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“You want to do…what?” It was not the first time that Forgemaster Yingxing stared incredulously at his lifelong lover over his morning tea, and it was far from likely to be the last, but even so there was a particular twist to his unimpressed eyebrows that made Dan Feng want to lean over the table and kiss the bend away then and there. To do so, however, would all but guarantee his immediate distraction from his goal for the day, and if he wished to have his way, he could not afford such a distraction. So instead, the High Elder of the Luofu Vidyadhara cast his gaze demurely to his own tea and took a sip before repeating himself.
“To go cloud-watching with you, Yingxing. It is hardly an unusual activity to earn such a confused response. Perhaps your age is beginning to catch up to you?” A barb, albeit one that carried with it some of Dan Feng’s deeply-buried anxieties. It was a simple fact that Yingxing was from a short-life species, and Dan Feng had already watched his beautiful dark hair fade to a silvery sheen in just a few short decades. While it, too, was beautiful–as every change about Yingxing was beautiful, from the glasses he had started to wear while working on his blueprints to the crows-feet that grew ever deeper at the corners of his eyes–it was also a stark reminder of the all-too-brief time Dan Feng would have with him, before his shooting star of a lover finished his course across the sky and crashed to the earth where Dan Feng, as a member of an eternally reincarnating species, could never follow.
But! Such thoughts were best saved for times when he was alone and could examine them in the quiet sanctum of his meditation chambers, not for one of the rare days when both of them had no prior engagements til mid-afternoon at the earliest. Besides, it would never do for Yingxing to catch him being melancholy; that would only make him start fussing like a malfunctioning cycrane hoarding packages instead of delivering them. Still, something must have slipped past his serene expression, because Yingxing’s expression had gone from incredulous to frowning, and he placed his cup down with a barely-audible clink.
“A-Feng, if this is about my birthday coming up–”
No. No, they would not be doing this now. That was not in the plans for today. Dan Feng stood up and placed his own cup down rather more abruptly than was appropriate, setting the tea sloshing and nearly spilling over the edge, before rounding the table to all but throw himself over Yingxing’s broad shoulders and press a kiss just below his ear. He was rewarded with an indrawn gasp of air and Yingxing’s grasp on his tea shuddering, so he guided the man’s hands down to the table even as he nipped briefly at the shell of his lover’s ear, purposefully brushing the edge of it with his fangs.
“Not at all, qīn'ài. I simply thought that we might take advantage of a quiet morning to spend some time alone together that won’t throw out your poor, fragile back before you start your new commission this afternoon.” As he spoke, he deliberately drew out the words in a teasing tone and ran a finger up Yingxing’s chest, throat, and to his lips before dancing out of range when the artisan attempted to bite at the wandering digit. Eyes already darkening with a mixture of lust and annoyance, Yingxing swatted at him as Dan Feng returned to his seat. Despite the hand catching him lightly across his hip, Dan Feng managed to sit back down and regain his grace as though nothing untoward had just occurred in the least.
“Ignoring the comment about my poor, fragile back, when it was you who could barely walk to make it to that meeting with the ambassadors from the Yuque Vidyadhara… I understand the idea. But why in an agricultural delve? With puffergoats? Dodging raining livestock droppings is not the romantic morning you think it is, A-Feng.”
Now Yingxing was wrinkling his nose in distaste, and Dan Feng couldn’t help but hide a laugh behind his hand at the way the look of disgust transformed the artisan’s face from a man of dignified bearing to a pouting child, and waved away the concern with the other. “You spend too much time in the forge and not enough time elsewhere. They hardly roam loose all over the delves, Shǎguā! I assure you, we’ll be in no danger of free-falling droppings. But if you’re truly so concerned…” He trailed off, managing to turn what would have been another giggle into a slight smirk instead, and picked up his tea to finish drinking it before it could grow cold and unpalatable.
Dan Feng met his lover’s gaze over the cup and deepened his smirk, dragging a finger around the rim slowly, taunting Yingxing with every languid motion, before closing his eyes and swallowing the next sip of the still-warm beverage, taking the time to finish it completely and set the cup aside before finally, finally turning back to the human sitting across the table from him and continuing, “... You can always bring an umbrella.”
—
Yingxing did not, in the end, bring an umbrella, and out of respect and his deep, profound love for the man, Dan Feng tried not to gloat too much from where he lay stretched out on the blanket he’d brought, making himself comfortable as he watched his lover lower himself down to join him. They were tucked away in a remote corner of one of the Luofu’s smaller agricultural delves, one that was a mixture of orchards and pasture land, and had a blanket spread out on the edge of an orchard near where it met up by a puffergoat pasture and they could watch the fluffy caprids bobbing about in the air nearby.
Above them, the Luofu’s artificial sky spread out, with low clouds on the horizon and a few drifting by above, with the sea of stars peeking out from behind them. Truly a beautiful view, though Dan Feng found himself distracted from it by the way Yingxing stretched his long legs out as he lay beside him, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked around, a begrudging sort of appreciation on his face.
“Fine, you win, it’s a good location after all,” the artisan grumbled, and Dan Feng rolled over onto his stomach, folding his arms under his head and manifesting his tail so that he could drape it teasingly over Yingxing’s lap, making him grunt from the weight of it. He smiled, baring his fangs in the grin, and batted his eyes up at Yingxing, who made a grumbling sound under his breath and folded his arms over his chest, looking away–likely because he didn’t want to have to acknowledge Dan Feng’s further victories. But Dan Feng wasn’t going to let him get away that easily, and he freed one hand from under his head, spider-crawling his fingers up Yingxing’s side and wiggling them against his folded arm until he could grab hold of the craftsman’s deft yet slightly-calloused fingers, humming under his breath all the while.
“...And?”
“And nothing, you spoiled xiaolongbao, take the victory you earned and don’t get greedy, you haven’t done anything to earn extra acknowledgement.”
Aha! How did the phrase go? Hook, line, sinker! Dan Feng’s smile widened and he pulled his hand back so that he could push himself upright, now half-crouched from where he began. “Is that so, qīn'ài? Then should I provide you with sufficient cause, will you reward me appropriately?” There was no reason to wait for a response when he already knew what the answer was going to be, so Dan Feng gathered himself and pounced, throwing himself on top of Yingxing and capturing his mouth with his own. There were no witnesses out here to scandalize besides an unfortunate shepherd, more was the pity.
Afterward, they did eventually do a little cloud-watching.
Dan Feng lay tucked into the curve of Yingxing’s arm, resting his head over top of his lover’s chest so he could hear his heartbeat. It thumped away so strongly–beat after beat, counting, counting on, counting... down… A hand on his cheek startled him and caused him to look up into worried blue, and only then did he realize that he had started crying.
“...A-Feng?”
The inquiry was so gentle, Yingxing’s voice so soft and worried, that Dan Feng could no longer help himself, and instead turned and buried his face in his lover’s shoulder with a hiccuping sob. To his credit, Yingxing did not push for him to explain himself immediately, and instead simply rubbed his back, coaxing his sobs down to whimpers and then to sniffles one careful stroke at a time, with all of the patience honed from years as a Forgemaster. Eventually, Dan Feng found he had calmed enough that he could breathe again, and after scrubbing a hand over his eyes he blinked wetly up at Yingxing through damp lashes, then squeezed his eyes closed and looked away.
“I am… so sorry,” he said, voice cracking on the apology, as he drew in a hitched breath that turned into a heavy sigh. “This was meant to be a pleasant day, yet here I am, getting distracted with a melancholy that has no place in such a beautiful environment. Can you forgive me, Yingxing? For tainting such a lovely memory with this pain?” There was silence from Yingxing for a long moment, and then the other man sat up, still holding him, and pulled Dan Feng properly into his lap, so that he was cradling him in his arms.
“...Look up, A-Feng,” he said, and though worded softly, it was a command. Were he in any other sort of mood, Dan Feng would have resisted simply out of form, but not now. Instead, he did as he was told, and–the clouds that had been there when they arrived this morning were gone, leaving a clear, blue-tinted sky-dome, and beyond it, glimmering, the stars. “The clouds moved on while we were occupied,” he said quietly. “But there’s still beauty to be found beyond them.”
Dan Feng’s breath caught in his throat, because he knew, he knew, he knew what Yingxing was about to bring up, and he wasn’t ready. He could never be ready, and yet–he had been avoiding this discussion for much too long already, and he knew it. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to respond, and could only shake his head, wrapping his suddenly-trembling arms around Yingxing’s waist as though by clinging to him he could keep him here, with him, anchored in this moment, this place, this life.
“Listen to me, Dan Feng,” Yingxing persisted, and though he used no endearments and his voice was the voice of someone who would not be denied, there was still no mistaking the tenderness in his tone as he took the Vidyadhara’s chin in hand and lifted it, coaxing him wordlessly to meet his gaze. “You know as well as I that I have only a few decades left in me, and of those more in decline than not. Whereas you are young yet; you have centuries still before you must return to the sea for your next rebirth.”
No. Please, no.
Not this, don’t make him do this. He wasn’t ready.
“...Do not spend all of those years in grief, xīngān. When my time comes–mourn me as you must, but then let me go, and move on.”
No, no, no no no, he didn’t want to think about that, he...
“Please. Promise me this. Only this. I would see you live, A-Feng. Live, and be happy–our friends would never forgive me if losing me cost them you, as well.” Oh. As much as Dan Feng hated to think of it, as much as even the idea of Yingxing’s mortal lifespan running out made him want to recoil in fear and avoidance, his lover was right. Yingxing was the most important person in his life, by far, but he was not the only important person. And–to wound Baiheng, Jingliu, little Jing Yuan, simply because his own heart-wound was too severe from the end that Yingxing was fated to reach… the end that he wanted, never mind living surrounded by the temptations of immortality at every turn–
“...I–I promise, Yingxing,” he said, weakly at first, and then again, stronger, “I promise. When you die. I will let you go, and I will move on, as you wish.” It hurt to say it, to make a promise he wasn’t certain he could keep, but Dan Feng could not refuse Yingxing anything that he truly wanted. So even if he failed in the end, he had to promise, and he had to try. To do anything less would be tantamount to saying that his love for Yingxing did not run as deeply as it did, and to question the one thing that Dan Feng considered his–his as a person, not as a hero, a healer, an Elder, a warrior, a politician, a repository of memory, a descendant of Long, a puppet of the Preceptors, or any number of other objects and symbols that his life had been long-since defined as–was the one thing that he would and could never bring himself to do.
—
Not even a half-decade later, with the rain pouring down and lightning shaking the foundations of the world above him, Dan Feng wept over Yingxing’s bloody corpse.
And broke his promise.