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A doomed love between a long-lived species and the short-lived species; nevertheless Yingxing would often joke about after he died, what will Dan Feng do?
The Vidyadhara has no burial rites, Yingxing'd never see a coffin either in the Xianzhou. The people of Xianzhou never buried their dead, nay did they have such rites. None of them knew what a coffin was either. Souls passed and went to the Hall of Karma, that was it.
'Turn my body into ashes, send it into space, return it to where I came from or just vaporize everything.' Yingxing suggested. Dan Feng would frown, unable to grasp the concept of it. He stares at Yingxing's hands - scarred, with old bruises, wrinkled and dry.
His attendant, Yueyan had given him a bottle of herb oil the other day and he used that to massage the craftsman's aging joints.
"Do you still have duties today?" Dan Feng nodded. There were minor seals to take care of today, and to measure the roots of the Arbor again.
"You fall asleep each time after every duty." Yingxing murmured. The oil felt good on his aching hands. He stretched his fingers, feeling the bones crack. He glanced down at Dan Feng who was still diligently applying oil, admiring his lover's dragon horns that glinted brightly.
"Sometimes, I wonder if I'll still be here the next time you wake up," Yingxing continued. He tried to laugh but his voice fell weak.
"Do not talk nonsense," Dan Feng muttered. He capped the bottle and sat back, staring. His heart clenched hard.
That was the moment Dan Feng felt, if he can reject this heart of his, he would. A dragon's heart, no matter how powerful it can be, would be useless once it is lost. Dan Feng bit his lip, and held back his dark thoughts.
The next day, he went to visit Yingxing, and brought along a book to read while the craftsman worked on a new weapon in his forge.
"Would you mourn me if I am gone?" Dan Feng glanced up from the paper book he was reading. He was fond of bound books though most of his massive reading was through an ornate virtual system. "Mourn you..." He rolled the unfamiliar word across his tongue.
Times of peace brought a strange calm to the people, often the sight of danger was in the mind, and yet when not faced with bloodshed, the mind would not think of moments beyond death. Dan Feng was very quiet. He turned to look at the hazy trunks of the Arbor far away.
"Will you come visit my grave and lay flowers on it?" Yingxing joked.
He pushed the sword into the forge, attention taken for a moment, as he pulled the newly formed blade from the thaurmaspring well.
"Who knows. Maybe I'll have no grave." Yingxing laughed, and shrugged.
Dan Feng closed his book. A wind had picked up from outside the forge's open doors, a wind thick with the sweet salt of Scalegorge Waterscape and the whispering of ghosts. The Vidyadhara had no such custom. Neither do they mourn when one returns to hatching rebirth.
To die, it was a celebration of the end of a good life. A long life. To die, meant one will be reborn to a new beginning. The egg served as both grave and womb to a Vidyadhara.
"Don't look so stern." Yingxing said, looking over at Dan Feng. He was finished with what he needed to do. And he sat down, sweaty and hot.
Dan Feng glanced up. Yingxing noticed a furrow in the Vidyadhara's brow, a crack in those emerald sights.
"When the time comes, as long as I see your face before I go, there is no reason to mourn." Yingxing said. He reached out, gently touched Dan Feng's jaw. "Because I would had died with the most beautiful memory forever there in my mind."