Chapter Text
“General, I really don’t think you should touch it.”
“It is a fitness bracelet. A-Qing, who would curse a fitness bracelet?”
In his office at the Divine Seat of Foresight, Jing Yuan of the Luofu rests in the chair that he has cursed with his presence for the last few centuries. With the Stellaron crisis long over, he finally has had some time to relax and mull over everything. These may or may not include the fact that a) the master he killed is alive, b) the man his master killed multiple times is alive, and c) the man who indirectly and directly caused both of their deaths is back too.
People should be heading home for the new year to spend the holiday with their families. Most of the Foresight has already been packed. Jing Yuan has not seen his family in eight hundred years.
But bathed in the morning sunlight filtered through bamboo leaves onto his desk, light bouncing off the tiny scratches littered across the surface, so temptingly, is a fitness bracelet, and it’s easy to forget such things.
It seems innocuous enough. Jing Yuan lifts the device into the sunlight, the artificial light bouncing off the refined white surface in little prismatic triangles, and the only thing that Jing Yuan is worried about is that it’s too high-tech for him to use without Yanqing’s help.
“Anybody could curse anything! General— no, don’t touch it!” Yanqing’s hand twitches, almost snapping to his own, but Yanqing seems to resist the urge to cleave it open with his sword just to check if there’s a tiny demon hiding inside the machinery. “What if it’s poisoned? Or cursed? Did you even have it checked?”
In response, Jing Yuan just hums, raising it high out of Yanqing’s frustrated reach. “It seems to be a gift from a Cloud Knight too shy to speak to me personally. I don’t see the issue.”
Even the card attached is obviously a notecard folded in half, and the ink used is from a pen in the Artisan Commission— no doubt borrowed from Mr. Cong. There’s a slight flaw in the pen’s strokes, implying that the tip was deformed after a particularly frustrated slam into a metal desk. That is likely the result of Cong’s disastrous attempts at love poems…
It’s a shame that Jing Yuan knows so many useless details about the Luofu and so little about what truly holds importance. Such as…
“Hey, I’m serious, General! You don’t know what that thing is meant to do!” Yanqing complains and jumps helplessly to reach the gift, fingers flailing for just a split-second chance to snatch it out of Jing Yuan’s grasp.
Logically, Yanqing could just take the bracelet. His retainer can control six swords at a time with perfect ease, cut a floating leaf in half without even having to see it and shoot down a target half the size of his pinkie finger.
Instead, Yanqing insists on playing this game, like Jing Yuan is dangling a cat toy in front of him just to pull it out of reach again. Whether Yanqing is doing this out of a genuine desire to take the bracelet or just to amuse Jing Yuan, he isn’t sure.
He had been hoping that all that changed during the Stellaron Crisis had at least been resolved by the heliobus incident, but their relationship had only become more strained. Yanqing trained more, spoke to him less, rarely even asked to explain his orders, and questioning was… out of the question.
He used to think he knew everything about Yanqing. One heliobus possession and his master’s most terrifying sword technique later, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know anything at all.
“Perhaps it is meant to do simply as it was designed to do,” Jing Yuan says simply with a smile. “Thank you for looking out for me, Yanqing.”
“Hmph.” Yanqing glares at the offending bracelet, protective suspicion laced across them, and Jing Yuan’s heart stokes an ember of warmth at the sight. With the combined forces of Bailu, Yanqing, and Fu Xuan, Jing Yuan is quite sure that no threat in the entire Xianzhou fleet could come within a city’s distance of him before they went to attack.
Jing Yuan drags his thumb across the shiny surface, the clinical plastic polished to perfection. His thumb catches on the metal clasp, the tiny touchscreen a hollow black void in contrast to the rest of the piece.
Jing Yuan, in his infinite wisdom, clips it on.
“General, WAIT—“
…
The screen is still black.
The wind rustles through the bamboo and sifts through the thin leaves, and still, nothing happens. Yanqing shifts in his stance.
Jing Yuan pokes at the bracelet; once, twice. Is there an on button that he missed? Jing Yuan examines the bracelet carefully. No, there’s nothing he’s missed.
It simply doesn’t turn on. Despite himself, a curl of amused disappointment befalls Jing Yuan. How unexpected yet unsurprising. So goes the tragicomic life of Jing Yuan. Well, at least he can get back to his work now.
Yanqing looks unimpressed.
[I can’t believe he didn’t even listen to me. I guess I haven’t earned back his trust yet. Maybe I am falling behind.]
Jing Yuan sighs and shakes his head. The usual thoughts are back again. Perhaps, instead, he should take a nap before Fu Xuan starts harassing him over the newest pile of invoices again. In a sleepy haze, Jing Yuan glances up at a sun-warmed stack of soft paperwork, at the perfect height for a pillow. That does sound oddly tempting…
He glances over at his calendar to check for an opening in his schedule, and there’s a familiar date circled in red in a couple of weeks. A dread just as familiar settles over him— how could he have forgotten?
That day of the year is right around the corner— the seven hundred and twentieth anniversary of his master’s defeat. Old exhaustion falls over his shoulders and threatens to drag his eyes shut— he tries to blink the age away, and maybe something else just as old.
There’s no official grave for Jingliu, Yingxing, or Imbibitor Lunae, but it seems that they never needed one. He’ll leave something at the private Foresight shrine, as he does every year. Didn’t Yingxing love oranges? He can’t remember that well anymore… it could have been anything from jujubes to jackfruit and he would have forgotten anyway.
[Why does he look so sad?]
Jing Yuan’s eyes pop open when Yanqing tilts his head at him, a slight distress darkening his features.
[Is it old memories? Or a side effect of the amnesiac therapy? Maybe I can try to find something to cheer him up.]
After a moment of hesitation, Yanqing goes for the door instead.
[He probably wants to be left alone. I’ll think of something in the meantime.]
Yanqing sighs and starts leaving for the door, it takes every muscle and bit of martial training in Jing Yuan’s body not to whip around in his chair and knock over his pens. He ends up compromising, and slowly inches his way around in little thirty-degree increments to stare at Yanqing. Because that’s normal.
[Huh, he’s looking at me.] Yanqing’s lips twitch. [I guess he’s allowed to do that, but still. Ugh, what did I do this time?]
A sliver of something guilty wriggles through his thoughts, and Jing Yuan catches it immediately.
“Yanqing…” A smile falls across Jing Yuan’s face like divine enlightenment as he realizes just what he’s been given. “Have you eaten today?”
[Oops, I didn’t eat today. Well, I can go for a little longer without eating. I’ll eat after finishing my first patrol, Yanqing’s mind rambles. I don’t want to procrastinate on that. Not to mention that— wait, when was the last time I ate? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ll eat eventually anyway, so I can put it off a little longer.]
“Yes,” Yanqing lies.
Oh. Jing Yuan’s lips twitch with childlike amusement. Oh!
This fitness bracelet has a much more interesting function than he originally perceived. This is going to be fun.
“Yanqing, go eat breakfast,” and Jing Yuan can barely keep himself from laughing when Yanqing deflates in defeat.
“Yes, General.” Yanqing sighs and pulls open the sliding door to leave.
[Man, I was hoping he wouldn’t notice. I don’t care about eating right now…]
Hah! Is that because Yanqing’s too excited to train, or having a meal bores him?
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
So there’s an increase function? Jing Yuan’s lip twitches. Where does it come from? How was it allowed? Where did this come from?
If he continues to increase understanding, what will change next?
How curious.
“Wait!” In one grand stride, Jing Yuan gets up and stands by Yanqing, smiling serenely without a hair out of place. Yanqing looks up at him, many heads shorter but without a hint of fear the expression on his face is more like he’s thinking, ‘What do you want now?’
[Sheesh.] Jing Yuan almost can’t stop himself from laughing again. [What do you want now?]
Point proven.
“Let’s go get breakfast together, shall we?”
Yanqing relaxes at that, shoulders lowering and eyes softening. “Yeah, sure.”
—
“Lieutenant Yanqing! One arrives to impart news of the Judgment Martial Competition!” A Cycrane plops right down in the middle of Yanqing’s congee, and its mechanical legs drag through the thick pale soup before hopping out with a wet smack, smearing chunky blobs of wet rice across the table.
Jing Yuan doesn’t need to read Yanqing’s mind to know what expression is crossing his face. Yanqing isn’t difficult to calm, but even Jing Yuan knows not to touch Yanqing’s food for longer than five seconds after serving it. Especially when he’s hungry.
Jing Yuan briefly debates placing his hand on Yanqing’s shoulder to calm his ward down. Yanqing smiles serenely at the Cycrane.
[Do not massacre the Cycranes. They are just doing their job. Do not send them into the next ice age, even if it’s really, really, tempting. Do not massacre. Do not massacre. Do not massacre.]
Okay, debate resolved. The General straightens, facing the Cycrane. He knows what he’s going to do.
Jing Yuan makes a prayer.
“There hasn’t been a Judgement in years. Not since my ascension to Lieutenant,” Yanqing says measuredly, “The Luofu officials have all been performing at admirable standards following the crisis.” His smile is a little too jagged at the edges, and Jing Yuan closes his eyes. If anybody else were to look on, they’d likely assume that it was too early in the morning for Jing Yuan to function. They wouldn’t be too far off.
Please, Lan, if my son massacres half the Luofu today, give us a good escape route. I’ve worked diligently for the Hunt for eight hundred years. Jing Yuan secretly clasps his hands under the table. I have never asked for anything in my life. Please don’t let my son be thrown in prison because a robot landed in his breakfast.
“The Judgment Martial Competition is arriving three days from today!” The Cycrane reports, blissfully unaware of the danger it’s currently in, like a piper bird singing in the mouth of a shark. “The first stage is elimination, which any member of the Knights can join!”
Yanqing’s chopsticks click ominously across the celadon bowl. “Ah.”
Jing Yuan tries to lighten the mood. “A-Qing, you’ll get to compete with your friends. That sounds exciting, right?” He mentions gently.
Yanqing grumbles, stabbing his chopsticks into the ruined remains of his congee. “They’re not my friends. I can’t even trust them to get the job right.”
A sudden thread of thoughts soars through Jing Yuan’s mind like a kite carrying bloody entrails, too tangled and disorganized for him to understand properly. They’re too garbled to interpret all at once, but end with,
[miss her lots]
Internally, Jing Yuan sighs. It’s no secret that Yanqing has a certain preference for solo missions. He knows that Yanqing doesn’t make friends easily, but if he’d just give his fellow Knights a chance…
“The second stage is a tournament! The remaining contestants will fight in one-on-one battles. The victor of the finals will win the competition, and earn the long-awaited prize— the position of Lieutenant and General Jing Yuan’s retainer!”
…
Yanqing blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Yanqing’s eagle-dark eyes harden, and any mercy that may have existed in them is swiftly snuffed out. Under his unsympathetic sneer, the Cycrane is nothing more than a particularly hideous insect, as if it would look better speared upon his sword than dripping congee all over their table.
Jing Yuan is a responsible parent. He is the Arbiter-General of the Luofu. He is not going to evacuate like a coward. Jing Yuan is going to de-escalate the situation because Yanqing is a good kid who wouldn’t hurt innocent people.
Something predatory enters Yanqing’s glare.
[… Can Cycranes feel pain?]
Okay, okay, that’s concerning, that is concerning, it’s parenting time, parenting mode on! A little too quickly, Jing Yuan scrapes his chair back, and the resounding screech echoes throughout the mess hall.
“Yanqing, one-two-three, eyes on me, we’re going to resolve this together—“ Jing Yuan reaches forward to grab Yanqing’s shoulder, but he immediately recoils when pure frost shoots through his nerves.
When he flexes his fingers, a clear layer of ice splinters around his wrinkles like the thin sugar coating of hawthorn candy, and the hairs on his hand are tipped in sharp white.
“Who approved this,” Yanqing asks lightly, in the way that the first snowfall before the worst blizzard of the decade is light. “The Ten-Lords Commission? One of the Six Charioteers? A Cloud Knight authority? Who said that this was okay?”
The Cycrane waddles ignorantly forward, splattering more congee across the wooden table. “Due to your recent streak of failed missions, it was proposed that your position be placed on probation! This is recorded in Codex 509-11 of the Cloud Knight Codes— ‘Cloud Knights who falter in their duties may have their positions placed in question and potentially revoked, via a direct challenge or official tournament, depending on the scale of the discrepancy.”
The Cycrane hops across the table, fluttering its mechanical wings with little clatters in front of Jing Yuan. “Due to the Lieutenant's recent losses— his inability to apprehend the accomplice to the Stellaron Crisis, his failure to capture Imbibitor Lunae and Stellaron Hunter Blade, and his possession by Heliobus Apyra were the presented reasons to place his position in probation. Three is the magic number, after all!
“The timing is auspicious as well— a great victory took place at this time, changing the seats of the Luofu. General Jing Yuan, surely you remember when you slew the mara-struck Sword Champion? Is there any better way to celebrate than to put another official to the test?”
Jing Yuan resists the urge to sigh. He’s used to the festivals and jubilees that take place during the anniversaries— today is supposed to be a happy day for the Luofu. There’s a reason his nightmares always end with the most peaceful of skies.
He does not need a reminder of that.
[They’re making the General sad.]
Yanqing is bristling next to him. A subtle threat is quickly emerging into something much more dangerous, and Jing Yuan shifts his position into practiced defense.
[How dare they make light of something so painful for the General? Don’t they realize the weight of what they’re saying? Even I know better than to bring up the past!]
Jing Yuan winces— his old injury from Phantiliya decides to make itself known, his chest aching with painful familiarity. At least, he thinks it’s the injury.
He doesn’t understand why Yanqing is always so impassioned on his behalf. It’s unbecoming of him. But perhaps it’s in Yanqing’s nature to care so blindly.
“So, in summary, forgive me for being so crass, but let’s make it simple— your position is up for grabs in the next martial competition!”
Jing Yuan’s eyes dart over to his ward in concern.
The blood drains from Yanqing’s face, all the anger leaving in a rush of white.
“You won’t be the General’s retainer anymore— but not to worry, you’ll simply be demoted to Private! Your new unit will be decided after the results of the competition.”
Frost creeps and crystallizes over Yanqing’s hands and weaves sparkling patterns into his hair, not one the same, and the temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees.
“All the paperwork has already been organized! I’m not sure how your demotion will work in regards to the General and his guardianship over you, but I’m sure there’s paperwork for that too! The new retainer will take your place… hm, I’m not sure how that will work out!”
[Everything in Yanqing stops, blanching with shock— then tightens, twisting and writhing and revolting with disbelief.]
For the briefest of moments, too quick for Jing Yuan to even catch it properly—
[Something in Yanqing shrinks back, bitten like shame, before it promptly dies.]
“Hey, I’m just the messenger! The competition is going to be pretty high-stakes, so we should probably thank you for the surge in popularity! After all, lots of people covet your position more than anything!”
[Replacing it, vicious loneliness and a bulging vein of poison coils and squeeze around Yanqing so quickly, an inky black artery snaking into his sword arm and ready to burst.]
Then, every thread goes white, void, as if it went off the radar.
This Cycrane needs to stop speaking. Now.
“So if you’re going to— oh, don’t make that face! You’ll be fine, you’ll come to like your new life! Besides, you’ll come to see this as a good thi—“
When Yanqing resurges, Jing Yuan forgets heaven exists.
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!”
With a sweeping echo like the metallic sound of a blade being unsheathed, a jagged and monstrous lance of ice rips itself from Yanqing’s hand, twisting and blossoming into what Jing Yuan suddenly recognizes as a sword.
Tangled lightning in Jing Yuan’s hands explodes and fizzles out— Yanqing howls and lunges across the table, frenzied ice rushing for the Cycrane and skewering the robot all the way through with a strangled shriek of metal, mutilating the bird’s wires and circuitry in crackling fractals of sky-breaking blue.
The dining hall workers and Cloud Knights around them begin to yell and panic, summoning their swords as the screams rise around them like licks of wildfire. Yanqing doesn’t even seem to notice, irises shrunken and rabid as hatred twists every aspect of his expression into a blinded rage.
The ice continues to tear into the bird, ripping off wings and claws and screws, every piece of chromatic plating coated in frost. The crazed ice even starts to attack the table, racing whorls of ice splitting the wood between the lines like infected veins.
“YANQING! STAND DOWN!” Jing Yuan bellows, but Yanqing doesn’t even seem to hear him.
Finally, a sharp blast of lightning crackles through Jing Yuan’s hands as he violently digs his grip into Yanqing’s collar, furiously yanking him back like he’s leashing an animal. Yanqing fights back like a cornered beast, flailing and clawing into the wood with a bloodied screech, crackling spikes of ice exploding in every direction.
He doesn’t understand. Yanqing never had outbursts as a child. He’d always been a good child, never crying once, to the point that Jing Yuan had asked doctors about it. Why is he acting like this now?
“Yanqing, that is enough! We’re heading home, now!” Jing Yuan tugs on Yanqing’s collar, and finally, he’s making physical progress, dragging Yanqing across the hall towards the exit doors.
“THEY CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Yanqing shrieks, face screwed up and hands exploding with bursts of frozen mist. “NOT AFTER EVERYTHING! NOT AFTER ALL I’VE DONE! GENERAL—“
“Yanqing, STAND DOWN!” Numbing frost crawls up Jing Yuan’s calloused fingertips as he doesn’t let go, tearing the doors open with a slam and yanking Yanqing through, shoes scraping against the frame to run back, to fight back, to do anything but leave. Are all fourteen-year-olds like this?
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
“I’ll kill them!” Yanqing sobs out, the words strangled and choked out, “I’ll kill them all!“
“Stand down!” Jing Yuan demands harshly, and he’s not sure what else to say. “I know! I’m sorry.” The grip he has on Yanqing’s collar turns into an embrace, and Yanqing collapses violently into his arms. His thoughts suffocate and writhe and agonize all around Jing Yuan, and it forces him to stumble back dangerously.
[I hate this I hate them I hate them! All I’ve done what have I done please please I don’t want to be left alone, they don’t trust me! That’s fine, I don’t trust them either! I don’t trust anybody! I hate them! I’m alone! I’ve always been alone why don’t they trust me I don’t care let them go please don’t leave me—]
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
“I know. I’m sorry,” Jing Yuan whispers, pressing his face in Yanqing’s hair if only to hide from the world in the smell of sea salt and sword polish.
Yanqing only screams, guttural and bloodcurdling, tears raging in his eyes as he fails to yank himself away from Jing Yuan’s arms.
“I’ll kill them all,” Yanqing sobs. “I’ll kill you all!”
[I’ll take you all down with me! You’re all coming with me, I won’t be alone again!]
[You think you can take him from me? I’d like to see you try!]
Jing Yuan startles.
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
And maybe Jing Yuan does have a heart of stone when he drags Yanqing far away without flinching once at every wound Yanqing splits with him.
[Don’t take him from me! Don’t you dare, I have nothing, I have nothing else!]
[I have nothing!]
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
[Your understanding of Cloud Knight Yanqing has increased!]
…
Before the doors slam shut for good, the mangled corpse of the Cycrane rattles and garbles, “If you wish to unsubscribe from our mailing list, please request ‘I wish to unsubscribe from all future updates!’”
—
Jing Yuan lets go of him.
Yanqing is barely able to breathe as he stumbles out of his grip and storms away as fast as he can, turning into random alleys and hidden backstreets just to breathe.
Everything he’s worked for, everything he proved he was worthy of keeping, fought for every damn thing nobody else has to fight for—
He’s lost it. Cold hands press up against Yanqing’s eyes because he messed up. Slipped up, forgot this is temporary, forgot he has to earn this, every single—
Yanqing wheezes, in and out. Blood debt. How could he have forgotten?
It makes sense. It has to. He disgraced the General by losing against Blade, then against Kafka, and failed to apprehend them again, and with the heliobus— it makes sense that public opinion would turn against him. He should have been watching!
It makes sense. Yanqing’s breath comes a little slower as the sweat goes cooler against his forehead. It’s easier to calm down now. It makes sense.
The General has, at long last, come to his senses.
It’s the slow trickle of water that finally ends his blind rush, and Yanqing pants as he realizes he’s at a small shrine for Lan— a street shrine, probably only for one or two households at most.
But even then, he isn’t able to escape, because a reporter stuffs her face into Yanqing’s boundaries and says brightly, “Hello!”
Yanqing yelps, scrubbing away at his face to hide whatever remains of his minor mental collapse. “Woah, hey! Back off a little, aren’t you…”
“I’m just a reporter for a small news outlet, no worries!” She smiles at him, too big and too bright, sunlike, and Yanqing worries that sometimes this is what he looks like when he lies. “I just wanted to ask a couple of questions about today.”
That wound is a little deeper than Yanqing wants to go, so he says, “Uh, maybe another day, I’m not sure if—“
A tight hand clamps around his arm, and Yanqing flinches without looking at her because he’s not a coward. “Oh, no, it’ll be fast then! Maybe just a couple of questions about why you became Lieutenant?”
That’s something he’s a little more familiar with, and he can’t be caught running away. If the Luofu is going to see this, the least he owes them is some sincerity.
“I swore to protect the Xianzhou and its people,” Yanqing says a little less nervously, turning back to her as her grip loosens. “I can do that better if I’m a Lieutenant.”
“Oh, of course! I’m sure that all the public adoration helps too, right?”
What? Yanqing laughs nervously. “Uh, what?”
“Oh, don’t tell me that you’re going to be humble now when there are thousands of eyes on you! Number one on the popularity polls, the idol of the knights— everybody loves a little fame, and you’re swimming in it! They love Yanqing, and I bet that helps you love it a little too!”
He winces. He knows about the fan clubs, about the cameras, the propaganda the Knights sell the world, but that’s— he doesn’t want to talk about that right now. “I don’t think it’s all that people think—“
“But you’ve worked so hard to get to this position!” She never seems to take a second to breathe as she says, “It’s such a heartwarming story. Little street orphan gets taken in by the luminary General, and turns out to be the biggest name of the century! Rags to riches, nothing to everything! Anybody would die to be in your position!”
I can feel my body dying around me, Yanqing almost jokes, but that doesn’t seem newsworthy. But that seems to be the wrong thing to do because the reporter catches his mouth twitch and says, “There! You held something back from me! But you wouldn’t tell me what it is, right?
“That’s the person who chased down the Stellaron Hunter for one more accolade, served the General tirelessly while he recovered from Phantiliya’s blows, the person who took the Lieutenant position after only entering the competition two days earlier!” She steps forward ominously, a little too excited as she continues, “The person that turned to a heliobus for more strength, turned on the Xianzhou for just a taste of ambition!”
She lifts her fingers into twin frames, like she already knows exact photo she’s going to take of Yanqing’s defeat. “How did the prodigy Lieutenant finally break his winning streak and meet his breaking point today? Give us the whole story, to the very end!”
How does she know that? Yanqing laughs, panicked now, as he stumbles backward. Nobody knows that, should know that. That’s supposed to be confidential! But if it isn’t, then he needs some contingency plans, to protect the General’s reputation—
“There, that’s what I mean— that’s what makes you the General’s darling— you’ll do anything: put on a mask, betray your friends, betray yourself to be accepted and loved!”
Yanqing’s mouth dries. What’s that supposed to mean?
“Isn’t that selfless of you?”
She smiles, gentler this time. Shrinking into himself, Yanqing hates that it reminds him of the General. It’s sickeningly familiar. It’s a teaching moment.
Yanqing is terrified that this is what he looks like when he lies.
“That in the end, when you’ve won every heart in the world, there’s going to be nobody left to want yours.”
And that’s when Yanqing smiles, presses his hands down to lower the microphone, and makes a run for it.
—
…
“I’m going to win,” Yanqing says quietly, nursing his cup of tea close to his chest. “If they think they can take my position away from me, I’ll just take it back.”
It’s a black tea blend with chrysanthemum petals. It’s the kind that his father’s family used to hate, but it’s the brew of tea that’s characteristic of the ship his mother came from. The fragrant smell of black tea can be too bitter for some— the first time Yingxing tried it, he spat it out and asked for sugar.
Then Dan Feng had cried out in horror, deeply insulted by even the prospect of drinking tea with sugar, faded sunlight falling across his sharp features as the night fell, Yingxing’s dark freckles dusted across his cheeks like constellations, knuckles painted with dusky brushstrokes from where he burnt himself, brushing over the table, his jade teacup, and—
Jing Yuan sighs. And he’s getting lost in old memories again.
His mother would have liked Yanqing.
“I know you’re going to win. I don’t doubt you in the slightest. But you have to show them the Lieutenant they want to see.”
[You sound like you doubt me, Yanqing’s mind bites out. You never say what you’re thinking.]
“I’m not scared, General.” A puff of steam casts over the tea like a passing cloud, and Yanqing blows gently on his tea again to cool it down.
He’s not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that now, he always knows when Yanqing is lying. Perhaps they would have been happier had they lived in ignorance of each other.
[I hate that I’m like this.] Yanqing’s fingers tighten over his teacup. [I can’t believe it’s come to this… I guess it only makes sense. A sword that cracks is a sword discarded. I’ve lost so many times, who wouldn’t lose faith in me?]
Yanqing smiles to himself.
[Maybe this competition is what I need… at least, I’ll know if I deserve the position or not.]
Jing Yuan can only smile weakly, pretending he doesn’t understand, and hopes he hides the ache in his heart as well as Yanqing does. “I know.”
It’s… new, and worrying, to hear Yanqing’s worst thoughts so clearly behind such a quiet smile. Like father, like son— Jing Yuan can only blame himself. It’s simply that Jing Yuan hadn’t expected Yanqing to pick up the skill so quickly. Perhaps he hoped in vain, but Jing Yuan was hoping that Yanqing wouldn’t need it.
It’s funny— Yanqing is only doing exactly as he does.
So why does that hurt so much?
Jing Yuan settles miserably into his seat, the chrysanthemum petals sticking to his upper lip as he takes another long sip. “I did some research on the elimination stage. Your missions will be replaced by a multi-day hunt of Abominations, but you’ll still be able to return home to rest and recover. It is only asked that family or friends do not participate outside of recovery time or offer help that may assist Knights in combat. It is recommended to go after quantity of Abominations rather than quality.”
[Truth,] Yanqing thinks, and why is he cataloging everything Jing Yuan says?
“It’s set against me,” Yanqing suddenly snaps, “They know that I can hunt the biggest abominations, so it’s easier for the other Cloud Knights to smash insect eggs and win when I can take down a leviathan.”
[I can do better. I know I’m better, I’m so much better and I’m still forced to the same level as they are. How is that fair?]
Jing Yuan rolls the next syllables over his tongue, calculated and lazy. “I’m going to investigate this tournament. I did not approve this, and whoever went behind my back to organize this will have to answer to me.”
He has to keep the situation controlled. And that means Yanqing cannot deviate from expectations. Now isn’t the time for impartiality— he has to be strong, and if that means being cruel to his retainer then he will bear that sin. His performance cannot risk being anything other than impenetrable.
“Whoever’s plotting this expects a certain effort to be put into this competition, anticipates your best at any cost. We cannot risk hesitation.” Jing Yuan opens one slow eye, reading his retainer’s ashamed expression. “Lieutenant Yanqing, I need you to win.”
[…]
“Yes, sir.” The translucent petals swirl in Yanqing’s cup.
[Is he going to step in? Or is this another test for me? Is this another trial that I’m supposed to lose? Should I give up while I’m ahead, and spare myself some dignity? Or do I keep fighting, the way he wants me to, pretending that I’m ignorant until I’ve hit rock bottom?]
Jing Yuan sighs. Perhaps he is doomed to be misunderstood.
[I just want him to be happy.]
…
“Yanqing,” Jing Yuan suddenly blurts out, the speed of the syllables surprising even to him, “You will always have a home here. Regardless of the results of the competition.”
Yanqing just laughs, bitter like tea leaves.
“I know.”
[Lie], Yanqing thinks, and Jing Yuan doesn’t have the heart to correct him. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in himself, or that he wouldn’t support Yanqing no matter what— but eight hundred years makes a man so, so tired.
“The competition starts tomorrow,” Yanqing says hollowly, sitting up and taking his teacup to the sink. “Thanks for the tea.”
[I’ll prove it to you. Everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve done up until now, I’m going to repay it all. It’s all going to show here.]
[I hurt his feelings.]
Jing Yuan blinks a few too many times than what’s constituted as healthy.
When Yanqing leaves, Jing Yuan doesn’t bring himself to follow him.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
Jing Yuan smiles to himself, even if he has to push up the corners of his lips a little too high. Yanqing is strong, stronger than anybody. He’s trained Yanqing to face much more than competitions, so this should be a breeze in the park for him. As for Yanqing’s downturn of mood, he’ll bounce back too— it’s his student, after all.
Yanqing was itching to fight again almost two days after a wingweavers’ ambush nearly killed him. It’s the blessing of the young.
He’s fine. They’re fine.
And with this new ability… Jing Yuan lifts his wrist to the light, watching the reflections dance across the polished surface.
It’s a blessing. He’ll know instantly when something goes wrong. Isn’t that what he’s always wanted? The unpredictable has become the controlled variable.
If anything, he’s looking forward to it.
Jing Yuan presses up the corners of his smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.