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It’s been three months.
It’s been three months since the Thermodian’s resurrection, three months since the prophecy was fulfilled, three months since Jinzhou almost met its end, and Jiyan…
Jiyan is exhausted.
The awakening has left Jinzhou’s wildlife in shambles, air cracking with discord as travellers pass. Each day more hectic than the last. Jiyan tries to redo the hurt, patch up open wounds in his force, handling the workload that is crushing what little surviving manpower they have. Hours stretch into days into weeks into months, and suddenly he’s spending his days in meeting rooms and his nights in his office.
Fingers come up to massage his temple as the General once more realised he has spent another sleepless night pouring over paperwork. Jiyan is forever grateful for peace, but never once has he expected that his hand would spend more time holding a pen than a spear.
For a moment he wonders what General Genshulin would’ve looked like, sitting on a desk signing forms.
It doesn't matter.
Dwelling on what ifs serves him no use, so Jiyan let it drift away along with the wind.
Speaking of the wind– Jiyan doesn't remember leaving his window open.
The thought grants him a brief moment of clarity, and suddenly his spear is already piercing the presence behind his back before he could see what – or who – it is.
A cloud of smoke is the reaction he gets in return. Jiyan’s first thought is to hold his breath, but the mist clears and he lets out a sigh of relief once he sees a familiar transparent figure. Arms up making a heart shape after scaring him half to death.
“Aalto.” He deadpans.
“General!” A cheery voice responds.
Behind him is one of his biggest headaches and helpers – Aalto, informant of the Black Shores.
Jiyan frowns at the way the other man is sitting on his desk. “Why are you here, Aalto?”
“Why, trying to do my business as usual.” Aalto laughs. “What’s with the face, General? A little birdie told me that you’ve been troubled lately. I’m just here to offer some help– with a price, of course.”
Said General opens his mouth to object, and promptly closes it.
The thing is– Aalto isn’t exactly wrong. It has been on Jiyan’s mind for a while, seeking out Aalto for assistance. The man might be unpredictable at times, but he’s impressively competent. Information on what transport route is the safest, timely reports on Exiles’ and Tacit Discords’ movements, all the little things that the Midnight Rangers’ limited force can’t be spared to look closely– it is all up in Aalto’s alley.
But he’s always been hesitant because of the price – so little to spare at this time – and with the amount of differing things he needs to do, it must’ve slipped his mind.
Jiyan regards the man in front of him with caution, “If my memories are correct, this is not how our business exchange usually goes.”
“I’ve made an exception just for you, my esteemed General,” Aalto lowers his shades to wink at him, “So don’t worry about it! And to prove my worth, a fifty percent discount, today only!”
Suddenly, his face sobers up, and Jiyan can feel the air around them become serious.
“I’m not joking, General. The Black Shores have decided to lend its support to the Midnight Rangers, as our goals do align.” And then he’s back to dicking around. “You’ll still have to pay the price of course! In fact, I am about to collect it right now.”
“We still haven’t agreed on what your services will entail, Aalto.” Still reeling from the sudden mood change, Jiyan can already sense a headache coming, “and how, exactly, are you going to collect your price if we haven’t discussed this beforehand?”
It was beyond ridiculous, any price – monetary or otherwise – would need to be given time for the Midnight Rangers to prepare. He knows this, Aalto knows this, this is not their first rodeo. Despite that, all Aalto does is giggles, the sound makes Jiyan’s stomach do somersaults, maybe it’s out of apprehension.
“You’ll just have to trust me on this, General Jiyan.”
So. That is how Jiyan finds himself in this predicament.
He’s fumbling with flower stems, looping them around each other. Apparently, Aalto’s form of “payment” is a flower crown, made from the ones behind the waterfall in Jinzhou city. Which is why both of them are now sitting in an open field shaded by trees, silently twirling stems and leaves together like little children.
Jiyan will never admit it to Aalto, but he’s enjoying himself. The lazy breeze and open space around helps clear his mind, and he can feel his neck muscles untensing for the first time in months. The action of making flower crowns is mindless, comes back to him like an old habit you can never unlearn, and his mind is pleasantly blank.
Well, mostly blank.
“Is this truly all you ask of me?” Jiyan asks as he holds up his finished product to inspect it, adjusting the flowers’ placement, “surely your service does not amount to just a flower crown.”
Aalto hums as he leans over, hands idly plucking a stem from Jiyan’s crown, “you’re right, General.” There’s something mischievous in his gaze when he gleams up that gives Jiyan a strange feeling in his stomach, “tell me about yourself.”
Jiyan huffs. “Is this what they meant when they called you an informant?”
“Hey now! There’s nothing such as extra info in this world. How did you learn to make flower crowns, General?”
“It is nothing special,” leaning back, he reminisces, “as a child, I grew up around herbs and flowers. I don’t remember when exactly I picked up the knowledge, but I know my mother taught it to me as a trick to calm down little kids when the treatment is too much for them.”
Unconsciously, he smiles, clawed fingers caressing soft petals as he recalls simpler times, before saving another meant blood on his hands.
Next to him, Aalto shifts.
“Kids, huh.”
The tone of his voice makes Jinyan glances up, and whatever he means to say next, it dies on his tongue.
Aalto has one hand propped on his knee, head turned towards him. Sunlight paints his skin with gold, giving his white hair star spots of platinum. The wind blows and it dislodges his shades, showing amber eyes that are– looking at him softly, fondness a picture on his face. Aalto is smiling at him so, so gently, so, so different to his usual grins and smirks, and Jiyan–
Jiyan’s mouth goes dry.
The world stops, and for each tantalising second that passes he can hear his heart in his ear, there is– something – stuck in his throat, and for a moment he thinks he forgot how to breathe.
The silence stretches between them for an eternity, an eternity of Aalto looking at Jiyan like– like that and Jiyan forgetting where he put his words.
Finally, he coughs and hands Aalto his “payment”, “I have to get going now, as for the rest of this partnership, we can discuss it at a later date.”
“Aw, so soon?” Something that looks like disappointment passes through Aalto’s eyes as he accepts the flower crown, but it goes away as fast as it showed up. “Well, if you insist, General Jiyan.”
Aalto saluted and winked at him when he left, and Jiyan tries his best to ignore his heart hammering between his ribs.
Hours later, Jiyan gets jolted awake from his paperwork haze by a message from an unknown number in his terminal. It’s a picture of Verina and Encore, matching flower crowns on their heads, both making peace signs towards the camera. The message reads:
“ Don’t stress yourself out too much, my General~ The kids are alright”
Jiyan saves the number.