Chapter Text
Dan Heng is used to waiting. After all, by human standards, he’s waited several lifetimes during his imprisonment in the Shackling Prison alone.
Dan Heng should be used to waiting, but his time as a Trailblazer aboard the Astral Express – as a member of Himeko’s crew – has spoiled him.
Yes, there’s waiting for the warps that will take them to their next destination, for supplies and refueling at various allied stations along the way; yes, there are some interminably long nights, when the memories of Dan Heng’s past keeps him up and he can only count the hours until the rest of the crew awakens, until there is Pom-Pom’s insistence on breakfast and March’s cheerful morning greeting and Welt’s quiet concern and Himeko’s timely distractions in the form of assigned responsibilities to keep both his person and his mind too busy to overthink.
His room in the archives has always served as a sanctuary, even when the worst of the nightmares threatens to overwhelm him, and while the waiting can seem interminable then, Dan Heng knows—
The waiting will come to an end, and Dan Heng won’t be alone. Experience with the Astral Express crew has taught him that.
So it’s an odd feeling to sit in his armchair at his work desk and have to force his limbs into stillness, to ignore the buzzing under his skin. The jitteriness isn’t something Dan Heng is used to, but it isn’t entirely unwelcomed. It feels similar to the restlessness of anxiety, but without most of the negative side effects; in fact, Dan Heng feels oddly energized by it.
He isn’t just biding his time, after all. Perhaps, it’s more accurate to say that this is a wait with anticipation behind it.
A knock at his door, softer than Stelle’s strong thumps and simpler than the rhythmic patterns March likes to use.
“Come in,” Dan Heng responds, because he already knows who it is. And yet, he keeps his eyes lowered as he pushes back his armchair, as he rises to his feet.
He only raises his gaze when he’s properly turned around. By then, the cabin door has swished closed once more, and there Jing Yuan is – dressed in his familiar general’s uniform but with the soft smile Dan Heng cherishes so dearly.
Dan Heng finds himself caught by the sight of it, and he ends up just—staring at Jing Yuan, instead of doing anything remotely productive or saying anything useful at all.
It’s a comfort, however, to know that Jing Yuan seems to be caught in the same state, staring back at Dan Heng just as intensely.
“I apologize for being so late,” Jing Yuan eventually says, his gaze unwavering. “Work overran terribly; now that I am officially back at the Seat of Divine Foresight, it’s as if every department that has managed their duties perfectly well in my absence has lost their minds and decided that they must have my guidance before they can proceed again.”
Dan Heng isn’t sure why he seems incapable of closing the space between them – it’s but a mere three steps, and he’d been with Jing Yuan just the night before without any of this strange hesitation – but at least the words leap easily to his tongue now.
“It’s fine. I know how much duties you have as the general, and to be fair to your subordinates, I think many of them are using the excuse of work to also ascertain with their own eyes the reality of your wellbeing.”
“Still. It’s a relief to know I made it on time.”
“You didn’t have to worry. Himeko insisted that we wouldn’t leave until you came by.”
“Ah. That does explain the twinkle in Miss Himeko’s eyes when she let me on board. I’ll have to thank her again later.”
Dan Heng nods in agreement. He’s still so terribly distracted that it doesn’t occur to him to react when Jing Yuan reaches for the bag at his feet and draws out a wide swath of buttery gold fabric. He doesn’t even quite realize what it is until Jing Yuan shakes it out and then swings it around Dan Heng’s shoulders, drawing the two ends over Dan Heng’s chest until he’s cloaked in the length of it.
The heft of it is what Dan Heng notices first, the way it settles warmly over his back and shoulders and molds to his body instead of draping loose, closing in warmth like an all-encompassing hug. The feel of the actual fabric, where the folds brush up against Dan Heng’s bare neck and curve of his jaw, is silken smooth and almost decadently soft against his skin, and Dan Heng can’t help the way he tucks his face into it, chasing the feeling of it. The cheerful hue of the blanket is like nothing else amongst Dan Heng’s few personal possessions – not in the teal and ocean shades that he instinctively gravitates to nor the darker tones that he prefers to accent his clothing with.
Dan Heng likes it, though. It reminds him of the burnished cast of the Astral Express, like the gilded shine of the ticket-like embellishment that adorns each Express crew’s outfit.
He looks up at Jing Yuan – standing now in Dan Heng’s personal space, his hands a firm pressure against Dan Heng’s skin even if the blanket denies them direct touch. “This is the weighted blanket you mentioned before. Like the one you said you gifted to Bailu.”
Jing Yuan smiles down at him. “My parting gift to you, to add to your quilt pile. I’m glad you like it.”
There’s a quiet noise rising in Dan Heng’s throat, and he moves before it can quite emerge. The blanket is large enough to envelop the entirety of Dan Heng’s body and then some; now, Dan Heng curls his fingers into the corners of the blanket and then finally reaches for Jing Yuan, so that when his arms close around Jing Yuan’s neck in an embrace, the blanket wraps around them both.
When Dan Heng presses his face into the curve of Jing Yuan’s neck, skin against skin, their bond thrums to vibrant life between them, Jing Yuan’s contentment suffusing the link.
“Thank you,” Dan Heng says.
He can feel it when Jing Yuan chuckles, a quiet rumble under his ear; feels the way Jing Yuan’s arms settle around Dan Heng’s hips, hands pressed lightly to the small of his back. “You’re very welcome.”
They stay like that for a long while. As reluctant as he is to peel himself from the embrace, to draw back from the immediacy of their bond, this is important; Dan Heng opens up enough space between them so he can meet Jing Yuan’s gaze.
“Take care of yourself. And let the others take care of you as well.” Dan Heng brushes his fingers over the beauty mark under Jing Yuan’s eye, and says with all the conviction he can muster, as if casting a spell, as if he can bend reality to his words, “Stay safe.”
Jing Yuan nods. One of his hands draws away from Dan Heng’s back, sweeps under the weight of the blanket until he can wind his fingers lightly into the soft hairs at the back of Dan Heng’s neck. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to the center of Dan Heng’s forehead, lingering there.
“Explore the universe as you always have, freely and joyously, and take in the sights and sounds of the world around you. Then, when you wish to take a break on your endless journey, come back to me.”
The bond hums between them. Dan Heng presses into the feeling of it, into Jing Yuan’s touch, and promises, “I will.”
---
Jing Yuan
I am not at the Seat of Divine Foresight
---
We’ve safely made the warp into
neutral space.So far things seem normal – we
haven’t detected any signs of
interference or interception.
I’m glad to hear that.It is no secret that the Astral Express
was instrumental in overcoming the
Luofu’s recent crisis. I can only hope
that this does not make you a target
for the legions of Destruction.When will you make the warp to your
next destination?
Tomorrow, perhaps.Pom-Pom will want to recalibrate
the Express now that we’re out of
any star system’s influence. This
doesn’t take very long, but our
usual warp navigation meeting
will likely end up running longer
than usual.A lot happened on the Luofu.
Everyone has taken the changes in
stride, but… I think I owe them
some answers.
You seem nervous about it.
A little.It’s illogical, isn’t it? They’ve already
seen my Vidyadhara form and they
know the gist of my past, so I don’t
know why I feel this way.
They’re your family. The opinions and
esteem of the people closest to us
matter the most, so sometimes, it
feels daunting to share our vulnerabilities
with them lest it changes their perception
of us.But you’re one of their own. It’s something
I was glad to confirm with my own eyes,
when I first met the Express crew at the
beginning of the Ambrosial Arbor crisis –
you’re safe with them, Dan Heng.
I know.You’re back at your residence now?
Qingzu might just chase me out if I returned
to the Seat of Divine Foresight at this time.
I’ll let you get some rest, then.
Message me after your navigation meeting?
If I’ve converted the time difference
correctly, it’ll probably be mid-work
day for you.
Message me anyway.
…okay.I’ll let you know how it goes.
---
The warp navigation meeting goes by without much fanfare.
The members of the Express are a tight-knit crew. They support and constantly check in on one another, but sometimes, especially after a particularly harrowing mission, Himeko will call for a formal debriefing session to make sure each of them has the opportunity to ask questions, raise concerns or simply have the space to vent if they need it.
They didn’t have one after the crisis on the Xianzhou Luofu, not during those early days where Dan Heng’s status on the Luofu was nebulous, and not afterwards either, when Dan Heng was splitting his time between Jing Yuan, the Express crew and dealing with the inevitable web of Vidyadhara and Xianzhou politics.
Now, in the familiar comfort of the parlour room, free from the vista of the Luofu overlooking them, Himeko opens the meeting not with the usual announcement of their next destination but with an invitation to speak freely.
She doesn’t single out Dan Heng in any way – Himeko and Welt have always been protective and far too considerate of him, from the moment he’d cautiously accepted Himeko’s invitation to travel with the Express – but Dan Heng knows it’s mostly for him.
So, Dan Heng takes a deep breath, and speaks.
He tells them haltingly about the circumstances around his molting rebirth, summarizing as much of his past as possible partly because he doesn’t like dwelling on things that he cannot change, and mostly because he doesn’t understand most of what the memories – the ones that don’t belong to him – mean.
Welt must have had a word with the rest of them; the Express crew family lets Dan Heng speak at his own pace, although there are times when March looks like she’s about to vibrate right out of her seat from holding back her curiosity. Stelle’s face and posture remains perfectly neutral until Dan Heng tells them of his encounter with the Stellaron Hunters; her expression flickers then, an oddly guilty look in her eyes as she glances away.
Dan Heng doesn’t say anything about it, although he files the reaction away at the back of his mind. Stelle is entitled to her privacy as much as Dan Heng does, but if she needs someone to talk to, well, Dan Heng’s complications are mainly with the man who now calls himself Blade. He doesn’t have any strong feelings or prejudices against Kafka beyond a distant irritation borne of the fact that she’s always there when Blade ambushes him.
He opts to sit out their next mission; it is a joy to be able to walk freely amidst the Luofu’s delves and even more so to spend time with Jing Yuan, but Dan Heng is a reserved person by nature. He’s not quite the same person who raced off the Express weeks ago, worried enough about his friends to disregard the Xianzhou’s strict banishment edict, and now, Dan Heng craves the quiet and the stability of the Express to process the changes, as welcomed as they are.
When March corners him in the dining car though, Dan Heng suspects his plans for a peaceful rest are about to get derailed.
“So, Dan Heng!” March plants herself right in the aisle between the counters and the dining table, boxing Dan Heng in unless he wants to vault over the table or try to pick March up to physically move her out of the way.
Silently, Dan Heng picks up a mug and pours out a healthy measure of Himeko’s coffee directly from the pot, black as sin, before he sets it pointedly down in front of March.
She makes a terrible face at it, but when she gamely picks up the mug and takes a huge gulp, wincing all the while, Dan Heng knows he’s not getting out of this conversation.
Resignedly, Dan Heng goes to the fridge for the juice Pom-Pom prepares whenever March is back from a mission or just about to leave on one. It’s not entirely accurate to term the beverage so, since Dan Heng is quite sure fruits and vegetables need to be involved for something to be defined as juice, but he’s not going to contradict March on what she prefers to call something no matter how nonsensical her choices might seem to him.
He pulls the mug out of her hands before March can make herself sick – she’s drunk half the coffee; Dan Heng is impressed with her determination – and pushes the glass of juice in her direction instead.
“Slow sips,” he cautions her, and then sits down. If he’s not getting out of this conversation, he might as well make himself comfortable.
March grins triumphantly at him over the top of her glass. She allows him a few minutes of blessed silence as she drinks her juice before setting the glass to the side.
“So, you and the General.”
Dan Heng sips at the remnants of the coffee. He has endured the Luofu’s Ten Lords Commission and faced down its Master Diviner; he knows better than to volunteer information when he hasn’t been asked a direct question.
A long minute goes by before March pouts. “Dan Heng.”
“You didn’t ask a question.”
Under the table, March jabs her toes into his calf. “It’s an open statement so you can comment on it!”
Dan Heng shifts his leg. “What about Jing Yuan and me?”
“You totally skipped past any casual mention of the General during the warp meeting. I know you spent the last couple of days on the Luofu with him, so I assume you’re officially boyfriends?”
Involuntarily, Dan Heng twitches at the last word.
March falters. “You’re not?”
“We’re… together.”
“So you are boyfriends, and you just don’t like the term.”
Dan Heng tries to take a drink of his coffee to avoid replying, only to find he’s run out of it. “We didn’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t talk about anything at all.”
For some reason, March blushes, a dusting of pink streaking across her cheeks.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Dan Heng says in the driest voice he can manage, “it’s probably wrong. The last few weeks were chaotic, and Jing Yuan is still healing from the wounds Phantylia inflicted on him. It’s comforting, to just exist together. And I said that sometimes we didn’t talk, meaning we spoke the other times. About quite a lot of things. Just not about… terms.”
Is it even possible to put to words that which exists between him and Jing Yuan? They’re several star systems away from the Luofu and Dan Heng is in his human form, but if Dan Heng concentrates, he can feel the subtle thrum that marks the existence of the bond – a light but unbreakable link that stretches across the galaxies, even if he cannot currently feel Jing Yuan at the other end of it.
“Oh.”
Dan Heng blinks – he hadn’t realized that he’d closed his eyes when he actively sought out his and Jing Yuan’s bond. Across the table, March is staring at him, her insistent eagerness softening into something gentler.
Sometimes, March is so determined overcome the uncertainties of her missing memories with all the bubbling enthusiasm she can muster that it’s easy to miss the quieter, more empathetic side of her.
“I’m glad,” she says, her eyes bright with happiness – for Dan Heng’s happiness – and it’s so endearing of her that Dan Heng can’t help the wave of fondness that sweeps through him.
“I’m glad too.”
Silence descends peacefully between them, even as Dan Heng subtly braces himself. March is always at her most exuberant after her quiet moments, after all.
Sure enough, March soon perks up, and it’s for the sake of the still gentle edge to her smile that Dan Heng doesn’t visibly recoil when she dumps a stack of magazines on the table, their glossy covers causing them to slide and fan out across the surface.
Mentally though, Dan Heng backs at least two steps away from the bright colours, provocatively cropped pictures and excessive use of exclamation marks in the headlines. They’re paper material, but somehow Dan Heng feels like they’re yelling at him, the cover layouts flashy and overwhelming.
“Okay, so I know some of these don’t look very credible, but these lifestyle magazines have some great articles in them! Livestreaming and influencer blogs definitely get the lion’s share of attention, but the Xianzhou has a surprisingly robust publishing industry.” March reaches over to snag a magazine, flipping quickly through it like she has absolutely nothing to fear. “At first I was just curious and looking through the weeklies to see what they were saying about us and the whole Ambrosial Arbor situation, but then I got a bit hooked. Then I realized, some of these would be useful for you.”
Dan Heng leans over and reads off one of the headlines. “‘How I Overcame The Age Difference Intimidation – navigating a relationship between long-life and short-life species.’ This doesn’t apply to me, March. Is there something you would like to tell me about?”
“Not those,” March huffs, and plonks her chosen magazine directly in front of Dan Heng, flipped open to an article near towards the end. “You can’t tell me this isn’t relevant to you and your whole ‘togetherness’ with the General.”
Dan Heng looks, and indeed – he can’t quite dispute March’s words.
Caught Between Two Worlds: Navigating the realities of long distance relationships, the article says.
There’s a strip of paper marking the top right corner of the page; in fact, when Dan Heng glances at the rest of the magazines, he can see a colourful array of paper strips sticking out of the edges, acting as makeshift bookmarks.
Silently, he reaches for a random magazine, flipping it open to one of its paper strip-marked pages.
26 Long-Distance Relationship Date Ideas Guaranteed To Keep The Spark Alive, this one says.
“It must have taken you a while, to compile all of these,” Dan Heng says.
“I started after the General came to dinner with us. You know. When you stayed overnight with him the first time.” March lets out a soft sigh. “I had a lot of help, though. The bookstore staff was really excited when they found out I was interested in articles on long-distance relationships. Turns out they keep detailed records and have a backlog of issues almost a century back. I only brought you material from like, the last two decades or so.”
Even if she had help, it would have still taken quite a lot of time and attention to read through the articles and mark them.
“Thank you,” Dan Heng says, “for thinking of me. And of Jing Yuan.” He glances down at the magazines. “But we don’t exactly have a conventional relationship. And I don’t think lifestyle articles written to appeal to the masses would be very credible.”
“You’re not going to get good relationship advice in an academic paper,” March says, sounding exasperated. “And in fact, lifestyle magazines are the best places for it. You’re an archivist, Dan Heng. You’ve always told me how important keeping records is, that they provide evidence to tell us more about people and societies and their culture. And these articles reflect that. They’re written by regular people for other regular people – not for scientific study or scholarly reference.”
Reaching out, March nudges a few of the magazines into a slightly neater pile. “You don’t have to agree with everything you read. Even if ninety percent of it feels unrelated, there’s got to be something in there that will resonate with you.”
“You’re terribly invested in this,” Dan Heng says even as he begins sorting through the publications, opting to arrange them by date of print.
“The General and your relationship with him is important to you.” It’s not a question, but this time Dan Heng nods, an affirmation. “So, it’s important to me, too. And—” here, March visibly hesitates, “—well, you know me! I love stories with a happy ending.”
Dan Heng doesn’t point out that endings in real life are rarely happy; it’s what happens in between that matters the most, anyway.
And he is rarely able to say no to March. Especially when she has put in genuine energy into this endeavour.
“I suppose I will have quite a lot of time to myself, while you, Himeko and Stelle disembark the Express tomorrow. I’ll read some of the articles you marked.”
March beams at him. “Okay! Tell me how it goes, kay?”
Dan Heng sidesteps making that promise. “Make sure you stay with the others and don’t break off on your own. Or—maybe I should say that to Stelle, so she’ll keep an eye on you. And don’t let Stelle get lost looking for trashcans again.”
“Hey! You have some bad habits too, you—you—insomniac who always gets into fights even if you never start them. You’re a magnet for trouble too!”
Dan Heng doesn’t quite smile, but it’s a near thing. They come easier these days – the smiles.
---
Jing Yuan
I am not at the Seat of Divine Foresight
---Are you awake?
Yes. It’s midday here.We’ve just resupplied at the Herta
Space Station, so the Express is
operating on the space station’s
time cycle.
Would you mind telling me about your
day?
Ah.You know that we’re in between
trailblaze missions. I didn’t go on
the last one, so I’ve asked March, Stelle
and Miss Himeko for their accounts of
the mission to add to the databank.Miss Himeko and Mr Yang write their
own records, but if March is on a
mission and I’m not, I typically just
interview her and write it up myself.She requires a lot of guiding questions
to stay on topic, or else we’ll get a
mission log that is full off random
observations than an objective record
of events.I was supposed to get her account this
morning, but she slept in.Stelle’s unavailable today too.
She’s a wild card, because she’s
always on the move. If she sits still
long enough, her records are detailed.
But if she’s hurried off on a side errand
or other business, then I also need to
track her down.Stelle has a visitor on the Express
today, though. So I’m steering clear of
the parlour room and I’ll catch up with
her another time.
A visitor from the Herta Space Station?
Yes. The head of their security
department. Sometimes Miss Asta, who
leads the space station, visits as well.
Do they enjoy their time on the Express?
I presume so, since they come by
frequently. As long as they’ve received
an invitation from a member of the
Express, Miss Himeko doesn’t put much
restrictions on visitors. They’re free to
come and go as they please.Stelle’s usually the one who spends
time with them.
So, with your plans to record the latest
mission thwarted and the parlour room
off limits… I’m guessing you’re currently
in your room.
Yes. I thought I’d make it a reading
day instead.March gave me a pile of lifestyle
magazines she purchased from the
Luofu and tasked me with reading
some of their content.Most of it is all right. Some of the
writing is quite witty, even if the
actual advice or tips they give are
often too generic to be truly useful.They seem to enjoy referencing or
referring to you, however. Like it’ll
boost the popularity of the piece just
by having your name in the text.They’re quite creative with how
they shoehorn in a mention of you.
Ah yes, the Xianzhou tabloids and gossip
rags.What wisdom do they impart today?
Do you really drink a large bowl of
fresh Puffergoat milk every morning?
You already know the answer to that
question, Dan Heng.
You prefer tea served traditionally
to start the day, but in the
afternoons, you occasionally crave
Immortal’s Delight.
That’s right.
Perhaps I should compile the many
factoids that the magazines include
about you, and document the varied
ways they’ve gotten them wrong.I’ll require your cooperation to verify
my findings, Jing Yuan.
I would genuinely enjoy reading such
a report, especially if it’s written by
you.Then perhaps I will.
March truly gave me a lot of these
magazines.
Then I’ll let you get back to them.
Are you all right?
I am.And I appreciate the distraction. It’s
nothing serious, just… more of the
Disciples of Sanctus Medicus. I just
needed a moment.
Take all the moments you need.
This one is more than enough. Time
waits for no man, after all, and this
pile of documents isn’t going to shrink
by itself.I’ll talk to you later?
Okay. I’ll be around.
---
Dan Heng is compiling a list of pertinent information on their next trailblaze destination options for Pom-Pom and Himeko when a knock sounds at his door.
“Dan Heng, I have something for you. Can I come in?”
He’s halfway out of his seat and heading towards the door before Stelle even finishes speaking. It’s rare that she asks to come in, preferring to message him on her phone or simply calling to him through the door before going on her way; also, it sounds like she’d used her boot to thump on the door.
The moment the door swishes open, Dan Heng reaches out and takes the rectangular package from her arms. Stelle is strong, but Dan Heng’s strength is of a different magnitude entirely.
“What’s this?” he asks, because the package’s weight might be negligible to him, but by human standards, it’s heavy – almost too heavy to carry around by hand for long.
“You tell me,” Stelle says, leaning her shoulder against the edge of the door. “It’s addressed to you.”
Dan Heng glances down to check the address slip. Dan Heng of the Astral Express, in care of Herta Space Station, it says. The packaging is otherwise nondescript.
Blinking, he looks back up at Stelle.
Stelle shrugs. “Don’t ask me. The security department tried to scan the contents, but apparently it’s imbued with a foreign energy that blocks the signals. Asta asked me if they should open the package to inspect the contents before releasing it, but I figured you’re more than capable of handling whatever is up with it.” Her head tilts to the side. “Even if it’s another bomb.”
Dan Heng straightens sharply. “Another bomb?”
Stelle waves a hand idly through in the air as if to sweep away his worries. “I detonated that one in the waters of the Lunarescent Depths and it barely made a ripple.”
No matter what form he wears, Dan Heng is still a Vidyadhara of the Luofu; although it was a smart choice, he still feels a tinge of horror at the thought of someone blithely throwing a bomb into their sacred waters. “Stelle.”
“Annnnd that’s my cue to leave.” Stelle takes a quick step backwards out of the doorway. “Enjoy your package!”
The door snaps shut. Dan Heng sighs deeply, and then lets it go. The Scalegorge Waterscape and the Lunarescent Depths have weathered graver transgressions than a single bomb, and this package requires more of his immediate attention anyway.
The packaging opens up easily enough. Within it is a lacquer box made of smooth dark wood; it appears seamless and is almost entirely unadorned except for the jade ornament shaped into an intricate knot set onto the top of the box.
When Dan Heng brushes his thumb across the jade, the energy signal it emits is unmistakable.
Cloudhymn magic. One whose signature he’s very familiar with.
Bailu.
Dan Heng pushes his own cloudhymn magic into the jade, and feels the seal imbued in it give way, the box unlocking with a soft click.
There are two envelopes placed right on top. Dan Heng sets them carefully out of the way and peers at the rest of the box’s contents.
Taking up a good half of the space is medicine chest, packed to the brim with various medicinal ingredients, neatly sorted and stored in individual containers. Many of them are strictly regulated and require specific licenses to be purchased, much less shipped out of the Xianzhou Alliance.
So Dan Heng is not entirely surprised to find a tin of Jing Yuan’s favourite tea in the other half of box, together with various other Xianzhou snacks and delicacies.
Neither of the envelopes are marked, so Dan Heng picks up the bigger one of the two, which turns out to be from Bailu; it yields up a dozen recipe sheets and a personal note with three smiley faces – two with draconic horns, and one with hair as fuzzy as a lion’s mane – doodled on the side.
Hi Dan Heng!The General told me he planned to send you a package, and asked if I wanted to include anything for you. I remember you mentioned wanting to learn more about healing to better take care of your friends, so I said I’ll send copies of recipes that seem like they’ll come in handy during your journey.
He then asked me to put together a medicinal box for you and the Astral Express, with ingredients or components that may be difficult to find outside of the Xianzhou Alliance and cannot be easily substituted, so here they are! It’s not illegal if both the Xianzhou Luofu’s General and Healing Lady authorize your possession of them, right?
I hope your journey is going well! I’ve been practicing my cloudhymn magic per your advice, and other than healing, it feels like seals come easiest to me. According to the General, the jade is something Qingzu donated to our cause – it acts as a sort of focus or container for cloudhymn magic? To hold the seal in place? Anyway, I tried and I hope it worked. Wouldn’t want anyone finding the box and stealing the stuff inside.
Remember to drink lots of warm water and get enough sleep!
Bailu
Dan Heng finds himself smiling when he reaches the end of the letter. Their once daily check in messages have become mostly weekly ones, after the uproar over Bailu’s hidden tail died down and her workload ramped sharply up with the Sanctus Medicus uprooting at the Alchemy Commission, but they speak often enough that Dan Heng doesn’t worry too much about her.
It is wonderful to have more evidence that she is thriving.
The second envelope must be from Jing Yuan. Dan Heng settles back in the armchair at his desk, expecting something personal but lighthearted like Bailu’s, because no matter what March’s magazines say, he doubts Jing Yuan is the type to send a note full of ‘sweet nothings’.
So the actual letter he received catches him entirely off guard.
Dan Heng,
Do you know? I’ve thought about writing to you for the longest time. It’s not an action that I’ve chosen to carry out before this – I wouldn’t have known where to send the letters to, after all, even if they were addressed to you, and although my rank and position demands discretion and confidentiality from anyone who has access to my private abode, I know just how easily physical evidence can be leaked. So I wrote long letters to you in my head, and held all the words I’ve ever wanted to say to you safely behind my tongue.
Now I have the opportunity to actually fulfill this old wish of mine, and yet I find myself stalling over this sheet of paper. It isn’t that I don’t know what to say; it’s that I have too much to convey. And as I’ve told you before – old habits die hard.
I’m so used to swallowing the words that were meant for you.
But you’ve told me that my old habits are no longer necessary, so here this letter is, and here these words are. I hope you’ll forgive my lack of eloquence.
The first time I ever wanted to write to you was the day after you were released from the Shackling Prison and sent away from the Xianzhou Luofu. You were an exile per the terms of the banishment edict, and the Ten-Lords Commission chose not to inform me of the time of your leaving. In their eyes you were no longer considered any of the Xianzhou Luofu’s concern, and I was the Xianzhou Luofu’s general. My focus was to remain on the Luofu alone.
I learned of your leaving a few hours after the fact, before I had the chance to have my morning tea. And then I spent the rest of that day thinking of everything I wished I had the chance to say to you.
I don’t quite remember the specifics anymore. I do know that a lot of what I wanted to say was rooted in my friendship with Dan Feng. I knew about the flawed exuviation charm even then, and a part of me always wondered how much of him was left behind when you were reborn. At that point, I’d only witnessed one or two Vidyadhara rebirths, and the children that came out of their eggs were nothing like their predecessors that I once knew – not in looks nor bearing, and certainly not in experience. And yet, you looked so much like how I imagined a younger version of Dan Feng to have been.
I think you would have torn up that hypothetical letter on the spot. I know how hard you’ve fought to be just yourself, to never be anyone else’s shadow.
I tried to keep track of you, after you were banished. A Vidyadhara with the horns and tail of a high elder is quite conspicuous, after all. But then you vanished into the stars – I presume that’s when you learned to transform into a human form – and—
Well, the letters in my head turned a little desperate, then. I questioned where you were, what happened to you. Wondered if you were safe, because Dan Feng already held the title of Imbibitor Lunae even in my earliest memories. I had never needed to worry about his safety; he was the one keeping the rest of us safe. But you, who knew only of the Shackling Prison from the moment you were reborn—
How could I not worry?
And then, you joined the Astral Express.
I almost disregarded the reports. They all spoke of someone with human features, not the common Vidyadhara form, and there was no evidence of any use of Cloudhymn magic.
But you kept your own name, Dan Heng.
That was likely the closest I ever got to sending you a letter. I had a physical location, even if the Express never stayed in one spot. I’d found you.
But you found people who cared for you. Not because of your history, or your potential, or your association to anything or anyone else. And if you had indeed obtained your measure of peace, then I didn’t want to disrupt that.
Now, here we are.
Perhaps I should have written a different letter. Something that is lighter, that focuses on our future instead of being mired in the past.
But you deserve to know all of me, even these unseemly feelings of mine. I am only human, even if so many others know me only as the stalwart general. And I feel so much freer for writing this, even as a part of me fears how you will receive it.
The intent of my letters to you has changed over the years, but there are certain sentiments that always remain the same. So I leave you with these words:
Be well and stay safe. Pursue your own happiness. And know that I am always here, in the heart of the Luofu, thinking of you.
Yours,
Jing Yuan
This is, undoubtedly, Jing Yuan’s handwriting. These are, unquestioningly, his words. And Dan Heng—
He has to unpeel his fingers, one by one, from the letter, where he’s gripped the paper so hard it threatens to tear. Once free, however, his hand reaches instinctively for the weighted blanket draped over the back of his chair, tugging in into his lap to have something to grip, that won’t tear to shreds under his tense fingers.
How does he even begin to respond to the words in Jing Yuan’s letter?
Jing Yuan was not wrong to worry about how Dan Heng would receive it. He knows, of course he knows just how thin the line between him and Dan Feng is, how easily it is for people to mistake him for the other, that Dan Heng’s looks and his powers and his innate knowledge of things a reborn Vidyadhara should not have does not help his cause at all. But the line between him and Dan Feng does exist, and Dan Heng can’t help the instinctive defensiveness that arises whenever comparisons are made between him and his predecessor.
But it is an instinctive reaction, and Dan Heng knows better than that now. He lets the defensiveness burn through him, and then he lets it go.
Jing Yuan’s letter isn’t about Dan Heng, anyway. Not truly.
There is a startling vulnerability expressed in Jing Yuan’s words, and Dan Heng feels a sudden surging need to find Jing Yuan and take him into his arms, an urge so strong that it makes his heart ache. In paltry substitute, Dan Heng hugs the bulk of the blanket to himself and picks up the letter once more.
He’s not meant to respond to this. Not through something as remote and impersonal as a text message.
Jing Yuan’s vulnerability is an unexpected treasure. It is, above all, a gift of his trust – far more precious than anything else he’s given or done for Dan Heng so far.
He traces a light finger across the flowing calligraphy, written with a light but determined hand, and hopes Jing Yuan knows – that Dan Heng is sitting in the archives of the Astral Express, thinking of him as well.
---
Jing Yuan
I am not at the Seat of Divine Foresight
---
Thank you for the package.
Especially the medicinal box. None
of the current Express crew are
healers, so it’s reassuring to have
it on hand, just in case.
You’re welcome.
And… you can send me letters
anytime. They don’t have to come
along with anything else.
I see.
You don’t mind?
They’re your words, Jing Yuan.
I will gladly receive them all.
---
Dan Heng thinks a lot about Jing Yuan’s letter.
He thinks even more about the articles March marked out for him.
It’s not that he believes himself above their advice. As with any type of publication they vary in terms of quality and accuracy, and the better ones do seem sound. But those articles have been written for Xianzhou citizens in typical long-distance relationships, while his and Jing Yuan’s situation fall outside enough boxes that most of the things they recommend aren’t applicable or feasible.
Text messages remain their primary method of communication because the Astral Express doesn’t host a signaling system robust enough to support real-time calls through the vast expanse of space. The Express also travels through destinations and time cycles so frequently that it’s difficult to set a schedule and stick to it. These two restrictions alone limit much of what Dan Heng and Jing Yuan can do together while they’re apart, and that’s even before they consider Jing Yuan’s position as General – there are topics they dare not speak of over a hackable chat system, that Jing Yuan might not be legally allowed to share – and their rather complicated history with each other.
Jing Yuan’s letter highlights that last point rather poignantly. There are some things that cannot be communicated properly over the medium of a text message.
But there’s piece of advice that comes up consistently, no matter the quality nor length of the article: that both parties should be equally committed to the relationship. This can be accomplished through honest and open communication, through reciprocation, from being on the same page about the goals and reasons for the relationship.
With that letter, Jing Yuan had cracked open a part of himself that he had long kept buried and placed a piece of his heart in Dan Heng’s hands—
—and Dan Heng feels he hasn’t done enough to honour that trust, to return Jing Yuan’s honesty.
He ponders on the conundrum of it, during the nights of their missions when his inattentiveness won’t put any of his friends in danger. Feels his heart twinge when he sees couples together in the cities they visit, wonders if any of them struggles with their feelings like this or if it’s just him, feeling astonishingly out of his depth and rather lonely for it.
They talk less frequently, when Dan Heng is on a mission, but Jing Yuan seems just the same as ever in their messages. So perhaps, the problem truly is with Dan Heng alone.
He comes to a decision, a few trailblaze missions later.
Not all the books in the archives are reference material. Novels and other non-fiction works make up a decent bulk of it as well, and Dan Heng always keeps a stack of varied publications around his bed, for whatever odd mood he’s in when he feels the need to reach for a book.
Carefully hidden in their midst are Dan Heng’s personal journals.
Most of them are an incoherent mess, because they’re what Dan Heng uses to try to deal with his dreams – or more accurately, the shattered fragments of memories that continue to follow him no matter how far he runs. Dan Heng doesn’t like looking at them – at the rough sketches he’d put down on paper in an attempt to get the images out of his head, or the near illegible lines of texts where he’d either rambled on in a stream of consciousness or was so uneasy that he could only capture choppy pieces of stray thoughts – but neither can he bring himself to destroy them.
Curling himself up in the comfort of the weighted blanket, Dan Heng holds one of the journals in his hands and weighs the thought of Jing Yuan seeing its contents with the spike of anxiety in his chest.
Does he truly want to share this part of himself with Jing Yuan, or does he simply feel obligated in the name of reciprocating Jing Yuan’s act of vulnerability? Dan Heng is sure of this if nothing else: Jing Yuan would not want the act to hurt Dan Heng if he isn’t ready for that level of openness.
He sits with the feeling for a long while.
He does, Dan Heng finally concludes, turning his face into the fabric of the blanket, letting the feel and weight of it sooth him. He understands better Jing Yuan’s motivations for sending his letter now – it’s easier to be brave like this, to share such a personal part of themselves without the pressure of an immediate reply or even any response at all.
And Dan Heng knows his fears are safe with Jing Yuan.
He wraps up one of his more recent journals in plain brown paper and twine and addresses it to Sushang; she’ll be able to pass the journal to Jing Yuan personally without inviting the Seat of Divine Foresight’s scrutiny. He’ll send the package off the next time they dock at the Herta Space Station.
Falling back onto his bed, Dan Heng reaches for his phone.
Are you there? he sends.
Jing Yuan's reply comes in just a few minutes later. They’re both disciplined people; during Jing Yuan’s workday and Dan Heng’s missions, they’ll only respond to messages during break times or at night.
A question like this, however, is an unspoken sign that they need the other’s attention immediately.
Smothered under endless paperwork as always, Jing Yuan says. Is everything all right?
Just wanted to hear from you, Dan Heng sends back.
He closes his eyes and lets himself just be. Feels the quiet relief of coming to and acting upon a decision, the comforting pressure of the blanket molding around his body, and waits peaceably for the chime of his phone that signifies Jing Yuan’s response, his regard.