Work Text:
The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a pale, silvery glow over the vast expanse of the Xianzhou night. The gentle rustle of wind whispered through the grass, and the distant sound of flowing water mingled with the hum of the stars. Yingxing and Dan Feng sat in comfortable silence, bathed in the moonlight, each cradling a glass of fine wine.
The coolness of the evening didn’t reach them—perhaps because of the warmth they shared, a warmth not just of their bodies but of their bond. Though few words had passed between them that evening, it was the unspoken connection between them that spoke volumes. They didn’t really need to speak to understand what the other was feeling. The silence wasn’t oppressive, but comforting, like a blanket they had wrapped themselves in together.
Dan Feng’s gaze was distant, his thoughts abstract as he absently swirled the wine in his glass. He found himself wondering about the nature of what lay between them. Love, yes, it was love. But was this what it was supposed to feel like? The gentle ease, the quiet comfort, the weightless sensation of sitting with someone who could see through the walls you built around yourself? He felt light, untethered from the burdens that constantly plagued his mind.
Yingxing shifted beside him, his gaze drifting over to Dan Feng, studying him quietly. The way the moonlight played on his features, casting shadows across his sharp jawline and softening the intensity in his eyes, made Yingxing’s heart squeeze. There was a vulnerability to Dan Feng in moments like this, a rawness that the high and mighty Imbibitor Lunae seldom let anyone witness. But Yingxing had seen it before. He had glimpsed the cracks behind Dan Feng’s impenetrable armor, the moments when the weight of his responsibilities seemed almost too much to bear.
But tonight, Yingxing wasn’t satisfied with just glimpsing. He wanted more.
“Do you trust me, Dan Feng?” Yingxing’s voice was soft, but it sliced through the quiet like a knife.
Dan Feng blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the unexpected question. He turned to look at Yingxing, his usually composed expression faltering for a fraction of a second. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he searched Yingxing’s face for meaning behind the question. Trust? Why ask that? Wasn’t it obvious?
“Of course I do,” Dan Feng responded after a beat, his voice gentle yet firm. “I love you.”
Yingxing sighed softly, his breath mingling with the cool night air. He set his wine glass down on the grass, its contents forgotten. There was a sadness in his eyes, a heaviness that Dan Feng couldn’t quite place. Slowly, Yingxing scooted closer to him, their knees brushing as he reached out to take Dan Feng’s hand in his own. His thumb traced idle patterns over Dan Feng’s knuckles, but his gaze remained downcast, as though he was searching for the right words.
“It is one thing to be loved by you, my dear,” Yingxing began, his voice barely above a whisper, “but it is a different thing entirely to be trusted by you.”
Dan Feng frowned slightly, unsure of what Yingxing was trying to say. “I do trust you,” he repeated, a small furrow forming between his brows.
Yingxing shook his head softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. He finally looked up, meeting Dan Feng’s gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. “To be loved by you is… beautiful, and I treasure that more than you could ever know,” Yingxing said, his voice filled with emotion. “But trust, true trust, is more than just saying the words. It’s about letting someone in, about allowing them to see you at your most vulnerable, about sharing the parts of yourself you keep hidden from everyone else.”
Dan Feng’s breath caught in his throat. The words struck something deep within him, something he hadn’t even realized he had been guarding so fiercely. He had thought he was open with Yingxing—he had let him in further than anyone else in his life. But was it enough? Had he truly given Yingxing all of himself, or just the pieces he was comfortable sharing?
Yingxing’s hand was warm against his own, his touch grounding him in the moment. “I want to be the one you share your burdens with,” Yingxing continued, his voice steady yet tender. “I want to be the one who sees you when you’re struggling, when you feel like you can’t carry everything on your own. I don’t want to just stand beside you in your victories. I want to be the one who’s there for you when you fall.”
Dan Feng’s heart pounded in his chest. The truth of Yingxing’s words hit him with a force he hadn’t been prepared for. He had always been the Imbibitor Lunae, the bearer of impossible responsibilities, the one who had to remain composed and strong no matter the circumstance. Letting someone see him in his moments of weakness—it was terrifying.
But he also knew that no one else would ever understand him the way Yingxing did. If there was anyone he could let in, it was him.
Yingxing reached out with his free hand, cupping Dan Feng’s face with a gentle touch. His thumb brushed along Dan Feng’s cheek, and the tenderness in his gaze nearly unraveled him. “I love you,” Yingxing said softly, “but I want to be the one you trust with your heart, your fears, and your secrets. That is what I desire.”
Dan Feng swallowed hard, the weight of Yingxing’s words pressing against the walls he had built around himself. His instinct was to retreat, to protect himself. But as he looked into Yingxing’s eyes, he saw nothing but unwavering devotion, a love so deep it scared him.
And in that moment, Dan Feng made a choice.
He leaned into Yingxing’s touch, closing his eyes as he exhaled a shaky breath. “I trust you,” he whispered, the words fragile but sincere. “I trust you with everything.”
Yingxing’s smile was soft but radiant, like the moonlight that bathed them. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Dan Feng’s in a quiet, intimate gesture. For a long moment, they stayed like that, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. No more words were needed between them. The silence that followed was filled with understanding, with the promise of something deeper, something unbreakable.
And in that moonlit night, sitting in the soft grass with the world around them forgotten, Dan Feng finally let go of the walls he had spent so long building. He allowed himself to be vulnerable, to be seen—truly seen—by the one person who loved him not despite his flaws, but because of them.
And for the first time, Dan Feng understood what it truly meant to be in love.
***
The battlefield was chaos.
The metallic clang of weapons clashing, the screams of soldiers, and the hissing chants of the Denizens of Abundance echoed through the air. Blood stained the earth beneath their feet, and the once pristine landscape was now littered with bodies, torn banners, and the charred remains of those who had dared stand against the overwhelming tide of enemies. Dan Feng’s spear slashed through another Denizen, the sharp edge glowing with ethereal light as he moved with the grace and precision of a dancer in a deadly waltz. Beside him, Yingxing fought with a ferocity that could only come from a man who had nothing left to lose.
But it wasn’t enough.
Dan Feng knew it in his bones. The Denizens kept coming, wave after relentless wave, their numbers unceasing, their strength bolstered by the Abundance’s twisted power. For every enemy they struck down, three more seemed to take their place. His allies were being pushed back, their defenses crumbling. Even his own strength—though vast—was beginning to wane.
Yingxing cut through another enemy, his blade flashing in the dim light of the battlefield, but as he pulled back, panting heavily, he glanced toward Dan Feng with a hard look in his eyes.
“They’re not stopping,” Yingxing growled, his voice strained. “We can’t hold them off like this.”
Dan Feng clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his spear as his mind raced. He knew what Yingxing was implying, and the weight of it pressed down on him like a crushing boulder. He had more power—far more than he had been using—but unleashing the full force of the Azure Dragon meant risking everything. His control was fragile, and once he let go, there would be no guarantee that he could reign it back in. The devastation could be catastrophic, and he wasn’t sure if Yingxing or anyone else could withstand it.
Yingxing seemed to sense his hesitation. His face softened for just a moment, and he stepped closer to Dan Feng, his eyes searching his face with that same intensity as before—an intensity that spoke of love, trust, and a deep understanding of the man beside him.
“Dan Feng,” Yingxing said, his voice low but resolute, “do you trust me?”
Dan Feng’s heart stuttered in his chest. The question was so familiar, yet in the heat of battle, it carried a new weight, a new danger. He looked at Yingxing, his breath catching as he saw the determination in his eyes. He knew what Yingxing was asking—he was asking for the same trust as before, but this time it was layered with more than just vulnerability. This time, it was life and death.
Dan Feng’s throat felt tight, but he nodded slowly, his voice barely audible over the roar of the battlefield. “I trust you.”
He regretted the words the moment they left his lips.
Because in the blink of an eye, Yingxing turned and ran straight into the thick of the battle, his blade raised as he charged directly into the fray.
“Yingxing—wait!” Dan Feng shouted, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of war.
Dan Feng’s heart seized in terror as he watched Yingxing plunge into the mass of Denizens, his blade cutting through them like a force of nature. His movements were wild, desperate, every strike filled with a reckless abandon that chilled Dan Feng to the core. Yingxing was cutting through enemies faster than Dan Feng could track, each one falling in a gruesome spray of blood and ash. But for every Denizen Yingxing felled, more pressed in around him. They swarmed him like locusts, and despite his strength, despite his skill, Dan Feng could see that Yingxing was taking hits—hard ones.
“No!” Dan Feng’s voice cracked as he started forward, his spear blazing with celestial energy as he fought his way toward Yingxing. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to reach him, to stop him, but the sheer number of enemies between them slowed his progress. He couldn’t get there in time.
Yingxing cut down another Denizen, but not before one managed to land a brutal hit to his side. He staggered, blood pouring from the wound as he gasped in pain, yet he kept moving, kept fighting. Denizen after Denizen fell at his feet, but Dan Feng could see the toll it was taking. Yingxing’s movements were slowing, his strikes less precise, his breathing ragged.
Dan Feng’s hands trembled as panic set in. The sight of Yingxing getting hurt, bleeding, and still charging headlong into danger was tearing him apart. His chest tightened as the fear clawed its way up his throat. He was losing him. He was going to lose him. And it was his fault.
Yingxing swayed on his feet, barely able to keep his grip on his sword. His vision blurred, the world tilting dangerously as blood dripped from his side, his arms, his legs. But still, he fought. Still, he killed.
Until finally, a Denizen managed to land a vicious blow to his back, and Yingxing fell to his knees.
“No… no, no, no!” Dan Feng screamed, his voice raw with anguish. His spear dropped from his hands, forgotten as he rushed toward Yingxing’s fallen form. But as he took another step, something in him snapped. His vision blurred, and all he could see was red—bright, searing, agonizing red. The power of the Azure Dragon surged within him, wild and untamed, as if every restraint he had placed on it shattered in an instant.
The ground beneath him trembled, and a deep, primal roar erupted from Dan Feng’s throat as the sky above darkened. Azure light swirled around him, a storm of energy that crackled with fury. He was no longer just Dan Feng. He was the Imbibitor Lunae, the living embodiment of the Azure Dragon’s might.
And in his rage, in his grief, he unleashed that power upon the Denizens of Abundance.
The battlefield was consumed in an explosion of blue light, the very air vibrating with the sheer force of his unleashed energy. The Denizens didn’t stand a chance. One by one, they were obliterated, their bodies disintegrating into nothingness as the power of the Azure Dragon washed over them. The ground split open, the sky cracked, and every single Denizen in sight was wiped from existence in a storm of destruction that left nothing but silence in its wake.
When the light finally faded, Dan Feng stood in the middle of a wasteland, the battlefield reduced to nothing more than ash and ruin. His body trembled, the overwhelming power still pulsing through his veins, but all he could focus on was the figure lying motionless on the ground a few feet away.
Yingxing.
Dan Feng’s legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed beside Yingxing, his hands shaking violently as he reached out to touch him. Blood coated his clothes, his skin pale and cold. Dan Feng’s breath hitched as he pressed his hand to Yingxing’s chest, desperate to feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the faint beat of his heart.
“Please…” Dan Feng whispered, his voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me.”
Yingxing’s chest rose, faint but steady, and Dan Feng let out a choked sob of relief. But the damage was done. Yingxing was hurt, badly, and Dan Feng could feel the crushing weight of his own failure pressing down on him.
He had trusted Yingxing, but in doing so, he had allowed this to happen.
And now, as he cradled Yingxing’s limp body in his arms, Dan Feng realized that the cost of that trust was a price he might never be able to repay.
Yingxing coughed violently, blood flecking his lips as his body trembled in Dan Feng’s arms. The once-proud, unshakable warrior was now fragile, broken, his skin as pale as the moonlight above. Dan Feng’s heart ached as he watched him struggle for breath, his hands trembling as they held him close, as if trying to shield him from the world—protect him from the pain that now consumed him.
“T-there you go…” Yingxing whispered with a pained laugh, though it was barely more than a breath. His voice, once full of strength and certainty, was weak, shaky. Yet still, he managed a crooked smile, as if trying to reassure Dan Feng that everything would be fine. “See? I told you… I could… handle it…”
But the violent coughing fit that followed betrayed his words, wracking his body with pain as he gasped for air. Blood spilled from his mouth, and Dan Feng could feel every ounce of strength leaving him with each breath.
“I’ll be fine—” Yingxing began, his voice breaking, but another wave of coughs cut him off, leaving him breathless, his chest heaving as he fought to stay conscious.
Dan Feng couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They fell freely, streaking down his face as he clutched Yingxing tighter, his heart shattering with every painful cough that escaped his lips. He felt powerless, helpless in a way that he hadn’t in centuries. For all his strength, for all the power of the Azure Dragon coursing through his veins, he couldn’t save the man he loved. And the realization tore him apart.
“Don’t leave me…” Dan Feng whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of Yingxing’s labored breathing. It was a plea, a desperate, broken cry that he couldn’t control. “Please… don’t leave me…”
Yingxing’s hand, bloodied and shaking, reached up and brushed weakly against Dan Feng’s cheek. His touch was so faint, so delicate, yet it held a tenderness that cut deeper than any blade. His eyes, though clouded with pain, softened as they locked onto Dan Feng’s tear-filled gaze.
“I won’t…” Yingxing whispered, though the words seemed to take everything he had left. His fingers brushed away one of Dan Feng’s tears, the small motion filled with a kind of love that words couldn’t capture. “Not… if I can help it…”
But Dan Feng could see it—the truth that Yingxing was trying to hide. His body was failing him. He was slipping away, no matter how hard he fought to stay. The blood wouldn’t stop, the wounds were too deep, and Dan Feng had been too late.
“No,” Dan Feng whispered, shaking his head in denial, his hands tightening around Yingxing’s limp form. “You’ll be fine. I’ll fix this. I’ll—” His voice broke, the words catching in his throat as his chest constricted. “Just stay with me. Please… I can’t lose you.”
Yingxing gave him a tired smile, though it was tinged with sadness. “You won’t… lose me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve never… really lost me…”
Dan Feng’s vision blurred with more tears, his heart aching as he buried his face against Yingxing’s shoulder. The battlefield around them was quiet now, but inside, all Dan Feng could feel was the storm raging in his soul. The power of the Azure Dragon still pulsed within him, still begged to be unleashed, to fix the unfixable, but no amount of strength could change the truth.
“Just… trust me… one last time,” Yingxing whispered, his voice so faint it was almost lost in the wind.
Dan Feng’s breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully. He pulled back just enough to meet Yingxing’s gaze, his tears falling freely. “I do trust you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve always trusted you.”
Yingxing’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though the pain was evident in every breath he took. “Then… we’re okay…” He sighed softly, his body relaxing just a little in Dan Feng’s arms, as if hearing those words had given him the peace he needed.
But Dan Feng wasn’t ready for peace. He wasn’t ready for goodbye.
“Yingxing… no,” Dan Feng whispered, his voice trembling as he cradled him closer, as if he could shield him from death itself. “Don’t… don’t do this…”
Yingxing’s breathing was growing shallower, his chest rising and falling with painful slowness. His hand slipped from Dan Feng’s cheek, falling limp at his side as his strength faded completely. But still, even in his final moments, he looked up at Dan Feng with love in his eyes—a love that shone brighter than the stars above.
“I love you…” Yingxing whispered, his voice barely audible, but Dan Feng heard it. He heard every word, every breath.
And then, with one last exhale, Yingxing’s eyes fluttered closed, his body going still in Dan Feng’s arms.
Dan Feng’s world shattered.
“No…” he whispered, his voice breaking as he clutched Yingxing’s body close to his chest, his tears falling onto the cold, bloodied ground beneath him. “No… no, no, no…”
He held him, rocking him gently as if the motion would somehow bring him back. As if his love alone could heal the wounds that had taken him. But Yingxing was gone. And Dan Feng was alone.
The battlefield was silent, save for the sound of Dan Feng’s sobs, the quiet, broken pleas for a man who would never answer again.
And for the first time in his long, eternal life, Dan Feng felt powerless. Utterly and completely powerless.