t leading him to this event or this night. 

It was drawing him towards Blade.

All those moments of confusion, the inexplicable tightness in his chest, the way his heart beat desperately at the slightest touch—Dan Heng couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to realize.

It had been guiding him towards Blade all along.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Blade’s voice reached him through the noise. Dan Heng felt a tingle spread through his fingertips, an electric sensation that made his heart pound faster. “I’ll understand if you don’t—”

“Stop talking.”

Blade’s head turned towards him, surprise flashing across his face at the abrupt command. Without another word, Dan Heng closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Blade’s with a desperate urgency.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss or an urgent one, but a gentle, exploratory touch—a soft meeting of lips, like savoring a forbidden fruit for the very first time. His hands trembled slightly as they gripped the hem of Blade’s shirt, and he really hoped he wouldn’t notice—all of his fear, insecurity, and hope coursing through him. Feeling scared, terrified, even, that he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t dare to go any further, even if his fingers tingled at the thought.

Just as he was about to pull away, Blade’s hand gently moved up to cradle his neck. The warmth of his touch was both soothing and electrifying, intensifying as Blade’s lips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm against his; soft and comforting. Dan Heng felt himself melting into the kiss almost immediately, craving the closeness, the connection, feeling an urgent need to be as close as possible. Even as he pressed closer, it still felt like it wasn’t enough. 

Had he been feeling this desperate all along, or had this overwhelming sensation just now awakened?

Suddenly, a sharp pang gripped Dan Heng, beginning at the base of his neck. It spread gradually, a tight, constricting sensation that climbed up the length of his head. It was a subtle but insistent ache that grew more intense with each passing second, pressing painfully behind his eyes and making them feel like they were being squeezed from within. Dan Heng frowned into the kiss, the growing discomfort interrupting the soft, euphoric haze he had been in. He slowly pulled away from Blade, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to regain his composure.

In that fleeting moment, just as the last firework burst in the sky, Dan Heng glimpsed something—someone.

The image of a man with long, white hair staring back at him.

Dan Heng blinked slowly, and just as quickly as the vision had appeared, it vanished.

What… was that?

“Do you…” Blade started to ask, drawing Dan Heng’s attention back to him. “Do you feel the same way?”

He studied his face, as if he suddenly didn’t recognize him. His lips still tingled from the kiss, and his fingers remained gripping the hem of Blade’s shirt, reluctant to let go. That white-haired man... it couldn’t be him, could it?

That’d be impossible. Because, even if he had the same face, the same body, it wasn’t... him.

As the last of his headache faded, a soft, genuine smile slowly formed on Dan Heng’s lips as he met Blade’s gaze.

“I think I do,” he said.

Deliberately ignoring, once again, the strange pull pressing at the back of his head.

Chapter Text

Present-Day

Dan Heng spent the entire ride back fidgeting with his fingers.

It was late when they finally decided to head home. Dan Heng’s mind was spinning, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the exhaustion of the night or from what had happened with Blade just a few hours ago. He felt tense, his fingers gripping the edges of his clothes tightly, wishing he had something else to hold on to. A hot cup of tea would’ve been comforting, something to warm his hands and soothe his nerves, but unfortunately, they still had a long drive to their apartment.

As Jing Yuan turned up the volume on an old jazz tune playing on the radio, Dan Heng let out a soft sigh.

He didn’t quite understand what was wrong with him.

His feelings had been returned, even if he’d only just realized he had them; that should’ve been enough to make him excited. But instead, he felt… anxious.

Dan Heng was happy—he truly was. But he was also scared. Scared that everything was about to change, even though, deep down, he knew that it already had. It was inevitable.

He just... he still didn’t know how to feel about it.

But no matter how hard he tried to stop it, his mind kept wandering relentlessly, almost consuming him.

What if this didn’t work out?

Would he end up losing Blade as a friend because of this?

Dan Heng’s fingers tightened involuntarily, his nails pressing into the flesh of his thighs as he sank deeper into his seat.

He needed to stop thinking.

“We’re here,” Jing Yuan announced from the front seat, turning slightly to offer them a warm smile. The soft hum of the engine gradually faded as the car came to a stop. Everyone else was asleep in their seats, heads resting against the windows. “Have a good night.”

Dan Heng felt his heart skip a beat. He unbuckled his seatbelt and practically leaped out of the car, striding through the dark night toward their apartment, barely waiting for Blade to catch up.

He could hear Blade’s hurried footsteps behind him, but he didn’t look back. Dan Heng pushed open the door and stepped inside, the comforting, quiet hum of the apartment greeting him.

Get yourself together.

The words echoed in his mind, so familiar, feeling almost like they were spoken by someone else rather than himself.

“Hey,” Blade’s voice came from behind, a little uneven. Dan Heng heard the soft click of the door closing behind them, leaving them alone in the room. “What’s gotten into you?”

Dan Heng didn’t turn around. He stood in the middle of the room, focusing on his breathing, each inhalation a deliberate effort to calm the storm inside him. The room felt both comforting and claustrophobic in its familiarity; his heart was racing, but with each breath, he could feel it beginning to slow, finding a more manageable rhythm.

Then Blade’s voice broke the silence again, the words almost echoing in the stillness of the room. 

“You regret it, don’t you?”

His words were soft, almost like a whisper.

Finally, Dan Heng turned slowly, his heart twisting as he saw the expression of raw disappointment etched across Blade’s face.

But he did consider the question. He hadn’t fully grasped until now what all this meant for their relationship—the magnitude of how things would change between them in a way that couldn’t be undone. This could either tear them apart or bring them closer than ever before. For a moment, the room felt like it was closing in on him.

After a long, agonizing pause, he came to a conclusion.

“No,” he replied, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “I don’t. Just... I still can’t believe that you…”

Dan Heng let his voice trail off, the words getting stuck in his throat. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it out loud.

Blade’s confession echoed in his mind. Had he really loved him all this time?

He thought back over the years, especially this last month. He should have realized that his friendship with Blade had never been ordinary, but he never imagined it would stray this far from what he thought it was. He recalled the night they danced together in this very room, the way he looked at him; the time they swam together in the community pool, hidden from everyone’s view; the intense look in Blade’s eyes at the festival when they fought against each other. It all came rushing back, as if someone had hit play on the tape of his life, replaying every moment in vivid detail. And he couldn’t help but wonder—how had he not noticed it before?

Had he really been so blind to Blade’s feelings?

To his own feelings?

Blade shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms in a protective manner. “Well, how do you think I feel?”

Dan Heng walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, folding his hands in his lap. “When did you realize?” he asked, his voice steady but curious.

Blade mirrored his actions, crossing the room to sit on the bed across from him. “I didn’t realize,” he admitted quietly, “I always knew.”

Dan Heng frowned. “So you’ve been hiding it all this time?”

As the words left his mouth, Dan Heng recalled Blade’s earlier confession at the party. That secret of his—could it be…?

He didn’t dare to ask.

Blade nodded, leaning back until his shoulders rested against the wall. “That’s right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Blade raised an eyebrow. “Are you really asking? Who knows how you would’ve reacted? I couldn’t take that risk.”

Dan Heng considered his words in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “There are things you’ll never know unless you take a risk.”

Blade thought it over for a moment before nodding slowly. “I suppose you’re right.”

But that applied to him, too. Dan Heng had always avoided taking risks, choosing security over spontaneity, control over uncertainty. He was diligent in his work, never missing a day, even when he felt sick—which, oddly enough, had been happening more frequently. He dreamed of doing things but never followed through. Even now, he found himself stuck with a job he disliked when all he wanted was to go out and have some fun. He had treated his feelings the same way, ignoring them simply because he didn’t want to acknowledge that something had changed, that their relationship couldn’t stay the same forever.

But maybe, just maybe, he was getting tired of that, too.

“What about you?” Blade asked, breaking the silence, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he looked at Dan Heng from across the room. “When did you realize?”

Dan Heng kept his expression as neutral as ever as he replied, “Yesterday.”

Blade snorted in disbelief. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Blade said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re worse at this than I am.”

Dan Heng somewhat agreed. Blade was probably right.

That was yet another thing that troubled him. Dan Heng had never been in a relationship before, much less with someone he considered a close friend, and he just… he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t particularly romantic or affectionate. Yet, he knew that to make a relationship work, he would have to make an effort, and Dan Heng wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet.

He absently fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking away briefly before muttering, “So... what are we?”

He was actually nervous to hear the answer.

But Blade, ever casual, simply shrugged. “We’re friends.”

“I know that,” Dan Heng sighed, sounding somewhat frustrated. “But you know what I mean.”

Blade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with an earnest look in his eyes.

“Do you want to be a couple?” he asked, his voice calm and curious.

The word “couple” struck Dan Heng like a bolt of lightning, setting off an internal alarm. His fingers clenched the bedsheet tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“I… I’m not sure,” he admitted.

He figured that unless he was honest with himself, nothing would come of this conversation.

Blade nodded in understanding and leaned back, his posture casual and relaxed. It almost seemed like he didn’t care. “Well then, let’s stay friends. We’ve been friends up until now, haven’t we?”

Dan Heng blinked. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the exhausting night he’d had, or perhaps it was a side effect of all the emotions he’d felt in one day, but the entire situation made almost no sense to him.

“I’m... confused,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you want to...?”

Blade had just confessed that he had loved him for years. Yet, he remained as calm as if it were any other day, even proposing that they continue as friends as if nothing had changed. And even though Dan Heng should’ve felt relieved at the prospect of their relationship continuing as it was, he found himself feeling unexpectedly… dissatisfied.

Blade, as if finally grasping Dan Heng’s confusion, looked at him with a gentle expression. “This isn’t just about what I want,” he said slowly, taking his time to articulate his thoughts. “You have to want it, too. You’ve told me you have feelings for me, and I’m satisfied with that.”

Dan Heng supposed that made sense.

“So… we just continue as usual?” he asked tentatively, but the thought left him with a hollow feeling.

“That’s fine by me,” Blade replied calmly.

Dan Heng accepted the answer in silence. Maybe all he needed was a good night’s sleep to clear his mind and make sense of his emotions.

“It’s getting late,” Blade said, rising from the bed. “You have work tomorrow, don’t you?”

Dan Heng considered this for a moment, a wave of dread washing over him almost immediately. “Yeah, I do.”

Blade offered a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s get you some rest then.”

Blade turned off the lights and carefully walked back to his bed, murmuring a quiet “Goodnight” before going to sleep. But despite the exhaustion weighing down his body, seeping into his bones and making his eyelids heavy, Dan Heng couldn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, he found himself staring at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the familiar shapes of the small, bright green stars, wondering why he felt this way.

Why the thought of Blade sleeping just a few feet away made him want to reach out, to pull him close, to feel the warmth of his body next to his own—even though he wasn’t sure if a relationship was what he truly wanted.

He sighed deeply.

Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

(...)

Blade had never felt happier in his entire life.

He didn’t even care that Dan Heng was still unsure, because Blade finally had what he had dreamed of for so long. Yingxing could never have imagined that something like this could happen to him, not after spending countless years waiting for Dan Feng’s love, a love that had almost become a part of him, rooted deep within his soul. But now, that curse was broken—the curse that had bound him to a life of longing and regret.

Even if it took more years for Dan Heng to be ready, Blade didn’t mind. He was content. After loving in silence for decades, what were a few more years?

This time, he was going to do things right.

This time, Blade was determined not to repeat the same mistakes Yingxing had made. Because he wasn’t Yingxing anymore. Maybe he carried all of Yingxing’s memories, and perhaps he even resembled him in certain ways, but he was no longer the same person. He was someone new, and for the first time, he was grateful.

He was grateful for the memories he had, so he could finally do it justice.

It didn’t matter if Dan Heng wasn’t aware yet. Blade was perfectly fine with that because, for once, they had all the time in the world. Their lives were no longer defined by war, tragedy, or the relentless violence that once surrounded them. These were simpler times, and for the first time, being reincarnated didn’t feel like a curse or a punishment. It felt like a blessing, the fact that they were together again, with a chance to start over.

And he hoped that somewhere deep within Dan Heng, if there was even a small part of Dan Feng still there, he could feel it too.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

The following years almost flew by.

Yingxing gathered a thick section of his white hair, pulling it up into a half bun and securing it with a golden hairpin shaped like a flower. He did it more out of habit than necessity, just to keep it out of his way during the day. But as he glanced at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but think back to his younger days, when he was in his prime—strong, firm, bold—and wondered how it had all led to this moment. Even now, he hadn’t quite grown accustomed to the sight of white strands; sometimes he missed the vibrant color his hair once had. But Dan Feng had assured him time and again that he looked good like this, and so, he chose to believe him.

He left his home and walked through the dimly lit streets of Xianzhou, making his way to Dan Feng’s home. After all these years, it felt like his own. It always filled him with warmth the moment he stepped inside, as if he could sense Dan Feng’s presence in every corner, even when he wasn’t there. Haunting the space.

But this time, it was different. The usual stillness was broken by the sound of footsteps—Dan Feng’s, unmistakably—pacing back and forth, echoing through the hallway. 

What could be keeping Dan Feng so occupied, so restless, that he hadn’t even noticed him come in?

He walked down the hallway, until he caught a glimpse of Dan Feng’s figure pacing back and forth in a room. The usually immaculate space was now in disarray, with papers scattered across the desk and encyclopedias left open, their pages marked with notes. Dan Feng’s hair was tied up in a messy bun, stray strands framing his face, the tension in his muscles clear as he reviewed a set of documents with a furrowed brow. Yingxing raised an eyebrow and leaned against the door frame, silently observing him.

Even like that, Dan Feng still managed to look effortlessly elegant.

“Dan Feng,” he called out softly.

He jumped, clearly startled, and quickly turned around to see who it was. A smile automatically appeared on Yingxing’s lips as he watched Dan Feng’s shoulders relax in relief.

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighed, the tension easing from his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t greet you properly. As you can see, I’m a bit occupied.”

“No doubt,” Yingxing replied with a small smile.

Dan Feng leaned back against the desk, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. It wasn’t even particularly warm yet—spring had only just begun, the delicate pink of the blossoming flowers adorning the treetops outside.

“What brings you here this afternoon?” Dan Feng asked, tilting his head in curiosity. A few loose strands of hair escaped from his bun, falling softly over his shoulders. “If I recall correctly, it’s your day off.”

Yingxing crossed his arms, a faint smile playing on his lips at the dismissal. “I know,” he said lightly, “but can’t a friend stop by just to see how you’re doing?”

Of course, the real reason was that he missed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say something that sentimental. Too embarrassing.

“I suppose you can,” Dan Feng replied with a teasing tone, “but I should warn you—I’m too occupied with this to pay you any attention. You’ll be hopelessly bored in my company.”

Yingxing chuckled lightly at that. Whether Dan Feng was focused on him or not, he always found enjoyment just being near him.

“That won’t be a problem,” he said, moving to settle into a nearby chair, making himself comfortable. “I’ll just sit here and watch.”

Dan Feng raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild disbelief. “Watch me work?” he repeated.

But even if it seemed a bit trivial, Yingxing cherished every memory he could have of Dan Feng. Not just the moments they shared together, but also those quiet times when he could only watch him in silence, absorbed in whatever task held his attention. He simply enjoyed looking at his face; whether it was the way Dan Feng’s brows furrowed when he was deep in concentration, or the subtle tension in his shoulders as he flipped through pages of documents. Yingxing had thoroughly memorized every detail, from the curve of his brow to the shape of his lips, he believed he could recreate it just from memory, every detail etched into his mind with the permanence of ink.

He gave himself credit for having such a good memory.

Yingxing leaned back in the chair, a relaxed smile on his face. “I find it quite entertaining. Besides, it’s not often I get to see you so absorbed in your work.”

Dan Feng shook his head, but a small, amused smile tugged at his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

Dan Feng’s gaze fell back to the scattered papers on his desk, and almost instantly, the frown returned to his face.

Yingxing’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in the space illuminated only by the soft, golden light from the setting sun. Without that light, the room would’ve been nearly pitch black. It seemed like it had been like that for quite some time.

“How long have you been at this, by the way?” he asked, his voice gently breaking through Dan Feng’s concentration.

Dan Feng paused, considering the question. “I believe it’s been about… twelve hours.”

A brief silence followed as Yingxing processed the information.

“That’s not good,” he replied, his voice laced with a mix of worry and reproach. “Have you eaten anything at all?”

Dan Feng waved off the concern with a half-hearted smile.

“I didn’t miss any essential meals, so there’s no need to worry.”

But Yingxing knew him far too well by now. He could see the exhaustion written all over Dan Feng—the way his shoulders drooped, how his fingers moved slower as he went through the papers, the tension on his muscles. There was a weariness in his eyes that he had only seen after intense training sessions.

It was clear that Dan Feng was pushing himself past his limits.

Yingxing couldn’t stand to watch him suffer like this any longer. He’d always admired Dan Feng’s dedication, his unwavering commitment to whatever task was in front of him, but this was too much, even for him. He needed a break.

So, he made a decision.

“I’ll cook something for you.”

Dan Feng looked up, clearly surprised by the offer. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” he mused, as if this was some newfound, extraordinary revelation.

Yingxing couldn’t help but laugh softly at his reaction. “Nothing special,” he admitted, a smile playing on his lips. “Just the basics, but it’s better than nothing.”

Dan Feng seemed to consider this for a moment. Yingxing observed as the tension momentarily lifted from his face, only to return just as quickly.

“You don’t have to,” he began.

Of course he’d say something like that.

Dan Feng wasn’t one to easily accept help, even when it was offered freely. He’d always been self-sufficient, reluctant to burden others with his own needs. Yingxing had expected this resistance, but he was prepared.

He shook his head, cutting him off gently.

“I want to,” Yingxing said firmly, his voice leaving no room for debate. “You’ve been at this for too long. Let me take care of you, just this once.”

Dan Feng hesitated, glancing back at the scattered documents as if they might vanish the moment he turned away. His grip on his work seemed almost desperate, like he was reluctant to let go.

Then, with a quiet, reluctant sigh, he finally gave away. “Fine,” Dan Feng muttered, still trying to hold onto a semblance of control, “but don’t expect me to eat if it’s terrible.”

He caught a glimpse of a playful spark in his eyes, peeking through the layers of fatigue. There he was.

Yingxing nearly sighed in relief. He had won this small battle, and that was enough.

A big, genuine smile spread across his lips as he headed towards the kitchen. “Challenge accepted,” he called over his shoulder, leaving Dan Feng with no choice but to follow.

He heard the faint shuffle of papers, followed by the sound of soft footsteps behind him.

In all these years, he had only been in Dan Feng’s kitchen once, and that had been entirely by accident; he’d gotten lost trying to find another room and just stumbled into it. He never really had a reason to explore it further until now. Yingxing realized he would need to acquaint himself with the space before he could begin.

Though the kitchen wasn’t particularly large, it was impeccably clean. There was a faint scent of charcoal lingering in the air, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Yingxing studied the wooden drawers, noting how smooth they were, without so much as a scratch. Flawless. In one of them, he discovered a white apron neatly folded away. A small smile tugged at his lips as he pulled it out and tied it around his waist.

Behind him, he heard a soft sneer. “Are you really going to wear that?”

Yingxing turned his head slightly, catching Dan Feng’s amused expression out of the corner of his eye. He responded with a half-smile. “Of course. I’d rather not get my clothes dirty. Why, does it bother you?”

Dan Feng’s lips curled into a wry grin. “It just looks a bit... silly.”

Yingxing chuckled softly, brushing off the comment as he returned to his task. He began to search through the fridge, discovering a modest selection of fresh vegetables. Placing them on the table beside him, he couldn’t help but notice how sparse the contents of the fridge were. There was barely anything to cook with.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. The man was always too busy to worry about something as mundane as grocery shopping. 

Eventually, Yingxing opted to prepare a basic noodle soup. It seemed like the most fitting choice given the limited ingredients and Dan Feng’s current state.

But before he started chopping the vegetables, he needed to get ready. He reached up to undo his half-bun, letting his hair fall loose around his shoulders. Yingxing held the flower-shaped hairpin between his teeth as he pulled all of his hair into a more practical style, pinning it securely into a ponytail. It would make cooking much easier without stray strands getting in the way.

As he finished, he realized that Dan Feng was staring at him again. This time, Yingxing turned around fully, giving him a look of playful disbelief. 

“Why are you staring now?” he asked, his tone light, almost teasing. “Do I look silly with my hair up, too?”

He braced himself for a witty comeback or some teasing remark, but instead, Dan Feng’s expression shifted. 

He quickly looked away, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of color. “No reason,” he muttered, almost shy.

Yingxing raised an eyebrow, curious, but decided to let it slide. Instead, he turned his attention back to the vegetables.

Whatever was on Dan Feng’s mind, he’d let it be—for now.

He chopped the vegetables as the broth boiled, chatting occasionally with Dan Feng in between. Birds chirped outside the window, its sound light and lively, and for the first time in so long, Yingxing felt a sense of peace.

He could see a glimpse of a life that didn’t exist: a life where this was their day-to-day. Just the two of them, living together, spending their days doing nothing and everything. Yingxing could cook simple meals for Dan Feng, and he could tidy up afterward. They’d go to bed every night and wake up the next morning to each other’s faces. A life where they wouldn’t fear anything or anyone, and all that mattered was that they had each other—because they were there, and what else would they need?

Such a quiet, peaceful life.

Wouldn’t that be perfect?

The noodles and vegetables cooked quickly, and within minutes, the meal was ready. Yingxing had only made one portion, as he didn’t plan on eating. 

He placed the steaming bowl in front of Dan Feng, untying his apron and setting it aside. But instead of starting to eat, Dan Feng sat still, chopsticks in hand, just staring at the soup as if it was poisonous.

Yingxing frowned slightly, leaning against the counter as he watched him. “Is something wrong? I thought you were hungry.”

Dan Feng’s eyes remained on the bowl, but he didn’t move. “I am,” he murmured softly, but there was a light hesitation in his voice.

“Then what’s the problem? If you don’t like it, I can make something else—”

“No, it’s not that.” Dan Feng finally looked up, his gaze meeting Yingxing’s. There was something in his eyes, something almost vulnerable. “It’s just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

Yingxing blinked, caught off guard. “Wasn’t expecting what?”

“Just...” Dan Feng gestured to the bowl, as if struggling to find the right words. There was a slight frustration in his voice; but beneath it was something softer, something tender. Caring. “You, doing this… for me. It doesn’t feel like I deserve it.”

How could he think that?

Yingxing studied him for a moment, then crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think you don’t deserve a meal?”

“Not exactly that,” Dan Feng corrected, his gaze following the steam rising from the bowl. “It’s just that… no one’s ever…”

But the words died on the way out of his mouth, and Dan Feng lapsed into silence. 

Then, almost abruptly, he cleared his throat, his posture straightening as if he were trying to shake off the vulnerability he’d just shown. When he finally looked up, his expression was more guarded, though there was still a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. 

“I suppose… I don’t know how to thank you properly.”

For a moment, Yingxing just watched him, taking in the rare display of emotion. He had known Dan Feng for years, had seen him in countless situations: commanding, strategizing, and even, on rare occasions, allowing himself to relax. But this was different.

Dan Feng, who was typically so composed, so difficult to read, was now sitting there, flustered over a simple meal. It was unexpectedly endearing, in a way that made Yingxing’s heart race. The light blush on his cheeks, the way his gaze seemed to dart around the room as if he couldn’t quite meet his eyes… it was all so unlike him. A warm feeling spread through his chest, tingling with a deep, almost overwhelming urge to be close to him, to reassure him that he deserved this and so much more.

He wanted to kiss him.

The urge hit him like a wave, sudden and powerful. The desire to close the distance between them, to press his lips against Dan Feng’s and show him all the love he couldn’t give voice to, almost overwhelmed him.

But instead of giving in to that urge, Yingxing gripped the edge of the countertop, grounding himself in the cool, solid feel of the wood beneath his fingers; something that would keep him from crossing a line.

“You can just thank me by eating,” he suggested softly.

Dan Feng’s eyes met his for a brief moment before flickering back to the bowl in front of him. But then, with a deep exhale, he finally took a bite. Yingxing watched as the tension in Dan Feng’s shoulders slowly eased, replaced by a look of genuine content. 

Yingxing kept watching as a quiet satisfaction filled him.

It felt good, doing this for him. He realized, even in this small way, he had made a difference.

“I’d like to do this more often.”

The words slipped out almost unconsciously. Dan Feng’s gaze was immediately fixed on him, his expression unreadable.

He hesitated, then asked, “You really want to?”

“Yes,” Yingxing answered quickly, his voice earnest and almost pleading. “If you’d let me.”

Please, let me.

Dan Feng’s eyes drifted back to his half-empty bowl, lost in thought. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity, until he finally opened his mouth, his eyes meeting Yingxing’s with a tentative look.

“Maybe we could do this... once a week,” he suggested, a bit hesitant, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes. “Would that work for you?”

The smile that spread across Yingxing’s face was one of pure, unfiltered joy.

“Perfectly.”

(...)

Present-Day

Dan Heng got up the next morning for work after a night of almost no sleep.

He changed his clothes at an agonizingly slow pace, as if each piece of clothing required tremendous effort. Dan Heng briefly wondered whether he should see a doctor—he had only been to the doctor maybe twice in his entire life, if that, given how rarely he fell ill. But lately, something had changed. 

For reasons he didn’t quite understand, his body seemed to be betraying him. What started as sporadic headaches had evolved into intense, piercing pain. Fatigue clung to him like a chain, draining all his energy at the worst times. Strange, vivid dreams haunted his sleep every night. But perhaps the most unsettling symptom was the hallucinations—at least, that’s what he assumed they were.

Dan Heng still hadn’t shaken the image of the white-haired man he had seen the other night. The image kept replaying in his mind, a figure so distinct yet so fleeting that he couldn’t be sure if it was real. The encounter had been so brief, so sudden, that part of him wondered if he had imagined it entirely. Who knows, maybe the man was some kind of ghost, trapped on the roof of that abandoned building. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, making him uneasy. 

The last thing Dan Heng needed was to start seeing ghosts.

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he finished dressing. Then, he carefully grabbed his backpack and slipped on his shoes, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead.

“Good luck at work.”

Dan Heng turned abruptly, startled by the voice. His eyes widened as they landed on Blade, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. The room was still dark, save for the soft glow from the hallway light, making it difficult to read Blade’s expression.

“Sorry,” Dan Heng muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. It was six in the morning, and he didn’t have the energy to speak any louder. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Blade replied, his voice still a bit hoarse from sleep. “I was already awake.”

Dan Heng wondered briefly when he had woken up, until he realized something.

With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Did you watch me changing?”

Blade snorted in amusement. “Of course not. What do you take me for?” he responded, feigning offense. “I have some decorum.”

Dan Heng nodded in response.

Though, if he were being honest with himself, the idea of Blade watching didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. But that wasn’t something he was ready to admit—not out loud, anyway.

“I’ll probably be home late,” Dan Heng warned, a note of regret in his voice. He wished he could stay. “I’ve got a long shift with the holidays coming up, so don’t wait up for me.”

With the holidays approaching, Dan Heng knew his workload was about to increase significantly. This was always the busiest time of the year, and with only two employees at the coffee shop, well... It was going to be tough.

Blade laughed a bit. 

“You talk to me like I’m your wife.”

Dan Heng’s lips curved into a small smile at the remark. “Do you mind?”

He watched as Blade stretched, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. A lazy smile played on his lips as he replied, “Not really.”

For a moment, Dan Heng’s breath caught in his throat. After a brief pause, he managed to muster the strength to say, “See you later.”

He walked out of the apartment, and as soon as his feet hit the mat outside, a deep sigh escaped him.

He knew he would need to deal with his feelings later.

(...)

Dan Heng arrived at work precisely at 6:30 A.M. That meant he had exactly thirty minutes to open the shop, get everything in order, change into his uniform, and be ready for the first customer. It was the same routine he was used to, a rhythm he had long since perfected.

However, today was different. Luocha wasn’t there yet. While it wasn’t unusual for him to be a bit late, he typically arrived earlier on days like this, knowing how busy it would be; so Dan Heng was a bit taken aback when he didn’t see him.

He couldn’t afford to waste any time. Dan Heng hurried into the changing room and changed into his uniform as quickly as possible. He avoided looking too closely in the mirror, not wanting to dwell on how disheveled he probably looked. The less he looked at himself, the better. 

Once dressed, he stepped out and began tidying up the shop, preparing for the busy day ahead.

But before he could get far into his tasks, his phone vibrated in his pocket, drawing his attention immediately.

Luocha

Got sick. Sorry. I’ll leave it to you.

Dan Heng felt a pulse of frustration throbbing on his forehead, as if one of his veins might burst.

This was the last thing he needed, especially on a day when he wasn’t feeling his best. He pondered briefly about his options. Obviously, it was impossible for him  to handle everything on his own on a day like this, but there was no one else, and he had been hopelessly abandoned by Luocha. It felt as though the universe had decided to punish him, and what had he even done?

The ticking of the clock only served to aggravate the situation further. With only twenty minutes left before the first customer arrived, he still had so much left to do. His heartbeat quickened, but he forced himself to take a deep breath.

This was not the time to lose control.

Ultimately, Dan Heng decided to do the only thing he could think of—reach out to Blade. Maybe he could offer some advice or ideas to help manage the situation. He pulled out his phone and started typing a message.

Dan Heng

Luocha isn’t coming today.

The message was simple and to the point. Dan Heng wasn’t sure how much help Blade could provide, but it was worth a try. Blade’s reply came quickly:

Blade

Shit. That’s not good.

What’re you gonna do?

Dan Heng

To be honest, I’m not sure.

Dan Heng tightened his grip on the phone. Maybe it had been a mistake to hope for a solution from Blade. Just as he was about to message him to not worry about it, another notification popped up.

Blade

Want me to go help you?

He stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, until he remembered that he didn’t actually have that much time on his hands.

Dan Heng

You mean come to work with me?

Blade

Yeah. I can help if you want.

Besides, I promised you, didn’t I?

Dan Heng frowned, recalling the conversation they had a few weeks ago. They’d joked about Luocha’s laziness and, in the midst of their banter, Blade had made a promise to come to work with him just to prove himself.

It seemed they hadn’t been too far off with that offhand comment.

Dan Heng had never really expected Blade to actually come to work with him. But now, with the situation at hand...

Without a second thought, he typed out his response.

Dan Heng

Be here in 10.

Blade

On my way

He didn’t have time to lose.

While waiting for Blade to arrive, Dan Heng busied himself cleaning up the place. He did it even faster than other days. He couldn’t deny that he felt somewhat motivated knowing that Blade would be working with him that day. It might not have been the most professional move to bring in someone who wasn’t part of the staff, but in this situation, he didn’t care.

Exactly seven minutes later, a knock came on the door. Dan Heng glanced at the clock, impressed by how quickly Blade had shown up.

He went to open the door, and Blade walked in, looking surprisingly fresh for someone who had only woken up less than an hour ago. Dan Heng found it a bit unfair.

“So, what do I need to do?” Blade asked, taking in the sight of the scattered coffee cups and cleaning supplies before his eyes eventually landed on Dan Heng. He gave him a quick, appreciative once-over and added with a smile, “I’ve never seen you in your uniform before.”

The unexpected compliment made Dan Heng’s cheeks warm. He felt a slight flush rise to his face, but he quickly pushed it aside. “Focus,” he said, trying to keep his tone professional.

Blade’s smile widened, but he nodded in understanding.

First, he would need to put on a uniform. He took him to the back room, where they had a closet full of them—more than he could count, even though they only had two regular employees. At times like this, they came in handy.

“How come I’ve never been to your work before?” Blade asked, his voice trailing off as he watched Dan Heng sift through the pile of uniforms.

Dan Heng shrugged as he continued his search. “You never asked to come.”

After sorting through the stack of uniforms, he finally found one that he hoped would fit Blade. He handed it over, then turned away to give him some privacy.

“Change quickly,” he said, his tone more demanding than he meant it to be.

Blade snorted in amusement. “Yes, boss.”

Once he was done getting dressed, Dan Heng hurriedly guided him through the essentials of running the shop. With only five minutes left until opening, every second counted, and Dan Heng felt the weight of the ticking clock on his shoulders. Blade listened attentively, absorbing the information with surprising focus.

He glanced at the clock, then turned to Blade, who was now fully suited up.

“Ready?” Dan Heng asked, just to be sure.

He was nervous at first, but now, with Blade by his side, he felt kind of... excited.

Blade nodded, a determined look in his eyes. “Let’s do it.”

(...)

Five hundred years ago

There was a period in Dan Feng’s life that he liked to think of as the golden years. 

It was a time when everything seemed to fall perfectly into place, as if the universe had finally aligned in his favor, a rare gift—it was almost like living in a dream, one so idyllic and serene that it was hard to believe it was real. But just like a dream, it was fleeting, slipping away as quickly as water through his fingers. No matter how much he wished to hold onto it, he knew deep down that this peace was not meant to last.

The calm before the storm.

During those days, the sun seemed to always shine, bright and warm, reminding him why it was the most radiant object in the sky. Spring brought the cherry blossoms in full bloom, their delicate petals lined the sidewalks, creating a sort of soft, pink carpet, and scattering across the tiles of his roof. The air was always sweet with the scent of blooming flowers. Dan Feng would often sit by his window, a cup of tea in hand, watching the blossoms fall gently to the ground as he waited for Yingxing’s weekly visit. 

If only time could freeze in those moments, he wouldn’t hesitate to stay there forever.

Suddenly, he was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. 

Dan Feng had asked the servants to leave it to him today. Rising from his seat, he walked through the long corridors of his home, his heart racing with anticipation.

It never ceased to amaze Dan Feng how, after all these years, his feelings for Yingxing hadn’t faded in the slightest. If anything, they had only grown stronger, as vibrant as the first time his heart had ever skipped a beat for him: a love that never faded, like the kind described in stories and movies. How blessed one must be to experience such a love in life. It made Dan Feng feel even a little better about himself.

If he was capable of feeling something so pure and everlasting, perhaps there was hope for him yet.

Just then, another knock echoed through the room, this time more urgent, pulling Dan Feng out of his thoughts once again. He made his way to the door, and when he opened it, he found Yingxing standing on the porch, his fist still hovering in the air as if he was about to knock again.

“You came,” Dan Feng murmured, a hint of warmth lacing his tone. He was almost moved by the sight, even though Yingxing had never missed a single visit.

Yingxing’s lips curled into a familiar smile. “I always will.”

Dan Feng had always believed the sun to be the brightest object in the sky, and indeed it was. But if there was anything brighter on earth, it was surely Yingxing.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Dan Feng offered, stepping aside to make room for him to enter. But to his surprise, Yingxing shook his head.

“Actually,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I’ve got something planned for us today.”

Dan Feng blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected answer. 

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what might these plans be?”

But before Dan Feng could press further, Yingxing was already turning away.

“It’s a secret,” he called back. Then, with a smirk, he repeated the words that Dan Feng had once said to him, “It wouldn’t be as exciting if you knew, would it?”

Dan Feng chuckled, shaking his head. But despite all the mystery, he found himself following Yingxing without a second thought. If there was anyone in the world he would follow without question, it was him. Only him.

“You’re a bit late for repaying me for that, don’t you think?” he teased back.

Yingxing glanced over his shoulder, his expression slightly challenging. “It’s never too late to settle a debt,” he replied, his pace never slowing.

Dan Feng could only hope that this time wouldn’t end with one of them—almost—dead.

(...)

They walked for what felt like hours, the streets of Xianzhou taking on a different charm under the soft pink of the cherry blossoms. The air was thick with the scent of pollen, mixed with something sweeter, almost like honey; it was a smell that reminded him of the hottest summer nights, or a field full of colorful flowers and green grasslands. Dan Feng followed closely behind Yingxing as they moved through the city, their conversation ebbing and flowing between light chatter and comfortable silence, but not for once feeling tired of each other’s company.

They soon left the city behind, stepping into the open green fields just beyond its borders. There was a familiarity to the path beneath his feet, the soft grass and the gentle breeze brushing against his face, but he still couldn’t quite place where they were headed.

“As much as I enjoy the suspense, I have to ask,” Dan Feng finally said, glancing around at the surroundings, “are we anywhere near our destination?”

Yingxing glanced back at him with a teasing smile, red eyes twinkling. “We’re getting close,” he replied.

He couldn’t help but snort, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Yingxing’s smile widened, full of joy and warmth, and despite himself, Dan Feng felt a flutter in his chest. It was a smile so genuine, so infectious, that even if Yingxing were leading him to the ends of the earth, he knew he wouldn’t mind.

God, when did he get so cheesy?

Yingxing finally stopped, standing amidst the tall grasses that swayed gently around him. 

“You will be too, soon enough.”

The confidence in his voice was unwavering.

Dan Feng shifted slightly as he approached him, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of him, blocking the view ahead.

“For the next part, I’m going to need you to close your eyes.”

Dan Feng couldn’t help but feel a bit wary. Even though it was broad daylight, with hours left until nightfall, they were still in the middle of nowhere, and it certainly brought back many... unwanted memories; ones he’d rather forget. 

As if he had noticed his reluctance, Yingxing’s expression softened.

“Hey,” he said with a small, reassuring smile, “you trust me, don’t you?”

Dan Feng looked away for a moment. Of course, he trusted Yingxing.

It was himself he wasn’t so sure about.

“You already know the answer to that,” Dan Feng replied quietly.

“Then trust me when I say everything will be okay,” he assured him. And for a brief moment, Dan Feng allowed himself to believe it. Then, Yingxing extended his arm toward him in a comforting, inviting gesture. “Take my arm,” he offered. “I’ll guide you.”

Dan Feng knew he should be more cautious. It was his carelessness that had brought them so close to disaster once before; a brush with fate that left a permanent mark on him, a scar that he carried deep within. He was well aware that over the years, he had softened, become weaker—and yet, despite everything, despite the vows he had made to himself to never let his guard down again, he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again.  

But he was doing it for him.

With a deep breath, Dan Feng stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His hand reached out, finding the familiar solidity of Yingxing’s arm. As his fingers curled around it, he felt a momentary flicker of doubt, but it was quickly overshadowed by Yingxing’s quiet reassurance. 

Slowly, he closed his eyes, letting the world fade into darkness.

“I hope this is worth it,” Dan Feng muttered under his breath.

Yingxing guided him carefully, and Dan Feng did his best to keep up, stumbling slightly as they walked toward an uncertain destination.

“You’ll see,” Yingxing’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his breath.

But after a while, Dan Feng found himself rather enjoying the reliance. It was a rare sensation for him: one where he was not in control, not the one making decisions or setting the direction. He no longer had to stay on high alert, no longer had to anticipate every potential problem; instead, he placed his trust entirely in Yingxing’s hand, letting him guide the way, confident he wouldn’t let him fall. There was something unexpectedly liberating about it — the act of following, of letting go just for once.

Eventually, they came to a stop. The ground felt a little higher beneath his feet, and the wind blew stronger, messing with Dan Feng’s hair.

When Yingxing carefully pulled his arm away, he couldn’t help but miss the warmth that had just been there.

“You can open them now.”

Slowly, Dan Feng opened his eyes.

The sight that met Dan Feng’s eyes was one he was all too familiar with; a place that had once been a refuge, countless times in the past. The firefly sanctuary stood just as it always had, serene and untouched; the fireflies were nowhere to be seen, as it was still too early for their nightly dance. 

Amidst the grasslands, he noticed a blanket laid out on the grass, a small basket sitting atop it, porcelain plates arranged neatly around it. It was a scene that might have touched him under different circumstances, a thoughtful, even romantic gesture. But no matter how much Dan Feng wanted to appreciate it, the memories kept crashing in, unrelenting and suffocating, until he could hardly breathe. He could almost see the ghosts of those nights, where he and Yingxing had once sat in this very spot. But those memories were no longer pure; they were tainted by the knowledge of what had happened after.

Why here? Of all the places, why did Yingxing have to choose this one?

The one where he almost died.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he heard Yingxing say, almost as if he could read his thoughts. But Dan Feng’s troubled expression had likely given him away. “I know this place doesn’t bring back the best memories. But that’s exactly why I brought you here — I want to show you that it’s possible to move past the tragedy. We can start fresh.”

Yingxing took a few steps forward, his movements slow and careful, leaving Dan Feng standing alone at the crest of the hill.

From there, he looked down at Yingxing.

“Look around,” Yingxing said, his voice steady as he raised his arms slightly, gesturing to the vastness that surrounded them. “We’re here again. And yet, we’re alive. We’re well. ” He smiled softly and added, “This place… it doesn’t have to be a reminder of what went wrong. It can be a symbol of what we still have. And as long as we’re alive, shouldn’t we make the most of it? Why let the past hold us back any longer?”

Dan Feng blinked slowly, each blink making him more aware of the pounding in his chest. It felt like his heart was trying to break free from the confines of his ribs.

For so long, he had been tied to the past, as if invisible chains were wrapped around him, holding him down. Unrelenting. He could almost hear the creaking of those chains as they were being pulled, never actually giving away. He had allowed everything he loved—his dreams, his passions, even the future he once longed for—to slip through his fingers with alarming ease. But as he listened to Yingxing’s words, something shifted. A small, almost imperceptible spark of hope started to flicker back to life within him, like a flame suddenly reigniting after being long extinguished.

He had always yearned for freedom, yet he realized now that, all this time, he had been passively accepting his restraints rather than fighting to break free.

If freedom was what he truly desired, why had he not been seeking it? 

When did he stop fighting at all?

Finally, Dan Feng took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and Yingxing.

“Let’s see what you’ve planned for today,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up in a small, genuine smile. He glanced around at the cozy setup with the blanket spread out on the grass and the basket filled with food. “We wouldn’t want all this effort to go to waste, would we?”

And from the spark in Yingxing’s eyes, Dan Feng knew he had made the right choice in staying.

(...)

They spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped in light conversation, sharing the food Yingxing had cooked just for them. The meal was a feast of spring rolls, rice balls filled with sweet red bean paste and other delicacies, each bite so delicious that it made Dan Feng briefly wonder why Yingxing wasn’t a full-time chef instead of a swordsman. He could definitely see it.

He still couldn’t shake the image of Yingxing in his kitchen, hair tied back and an apron snug around his waist. Such a shame he could only watch that sight once a week.

As the hours passed, they became so absorbed in their conversation that they didn’t even notice the sun slipping below the horizon until the fireflies began to rise, their soft, golden light filling the space.

Yet, despite the beauty of the moment, Dan Feng couldn’t help but feel a bit… anxious. It was during moments like this, when the world seemed so peaceful and quiet, that they had been ambushed before. Even though it was probably nothing, he found himself glancing over his shoulder now and then, just to be sure no one was lurking in the shadows.

But each time, Yingxing’s voice would pull him back, soothing and reassuring. He’d feel the warmth of his presence beside him, and all his fears would melt away.

Has it always been this easy?

As they began their walk back to town, the night seemed to grow darker with every step. The quiet was unsettling, with only the faint rustle of the grass and the distant chirping of crickets breaking the silence. He needed something—anything—to distract himself.

Without thinking too much about it, he turned to Yingxing, who was walking quietly beside him.

“Do you believe in the afterlife?” he blurted out, surprising even himself.

It wasn’t a question he had planned to ask, but once it was out there, he couldn’t take it back.

Yingxing glanced at him, a bit taken aback, his eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. “You mean like Heaven and Hell?”

“Not exactly,” Dan Feng replied with a sigh, grateful for the break in silence. The chatter, however odd, was better than the deathly silence of the fields. “I mean reincarnation, specifically. The idea that we live different lives after we die… and we come back as someone else.”

Yingxing seemed to consider the question for a moment. They had never talked about it before, and Dan Feng wasn’t even sure if it was the right moment to bring it up.

“You do?” he finally asked.

Dan Feng swayed his arms back and forth, enjoying the pleasant spring evening breeze. The weather was perfect—not too warm and not too cold—just the right kind of comfortable.

“How could I not?” he replied, gazing up at the silver moon above them. “It’s a mystery I find endlessly fascinating. The person I might become… sometimes, it’s the only thing that brings me hope for the future.”

He glanced over at Yingxing, who had been unusually quiet. Dan Feng raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Don’t you agree with me?”

“I just… don’t understand,” Yingxing said quietly. “It feels like something out of a fairy tale. How does it even work?”

Dan Feng chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “You think too much about it. Nothing in life is guaranteed. Sometimes, you just need to have a bit of blind faith.”

Yingxing hesitated, glancing up at the twinkling stars that were beginning to show in the darkening sky. “I can’t do that so easily.”

Dan Feng came to a stop, and Yingxing did the same, pausing to look at him with a curious expression.

Dan Feng let the silence linger for a moment longer before speaking again, “So,” he began, tilting his head slightly, “you don’t believe that we’ll meet again, then?”

The question seemed to catch Yingxing off guard.

He parted his lips as if to speak, but no words came out. Dan Feng took this as a sign to continue.

Taking a step closer, he closed the distance between them. “You can’t tell me you don’t wish for us to meet again, even just a little,” he murmured, his voice softening as he spoke. Then, slowly, he raised his hand and cupped his cheek, feeling a warmth spread through him at the touch. But Dan Feng didn’t pull away, far from being intimidated—instead, he gazed into his eyes, seeking any reaction, and tilted his head just a bit. “Don’t you think you’d miss me?”

The words were sweet as honey, rolling off Dan Feng’s tongue with a tender, almost magnetic allure.

But instead of answering the question, Yingxing’s eyes wandered over Dan Feng’s features, and he suddenly felt as if he had completely lost control of the situation.

After a brief silence, Yingxing finally spoke, his voice soft and almost hesitant. “How could I miss you if I don’t remember you?”

A cricket chirped in the distance, and a few leaves rustled softly against the grass, the sound barely noticeable.

Dan Feng’s lips curled into a light-hearted laugh, a flush spreading across his cheeks. Was that really what worried him?

“Who knows,” he hummed, letting the words get carried away by the breeze. “Maybe you will.”

It was just meant to be a tease, a playful provocation. It’d be impossible for any of them to remember each other, and he knew it.

But silently, he prayed.

And I hope I do, too.

(...)

Present-Day

They had been working non-stop for hours, the kind of relentless pace that left no room for anything but focus and determination.

Dan Heng was grateful Blade was there; without him, the situation would have been ten, no—maybe even a hundred times worse. Despite it being his first time working at the café, Blade adapted quickly. While Dan Heng managed the drinks and food prep, Blade handled the customers, and though his attitude towards strangers could sometimes be brusque, he managed to behave well enough. It was a noticeable improvement.

Still, the day was far from over, and they had several more hours to endure.

Dan Heng wiped sweat from his forehead, feeling the collar of his shirt growing uncomfortably tight around his neck. He unbuttoned a couple of buttons, trying to find some relief from the heat that seemed to be coming from nowhere.

“You okay?” Blade asked, leaning casually against the counter. There were no customers at the moment, so they could get some rest.

“Yeah,” Dan Heng muttered, letting out a weary sigh. “Just tired.”

Blade’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Want me to take over so you can get some rest?”

Dan Heng shot him a look of disbelief, as if he had suggested something utterly absurd. And in a way, it was.

“Are you insane?” he asked, his voice tinged with incredulity. “There’s no way you can handle this on your own.”

“I think I’m capable,” Blade replied with a hint of smugness. But then, his gaze softened. “Besides, you look like you could use a break.”

Dan Heng’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a self-conscious laugh. “I must look really bad, don’t I?”

The comment came out more defeated than he intended, but the exhaustion made it hard to control the tone of his voice.

Blade’s expression shifted in response. For a moment, there was a fleeting emotion in his eyes that Dan Heng couldn’t quite place before it was quickly replaced by a look of reproach.

“That’s not what I meant,” Blade murmured, his brow furrowing slightly. “You never look anything less than beautiful to me, Dan Heng.”

At that moment, Dan Heng’s eyes widened in surprise. The heat that had been simmering beneath his skin now surged to his face, making his cheeks flush a deep red. He felt almost stunned, his breath catching in his throat. Blade had complimented him before, but this was the first time he’d described him as beautiful. Especially when he was acutely aware of how disheveled and exhausted he looked at that moment—his shirt was damp, a couple of buttons were undone, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. Where was the beauty in that?

Dan Heng found it difficult to reconcile the image of himself as seen through Blade’s eyes. He struggled to understand how he could utter such a thing with such ease, and in the middle of the café, no less—there were customers just a few feet away, their conversations and the clatter of dishes could be heard in the background. And yet, Blade spoke with the same confidence as if they were alone in a quiet room.

Swallowing hard, Dan Heng’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he mumbled, “How can you say something like that?”

But Blade didn’t retract his words or apologize.

Dan Heng stood to the side for a few seconds, mulling over Blade’s offer, letting the idea settle in his mind. It was tempting, surely. 

Finally, summoning the last bit of his resolve, he spoke up.

“Just ten minutes,” he said, the words coming out in a quiet, almost pleading tone.

Blade glanced over his shoulder, and a small, reassuring smile played on his lips. “Ten minutes it is.”

With that agreement, Dan Heng allowed himself to step back, letting Blade take over the counter.

It turned out that Dan Heng really needed that break more than he’d realized. He used the time to switch into a fresh, clean shirt, splash cold water on his face, and fix his disheveled hair, though it still looked slightly off. When he emerged from the dressing room, feeling somewhat rejuvenated, he took a seat on a stool off to the side, quietly observing Blade as he efficiently prepared drinks and served customers.

Dan Heng couldn’t help but think that Blade was good at everything he did.

Just as he was starting to relax, the bell above the door chimed again. This time, a woman walked into the cafeteria. Her presence immediately drew attention: she was tall, impeccably dressed, and there was something... familiar about her.

As she approached the counter, he watched Blade’s expression shift to one of recognition. He stared at her with an almost incredulous look. “Kafka?” he uttered, the name escaping his lips.

The woman adjusted her glasses, then clasped her hands together, a wide, almost mischievous smile spreading across her face. “Long time no see!” she said brightly. “Did you miss me?”

Blade, clearly caught off guard, furrowed his brow and asked, “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, nowhere much,” she replied with a casual wave of her hand. “I’m actually more curious about what you are doing here. I thought this was the place where he worked…”

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the surroundings with a hint of curiosity. It was then that her violet eyes landed on Dan Heng. He shifted slightly in his seat as Kafka’s smile grew even wider.

“Oh, there he is!” she said with delight.

Dan Heng felt a shiver of recognition as he looked up at her. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her immediately. He tried to recall all his customers, mentally running through his list of regular customers, but she wasn’t someone he remembered seeing frequently. As he was struggling to recognize her, a faint, sweet scent filled the air. It was subtle at first but gradually grew stronger. Dan Heng’s eyes widened as realization struck him.

Lavender.

This was the same woman whose scent had lingered in his room a month ago. The woman who had made an unexpected visit to the coffee shop. It was her.

Dan Heng kept a wary eye on the interaction from his spot by the counter. Blade and Kafka continued to talk, though not for long, as there were more customers to attend to.

At some point, Kafka leaned in over the counter, her posture just a touch too close for comfort. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as she asked, “So... tell me all about him.”

He raised an eyebrow. What were they talking about?

Then, Blade leaned in, matching Kafka’s tone. The exchange between them was too low for Dan Heng to overhear, but the way her face lit up with an almost childlike enthusiasm suggested she was delighted by the answer. 

As Kafka straightened up, still smiling, Dan Heng couldn’t help but wonder what actually was the nature of their relationship.

After a while, the woman picked up a cup of coffee from the counter and exited the shop. Dan Heng, feeling rested, stood up from his chair and walked over to where Blade was standing.

“Who was that?” he asked, his tone careful as he stood beside him. Blade glanced at him briefly while wiping the counter with a damp cloth.

“That’s Kafka,” he explained briefly. “She’s our neighbor. Hadn’t seen her in a while.”

Dan Heng nodded, lost in thought. After a brief pause, he asked again, “Did you... have something with her?”

Blade paused what he was doing, turning around to face him with one eyebrow raised, leaning casually over the counter. Thankfully, there weren’t any customers waiting to place an order. “Something?” he echoed.

Dan Heng felt a flush of embarrassment, but since he had already asked, there was no turning back. He glanced away, muttering, “Yeah, you know what I mean.”

Blade snorted in amusement. “Ha, You really are jealous, aren’t you?”

Dan Heng supposed it made sense for Blade to tease him—he kind of deserved it. But his curiosity persisted. He knew very little about the people in Blade’s life, as if they were connected to a part of him he didn’t fully know about: a side that was exceptionally skilled with a sword, physically adept and almost irritatingly arrogant. And Dan Heng was tired of the secrets, of feeling like there was always something just out of reach. He just wanted to understand.

“So what if I am?” he shot back.

He watched Blade closely, waiting for a response. Blade finally shook his head with a faint, almost amused smile. “I guess I’m not really one to talk,” he said, his voice softer now.

Dan Heng crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow slightly. “How so?”

Blade’s expression turned wry. “You’re probably aware by now that I’m not very fond of Caelus,” he admitted, then added with a dry smile, “for obvious reasons.”

Dan Heng blinked, taking in Blade’s words as they slowly sank in. He had kind of known about Blade’s coldness toward Caelus, but he had always dismissed it as his typical wariness around new people. The thought had never crossed his mind that there might be more to it, something personal. Now, suddenly, it all made a lot more sense.

He looked around the shop. The hum of the refrigerator and the light chatter of the customers seemed to fade into the background.

Wow, he really had been clueless all this time, hadn’t he?

But at the end of the day, no matter who came between them, it was still Dan Heng that Blade loved. And every time he came home, it was to the apartment they shared. All roads led back to him.

Blade watched him curiously, leaning back against the counter with a slight tilt of his head. “Now what’re you thinking about?”

Dan Heng let out a soft sigh as the bell rang once more, signaling the arrival of another customer. But this time, a quiet joy filled his chest.

“That I can’t wait for us to go home,” he murmured softly.

(...)

Their shift finally ended at 10:05 P.M.

Dan Heng could feel every muscle in his body protesting the day’s work. It had been one of the most exhausting shifts he’d had in a long time, but despite the fatigue, he felt satisfied. He had done a good job even if his own body was killing him. 

The real work wasn’t over yet. It took them another twenty minutes to clean up the mess left behind from the day’s busy service. Even though this part of his job was usually the most tedious, tonight was different. Dan Heng found a strange amusement in watching Blade’s reactions to the mess. Blade grimaced as he worked on scraping gum from under the tables, muttering under his breath about the lack of manners among teenagers. His irritation was almost comical, and Dan Heng couldn’t help but smile, thinking silently about how good it was that he was there.

And even though Dan Heng was still unsure about the whole relationship part and what it meant for them, he had come to a realization: he wanted Blade by his side. It was something he had known deep down for a while, but today had reinforced it.

As Dan Heng continued wiping down the counter, he kept thinking about how he might prove that to him.

His thoughts were interrupted when Blade let out an exasperated sigh, tossing the spatula aside after finally scraping off the last bit of stubborn gum.

The weariness in Blade’s voice was palpable as he said, “I think I understand why you hate your job.”

Dan Heng couldn’t help but chuckle softly at Blade’s comment. “You see it now?”

Blade gave a tired nod, rubbing his sore hands.

“I guess I can’t judge Luocha anymore.”

Dan Heng put the cleaning supplies back in the cupboard and turned to Blade with an arched eyebrow. “Do you really mean that?”

Blade paused for a moment, considering his words. “Actually, no,” he admitted. “Speaking of which, how was I today? Did I meet your expectations?”

At this late hour, the café was empty, not even a soul in sight. The only thing visible through the windows was an expanse of deep, impenetrable darkness. With no one around to overhear, he felt a rare opportunity to speak freely.

“You were a little too good,” Dan Heng confessed with a small, weary smile. “It’s kind of annoying.”

Blade nodded, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Told you so,” he boasted, and Dan Heng couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

He took one last look around the café. Everything was meticulously cleaned and organized for the next shift, which wouldn’t be for a few days. Dan Heng hoped Luocha would be fully recovered by then.

As well as himself.

“Everything’s ready,” he said, heading toward the dressing room. “Let’s get changed and head out.”

It wasn’t long before he heard Blade’s quick footsteps behind him.

The dressing room amplified every small sound, making each rustle and shuffle echo ominously in the quiet. Dan Heng might have found it unsettling if Blade hadn’t been there with him. He considered for a moment how different the night would have been if he had worked the entire shift alone, then walked home through the darkness all by himself. The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine.

But with Blade there, he felt safe. It was a comfort that seemed to come naturally.

“Why do you keep working?”

Blade’s question cut through the quiet of the dressing room, surprising him. He turned to look at him, but Blade’s attention was fixed on the open locker in front of him. Dan Heng, feeling a bit unsettled, turned back to his shoes.

“I need the money,” he answered, his tone matter-of-fact. He hadn’t put much thought into it—work was a necessity, and money was required for day-to-day life.

That was his reasoning.

Blade’s next question caught him off guard. “What do you need it for? You don’t even spend that much.”

Dan Heng paused. It was true—his monthly expenses were minimal. After all, there weren’t too many things that he needed. The money he earned was mostly saved, tucked away in a small box at the back of his closet, accumulating dust. The last time he had spent any of it was when he bought Blade a phone, and he hadn’t touched it since.

“What are you trying to say?” Dan Heng asked back. The conversation seemed more and more confusing.

“You said you hate your job,” Blade said slowly, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “You could do anything else, but you’re still here.”

Dan Heng glanced up, a bit taken aback. “I can’t quit just because I hate it.”

“So, how long are you going to endure this?” he asked, his tone more serious. Dan Heng frowned, feeling a bit attacked, but Blade pressed on. “I see you. Maybe others don’t notice, but I do. I see the look on your face every time you leave for work, how your exhaustion shows even before you step through the door. I notice the conflict in your eyes when you watch other people your age having fun, and I can tell it bothers you. You might never admit it out loud, but you want that, too.”

Dan Heng’s expression hardened, opening his mouth to respond, but found himself at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected Blade to see through him so clearly.

“The problem is,” Blade continued, his tone softening but still firm, “that you’re holding yourself back. Whatever fears or doubts you have, they’re keeping you from living freely.”

Dan Heng let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping as he gave in.

Because deep down, he knew Blade was right.

Dan Heng had always been used to holding back, constantly restraining himself from doing the things he truly enjoyed, until he couldn’t even remember what he enjoyed anymore. If ever he felt a little more daring, a little more free, it was when Blade was with him, pushing him to do things he’d never attempt alone. And lately, he had been feeling more and more exhausted, not just from the strange dreams that haunted him, but from everything else in his life. Maybe it was at the festival when something finally awakened in him, something he hadn’t even realized was there. The exhilaration he felt when he fought with the sword beside Blade; it was a feeling he couldn’t shake off. Doing what he wanted, making decisions for himself, no matter how reckless—it was liberating. For once, he wasn’t overthinking or holding back.

It was his own fears, his own hesitation, that had kept him from acknowledging what he truly wanted all this time. And who knows how long it had been there.

Who knows how much time he wasted.

Dan Heng knew now that he didn’t want to keep living this way, confined by his own self-imposed limitations. He wanted more.

And then, he turned to Blade, who had begun changing out of his uniform. His gaze lingered on his back, recalling the last time he had seen him like this—by the pool, the last time he had touched him, even if it had been just a game.

Almost without realizing it, his hand reached out, as if drawn by some invisible force. That same force.

Blade’s skin was warm, almost searing under his touch. The moment his hand made contact, Blade went completely still, pausing whatever he was doing, but he didn’t turn around. The silence between them felt almost sharp, slicing through the air. Dan Heng’s hand hesitated for just a second before it began to move, slowly tracing the small, almost imperceptible marks that dotted his back. They weren’t quite scars, but not moles either. Blade’s back was broad, the muscles beneath firm and strong from years of training, but Dan Heng had never taken the time to actually see that. He realized now that though he had touched Blade before, he had never actually felt him. Not like this.

His fingers continued to roam, sliding down the smooth plane of Blade’s back before rising again, this time with purpose. Dan Heng remembered a particular mark, slightly larger and more noticeable than the rest, right at the nape of his neck. That mark had intrigued him since the moment he’d first seen it, so much so that it had lingered in his memory. Blade remained silent, giving no indication whether he was bothered or welcoming of this touch.

Dan Heng’s hand slowly threaded through his long hair, careful not to pull, until the mark he sought came into view. There it was, right at the base of Blade’s neck, almost hidden but still distinct. His fingers hovered just above it, and just as he was about to touch it, Blade’s hand closed around his wrist.

The grip was firm but gentle, enough to stop him without causing pain. He turned his head slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet, his expression unreadable. 

“Dan Heng,” Blade said, his voice low and slightly strained, “What are you doing?”

For once, Dan Heng didn’t calculate his response, didn’t weigh his words. Instead, they slipped out, unfiltered, “Not holding back.”

Blade’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, so intense that Dan Heng felt like he might melt under its weight. His grip on his wrist tightened just slightly, enough to make Dan Heng’s pulse quicken. Then, in a low murmur, he asked, “Why were you about to touch there?”

It was a strange question, one that Dan Heng hadn’t even considered. He wasn’t sure why that particular spot had drawn him in so powerfully. But he didn’t want to hide behind excuses, not anymore. 

He searched for the right words, something that wouldn’t sound like a lie, and finally said, “It calls to me.”

He hoped he didn’t sound crazy.

But instead, something flickered in Blade’s gaze, a spark of something Dan Heng couldn’t quite identify. His voice was barely above a whisper as he muttered, “Then touch.”

With that, Blade released his wrist.

The permission felt like a spark igniting a fire within him. Without hesitation, Dan Heng let his fingers climb back to that small, intriguing mark, finally allowing himself to caress it. The sensation beneath his fingertips was almost electric, as if that spot on Blade’s skin was charged with energy. Dan Heng’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. He traced the mark carefully, feeling a sort of shift within his mind that he couldn’t quite place.

Time felt like it slowed as Dan Heng’s hand continued its exploration. Just then, Blade turned his head, their eyes locking once more, but now there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Are you satisfied now?” he asked, his tone slightly teasing.

And there was something hauntingly familiar about those words, but Dan Heng barely had a moment to process it. In the next instant, Blade had turned around completely, and before he could react, their lips met in a sudden, heated kiss.

The rhythm of this kiss was entirely different from the last. It was urgent, raw, and unrestrained, no longer exploratory but filled with a kind of pleading. Each movement felt like a silent plea against Dan Heng’s lips.

Because Blade, too, had been holding back.

At first, Dan Heng felt a little dizzy, almost as if he were high on adrenaline, but he quickly adapted to the intensity. His hand remained on the back of Blade’s neck, grounding him as they stumbled backward. Suddenly, Dan Heng’s back hit the hard metal of a locker with a resounding clang that echoed through the empty room. That was enough to remind him that they were still at work.

Not that it really mattered to him.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Blade murmured against his lips. The longing in his voice was so intense that it caught Dan Heng off guard. Then, he corrected himself, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. He was so close to Blade that he could almost feel their heartbeats merging. “Then why did you wait?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Blade’s gaze was filled with an emotion that Dan Heng wished he could understand.

“It only matters that you want it now,” Blade replied, his eyes searching Dan Heng’s. “Do you?”

Dan Heng looked back with a clarity he hadn’t felt in a long time. His voice was firm as he answered, “I want it.”

That was enough.

This time, Blade’s mouth traveled down to Dan Heng’s neck, leaving a heated trail of kisses that sent shivers down his spine. The sensation felt profoundly different from anything Dan Heng had ever experienced, and he wondered if it was because, this time, there were feelings involved. An entire history involved. This wasn’t just anyone—this was Blade, the person who had been by his side through everything, the face he saw every morning when he woke up. 

When Blade’s lips brushed the base of his shoulder and then gently bit down, Dan Heng couldn’t help but let out a soft groan. Inside, he hoped the bite would leave a mark.

He hoped he would always remember this.

One of Blade’s hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with such smooth, practiced ease that Dan Heng almost felt jealous. He realized, only now, that he hadn’t changed out of his work uniform yet, and the thought made him momentarily self-conscious; but the awkwardness faded quickly as the heat of the moment took over.

When Blade finished unbuttoning the shirt, a task that took only a few seconds, his hands roamed over his body with a reverence that felt almost like admiration, as if memorizing the feel of his skin beneath his fingertips. Each touch was almost worshipful. And he knew it wasn’t just the heat of the moment; there was a tenderness in his touch that was unmistakable. Dan Heng sighed as Blade’s lips found his again, because now he finally understood what was different this time.

He felt loved.

And it was just as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Dan Heng’s hands moved toward Blade, wanting to touch him just as badly. And he hoped that, through his touch, he would be able to figure him out. He hoped there was something beneath his skin that would tell him whatever it was he was hiding. His lips slightly parted, words lingering on the edge of his tongue, ready to come out.

Just then, a loud noise from outside shattered the moment, causing both of them to jerk their heads up in alarm. The darkness outside suggested that it was much later than they had realized, given how… distracted they had been.

They stood in silence for a moment, only listening to the sound of their own breathing. Blade broke it with a shaky laugh. “Shit, that scared the hell out of me.”

Dan Heng looked at him with slightly wide eyes, blinking in the dim light, before a laugh escaped him. “Me too.”

Blade glanced around, suddenly aware of their surroundings, and then turned back to him with a look of uncertainty. “Should we… head home?”

It was a disappointment that they couldn’t finish what they had started, but Dan Heng figured that the experience might be even more enjoyable in a setting less... public.

“Yeah,” he nodded, already starting to search for his clothes. “Let’s go.”

After all, they had all the time in the world.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

Neither of them realized they had strayed from their usual path, taking instead a much longer route.

Dan Feng didn’t really mind the detour. In fact, he wished the night could stretch on forever. Yet Yingxing no longer seemed so relaxed now that the night had completely darkened, giving way to a more vigilant, almost protective stance. It was almost endearing to see how he had instinctively, or perhaps intentionally, drawn closer to him, as if to keep a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Every so often, his hand would brush against Dan Feng’s, whether as a reassurance of his presence or to maintain their closeness.

“You’re tense,” Dan Feng observed, sensing the rigidity in Yingxing’s shoulders. “Are you scared?”

“No,” he replied just as quickly. “Just cautious.”

At that, Dan Feng chuckled softly. “You always say that when you’re scared,” he said with a playful grin, enjoying the chance to tease him.

Yingxing snorted, but didn’t bother to argue.

It was clear to him that Yingxing needed to relax. The tension in him was palpable, and Dan Feng knew he had to do something to ease it. As he glanced around, trying to focus on the surroundings, something caught his eye—a small, crystal-clear lake nestled among the hills, partially hidden by the canopy of trees. His eyes widened with sudden inspiration. 

He knew exactly how to help Yingxing relax.

“Follow me,” he commanded.

Yingxing blinked in surprise, pausing for a moment as he tried to read the expression on Dan Feng’s face. After a brief pause, he began to trail behind Dan Feng. “Where are we going?”

There was no need for further explanation, because just a few steps more and they were standing at the edge of a hidden lake. The water was so pristine that it perfectly mirrored the moon, its silvery light dancing in gentle ripples across the surface. Pink petals from the trees above had drifted down, floating delicately on the water, creating a scene that seemed almost magical in the embrace of spring. Dan Feng marveled at the sight, thinking it was absolutely perfect.

Yingxing, however, was left speechless. “How long has this been here?” he muttered in awe, his eyes wide as he took in the surroundings.

At that moment, Dan Feng turned to him, noting the stunned look on his face. He felt a sudden urge to make this moment even more memorable. With a grin starting to form on his lips, Dan Feng took a step closer to the water’s edge, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone as he spoke.

“Let’s go swimming, Yingxing.”

He knew Yingxing might hesitate, but that was part of the fun.

The look of sheer surprise on Yingxing’s face made Dan Feng laugh heartily. “Swimming? Now?” he muttered. Dan Feng could have sworn he caught a hint of a blush on Yingxing’s ears, creeping beneath the locks of white hair. “Dan Feng, this isn’t—”

But Dan Feng didn’t wait for him to finish. His mind was set, and he was determined to carry out his plan. With deliberate, almost theatrical movements, Dan Feng began to remove each piece of clothing he was wearing, one by one, starting with his light white blouse and working his way down to his pants, until he was left in just his underwear. The cool evening breeze, which had felt so refreshing before, now brushed against his bare skin, making him shiver slightly. But that wouldn’t stop him. Dan Feng had a purpose in mind, and he would make sure to fulfill it no matter what. 

Then, with one clean motion, he removed the last remaining piece of clothing.

With a smooth, confident motion, he removed his last piece of clothing. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leaped into the water, plunging into the crystal-clear lake. The immediate rush of the water enveloped him, and the world above seemed to vanish, surrounded by the gentle pressure of the waves and the coolness of the water, sucking him in. Underwater, Dan Feng’s eyes adjusted to the soft, silvery glow of the moon reflected on the lake’s surface. A small, satisfied smile crept onto his lips.

This, he thought, was the freedom he had spoken of earlier—the freedom to act on impulse, without restrictions, without caring about anyone else.

But there was one person he cared about.

Dan Feng surfaced from the water, slicking his long, wet hair back with a practiced gesture. He glanced over at Yingxing, who was still standing at the water’s edge, his clothes forming a neat pile beside him. Dan Feng’s smile widened.

“You’re still standing there?” he called out, splashing water in Yingxing’s direction. “Come on, don’t keep me waiting too long. I’m starting to feel a bit lonely out here.”

Dan Feng watched intently as Yingxing let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head slightly, and then slowly, he too began to remove his clothes, each movement measured and unhurried. Dan Feng sank a bit deeper into the water, his heart racing, and he had to force himself to draw in a shaky breath.

Yingxing carefully removed his clothes, layer by layer, until he was left entirely naked. He even peeled away the bandages that covered his skin, revealing the scarred skin underneath. Dan Feng’s eyes traced the contours of his figure, unable to look away. The way the moonlight shimmered on his white hair was almost distracting.

Then, Yingxing dove into the water, the sudden splash sending a cool wave rushing toward him. Dan Feng barely had time to compose himself before Yingxing resurfaced, droplets sliding down his skin, shaking the water from his hair with a grin.

“Are you satisfied now?” Yingxing asked, his tone light and teasing.

It was all he wanted.

“Very,” Dan Feng responded immediately, returning the smile. “See? It’s not so bad after all.”

This felt good — No, it felt incredible.

Why had he been missing this all along?

Dan Feng swam slowly, letting the cool water slip over his skin as his mind wandered to the many years he and Yingxing had spent together. Two decades was by no means a short time. And sure, they had shared moments of fun—but most of their time had been consumed by work. Endless events, mind-numbing meetings, and responsibilities that only served to drain the life out of him. All those wasted hours that could’ve been spent like this, living in the moment. Being together.

They had wasted so much time.

Dan Feng was so tired of it all. He didn’t want to keep doing this; waking up every day to repeat the same tasks, trapped in a life that felt more like a prison sentence than anything else. For the first time, he realized how much he wanted to break free. To do what he wanted, not what was expected.

For once, he wanted to truly live.

“Why the long face?” Yingxing asked softly. Dan Feng turned to look at him, catching the slight concern in his eyes. “I thought you were enjoying this.”

“Oh, I am. Very much so,” he said with a half-hearted smile. “I just... wish it could last forever.”

He noticed Yingxing’s eyebrows lift slightly, an invitation for him to elaborate. And, just for once, Dan Feng decided it wouldn’t hurt to be open about his feelings.

“I’ve spent the majority of my life buried under responsibilities and work,” he muttered softly, looking up at the moon. “For years, it’s been nothing but struggles, meetings, and obligations, and somewhere along the way, I lost track of time. And now, as I look back, it feels like I’ve fallen behind on so much. I never really had the chance to experience these kinds of freedoms. I suppose… I can’t help but worry that I’ve missed my chance to live life to the fullest.”

Dan Feng fell silent, looking down, unable to meet Yingxing’s eyes. The weight of his own words felt suddenly too heavy to bear, and he let out a nervous laugh.

“It sounds so absurd when I say it out loud,” he muttered with a forced chuckle, turning to swim back towards the shore. The vastness of the water suddenly felt overwhelming. “Just ignore it. Maybe we should head back…”

But just as he was about to move away, Yingxing’s hand gently closed around his wrist, holding him in place. Dan Feng turned to him, surprised by the touch.

“It’s not too late.”

Dan Feng blinked at the words, feeling his hand slipping against his own slippery skin, but Yingxing’s grip tightened, refusing to let go.

“You can still do the things you want to do,” he continued, a hint of hope in his voice. “You still have options.”

At that, Dan Feng sighed, “And what options might those be?”

For a moment, Yingxing fell silent, and Dan Feng nodded to himself in resignation. Of course, those options didn’t exist. Still, he appreciated Yingxing’s effort to lift his spirits. It was a small comfort.

Just as he was about to acknowledge the gesture, Yingxing spoke again, more decisively this time.

“Why don’t you just… retire?”

It felt as if, for a moment, the world had come to a stop.

The words were so simple, so effortless. And yet, they were something Dan Feng had never considered before. Not even now.

“Retire?” he echoed, almost disbelieving.

Yingxing nodded. 

“You don’t have to keep doing this forever,” he said then, gently pulling Dan Feng’s wrist as if to draw him closer. “I remember you once said you wanted to be a pianist. Well, you still can. Or anything else you’ve ever wanted to do — the choice is yours.”

Dan Feng simply stared at him, the idea slowly taking root in his mind. He imagined a different life for himself, a life free from the burdens that had consumed him all this time: long morning walks; afternoons spent with Yingxing in the kitchen, cooking together; or occasionally taking a refreshing dip in the lake. Maybe he could even return to his piano lessons.

He thought about going to the beach together, feeling the sand between his toes and the sun warming his face.

For a moment, Dan Feng looked down at his hands, the very hands that had been stained with blood countless times before, and winced.

“Do you really think I can just… start over?” he asked in a whisper.

Yingxing’s gaze met his, warm and unwavering in their confidence. “I know you can.”

And even though Dan Feng was uncertain whether those words were true, they ignited a small spark of hope within him.

Dan Feng carefully pulled his wrist from Yingxing’s grasp, letting it slip back into the cool water.

“What about you?”

Yingxing turned to him, his expression one of curiosity. “What about me?”

“If I retire… you wouldn’t have to protect me anymore,” Dan Feng spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks, the question feeling almost childish in its simplicity. Still, he couldn’t hold back. “What would you do, then? Would you… leave?”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. Dan Feng tried hard to focus all his senses on something else—the gentle lapping of water against his skin, the fatigue settling into his muscles from swimming, and the delicate pink  petals floating between them. Yet, despite his efforts, it was nearly impossible to ignore.

“Dan Feng,” Yingxing’s voice broke through the silence, pulling his attention back sharply.

Then, in a fluid motion, his hand slid behind his head, his fingers gently grasping the back of his neck. He gave it a gentle tug, pulling him closer. The unexpected contact made Dan Feng’s eyes widen slightly.

“Have you forgotten,” Yingxing began, teasing in his voice, “that I swore my life to you?” His fingers traced lightly over Dan Feng’s nape, brushing over the spot where his own scar should be. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m not going anywhere. So, no matter how many lives you reincarnate into, you’re bound to me. Do you understand?”

Dan Feng was barely able to hide the surprise on his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much about it.

Because he was really, really happy.

A soft, genuine laugh escaped him, and he whispered, “Understood.”

(...)

Dan Feng had been thinking quite a lot about Yingxing’s words.

The idea of ​​retirement had taken hold of his mind, almost like an obsession. More often than not, he found himself daydreaming about a life full of freedom and joy—he thought about traveling around the world and taking Yingxing with him, since he had mentioned that he had never left Xianzhou; he thought about teaching him to play the piano, picturing the two of them playing together sometime. Even if it took time, it wouldn’t really matter, because they’d have all the time in the world at their hands. He even thought about learning how to cook, though he wasn’t skilled in the kitchen, simply for the joy of watching Yingxing taste something he had made himself.

To keep track of all these thoughts and dreams, Dan Feng had been keeping a journal for the past few weeks. He couldn’t help but feel a little childish about this, like something a teenager might do, but he found it surprisingly enjoyable. His journal was quickly filling up, and he had already written down almost half of its pages.

That morning, Dan Feng took a break from his work and went for a walk. The streets of Xianzhou were bright under the warm glow of street lamps, and the cheerful sounds of children playing echoed through the air. 

He walked for a long time, sometimes sensing the curious glances from passersby, but he pretended not to notice them. It wasn’t often that he found himself in public like this, unless it was for an event; but even then, they were quite private. Dan Feng rarely showed his face around town.

Today, however, he craved a taste of normality. It was just a small act of rebellion against his usual routines.

He wandered through the bustling streets of Xianzhou until something caught his eye—a grand piano displayed in the window of a music store. The streetlamp’s glow danced across the polished black wood, creating a constellation of tiny stars that reminded him of a night sky. He stood there for who knows how long, simply staring at the instrument with some nostalgia.

It’s not too late.

His fingers twitched slightly at the thought. 

For the first time in his life, he was starting to truly believe it.

Maybe it really wasn’t too late. Maybe he didn’t need to wait for reincarnation to start over—he could begin now.

Yes, he had committed unforgivable acts. Dan Feng had sinned countless times, staining his hands until there wasn’t a trace of purity left within him. For so long, the weight of his guilt had kept him chained, convinced he could never be anything more than what he had become. But now, he wanted to change. He wanted to be better.

He thought back to the words Yingxing had told him, which hadn’t left his head for days now. They had sparked a hope in him that he hadn’t felt in so long; a happiness so absurd it almost seemed out of reach. Perhaps, all this time, what he needed was someone who truly believed in him—someone who wasn’t afraid of him. Someone who saw him as human, so that Dan Feng could finally start to feel like one, too.

Dan Feng had always disliked change. Even the smallest shift felt like a loss of control. The future was an unpredictable force, beyond anyone’s control, including his own. But perhaps this was a change he needed. Perhaps it was time to let go of his need for control and just live.

And then, he finally made up his mind.

Dan Feng turned around and started walking towards Jing Yuan’s office, his pace almost breaking into a run. He could still talk to him. It wouldn’t be easy, especially with the suddenness of his decision, but he knew he had to try.

He wouldn’t hide anymore.

He kept going, barely able to feel his legs as he dashed across the long streets of the place he called home, and with each step, Dan Feng felt the chains that had been pulling him down for so long starting to loosen.

As he approached Jing Yuan’s office, he noticed the lights were still on. Excitement and nerves surged within him, making him feel as if he were young again, so full of hope, so alive. His heart pounded with each step, and the closer he got, the more certain he became.

But as he pushed open the door, Dan Feng froze, for the second time in his entire life.

The scene inside was unlike anything he had expected. The office was in utter chaos. People were rushing around, carrying stacks of papers, talking in urgent tones, almost yelling. Dan Feng stood there, momentarily stunned, looking around. An uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach.

Something was clearly wrong.

He moved through the chaos. The clamor of voices, the rustling of papers, and the hurried footsteps around him grew louder and louder, almost drowning out the frantic beating of his own heart.

When he reached Jing Yuan’s office, he pushed the door open with a firm shove, not bothering to be gentle. And there he was — Jing Yuan was at his desk, his back turned, shoulders hunched over a mess of documents. There were papers piled high and half-finished reports scattered about.

Dan Feng stepped into the room, struggling to keep his voice steady as he called out.

“Jing Yuan, what the hell is going on?”

He felt a stab of desperation inside him, well hidden beneath the demand in his voice. Almost a pleading need for everything to be fine.

Jing Yuan finally turned to face him, and the frantic expression on his face was one Dan Feng had never seen before.

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, and the words tumbled out:

“There’s going to be a war.”

Dan Feng’s ears rang with a deafening, high-pitched noise that nearly drowned out Jing Yuan’s voice as he went on about preparations for the war. The sound was so intense that it felt like it was vibrating through his very bones. And as Jing Yuan’s words continued to blur into a muffled mumble, Dan Feng stood there, paralyzed, unable to move or respond. And in that moment, a flood of regrets washed over him. He should’ve prepared himself for this. He had let himself sink into the recent comfort and stability of his life, too deep that he became complacent. Spoiled, even. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to soften, not now.

Because deep down, Dan Feng knew what was coming.

He knew that this was the beginning of the end.

(...)

Present-Day

Dan Heng jolted awake in the middle of the night, his chest heaving, heart hammering against his ribs. By now, he should’ve been accustomed to strange dreams; they were always cryptic, playing out mundane situations like faded memories, as if he were watching them through a hazy, old tape. The faces were always blurry, the people in them unrecognizable, leaving him with a lingering feeling of emptiness each time he woke up. But this one was different. He had never felt like this before after a dream. It was as if…

As if he had lost something—something vital, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

The sense of loss was overwhelming. Dan Heng instinctively brought a hand to his chest, gripping his shirt as if the fabric itself was suffocating him. He tried to steady his breathing, but just as he began to calm down, he felt something cold and wet land on his arm. He froze, confused, until it happened again. 

Slowly, Dan Heng raised a trembling hand to his face.

Tears.

He was crying.

That was another thing Dan Heng never did. He rarely got sick, and he almost never cried. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel sadness—he was human, after all—but his emotions seemed to work differently than everyone else’s. He wasn’t emotional, wasn’t sensitive; instead, he was composed and stoic. In situations where most people would cry, whether on sensitive dates or during stressful times, he found other ways to release those feelings, ways that didn’t involve tears.

So as Dan Heng stared at the tears streaming down his face, he knew something was definitely wrong with him.

Carefully, he brushed the edges of his shirt against his face, wiping away the last traces of tears until they finally stopped flowing. Yet despite his efforts to compose himself, the devastating feeling in his chest remained like a permanent stain.

He glanced over at Blade’s bed and saw that he was still asleep. Dan Heng felt grateful for this—he didn’t want him to see him cry. Even if Blade had seen, he had no way of explaining what was going on with him.

With slow movements, Dan Heng slipped out of bed, careful to avoid any creaks from the mattress. Without bothering to change out of his pajamas, he quietly made his way out of the apartment, the door closing softly behind him.

The hot, heavy air outside felt stifling, but Dan Heng preferred it to being cooped up in the apartment. He walked to the railing and leaned against it, resting his arms on the cool metal. He took a deep breath, realizing it had been a long time since a nightmare had driven him out for fresh air.

As he stood there, lost in thought, a sudden noise from the side caught his attention. Dan Heng turned quickly, only to see—

He frowned, confused. “What are you doing here?” His voice held more annoyance than he’d intended.

Jing Yuan gave a slight, nonchalant shrug, his expression unreadable. He held up a plastic bag, its crinkling sound interrupting the quiet night. “I just came to drop something off. Sampo called me.”

Great. Of all the people who could have been standing there, it had to be him.

Dan Heng’s frown deepened. He hadn’t heard from Sampo since that party, and now he wondered what he might be up to. Not that he was particularly interested. “At this time of the morning?” he asked suspiciously.

Jing Yuan’s lips curled into a slight, almost mocking smile. “It’s not that early. Five A.M. is a perfectly reasonable time for early risers.”

“Sampo? A morning person?” Dan Heng snorted, his gaze shifting back to the street below. “I find that hard to believe.”

“If you’re curious, you could always go ask him yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

Dan Heng didn’t turn around as he heard the sound of footsteps and the rustling of the plastic bag grew closer. Jing Yuan stopped beside him, yet he kept a respectful distance, as if aware of Dan Heng's need for space. He stared at the horizon.

“Speaking of which, what are you doing up at this hour?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “Had a nightmare?”

Dan Heng tensed immediately, the question catching him off guard. His defenses shot up. “What do you know about that?”

The ache in his chest deepened as the memory of the dream resurfaced, raw and painful. The last thing he wanted was to discuss it, especially with Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan’s smile was small, almost knowing. “More than you might think.”

Dan Heng didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

Now that he thought about it, Dan Heng realized he didn’t really have a solid reason to still dislike Jing Yuan. But he just… still didn’t trust him. Something about him felt off. That feeling wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to brush it aside.

After a moment of silence, Jing Yuan stepped back slightly. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he said, his tone light. “But if I could make a suggestion—try drinking some lemon balm tea. Then stay awake for about thirty minutes before going back to bed. It might help.”

Dan Heng frowned. The advice was oddly specific, almost too thoughtful. He finally turned to face Jing Yuan, meeting his gaze directly. “Why?” was all he asked.

“I had a friend with the same problem,” he replied with a half-hearted laugh. “He didn’t always take my advice, but when he did, it seemed to help.”

“No,” Dan Heng said suddenly, cutting through his explanation. Jing Yuan’s eyebrows lifted in mild curiosity, waiting for him to continue. He hesitated for a moment before murmuring, “I meant... why do you care?”

Jing Yuan’s eyes widened slightly at the question, and for a brief moment, Dan Heng caught a flicker of pain in his expression. It was subtle, just beneath the surface, before it was replaced by a mask of well-practiced amusement.

He spoke softly, almost wistfully, “Because you remind me of him.”

With a small nod, Jing Yuan turned and walked out of the apartment complex, leaving Dan Heng standing there, staring into the distance, a subtle discomfort lingering in his chest.

At least the haunting feeling of the nightmare was gone.

After a moment, Dan Heng headed to the kitchen and prepared the lemon balm tea as Jing Yuan had suggested. He followed the instructions to the letter, feeling oddly compelled to give it a try. And when he finally lay back down, he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Perhaps, after all, he should thank Jing Yuan.

Chapter Text

Present-Day

Dan Heng returned home later than usual. The night had completely settled in, the chirping of crickets the only sound breaking the otherwise oppressive silence. It was raining hard outside, but luckily he hadn’t gotten wet. 

He kicked off his shoes in the entryway, setting them aside with a sigh, wishing more than anything to collapse into bed and sleep until morning. The apartment was eerily quiet, all the lights off except for a single dim one in the hallway. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked.

“I’m back,” he called out, raising an eyebrow when no response came. “Blade?”

A faint noise came from deeper within the apartment, causing Dan Heng to freeze in place. A strange, cold feeling crept down his spine. Something felt off.

“Welcome home.”

Blade’s voice came from somewhere in the dark, low and calm. Dan Heng let out a quiet sigh, his steps resuming as he made his way further into the apartment. The lights were still off, and Blade was hidden in the shadows, but he could still hear him perfectly.

“Were you asleep?” Dan Heng asked, stopping by the light switch. “It’s pretty dark in here.”

His hand found the button, but when he pressed it, nothing happened. Strange. He pressed it again, harder this time, but still, no light came on. Dan Heng frowned. The lights had been working perfectly just moments ago. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing the single light still on in the hallway. Without it, he’d be standing in complete darkness.

Turning back, he squinted into the shadows, trying to make out any shapes or movement. The darkness felt too thick, almost unnatural, and his unease grew as he strained to see through it.

“Blade, are you there?” Dan Heng’s voice wavered slightly, his posture tense. He had never been afraid of the dark, but something about this situation unsettled him. “I can’t see you.”

Another sound echoed through the room. The faint creak of a bed, followed by slow, deliberate footsteps across the wooden floor.

“I’m right here.”

The voice was familiar—too familiar—but something in its tone felt off, distant. Dan Heng’s heart quickened as he squinted harder into the darkness, trying to make sense of the shadowy figure now emerging from the shadows. At first, the silhouette seemed like Blade. It had the same stance, the same shape. For a moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, a small, ghostly smile forming on his lips, but it quickly faded as something felt... wrong. His breath hitched as he instinctively stepped back, his shoulders hitting the wall behind him as the figure came into the dim light.

It wasn’t Blade.

Standing in the faint light was a man with white hair. His smile was too familiar, yet so different. A sword rested at his hip, catching the soft light from the hallway. His posture hinted at danger, but Dan Heng didn’t feel fear. He wasn’t in danger—not from this man. No, the emotion stirring inside him was something else entirely.

Confusion? Recognition?

He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as though his body was reacting on mere instinct. His hand moved almost on its own, his fingers reaching out, driven by an inexplicable urge to touch him, to feel his face. The white-haired man took another step forward, then another, until there was almost no space between them. Dan Heng could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could almost hear the steady breath coming from his lips.

Dan Heng’s fingertips hovered near his cheek, trembling slightly. His voice faltered as he finally spoke again, the words barely audible. “Who are you?”

The man’s smile widened just a fraction, as though he knew exactly what Dan Heng was thinking, what he was feeling. But he couldn’t—there was no way he could. He didn’t answer immediately, letting the tension build between them until it felt almost palpable. The room, the darkness, the sound of rain tapping against the window; it all seemed to fade away as they stood there, frozen in that moment.

And then, just as Dan Heng’s hand was about to brush against his skin, the man spoke, his voice a low murmur, “I’m someone you already know.”

Then, Dan Heng woke up.

It was still early, far too early even for the most dedicated early risers. The only sound breaking the stillness of the apartment was the low hum of the refrigerator, much quieter than the crickets in his sleep. Dan Heng lay still, staring at the ceiling where the little star stickers emitted a soft, greenish glow. A heavy sigh escaped him.

He had that dream again.

The past few weeks had been nearly unbearable for Dan Heng. It wasn’t just the frequency of the dreams that troubled him, but the unsettling presence of the white-haired man who seemed to be haunting him. There was something even more disturbing than his relentless appearance in his dreams—it was the intense, involuntary longing he felt. 

Every time he saw the man, he was overwhelmed by an intense, almost painful desire to reach out and touch him, yet every time his fingers almost made contact, he would wake up just before their skin could meet. It was always the same: a frustrating, unfulfilled yearning.

He still hadn’t mentioned the dreams to Blade. He wasn’t sure how to explain them without sounding completely unhinged. How could he possibly tell Blade that a white-haired man had been haunting his dreams since the festival, and that, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, this man felt inexplicably close to Blade?

There was no way.

So, rather than risking a potentially awkward conversation, Dan Heng had opted for a much quicker and easier approach: he decided to look up the white-haired man online.

Naturally, he wasn’t surprised when his search came up empty. He knew almost nothing about the man—only fleeting glimpses, never a clear view. He didn’t know the man’s name, where he lived, or even if he existed at all. Dan Heng didn’t have much to work with. But still, he searched everywhere, hoping to find him on forums about weird dreams, maybe even finding someone with a similar experience. But there was nothing; no information at all about the man who seemed to haunt his dreams.

However, he did come across something interesting.

It was a forum dedicated to vivid dreams, specifically precognitive dreams. They claimed that, sometimes, dreams could offer glimpses of the future or even flashes of the past. Dan Heng was never one to believe in these things too much; to him, they sounded like elaborate fantasies. However, at this point, he was desperate for any explanation. What was happening to him felt too unusual to be dismissed as mere dreams. And he couldn’t help but wonder—

What if there was some truth to it?

What if his dreams weren’t just random figments of his imagination, but fragments of something more significant?

He really did sound like a lunatic now.

Unbeknownst to him, Dan Heng had spent the entire morning diving into article after article, searching for any explanation, no matter how far-fetched. He had encountered some truly wild theories—reincarnation, soul ties, encounters after death, and other such nonsense. He had been so absorbed in his research that he hadn’t noticed how wild-eyed he must have looked in front of the computer.

“What are you doing?”

Dan Heng nearly jumped out of his skin. Even though there was nothing particularly scandalous, he didn’t want Blade to see what he was up to. He quickly clicked away from the page just as Blade peeked over his shoulder, eyeing the screen with a frown.

“You’re... staring at a black screen?” Blade asked, confused.

Dan Heng paused for a moment before muttering, “It ran out of battery.”

Blade looked at him, processing for a second, then chuckled softly. “You’re really not good at lying.”

But even then, Blade didn’t press him to explain what he was doing, which he appreciated.

Dan Heng watched as he bent down to put on his shoes. It was his day off, and he had no real plans for the day—just resting, maybe doing a bit of aimless searching online. Nothing too demanding.

“I’ll leave you the keys,” Blade said as he made his way toward the hallway. “Be back later.”

Dan Heng really didn’t want to be left alone. His fingers twitched over the sheets, and for a moment, he considered asking Blade to stay. They weren’t exactly romantic with each other, not in the traditional sense, and maybe they never would be. The thought of being openly affectionate still made him a little uncomfortable, like it was something he wasn’t used to, something foreign. But since that one moment in the dressing room—something Dan Heng definitely hadn’t forgotten—nothing else had happened between them. Not like that, at least.

Dan Heng wasn’t sure if this was how things were supposed to go between them, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He had no idea what the norms were in a relationship like theirs. He didn’t have any relationship standards to go by, and there wasn’t anyone he could ask for guidance. He was completely on his own here. Should he be the one to initiate more? Or should he just wait and let things develop naturally? It was hard to tell if he was holding back too much or if things were simply moving at their own pace.

Leaning back against the wall, he glanced at Blade. “Where are you going?”

“To Jing Yuan’s house,” Blade replied casually, but Dan Heng couldn’t help the small snort that escaped him. Blade then added with a teasing smile, “Do you want to come with me?”

Dan Heng fell silent.

His thoughts drifted back to the last time he had been at Jing Yuan’s house, when all those strange things had begun to happen. His mind replayed the question Blade had asked him that night. It had been a while since he last thought about it, but with everything going on now, it felt oddly relevant.

He stared at his computer screen for a split second.

“Blade,” he called softly, breaking the silence, his eyes watching as he stopped in his tracks.

Blade turned around slowly, his expression curious. “Yeah?”

Why did you whisper his name in your dreams?

The question hung on the tip of his tongue, before he swallowed it down. It wasn’t the right time.

“Nothing,” he finally said, forcing a small smile. “Have fun.”

Blade looked at him oddly for a moment, his eyes searching Dan Heng’s face for something more, but then nodded, finally leaving the apartment.

It seemed the rest of the afternoon would be quiet, just him alone.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

The war hadn’t officially started, but its chaos had already bled into every corner of his life.

For days now, Dan Feng had barely slept. There was so much to do, so many preparations to make, so much to strategize. His mind kept drifting back to those final days of peace, days that he knew would never return.

It wasn’t the first time Dan Feng had faced danger. Long before he’d met Yingxing, he had become well acquainted with violence and threat. In a way, this was no different from the battles that had long molded him into who he was. By all accounts, the familiarity should’ve offered him some comfort, the repetition of what he already knew; but instead, it terrified him. He was terrified for reasons beyond his awareness, as though it stemmed from a primal instinct rather than any rational thought.

And in the midst of it all, he hadn’t seen Yingxing. Not because he didn’t want to—he missed him every day—but because he was afraid to see him.

They hadn’t spoken since that one afternoon Jing Yuan informed him about the war, but he must have known by now. Of course he would know, because he was going to fight, too.

And that thought… filled Dan Feng with a new kind of fear.

Dan Feng’s head snapped up at the sudden crack of thunder right outside the window. He frowned.

Rain? When was the last time it had rained?

He moved to the window, watching as thick raindrops poured fiercely across the landscape, stirring everything in their path. It had been so long since he’d seen rain fall with such intensity, and somehow, it felt... oddly appropriate. Fitting, given everything that was coming. He stood there in silence, letting the steady rhythm of the rain consume his mind until it drowned out all other thoughts.

For a fleeting moment, he thought about running away.

Dan Feng had never been one to run. It wasn’t in his nature to flee from responsibility or danger; he despised the thought of cowardice. But as he watched the rain fall, with the looming presence of war hanging over him, for the first time, he considered another possibility.

What if he took Yingxing and left right now, on a day like this? The rain would wash away any trace of their departure; no one would find them. By morning, they could be far away, free from everything. It’d be so easy. So tempting.

Just for a moment, that thought filled him with a surprising calm.

Then, as he stood looking out the window, there was a knock on the door.

He turned sharply toward the sound, frowning. He wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not today. In fact, he was completely alone in the house, and there was no one else to answer the door for him.

Dan Feng walked down the stairs at a slow pace, the low rumble of thunder accompanying his every step. Whoever it was had picked a terrible time to visit, given the storm raging outside. Just as he reached the door, there was another knock, louder this time, making him click his tongue in irritation.

“Who’s there?” he called out, his tone slightly impatient. He opened the door, ready to send the visitor away.

The sight before him made his breath catch.

“Yingxing?” he mumbled in disbelief.

There, standing on his doorstep, drenched from head to toe, was Yingxing. His hair, usually tied back, hung in wet strands, rainwater dripping down his face. His soaked clothes clung to his body. Dan Feng blinked, half-expecting to wake up from a dream. But no, Yingxing was really there, standing in front of him, after several days of not seeing each other.

And he looked just as real as the storm raging behind him.

Yingxing smirked, as if the situation didn’t bother him at all. “Long time no see,” he said smoothly. “Sorry for dropping by unannounced. May I come in?”

“You really…” Dan Feng tried to respond, but the words died in his throat. With a resigned sigh, he stepped aside. “Come in now. Quickly.”

Yingxing entered the house without another word, leaving the storm behind him. Dan Feng noted the wet footprints that would need attention later, but his focus now was elsewhere. He had too many questions he knew might be left forever unanswered.

As Dan Feng closed the door behind them, he turned to Yingxing, his expression already set in a frown of reproach. “What did you think you were—?”

But the rest of his sentence was cut short as a pair of strong, cold arms wrapped around him. The shock of the contact made him stiffen. It took him a moment to process what was happening: how close Yingxing was, how his hands touched him, and just how cold his skin felt, almost shivering against him. Dan Feng stood there, frozen, his arms almost limp at his sides. Yingxing smelled of wet firewood, a wild, earthy scent; it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though it was unexpected. His hands rested on Dan Feng’s lower back, soaking through his clothes, growing heavier by the second. A small shiver ran through him, though it wasn’t from the cold, and he hoped Yingxing wouldn’t notice. The rain still pattered against the windows, but in that moment, it felt far away.

Finally, after a brief moment of hesitation, Dan Feng found his voice, speaking softly, almost unsure:

“Yingxing, you’re getting me wet.”

But he didn’t move an inch. Dan Feng felt the droplets of rainwater trickling from Yingxing’s hair, sliding down his neck and onto his collar. He sighed internally, realizing that if this continued, he’d have to change his clothes entirely.

Yingxing hummed softly, a low, almost teasing sound. “Am I?”

Dan Feng shifted slightly, still not pulling away. “What’s this?” he asked, not out of disgust at the closeness, but at the unfamiliarity of it. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I just wanted to hug you,” Yingxing replied, his voice soft and small against him. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Yet there was something about those words that made Dan Feng relax, despite the discomfort of being hugged while soaked through. Because he, too, had missed him. And perhaps, deep down, he knew they might never get another chance to hug like this again.

“Why did you come?” Dan Feng asked, inevitably curious. “It’s dangerous to be out in weather like this.”

Yingxing pulled back slowly. Dan Feng immediately felt the cold, wet fabric of his clothes sticking to his skin.

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” he said with a small, almost playful smile. “I was on my way to see you when the rain started. I wasn’t going to turn back, so I came anyway.”

Dan Feng glanced at him, noticing how drenched Yingxing was, his hair clinging to his face, water dripping down his neck. It was very reckless of him. “You could have waited.”

“Maybe,” Yingxing shrugged, brushing a few wet strands from his face. “But I didn’t want to.”

Dan Feng tried to think of anyone else he would allow to do such a thing—allow them into his home during a storm, let them touch him while they were soaking wet, and still not push them away. He must have been out of his mind.

“Come with me,” he said eventually, turning toward the stairs. “Let’s get you dry.”

The rain outside drowned out the sound of their footsteps as they climbed to Dan Feng’s room. He felt a small sense of relief that he was alone today; he had no idea how he’d explain this situation if someone else had been around. He was supposed to spend the entire day reviewing strategies and making preparations, so this had certainly not been part of the plan.

“I’m sorry for ruining your clothes,” Yingxing said suddenly, breaking the silence. When Dan Feng returned from the bathroom with a towel, he noticed the guilt written on his face. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking.”

But Dan Feng wasn’t angry. Perhaps, years ago, he would’ve been furious at the boundaries that had been crossed. But over the decades, so many lines had blurred between them that he no longer knew what was right or wrong in their relationship.

It was almost amusing, thinking back to how things had been between them in the beginning. How cold and distant he used to be. Dan Feng barely noticed when his defenses began to soften, when things started to slip out of his once rigid control.

“It’s fine,” he replied quietly, and he meant it. Handing Yingxing the towel, he added, “Right now, all I care about is making sure you don’t catch a cold.”

Yingxing took the towel with a quiet nod, his shoulders relaxing as he began drying himself off.

“I’ll grab some clothes for you. I’m not sure they’ll fit,” Dan Feng said thoughtfully, mentally scanning his wardrobe. He needed to change too, as his own shirt was now quite damp. “You might as well stay until the storm passes. No point in getting soaked again.”

He said it in a neutral tone, but deep down, Dan Feng was actually glad Yingxing was staying. He couldn’t remember the last time they had spent time together like this.

“Won’t that be an inconvenience?” Yingxing asked.

Dan Feng shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all.”

He made his way to the closet, sliding the door open and looking through his neatly arranged clothes. His style had always been a bit particular, tailored to his taste, but somewhere among the pressed shirts and folded pants, he knew there had to be something Yingxing could wear—perhaps an old shirt from the nights when he had stayed over, long forgotten in the back of the drawer. After quickly changing into something more comfortable himself, he rummaged through his closet and found a suitable set of clothes.

When he stepped back into the room, Yingxing was by the window, already in the process of drying off. His shirt had been removed, and Dan Feng’s gaze instinctively followed the scars that marred his back. For a moment, he felt a twinge of something, but he pushed it aside.

“I found something for you,” Dan Feng said, laying the dry clothes on the nearby table.

Yingxing glanced over, his lips twitching into a small grin. “You always did keep everything in perfect order. I’m surprised you still had something of mine.”

Dan Feng’s expression softened. “I’m not one to throw things away easily.”

Yingxing chuckled, pulling off the remainder of his clothes and reaching for the towel. “I guess that includes me.”

Dan Feng hesitated, the words catching in his throat.  He didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I’ll let you change,” he muttered, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in his own shirt just to give his hands something to do. “I’ll be in the next room.”

Before he could leave, Yingxing’s voice stopped him. “Dan Feng,” he called softly. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Dan Feng paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

With a final glance, he stepped out of the room, the quiet of the house blending with the soft rhythm of rain falling outside.

(...)

Dan Feng had been waiting for what felt like an eternity outside the room, trying to distract himself. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of a thick, dust-covered book. Someone would need to clean that up.

He didn’t know what to do, what to say. They hadn’t talked about it yet—the war, what it meant for them. What it was going to take from them.

This war was going to change everything. This wasn’t like the other battles they had fought separately. For the first time, they would fight together, and Dan Feng couldn’t help but think of the irony in that. He had trained him just for this—trained him to be a master swordsman, the best there was, and he had succeeded. Yingxing was his best piece of work. But now, instead of pride, all Dan Feng felt was a sense of… doubt. Even fear.

Had he done the right thing by preparing him for this life? Or had he unknowingly destined him for it?

“What’s got you so distracted?”

Dan Feng turned, finding Yingxing casually leaning against the doorframe, looking completely refreshed in the dry clothes he’d given him, his hair slicked back and out of his face.

“Just the dust,” he replied, brushing his fingers together absently. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a new man,” Yingxing chuckled. “That was exactly what I needed.”

“Good to hear.”

Dan Feng glanced out the window. Dusk had settled in, though nightfall was still a few hours away. The rain continued to patter against the glass, showing no sign of stopping. It wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He briefly wondered how they would pass the time until then.

“Doesn’t seem like the rain’s going anywhere,” Yingxing mused, his eyes following the downpour outside. Then, with a teasing smile, he turned back to him. “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

Dan Feng raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“A fight.”

Dan Feng blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before letting out a soft sigh, shaking his head. He should’ve expected that from him. “You never run out of energy, do you?”

Yingxing’s smile only widened. His enthusiasm was contagious, and despite himself, Dan Feng could feel that old excitement for the fight awakening in him again.

“Well, I suppose we have time to kill,” Dan Feng said eventually, glancing outside once more. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They made their way downstairs. The old training room had seen little use ever since Dan Feng stopped taking on apprentices. Weapons still adorned the walls after all this time, untouched. The broken training dummies had been shoved into a closet, out of sight. What used to be a space full of life was now almost forgotten, its former glory fading with each passing day. But today, they’d return to that very room—the place where they first met, and where they’d face each other for what might be the last time. Too many memories lived here, buried beneath the dust.

Once, Dan Feng had met Yingxing as a young, nervous apprentice, so awkward and eager to learn. His best student. And then, over the years, he had watched that same boy grow into the skilled, confident man standing beside him now. In his mind, those two versions of Yingxing felt like entirely different people—one, a student he could guide, the other, a formidable equal. His best friend. The man he loved. He was so many things.

And he realized that, in many ways, he had changed too. Some things had been unimaginable to him back then.

“You don’t have your sword with you, do you?” Dan Feng asked, even though he already knew the answer as he walked toward the wall of weapons.

“Unfortunately, no,” Yingxing replied.

“Then take mine.”

Dan Feng’s hand hovered for a moment before reaching for a long, pointed weapon, one that stood out among the others.

A spear.

Yingxing let out a low whistle from the side.

“Interesting choice,” he remarked, as he reached for the sword that belonged to Dan Feng. The very sword he had faced countless times, the one that had left its mark on him more than once, now rested in his hands. Yingxing turned the sword in his grip, feeling its weight, as if testing it. “Why the change of weapon?”

Dan Feng’s gaze flickered to the spear in his hands, fingers curling around its shaft. “Maybe I wanted to surprise you,” he said with a faint smile. “Or maybe it’s time for a change.”

Yingxing chuckled, his eyes narrowing playfully. “We’ll see.”

They stood across from each other on the cold wooden floor. For the first time, Dan Feng was acutely aware of the passage of time. His muscles pulled harder with every movement, and he was tiring a little faster than he remembered. But none of that would stop him from giving everything he had.

He studied Yingxing carefully, watching his posture, the way his fingers flexed around the unfamiliar sword. Before he could fully prepare, Yingxing lunged, striking first.

Yingxing adapted easily to the borrowed sword, as though it had always been his. Dan Feng, on the other hand, found himself stumbling, his grip on the spear faltering for just a moment. He barely managed to parry the strike, his hands trembling as the force of the blow pushed him back. Still, he managed to dodge, moving to the side. His fingers tightened around the spear, forcing himself to focus.

Although the outcome of this fight didn’t really matter to him, a part of Dan Feng still burned with the desire to win, if only to prove something to himself. To prove that he was still strong, that the years hadn’t dulled his edge. He had chosen the spear for a reason—it was new and dangerous in its unfamiliarity. Just like the war yet to come.

Dan Feng was quick to launch his next attack, not wanting to be left behind. Yingxing dodged it effortlessly, and Dan Feng clicked his tongue in frustration. At least this time, he wasn’t going easy on him like before.

He thrust his spear forward, and it collided against Yingxing’s sword, his sword. The metallic clash echoed sharply in the room. He felt like he was drowning in the deep red of Yingxing’s irises, but he pushed harder.

He couldn’t lose. He wouldn’t lose. The thought burned in his mind, growing stronger with each passing second. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he was even thinking about this fight anymore. His thoughts spiraled, circling around the war, the sacrifices that would soon be made. How many lives would be lost, how many people would be lost, no matter the outcome. Dan Feng thought about how few people he had left in his life.

And he thought about losing him.

Yingxing suddenly stepped back, breaking the contact between their swords. Dan Feng stood there, overwhelmed by the emotions he was experiencing, his chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. He watched in confusion as Yingxing lowered his weapon, the tip barely touching the ground.

“So it’s true,” he muttered.

Dan Feng frowned, but he held his spear firmly, every muscle tensed for whatever might come next.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re scared,” Yingxing said, his eyes searching Dan Feng’s. “It’s because of the war, isn’t it?”

His grip on the spear faltered.

“How… can you know that?”

Yingxing set his sword aside, surrendering any intent to continue the fight. Dan Feng knew it was over, but he continued to hold on to his weapon, using it for support.

“It’s a skill I’ve picked up over time,” Yingxing said, resting his back against the wall. “When we fight, it’s the only way I can truly understand your emotions.”

Dan Feng also leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the hard, cold floor. He felt exposed, even a bit vulnerable. But he should have known Yingxing would be able to read him so well.

He let out a humorless snort. “I guess that explains why you wanted to fight all of a sudden.”

Yingxing studied him closely. “Are you upset?”

Dan Feng thought for a moment. Slowly, he released his grip on the spear, letting it rest at his side.

“No,” he admitted with a weary sigh. “I suppose it’s time we talked about it. War is coming, whether I want it or not.”

But the truth was, Dan Feng didn’t know what to say about it. The words were there, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them. Instead, he let the silence linger, listening to the soft patter of rain against the window. He just wanted it to be over.

“I’ve talked to Jing Yuan about it. He’s confident, and so am I,” Yingxing said after a pause, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, too gentle for Dan Feng’s liking. Even after all these years, it still bothered him when Yingxing handled him with such care. “We’ll face this together, you and me.”

But the words twisted something deep inside him.

“That’s the part I don’t like,” Dan Feng admitted, his voice low. “That you’ll be there.”

He could feel Yingxing’s eyes on him. “You don’t want me to fight?”

“It’s not that,” Dan Feng replied, though deep down he knew it wasn’t true. That was exactly what he wanted. But his fear ran much deeper than that. “I never wanted us to fight side by side. Not in a situation like this. Not where anything could happen… to either of us.”

A sudden crack of thunder boomed outside the window, and for a moment, Dan Feng closed his eyes. The thought of running away together flashed through his mind again, so strong that he almost said it aloud. But when he opened his eyes, Yingxing was kneeling right in front of him, their faces now inches apart.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly, confidently, looking into his eyes. “As long as I live, nothing will ever happen to you.”

Dan Feng’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Because that wasn’t what terrified him. It was something far worse. Something that would surely cost him his life.

I don’t think I can live without you.

The words trembled on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down, forcing them back. Dan Feng had lost so many people in his life, and death had always been inevitable, a natural part of the cycle. But this was different. It was a raw, urgent, terrifying feeling. He had never been so terrified of losing someone. The last time he felt something like it was the day Yingxing almost died—the day he almost gave up too.

And though he didn’t want to admit it, he recognized that he might have, had Yingxing not survived.

What frightened him even more was the look in Yingxing’s eyes; so full of pure, unwavering devotion. Dan Feng knew he meant every word. He would sacrifice himself again, just as he had before.

“Would you do anything I asked?”

Yingxing stared at him, momentarily taken aback, before slowly nodding.

Dan Feng took a deep breath, his chest tightening with the effort. “Then, would you live if I asked you to?”

He saw the shift in Yingxing’s expression immediately.

“Dan Feng—”

“I’m not asking you not to fight,” he interrupted, his voice urgent. “I’m only asking that, no matter what, you stay alive.”

There was a long, tense silence. The rain’s incessant drumming was almost unbearable. But Dan Feng needed to hear it, needed to know that Yingxing would make an effort for him.

And then, after a long pause, Yingxing finally nodded.

“I will.”

(...)

Present-Day

“You really told him?”

Jing Yuan blinked, momentarily pausing his teacup in mid-air. Blade hadn’t had the chance to visit until now, to deliver the news in person. Of course, he wanted Jing Yuan to be the first to know. After all, he had been there through everything, from their past lives to the present. This was his way of thanking him, in his own, silent manner.

“Congratulations,” Jing Yuan said with a knowing smile, taking a sip of tea. “Only took you a few hundred years.”

Blade snorted, his lips twitching. “Better late than never.”

For a moment, Blade’s mind drifted back to something Jing Yuan had mentioned during their last conversation—about Yingxing’s final wish. No matter how hard he tried, those last months before the war remained hazy in his memory, a foggy blur of fragmented faces and fleeting moments. The more he strained to recall them, the more elusive they became. He couldn’t remember much about his last moments as Yingxing.

Things had been going well lately. Too well, in fact, that Blade was beginning to wonder when the next storm would hit. Even after all these years, Blade still had trouble getting used to the calm of now. Even after all these years, he still had trouble adjusting to the calm that now filled his life. Some nights, he’d wake in the middle of the night, heart racing, searching for any signs of danger. Then, the realization would settle in: all of that was behind him. He’d been reborn into something better, a miracle not entirely sure he deserved.

“So, what now?” Jing Yuan’s voice cut through his thoughts, the sound of the teacup clicking softly as it touched the table. “What are you going to do?”

Blade frowned, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Jing Yuan leaned in closer, his eyes piercing. “Are you truly over Dan Feng now?”

Blade paused, the words echoing in his mind. It seemed strange for Jing Yuan to ask such a question, so suddenly, out of nowhere.

At Blade’s confused expression, he sighed. “I bring this up because, as you know, Dan Heng doesn’t remember his past. But your feelings for Dan Feng are still there,” he said, studying him closely. “Things are going to be different now that you’ve told him how you feel. Do you think you’ll be able to handle it?”

Blade shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Well, it’s not like I can just tell him about the past.”

Jing Yuan peered over the rim of his cup, his expression thoughtful. “You really think so?”

Blade’s gut reaction was to say yes. Of course he thought so. That had always been the rule, the warning behind the prophecy, the reason he had kept the truth buried for so long.

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “I’m not saying you should just tell him,” he clarified, setting down his cup and standing up. “I’m just saying, beyond the prophecy, no one truly knows what will happen. Who knows? Maybe Dan Heng could remember something. Maybe all he needs is a little push.”

At the implication, he straightened up. Could it be? Blade had never considered that possibility—not after all the years he had waited.

But if he could remember, and even Jing Yuan could, then why couldn’t Dan Heng?

He crossed his arms, his voice low but curious. “Like what?”

Jing Yuan shrugged. “That’s up to you. Maybe start with things he used to enjoy in his past life—anything that might trigger a memory.”

Blade hadn’t thought of it like that before. His focus had always been on the future, on keeping the past hidden. Perhaps he had been approaching the situation all wrong.

And suddenly, an idea began to form in Blade’s mind. One that just might work.

(...)

Five hundred years ago

It was well past midnight, and the rain still hadn’t let up. Dan Feng had insisted that Yingxing stay the night—it was too dangerous to leave in such weather. After all, it wasn’t the first time they had spent a night like this.

But what Dan Feng hadn’t expected was to find himself unable to sleep.

He couldn’t stop thinking. Even though Yingxing’s promise gave him some comfort, it didn’t completely erase the truth of his own feelings. And a single promise wouldn’t be enough to make them disappear.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning, but sleep refused to come. Eventually, he realized it was pointless to keep trying.

With a soft sigh, he quietly got out of bed, careful not to make a sound. The door to Yingxing’s room was still closed as he passed by, heading instead toward his study. It was the only place where he could think clearly, where he could put his emotions aside.

He walked with slow, quiet steps across the cold room, still in his pajamas, until he reached his desk. It was more cluttered than usual, with maps strewn about, ink pots stacked in a corner, and several books left open. But his focus was somewhere else. He reached for the top drawer of his desk and pulled it open.

Inside, beneath some papers, was a small box. Dan Feng stared at it for a moment, his heart pounding quietly in his chest. He hadn’t opened it in weeks, maybe months. His fingers traced the lid, hesitating for a moment before he opened it. The moonlight caught the object inside, and Dan Feng felt his chest tighten at the sight of it—partly from embarrassment, but mostly from the weight of what it meant.

Rings.

They felt heavy in his hands, though the box itself was light. Dan Feng rarely wore jewelry—he’d never had much of an interest in it. Clothes had always been more his thing. But these rings weren’t for him. Or rather, not just for him.

He had bought them some time ago, on a day when he was heading to Jing Yuan’s office. He had passed by a fancy jewelry store, and something had made him stop in his tracks. There, through the glass display, the rings had caught his eye. Their design was simple yet elegant, with delicate vines carved into the metal, twining gracefully around each band. Dan Feng had thought they were quite… beautiful. He had stood there for what felt like ages, staring at them through the window. He knew, even then, why he was drawn to the rings; but admitting it, even to himself, felt too overwhelming. There was a part of him that had wanted to turn away, to keep walking and pretend he hadn’t seen them.

But instead, in an almost impulsive decision, he’d stepped inside the store and bought them. And so they had sat in his drawer ever since, hidden away like a shameful secret.

A quiet breath escaped him as he placed the rings back in the box and closed the lid.

What was he thinking when he bought these? Dan Feng’s grip tightened around the small box. The thought now seemed absurd—how could he have ever dared to imagine giving these to Yingxing? And even worse, what had made him believe, even for a second, that Yingxing would accept them?

He tried not to think how vulnerable it made him feel, how much the rings felt like a declaration, but it was almost impossible.

What would Yingxing think of him if he handed him the rings, just like that? How would he look at him afterward? Or worse still, what would people say if the two of them walked around wearing this?

The thought of it made his stomach twist.

Dan Feng couldn’t bring himself to look at the rings, but the thought of throwing them away felt almost painful. Like throwing away his own heart, as embarrassing as it sounded. Maybe they would always remain there, hidden and abandoned.

He shook his head slightly and opened the drawer, intending to put them back and leave them there, never to be touched again.

“What are you doing up?”

Dan Feng’s heart skipped a beat. He stumbled, turning around and hiding his hands behind his back, the box still gripped tightly in his palms. This was the worst possible time.

“Yingxing,” he murmured, his voice nearly swallowed by the patter of the rain outside. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

He chuckled softly. “Me neither. Tough night, isn’t it?”

Definitely, it had just become worse.

Yingxing walked closer, and Dan Feng instinctively took a step back, his legs hitting the edge of the desk with a soft thud. The last thing he needed was for Yingxing to see the rings. He had to find a way to slip the box back into the drawer without him noticing.

Dan Feng’s heart raced, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he tried to remain calm.

“Are you okay?” Yingxing asked, his brow furrowed with concern. He always noticed, no matter how hard Dan Feng tried to hide it. “You seem a little nervous.”

Dan Feng took a long breath, hoping to steady himself. “Yes, I’m fine,” he replied, though his voice didn’t feel as calm as he wanted it to. “Just tired.”

“I can make some tea, if you’d like,” he offered, sympathetic. “Maybe that would help.”

Dan Feng doubted the usual tea would do much to soothe his nerves this time, but anything that could take Yingxing’s attention away from him was welcome.

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, forcing a small smile. “Thank you, Yingxing.”

Yingxing smiled back. “Anytime.”

As Yingxing turned to leave the room, Dan Feng had to bite back a sigh of relief. He had handled that better than he thought. Slowly, he turned back toward the drawer, hands carefully reaching out to return the small box to where it belonged.

But before he could push it back inside, Yingxing’s voice stopped him mid-motion. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, turning back to face him. Dan Feng froze, his hand hovering right over the drawer. He barely managed to meet his gaze, the box still hidden in his hands. “When this is all over, maybe you and I could… go somewhere.”

Dan Feng took a moment to let the words sink in. “You mean… the beach?”

Yingxing paused, then let out a soft laugh. “You still remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he responded, almost offended at the suggestion he might forget anything about him. “You said you wanted to see the sea at least once.”

“Well, we can go there,” Yingxing said, his voice softening as he rambled on. “Or anywhere, really. I don’t care where, as long as it’s you and me.”

Dan Feng’s heart fluttered at those words. For a brief moment, he even forgot the reason he had been so worried in the first place. He leaned forward, the edge of the desk no longer pressing against his legs, instinctively wanting to be closer to Yingxing.

But then, just as he shifted, it happened. His fingers faltered, and before he could react, the small box slipped from his grasp.

It tumbled to the floor with a soft thud, landing in the open space between them. The sound was quiet but unmistakable, and Dan Feng’s heart stopped.

Time seemed to freeze. Dan Feng’s eyes widened, unable to do anything but stare at the small box that lay between them.

Yingxing’s gaze dropped to the small box on the floor, his eyebrows lifting in mild curiosity.

“Oh, you dropped something.”

Without hesitation, he bent down and picked it up, his fingers brushing against the worn surface of the box. As he stood back up, the lid shifted slightly, just enough to reveal a glimpse of the rings inside. The delicate bands shimmered under the soft light of the moon filtering through the window. Yingxing’s eyes landed on them, and for a moment, he simply stared, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Then, he froze.

Dan Feng watched it all happen in slow motion—the way Yingxing’s expression faltered, how his lips parted ever so slightly, his entire body tensing as he stared at the rings. His eyes were fixed on them, unmoving, and he looked… horrified. It was the first time he had ever seen such an expression on his face. And it was then that Dan Feng knew. He should never have bought them. The moment the thought entered his mind, he cursed himself for being foolish. He should’ve expected this reaction. His chest tightened painfully, and it felt as if his lungs were being squeezed by his ribs.

Finally, Yingxing tore his gaze away from the rings and looked up at Dan Feng, his voice barely above a whisper. “What is this?”

Dan Feng couldn’t speak. He could only stand there, frozen in place.

For a moment, he considered telling him the truth, making sure he was heard this time. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Even if he did tell him, it would be pointless.

They had already run out of time.

He took the box from Yingxing’s hands with a gentle touch and carefully placed it back in the drawer, not meeting his eyes. “Nothing important.”

He stepped around Yingxing and made his way to the study door. The rain was lighter now, finally winding down after hours of storm. He glanced back at him one last time before turning away.

“Get some rest, Yingxing.”

(...)

It was early morning when Yingxing knocked on Jing Yuan’s door.

He hadn’t slept at all the previous night. Normally, Dan Feng’s bed had a calming effect on him, and whenever he stayed the night, sleep came easily. But last night was different. As soon as he heard the birds chirping at dawn, he got up, left a brief note for Dan Feng, and made his way to Jing Yuan’s.

When no answer came after the first knock, he knocked again, this time with a little more urgency.

“I’m coming!” Jing Yuan’s groggy voice called out from inside.

When the door finally opened, Yingxing was greeted by a half-awake, wet-haired Jing Yuan. Well, at least he hadn’t woken him up.

Jing Yuan blinked a few times, as if it took him a moment to register who stood at his door. He squinted, yawning, and leaned against the doorframe, clearly still shaking off sleep.

“Oh, it’s you,” he mumbled, frowning slightly. “What’re you doing here at this hour? It’s way too early, even for you.”

“I just came to chat,” he tried to say casually. His hands fidgeted at his sides, betraying the calm tone he was aiming for. “Can I come in?”

Jing Yuan gave him a long, scrutinizing look. By now, he could probably sense something was off, but chose not to press. Instead, he stepped aside, holding the door open. “Always.”

The door clicked softly behind him as he entered. Jing Yuan’s house was dimly lit, still too early for the day to fully come to life. There was a faint herbal scent in the air that he probably would’ve found comforting if he weren’t so tense.

“Take a seat,” Jing Yuan said, heading back toward the kitchen. “I was just making black tea. Want some?”

Yingxing briefly glanced around, his eyes momentarily landing on a stack of unread letters piled on a nearby table. A cup of tea might help his jittery mind after a sleepless night, but the knot in his stomach made him shake his head. 

“I’m fine.”

Jing Yuan shrugged lightly. “As you like.”

Yingxing didn’t sit down. He paced back and forth, his boots making too much noise against the wooden floor as he waited for Jing Yuan to return from the kitchen. The room felt too quiet, the slow tick of a clock only heightening his anxiety. But he had to be patient—it was five in the morning, after all, and he hadn’t given Jing Yuan any warning before showing up on his doorstep.

When Jing Yuan finally returned, he was carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and two cups. He set the tray down carefully on the table, his movements calm, as if he had all the time in the world. With a quiet smile, he poured the dark liquid into the two delicate cups, glancing briefly at Yingxing.

“I made two, just in case you change your mind,” he said, picking up his own cup and taking a long, slow sip.

Yingxing could hardly stand the slowness, the easy pace of it all. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Jing Yuan asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Yingxing blurted out the question.

“Do you know if Dan Feng is... seeing anyone?” The words felt heavier than he expected, a lump forming in his throat as he forced the rest out. “Does he already have someone?”

Jing Yuan paused mid-sip, his brow furrowing slightly as he set the cup back down. The faint clink of porcelain against wood felt like the loudest sound in the room. He studied Yingxing for a moment, the playful smile now gone from his face.

“I don’t think so,” Jing Yuan replied after a moment of thought. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Yingxing frowned, remembering the last time he’d tried something like that, far too many years ago. It hadn’t gone well. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Fair enough,” Jing Yuan shrugged, a lighthearted tone in his voice. “Well, if he does, he must’ve gotten a lot better at hiding it. I haven’t heard a thing.”

But that was exactly what bothered Yingxing. He hadn’t heard anything either. It was strange, considering how things used to be. He still recalled all those nights in the past when he would stumble upon men slipping out of Dan Feng’s place, and he’d have to pretend he hadn’t seen them, like they were nothing but shadows in the dark; the events where he’d stand by himself, jaw clenched, knowing Dan Feng was not with him, but probably with someone else, while he swallowed his frustration. It used to drive him mad, yet there was nothing he could do but bear it.

But over time, those men just stopped showing up. Yingxing hadn’t thought much of it back then, relieved that Dan Feng seemed to have stopped seeing them. He’d assumed it was just the natural way things had ended. But now, he wondered if he had missed something. All those times Dan Feng left home—was he really going to see someone else? Did he stop seeing those men because he had found someone… special?

“Why do you ask?” Jing Yuan inquired, adding an extra spoonful of sugar to his tea. “It’s not like you to ask something like this, especially now.”

Yingxing hesitated. Just the thought of saying it out loud made his stomach churn, but he didn’t really have anyone else to confide in, and he desperately needed to. So, he took a deep breath.

“Remember yesterday? The rain?”

Jing Yuan nodded absentmindedly, stirring his tea. “Oh, yes. It poured all night. Seemed like it would never end.”

“Well,” Yingxing began, carefully choosing his words, “I spent the night at Dan Feng’s house. Couldn’t sleep, so I went to talk to him. And then… he dropped something on the floor. I picked it up, and it was… rings.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft clink of the spoon against the cup, then an abrupt clatter as Jing Yuan’s hand slipped. His eyes snapped up, wide in shock, and for the first time in all their years of friendship, Yingxing saw a stern, almost disbelieving expression on his face.

“Rings?”

Yingxing nodded curtly, his throat tightening as he forced out the word, “Yes.”

When he first saw the rings, his mind fought to deny what they were. He desperately hoped he’d mistaken them for something else. But even in the darkness, there was no mistaking their shape, their weight, or what they symbolized. What they meant. And for a moment, it felt as if the ground had collapsed beneath him. It was a pain unlike any he had known. 

Yingxing could tolerate seeing Dan Feng with other people. It had never been easy, but he could handle the casual visitors, the fleeting relationships that never lasted long. He had learned to push down the jealousy and tell himself it didn’t matter. That Dan Feng would never let it go that far. But the thought of Dan Feng committing to someone, of him slipping a ring onto someone else’s finger, was a different kind of pain. It was final. Like the closing of a door that had been left slightly ajar for years, only to now slam shut in his face.

The idea of Dan Feng giving his heart to someone else was unbearable. Yingxing didn’t think his own heart could take it, not after all these years. He had silently promised himself to Dan Feng long ago, without ever asking for anything in return. But he could bear anything—he had always borne anything—except this.

At that moment, he could barely speak. All he could think about was how he should have acted sooner, should have told him—should have done something before it came to this.

And with that came a desperate idea.

“What did he say about them?” Jing Yuan asked then.

“That it was nothing important,” Yingxing said, his voice strained, echoing the words Dan Feng had given him that night. “Maybe… he was telling the truth. I just needed to confirm it, just in case.”

Jing Yuan nodded quietly, the steaming cups of tea sitting untouched between them. Yingxing could feel his heart pounding fiercely in his chest—ecstatic, terrified, all at once.

He was about to unlock a cage that had been tightly shut for decades. He knew that once the words left his lips, nothing would ever be the same. But after what he had seen yesterday, something had changed within him, too. It was as if a veil had been lifted, finally allowing him to see.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for what he was about to say.

“I’m going to tell him, after the war.”

Jing Yuan studied him with an unreadable expression. “Tell him what?”

Yingxing met his gaze, feeling more determined than ever.

“What I feel for him.”

Jing Yuan looked at him with wide eyes, but he didn’t inquire further. Perhaps, after what he had just told him, he understood his choice. Instead, he asked, “Why not say it sooner?”

Yingxing offered a small smile, suddenly feeling a hint of embarrassment.

“It’s just a personal theory of mine,” he explained. “If we can get through that, then maybe we can get through this, too.”

He was certain. He would prepare very well, think carefully about his words, how he would tell him—after all, revealing a secret kept for twenty years wouldn’t be easy. But he would do it in his own time. He believed they could face this together.

After all, they had all the time in the world.

(...)

Present-Day

It had been a while since Blade had left, and in that time, Dan Heng had stayed in the apartment. He had hoped that a break would do him some good, that stepping away from work would help clear his mind of everything that had been happening lately.

Instead, it only made things worse.

There was nothing to do in there. He tried to distract himself by tidying up the place, folding the clothes he had carelessly tossed aside and clearing off the clutter on the coffee table, but no amount of cleaning could chase away his thoughts.

Dan Heng picked up his phone, staring at Blade’s chat for what felt like forever. His fingers hovered over the screen, typing out a quick, blunt message: When are you coming back? But just as fast, he deleted it.

Sighing, he set the phone down.

Something had been bothering him for quite a while. It had started with the dreams—vague at first, then growing sharper, more frequent. And it all had magnified after that night at the festival, but especially the presence of that white-haired man. It made everything feel much more real, more unavoidable. Dan Heng had tried to brush it off, to pretend everything was normal, to convince himself that nothing had changed. But every day, it got harder.