Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's a well known fact that Yingxing never asks for anything. He will demand, he will take things by force if he has to, but he will never ask. Perhaps he thinks it's a sign of weakness, perhaps he simply abhors the idea of leaning upon another. Either way, the fact remains as it has for as long as the young Cloud Knight has known him for—  Yingxing never asks for anything. 

But this time, he does. 

Flushed and half-delirious from the moonshine he's stolen from a certain Sword Champion's stash, Yingxing, the oh-so-proud Furnace Master, asks exactly one thing of his precious audience of one. 

"Will you dance with me, Jing Yuan?" 

Oh, who is Jing Yuan to deny him? Him, who has carved out the very stars that form his name and given them to Jing Yuan in the form of pretty little trinkets and unspoken promises. 

For all that they call Jing Yuan the progeny of the Divine Foresight, destined to rise to the title and usher in a new era of prosperity to the Xianzhou Luofu with his strategies, he is still no Matrix of Prescience. How could Jing Yuan have predicted that the stars of the infinite universe would have aligned for him to catch the famed Flying Comet in the palm of his hands?

"A dance, Yingxing?" Jing Yuan’s throat is as dry as bone despite the burning liquor he has swallowed. He rests his lips just so on the edge of his cup. “Why the sudden invitation?”

The look Yingxing gives him is exasperated and fond all the same. The kind that makes Jing Yuan feel at least five decades younger and all the more lighter for it. He supposes he deserves it, but it isn’t like he’s about to apologize for it either. If anything, Jing Yuan barely reacts when Yingxing flicks a piece of candy right onto his forehead.

”Why the sudden snark for a well-intentioned invitation then?” The Furnace Master throws back just as easily. At Jing Yuan’s gesture, Yingxing fills up both of their empty cups. Most of the liquor completely misses Yingxing’s open mouth, though, and Jing Yuan pointedly does not look at what has just become stained and glistening under the moonlight. “Afraid you might humiliate yourself at this age, A-Yuan?”

A question to match another question. At this rate, neither of them will come around to using their words the way the Nous intended. But Jing Yuan quite likes these guessing games and has indeed liked them since they were clueless children, who knew nothing except for how to get on each other’s nerves in the most obnoxious of ways.

Besides, this back and forth gives Jing Yuan a little more time to watch the cogs turn in Yingxing's brain, when Yingxing is clearly unused to giving into some of his more personal desires. 

It's amusing, seeing this usually impatient friend take the time to engage in desires he would, if sober, consider meaningless and inefficient. 

”Treating me like a child, as always.” Jing Yuan meant for it to sound admonishing, but it seemed it came off as petulant instead. He can only hope his lips have not curved into a pout; so much for acting like his triple-digit age. 

“Only because you insist on acting like one.”

Jing Yuan pretends to accidentally spill some of his liquor onto Yingxing’s sleeve. “How you wound me, Xingxing! I am well into my 300s, and you have just entered your 80s! I am by no means a child, despite your slanderous claims.”

Despite Jing Yuan's bluntness, Yingxing doesn't quite bristle with resentment about his lifespan like he normally would. Maybe it’s to do with his inebriation. 

"You and your fanciful way of words," the drunken beauty complains before slamming his cup onto the table.

Ah, the alcohol has done its duty in successfully scrambling that genius brain of his. Jing Yuan is half-tempted to call it a night, if only to prevent a barrage of complaints  from the man in the morning.

But… those lilac eyes gleam with a youthfulness that Jing Yuan had scarcely seen in these recent times of war, and like a moth to flame, he cannot find it in himself to do anything but indulge in Yingxing’s requests. 

“You’ve yet to grace me with an answer, A-Yuan.” Though the Furnace Master’s words are sharp, his tone betrays his anticipation.

The easy-going Cloud Knight finally feels the effects of this stolen liquor creep up on his skin. Idly, he thinks of drinking more directly from Yingxing's chatty lips before banishing the thought and forcing his lips to part. “Repeat the question, Xingxing~ Maybe then will I have it in me to respond in kind.” 

“Maybe that woman you call Master has spoiled you too much,” Yingxing complains without much heat. Nevertheless, he extends a gloved hand to Jing Yuan from across the table. “I guess I’ll have to spoonfeed you with my question, then. Will you dance with me, the stars and wind as our witnesses, Jing Yuan?”

Oh, what is this Cloud Knight if not a servant of the people?

Emboldened by the shine of Yingxing's lips and the breeze that makes his silver hair twist into a mimicry of a halo, Jing Yuan lets his heart race as he carefully takes that steady hand into his own.

"The last time I danced was at Baiheng-jie and Master’s wedding," Jing Yuan admits, but it's not so much of an admission as it is a loaded question that seeks to reveal Yingxing’s true reason for this charade. “Even for someone as long-lived as me, wasn’t that several moons ago?”

Through his drunken haze, Yingxing perfectly understands the point being made. "I remember." His scoff doesn't quite break the tranquility of the moment, but it's a very near thing. "Yinyue-jun had made a bet with those two to see who was the worse dancer between us.”

As they converse, they fall into a clumsy, stable rhythm. One foot in as the other’s foot recedes. Jing Yuan sets his hands on the dip of Yingxing’s waist where the fabric of his coat slides off to give him his signature silhouette. It’s to ground himself as much as it is to guide Yingxing away from the ginkgo tree he was about to slam into. 

Jing Yuan feels as though they are ocean waves folding into each other, but he’s sure that, if anyone were to pass them by, they probably looked more like a pair of fools who could barely stand on their own two feet.

"Naturally,” he starts, “I won the moment you got distracted by this lovely face of mine." 

A pained grimace forms on Yingxing’s already wrinkled face— absolutely priceless and worth all the taunts Jing Yuan threw out on a whim tonight.

“Brat,” Yingxing spits out, “you were the one who stepped on my feet on purpose! With these military boots of yours!” As a long overdue form of payback, Yingxing half-heartedly tramples on Jing Yuan's boots, only to complain once more about how impenetrable they are. 

"You were the one who designed my armor after all," Jing Yuan helpfully reminds, earning him a painless kick to the shin this time.

The next few moments pass between them in silence. The distant hum of starskiffs and merchants winding down for the night form a tender melody that Yingxing and Jing Yuan dance to. If they were to strain their ears, they could hear the twinkling of instruments and sizzling of pans from Aurum Alley too. Everything melts into a quiet cacophony for a quiet crowd of two.

As their performance carries on, Yingxing gradually becomes more steady on his feet, no longer needing to lean on Jing Yuan for support. The flush on his cheeks has diminished somewhat, though the blaze in his eyes burns just the same, if not just a touch brighter. Jing Yuan can hardly find it in himself to look away from the sight.

Although Jing Yuan has never asked, Yingxing hears the question that the other has longed to ask. “Consider this practice.” This is all he says for a moment before he adds on, “The battlefield is much like a ballroom, where a dance with death only needs one step to lead to victory or doom.”

Jing Yuan can’t decide if he is satisfied or not with this answer. He offers neither a witty retort nor a teasing remark, choosing to nod instead. This way, he can let Yingxing continue without influencing his train of thought. It isn’t as if Jing Yuan had much to say to that answer anyway.

The dance continues with a twirl, a careful pull into orbit. Yingxing, with all the glory of the stars he is named after. Jing Yuan, with the brightness of the sun he is often told he rivals.

At the end of the simplest and grandest dance to grace their tiny corner of the universe, Jing Yuan’s and Yingxing’s bodies meet in a warm embrace. Jing Yuan drinks in the sighs that escape Yingxing’s lips, pressing against them with reverent fervor. The liquor in their mouths should have made the kiss sour, but it sweetens it instead. Jing Yuan keeps chasing that sweetness, opening his mouth for Yingxing to do the same if he so desired. For a moment Jing Yuan thinks Yingxing will pull away and wipe his mouth off, only for the craftsman to yank him back in with the ribbon in his hair so Yingxing can take, take, and take. Jing Yuan can’t do anything but let him, hoping that the bubbly sweetness of their joined lips could abate the dread building in the pit of his stomach.

When they inevitably pull apart— not so much for lack of satisfaction as it is for the lack of air— Yingxing clutches at Jing Yuan’s chest plate so hard he wonders if the Furnace Master could somehow scratch it visibly enough. He ignores the part of his brain that wants that. Prying off Yingxing’s hands and kissing his palm with a feather-light press of his lips, Jing Yuan can no longer hide the fondness he has always had for this stubborn old man.

”Yingxing,” he says, dropping the nickname he always uses for the Furnace Master in favor of being more genuine this time. “After tomorrow…”

Neither men can bring themselves to talk about what tomorrow will bring. There are only ever two outcomes— victory or death. And victory is never quite as permanent as death is. The fabricated night of the Luofu fades away in gradients. In the end, the glow of the distant stars on Yingxing’s face is the only proof that this night existed between them at all.

The Furnace Master, nearing sobriety in the daylight, turns his face away, perhaps unable to look Jing Yuan in the eye after all. “Save it for the victory party, won’t you? Don’t be so sappy before anything happens.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Jing Yuan says in lieu of an actual response. “Shouldn’t count your tuskpir eggs before they hatch.”

”So you remember my advice.”

Jing Yuan’s mouth quirks as if he didn’t have Yingxing upon it just moments before. It still tingles. He ignores it with ease. “I always do.” When Yingxing instantly reacts to the bait, Jing Yuan leans into his ear to say, “Even when you think I never listen just because I like to mess with you.”

And just like that, the tension that smothered the courtyard like fog dissipates with the morning dew. Jing Yuan insists on carrying Yingxing home like a damsel, and though  the Furnace Master retaliates for a total of five heartbeats, he eventually goes slack in Jing Yuan’s arms before they reach the Artisanship Commission’s quarters. 

He gently lowers the dozing artisan onto the makeshift bed in the office.  “Yingxing?”

“Mm…? Jing Yuan…”

”We have seven system hours before we leave for the campaign.”

Yingxing swats him away, but the hits don’t connect. It’s not as if he was trying very hard anyway, especially when his target is the Cloud Knight’s Lieutenant with lightning-fast reflexes. “Yeah? Don’t tell me you plan to stay here until then.”

Jing Yuan should leave. He needs to be at General Teng Xiao’s side at least an hour before they start rallying up the Cloud Knight troops and making the final adjustments to their strategies. That only gives him less than five system hours to sleep and while he is not one to get aggressive hangovers due to his strong constitution, he knows that time will likely not be in favor for a full recovery anyway.

He plasters on a cloyingly irritating smile just to give Yingxing something to be annoyed about. “Eh, why should I go when your bed is big enough for the two of us? We used to sleep together on nights when you refused to stop working, right? Need me to remind you?”

”Tch… that was when we were both young and were more willing to twist a muscle to kick each other off the bed.” Despite his grumbling, Yingxing rolls over onto his side. Maybe on a normal day he would complain about going to bed in his outside clothes, but Jing Yuan finds it endearing how the man is clearly out of his mind and willing to do anything to finally sleep after a long night of drinking.

”We are still quite young at heart,” Jing Yuan gleefully mumbles as he divests himself of his excess clothing. “Does that not count for something?”

“…Do you want to rest or not?” What goes unsaid is, “We cannot win this final stretch of the war without you.”

Jing Yuan hears the question for what it is and settles onto the bed next to Yingxing, who has instinctively curled up against him like a feral cat who cannot decide if it desires or abhors the proximity. Before Yingxing can change his mind, Jing Yuan presses his lips to the crown of Yingxing’s head and wraps him up close.

“Sleep,” Jing Yuan mumbles with a mouthful of hair. Yingxing stops squirming in his hold, acquiescing to his weariness. “When morning comes…”

So will our game of pretense continue.

Lieutenant Jing Yuan stands tall in front of his brigade of Cloud Knights, physically present yet mentally detached as though his soul's essence was elsewhere. He had gotten a moment of sleep while staying with Yingxing, but had slipped out into the dawn, unable to remain in Yingxing’s embrace a moment longer. Waking Yingxing up to say goodbye hadn’t even crossed his mind with all the things Jing Yuan had to mull over. 

Thoughtfully caressing the carved finch on the handle of his glaive, Jing Yuan looks past the rows of Cloud Knights and spots the machines of the Artisanship Commission, massive and about to be loaded into heavy-duty battleships before the troops head out. Among the crowd of metal and crimson uniforms stands the Furnace Master himself, impassive and calm as though this were a routine inspection of materials and not the final count for death machines before the inevitable war.

He makes the mistake of meeting Jing Yuan’s eyes. Golden eyes meet lilac ones that flicker with the barest hint of regret before one of them breaks away first. Perhaps it is a mercy to not speak to that man after what had occurred only a handful of system hours before. Jing Yuan has to stifle his bitter laughter; after all, it isn’t as if they were engaging in some scandalous activities. So why, then, did his heart ache and bend under the weight of a night cut too short?

… No matter. A warrior’s heart has no business being so soft, especially right before a historical campaign that will surely determine the Hunt’s future against the Abundance.

They will win, Jing Yuan is sure of that.

They will win, if Jing Yuan’s strategies are of any substance.

They will win… But Jing Yuan has yet to decide what he will say to Yingxing when a few more years of peace have been won for them to stay just a moment longer.

“Glory to the Xianzhou!”

“Glory to the Cloud Knights!”

As the Cloud Knights chant their hymn and they raise their weapons into the sky in a final oath to the homeland, Jing Yuan is consumed by thoughts of liquor-laced lips and a ginkgo tree. He points Starfall Reverie to the heavens in a futile promise. The weight of it grounds him as much as reminds him of the person who gifted it to him.  

“I shall come home to you once more, and we can dance under that ginkgo tree until our time runs out for good. Perhaps then… we will no longer have to desperately pretend that we would rather be anywhere else in the universe.”

Jing Yuan turns away and bows his head to the Luofu's General and the Sword Champion. He speaks on behalf of the Luofu’s Cloud Knights even though his tongue tastes like ash. ”On your orders, we heed this oath— As clouds cover the heavens, will the Knights protect the Xianzhou.”

General Teng Xiao and Sword Champion Jingliu reply in unison, ”Split the sky, shatter the stars, draw back the bow, and launch the hunt!”

The war horns and trumpets blare in unison as the troops file into their starskiffs. The Cloud Knight Lieutenant lets go of his glaive, dispersing it with a flash of light as he follows after the troops. He is entirely unaware of the gentle gaze that follows his back.

The Luofu’s colors and outline quickly disappear from Jing Yuan’s view as the fleet initiates the warp jump. With a heart full of equal parts static and thrill, Jing Yuan pointedly ignores the sickening premonition that this will be his and Yingxing’s last waltz of a lifetime.

Chapter Text

Several system hours before Jing Yuan’s alarm clock is due to wake him up to a series of cat meows (that he would undoubtedly ignore for at least thirty minutes), a cold breeze fills the bedroom with little warning. Perhaps Jing Yuan would be more accurate in saying that the breeze serves as a warning in and of itself. Between the rotating shift of Cloud Knight guards stationed around the manor and the mechanical wards the Artisanship Commission had made at the General’s request, there should have been nothing, or rather no one, that could have been able to open the windows before the Luofu’s artificial morning was to start.

That leaves only one conclusion: this guest has a poor understanding of reasonable visiting hours.

This should have made Jing Yuan summon Starfall Reverie in the blink of an eye, but he simply remains cooped up in the warmth of his covers. Although his warrior instincts flare up an alertness in his brain, Jing Yuan’s bygone years have made him quite easy-going and lazy instead. The potential threat in the room is overshadowed by Jing Yuan’s reluctance to get up so early in the day after having just gone to bed only a few system hours before. He is no longer as young and eager as he was in his youth, so the overtime hours he’s accumulated have really done a number on him lately. If the situation truly is that dire, Jing Yuan reasons that it would have come with some fanfare instead of heavy breathing in the direction of the open window.

It’s only when a harsh cough (that sounded more like a whine one would expect of a wounded animal) broke the tranquility of the early morning that Jing Yuan finally concedes to another sleepless night. There’s been a number of those as of late, and he cares not to keep score; after all, what’s another notch on his weary heart? 

Ignoring the throbbing in his back and the trickle of blood that gushed into his bandages from the sudden movement, Jing Yuan forces himself to sit upright to greet this audacious guest. He spares a glance at the clock and grimaces— 3:00 AM. Only an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep. Oh, well.

“To whom does this patient owe the honor of a visit?” Jing Yuan asks the obvious, unwilling to lose the game so early on. Old and experienced as he is, maybe a part of him still wishes to play the part of a petty, ignorant youth who has no fear of consequences born of choices that weren’t quite as thought out as they should have been. 

As Jing Yuan rubs out the crust from the corners of his eyes, the guest has moved from the windowsill to the foot of the bed. The dim light of Jing Yuan’s chambers bounces off the guest in a slightly eerie way, but Jing Yuan would recognize this person at the edge of the universe, in life or in death. This is the only reason why he chooses not to alert the Cloud Knights and instead fluffs up a pillow to support his back against the bed’s headboard. Jing Yuan waits, because he is nothing but long-suffering and tired, though his eyes are already drooping from heaviness again.

“...Jing Yuan,” comes a raspy voice that neither answers the original question Jing Yuan posed nor gives any reason for this early-morning visit. “I died again.”

“...What a conversation starter.” Jing Yuan finds himself at a loss for how to respond appropriately without startling this person away. In all his years negotiating treaties and formulating battle plans for the Luofu, he still cannot find the words to confront the turbulent feelings in his heart. “So why come to me, then?”

This person steps away from the foot of the bed and, as though he knows not what to do with his limbs that are covered in drying blood, awkwardly stands by the nightstand where the lamp illuminates his gloomy features. An unreadable expression takes over his face when he sees the bandages wrapped around Jing Yuan’s torso, parts of them gradually bleeding through with each miniscule movement Jing Yuan makes.

It takes everything in Jing Yuan not to immediately offer excuses in a paltry attempt to soothe his guest’s worries. Not that there would be any point trying to explain the reasoning behind the decisions he made in a time of crisis. As an Emanator with the blessings of the Hunt in his veins, Jing Yuan knows it won’t be long before he heals enough to be called back to duty. Less than a month is his goal, though he knows that the little Dragon Lady of the Alchemy Commission would hate to see him completely ignoring all her instructions to rest.

“Yuanyuan! How dare you disregard your jiejie’s concerns for you?!”

“Aw… I didn’t think we’d get caught…”

“Hah! See, I told you that you’d get in trouble, idiot.”

“Don’t think you can escape this too, Xingxing! Both of you are grounded until you get better! And be nice to each other, for Aeons’ sake!”

Haha… What blissful days those were, when Jing Yuan’s only concerns involved getting stronger by the minute and driving everyone in his immediate vicinity crazy with his antics.

Another pitiful cough breaks Jing Yuan out of his brief, self-imposed reverie. He knows better than to let himself get carried away by memories of the past, especially when he is in the company of a person that also should have been buried all those years ago. Suddenly exhausted, Jing Yuan refocuses his dulled golden gaze on molten scarlet ones.

“Even on the verge of death like this,” Blade starts with a bitter and melancholic tone, “you still hold your cards close to your chest, Jing Yuan.”

A scoff escapes the General before he can think better of it. “My cards? What if I simply wish to not give myself away to an enemy? An enemy that became an ally for a common goal… but an enemy nonetheless.”

Blade grits his teeth, clearly aggravated but unwilling to give in. “Your words aren’t even as scathing as you wish they were, Jing Yuan. Those eyes of yours are pathetic, masking tenderness as hatred when I know what it is you really wish to say.”

They hold each other’s gazes, the moment feeling neither long nor short but instead like an odd patch of time that slowed down just for the two of them. Blade’s gaze is unrelenting, not entirely unlike the once famed Flying Comet, and it burns a hole into Jing Yuan’s soul as if seeking to reach into the caverns of his heart and mind to find the truth that has long been obfuscated by these centuries past.

How ironic. At least the Jing Yuan that this person might have remembered was genuine to a fault. Nothing like the grand performer that he has molded himself into to keep himself and the Xianzhou Luofu afloat. 

In 700 years, the roles have reversed most unexpectedly. Blade wishes to reveal the truth that Jing Yuan so desperately wants to conceal. Blade yearns to remember when he is cursed to hold on to the things Jing Yuan has buried in his heart. Blade wants to hear the recognition that Jing Yuan refuses to voice out loud.

Ah, what a pair of contradictions they make.

Laughing with true mirth this time, Jing Yuan yields and forces himself to let go of the tension in his shoulders. It’s much too early and late for such a heavy conversation, yet here he is being bested by a man that he once called a dear companion before all fell to ruin. Nostalgia hits Jing Yuan like a wave, threatening to drown him if he reaches out too far.

“You win,” the General says, surprising himself with the lack of acridity in his tone. He means it. “What would the winner like for his prize?”

“I have no use for that.” Blade clicks his tongue, unsure of what Jing Yuan is getting at. “You have always been such a difficult patient, Jing Yuan. Playing games to get away with having injured yourself.”

“Sounds as though you have remembered something.”

“...Every time I die, I inevitably remember a fragment or another. My colleague’s efforts are wasted on me in those moments.”

Jing Yuan waits again when Blade falls silent, watching the light of his clock flicker in and out. 3:47 AM. Blade doesn’t seem to register the ungodly hour. Idly, Jing Yuan observes the shadows of Blade’s face where they dip in the hollows and flatten on the curves. Even after all this time, this man’s beauty really has not changed.

When the Stellaron Hunter speaks again, his words come out measured and almost confused. Like he himself is also unsure of what to make of his memories. “You once insisted on dancing upon the edge of a starskiff as it took off, in an attempt to mimic your Master’s fighting style. Only… you erred in thinking that you, as a youth, had even half of her artistry.”

Jing Yuan shrugs helplessly. “Foolishness and youth go hand-in-hand, I’m afraid.” A mischievous glint returns to his eyes. “Perhaps you have forgotten something else in that tale: another youth goaded me on, saying that I couldn’t possibly pull it off, then called me an idiot when we were unsurprisingly caught after we crash-landed into a food stall along Starwatcher Avenue.”

To his credit, the Stellaron Hunter doesn’t flinch, but the tremble of his shoulders tells Jing Yuan it was a very near thing. Or perhaps it isn’t a flinch and it is more like an attempt to stifle laughter. Either way, Jing Yuan’s mood is immediately lightened by the ghost of a reaction he receives. What a long way they have come.

“Aside from coming to reminisce about the follies of youth, what have you really come here for?” When Blade remains silent, Jing Yuan adds, “I do apologize for my poor hospitality earlier. I, for one, have hardly slept since the Luofu’s Stellaron Crisis was resolved. I hope you understand.”

Blade hums under his breath. “No matter. Seeing as your tongue has yet to cease in your attempts at deflecting, it is obvious that you have yet to fully recover.” 

“I—”

“My mind may be fragmented, but I am not an idiot, Jing Yuan. A Lord Ravager sought to destroy you and the precious Luofu you love so much, and here you are already thinking of returning to work when you can barely sit up without bleeding through these gauzes. You can fool all of the Luofu and those Nameless, but not me.”

If Jing Yuan did not know better, he likely would not know what to make of such a long-winded admonishment. A member of an enemy faction infiltrated his private quarters, argued with him, and berated him… all while looking as though he might actually shatter if Jing Yuan had appeared any much worse for wear than he expected. Perhaps to Blade, he had thought Jing Yuan to be well on his way to that unreachable side, leaving him all alone on this side of existence.

Fortunately for both of them, Jing Yuan does know Blade, the same way he knows that their fates are footnotes for great things neither of them will end up witnessing in this lifetime. He privately amends his previous assumptions and outwardly says, “I suppose not everything has changed between us despite these long years, Blade.

“You…”

Jing Yuan continues, beckoning Blade closer and gesturing to the bottom drawer of his nightstand. “As much as we both want to keep up this charade, how about we give into some of our more honest wishes? Just this once, to make up for the long years that we were unable to.” Though Jing Yuan poses this as a question, Blade hears the plea for what it is.

“Hmph. So needlessly complicated of you, Jing Yuan.”

The Stellaron Hunter slips off his bloodied gloves and reaches for the medicinal kit Jing Yuan was referring to. Both of them slip into silence once more, a less charged and more pleasant one this time, as Blade replaces the soaked bandages with fresh ones with a dexterity that Jing Yuan knows has to be from experience. How many times did Blade have to die alone and patch his wounds by himself?

Worse still, Jing Yuan finds himself clenching his teeth at the thought of Blade being attended to by anyone else. Such a juvenile jealousy courses through his mind before he is jostled back to reality.

“Not so tight."

“...This is as loose as I can make them without them falling off, knowing how slippery you can be.”

“Hah! Very well then.”

It isn’t long before Blade completes his task, finishing the last wrap with a particularly hard squeeze against Jing Yuan’s back. His own complaints have been relayed loud and clear even as he pretends to not care. What an honestly dishonest man that Jing Yuan has found himself in the care of.

“You never did answer my question earlier, Blade.”

The Stellaron Hunter pretends not to freeze at the second mention of his name. “...?”

“From the way you started this encounter, I expected you to come here asking me to dress your wounds, not the other way around.”

Blade blinks slowly, much like a cat that is still trying to decide if it wants to stick around or bolt out the window. “Ah. I did die. But it is of no concern to me.” He pauses to contemplate his next words, ignoring the withering stare Jing Yuan throws his way as if to say what a hypocrite. “If you are well enough to stand, would you… would….”

Jing Yuan’s gaze flattens. “You can’t possibly have come all this way to argue with and chastise a patient at witching hour only to fail in articulating your wishes.”

“Be quiet…” Neither of them miss the flush creeping up Blade’s porcelain skin. Part of Jing Yuan wants to caress it, if only to confirm it isn’t as brittle as it appears. Though he has not seen them up close, he knows that scars litter the expanse of Blade’s skin, as many as there are stars in the galaxy. One for every death, and maybe several more.

“Hurry up now, before I fall asleep to the tune of your indecision.”

In the chasm of silence that separates them in this moment, Jing Yuan finds great amusement in seeing Blade struggle to articulate his wishes. The man’s mouth opens as if ready to speak his mind, only to clamp it shut the next moment. 

Like a fish out of water, Jing Yuan thinks to himself when Blade does this a few more times. It would be cuter if Jing Yuan himself wasn't so tired from such a winded conversation. He's never felt more like himself in centuries, being able to bicker and tease with an old friend like this, and yet he laments that his energy can't quite match what he had in his earlier days.

Poorly concealed exasperation twists Blade’s face into a grimace, one that looks far too familiar for Jing Yuan’s comfort. “Always insufferable,” he grumbles under his breath, perhaps to ask himself why he even bothered with a man like Jing Yuan. Blade then stands up to shed his bloodied outer coat, matching Jing Yuan’s state of undress.

Unable to help himself from speaking more irritating words, Jing Yuan whistles and taunts, “Moving so fast already? Without a proper dinner? Aiyah… people these days…”

“If you insist on tormenting me, I will see myself out this very next moment.” Unfortunately for Blade, he is immediately foiled by Jing Yuan’s signature pout and pleading eyes, a dirty tactic he hasn’t employed since he had grown up to be a proper adult. “...Ugh. Cease this childish display at once, Jing Yuan. It's unbefitting of someone your age…”

It only intensifies Jing Yuan’s pure gaze. “Please? Would I deny you such a request after the concern you have shown to me?”Torn between strangling Jing Yuan and catapulting back onto the windowsill, Blade eventually settles on simply asking, “...Will you dance with me, Jing Yuan, just as we have once done?”

That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Still, Jing Yuan appreciates the courage, even if it was dished out in such a roundabout manner. For all that Blade is blunt and straightforward, he was still the same person that found it difficult to give into personal desires unless coaxed into it. Endearing as ever. Not entirely unlike a cat that hisses when one gets close, only to meow in sadness when it stops getting pet.

“I don't know… Should I?”

The way Blade's expression immediately crumbles at those words has Jing Yuan feeling so irredeemable for teasing, but he also can't help the chuckle that rumbles in his chest. Blade already looks defeated, like he was going to take Jing Yuan's playful words as rejection. Jing Yuan, having none of that, chooses to give him a soothing smile before saying, “Alright, alright. No need to look at me like that, Blade." 

The General stands up with ease, laughing at the way the Stellaron Hunter’s eyes widen in mild concern at the bandages he just applied. The two men stumble away from the bed, almost tripping over the small steps that divide the chambers, and find themselves in front of a record player. A certain foxian had gifted it to Jing Yuan, claiming that only an old soul like him would truly appreciate this artifact from a fallen world when Jing Yuan knew that she had gotten it specifically for him. She would “accidentally” bring back records from the planets she visited because she’d complain that Jing Yuan only ever listened to the same thing over and over again. Another old companion would scoff at Jing Yuan for indulging in such outdated music but would never quite leave until Jing Yuan turned the music off. 

Much like several other things in Jing Yuan’s life that had come to a stop after rising to the position of General, the record player broke down all those centuries ago and Jing Yuan hadn’t bothered to fix it or replace it entirely. It was only when the Astral Express crew had visited him after that fateful battle that Miss Himeko (goaded on by the Trailblazer) insisted on repairing the relic.

Now, the record player awaits its first performance in 700 years. 

Jing Yuan hands Blade two discs to choose from. Not that his choice would have mattered, for Jing Yuan had loved both records anyway. Blade still manages to choose the one Jing Yuan liked just a tad bit more. If Jing Yuan had smiled a little brighter when Blade's hand hovered over the favored record, Blade didn't bother to argue with him over it.

It takes what feels like half an eternity for the record player to start playing music. A heartbeat passes before Jing Yuan is gently pulling Blade to sway in his orbit, paying no mind to the toes that Blade haphazardly steps on in his attempt to figure out where his limbs go. Blade chides Jing Yuan for turning them too hard when the song crescendoes. Jing Yuan responds by twirling his companion around just to see him reel in his dizziness for a moment.

“...You just want to see me stumble,” Blade accuses without heat.

“Maybe,” is the only thing Jing Yuan admits. You look free like this, he doesn’t say. “Indulge me?”

Somewhere between the rays of light seeping through the windows and the winding down of music, Blade eases into Jing Yuan’s space a little more. He lets Jing Yuan guide them both to the music, content with having Jing Yuan touch him so freely. Blade shudders with every touch, as though he has to stop himself from flinching on purpose. 

“It’s only me here with you.”

The shadow in the depths of Blade’s eyes seems to dissipate. He brings a hand to his lips, mouthing words against Jing Yuan’s skin. “I know.”

Those molten eyes are so indicative of his feelings even when he pretends otherwise; back then and now, this has always been Jing Yuan’s favorite thing about him. Whether those eyes are lilac or scarlet, Jing Yuan loses himself in their depths all the same. Mesmerizing and beautiful, he can’t find it in himself to look away.

“Don’t be so stiff,” Jing Yuan teases. “How about this?”

Jing Yuan settles a hand into the small of Blade’s back before dipping him low to kiss his eyelids. The small sounds of surprise he makes make it all worth the strain in Jing Yuan’s muscles, still tender from his injuries and confinement to his bed. 

Blade could easily break away from this weak grasp and leave Jing Yuan in this mirage of a moment. He could. It would be so easy for Blade to pretend that he was never here at all. All he would have to do is leave, and Jing Yuan would willingly bear the burden of forgetting for both of them once more until Blade is willed to forget with spider webs and a quiet whisper.

But he won't. Jing Yuan knows him too well. 

Their heartbeats flutter as one against their joined palms. Blade’s skin is so, so cold against Jing Yuan’s, nothing like the craftsman’s after a long day of working at the forge. Much like the rest of him, Blade also feels a lot rougher around the edges, but so does Jing Yuan after centuries of hard-won battles. There is so much that has changed about them. And a great many other things that have not.

When Jing Yuan’s lips find Blade’s in the midst of their waltz, he knows that this is one thing that definitely has not changed. He has only ever kissed his beloved once under a withering ginkgo tree, on the night before war, tenderly just like so… but the feeling remains the same after so long. It does not measure up to the kiss in Jing Yuan’s memories— it surpasses it entirely.

Blade is so careful against him like this, going just the slightest bit slack in Jing Yuan’s embrace before pressing Jing Yuan back into his space, like he fears losing this man to a fate he cannot bear on his beloved’s behalf. In the next moment, Jing Yuan cards a hand through inky blue strands to say I’m here, I always have been and always will.

The first kiss lasts no longer than a heartbeat. The second is a little more desperate with the realization that both of them want this. The third throws caution to the wind entirely, sealing their feelings in a love letter only the two of them can read.

“Xingxing, have you ever kissed anyone?”

“Instead of asking useless questions that are clearly the products of your projection, why don’t you stuff your mouth full of those snacks I bought for you and leave me alone?”

“So that means… you haven't either? Well, that’s good!”

There is a distinct lack of a sickeningly sweet taste drink in their mouths this time. Instead, Jing Yuan tastes the tang of blood and the distant bitterness of tea in Blade’s mouth, somehow exactly what he expected of this person. Blade must realize this when he tries to move away, but Jing Yuan only pulls him back in for another taste. It should be unpleasant. The simple truth of the matter is that it just isn’t.

Breaking apart is unsurprisingly unglamorous. Those molten eyes have dilated so much that Jing Yuan idly wonders if he’s broken Blade a bit before the awareness returns to his beloved. The spell breaks. In an instant they’re back to being tired old men who have stayed up way past their bedtimes. Well, at least Jing Yuan feels that way. He rests his head on Blade’s shoulder, shifting his weight against the man.

“...Jing Yuan?”

The music has faded out into faint scratches. It’s all too quiet now, except for the incessant beat of Blade’s undying heart where Jing Yuan is leaning on him.

“Carry me to bed,” he says with the gentle petulance of the youth he still wishes he was. He then quickly backtracks on that thought the very moment the Stellaron Hunter does as he asks, knowing that the person he had been long ago would not have indulged Jing Yuan in the same way as he does now.

It is only when Blade manages to extricate himself from Jing Yuan’s grasp that he leans down to examine the bandages he had applied and hums to himself in satisfaction.

“See?” Jing Yuan grins all cat-like. “I’m a diligent patient who listens to instructions, even when they come from a nurse that looks like he’s worked the graveyard shift all his life.”

Blade shrugs before he picks up his coat from the floor where he had unceremoniously dumped it. “Destiny’s Slave does love to put me on night missions. May as well be put to work instead of spending hours laying awake, unable to find rest amidst the nightmares…”

Maybe Blade just has a talent for making Jing Yuan speechless. How was he supposed to respond to the things this man said in such a deadpan tone? “...When sleep eludes you, you are welcome to come visit me again. Do try not to wake me if I’m already asleep, though— I get into a terrible mood in the morning if interrupted halfway through.”

Blade pulls up the covers to Jing Yuan’s chest, tucking them under his arms. “I am sensing that you want something else as well.”

“Aiyah… Why are you only quick-witted at a time like this even after I’ve kissed the breath out of you?”

That gets Blade to flush a pretty pink color that makes him look more alive. “...My colleagues always ask me for souvenirs when I go somewhere for a mission. I just thought… you would be the same.”

“What a sweetheart you are, Blade~” After kissing his cheek again, Jing Yuan leans back against his pillows and thinks to himself. “How about this? Bring me a record every now and then, will you? In exchange… we can do whatever you want when you visit.”

The mental cogs in Blade’s brain click into place, judging by the way his eyes light up ever so slightly. He likely doesn’t even realize what he looks like, the poor man. When Jing Yuan attacks him with featherlight kisses to the cheek, Blade can’t do anything else but take it all and pretend that he doesn’t revel in the attention he was starved of for so long.

“Now shoo.” Jing Yuan flicks his hand at Blade, gesturing at the window. “This patient requires rest at the earliest convenience, if you will. Before the house staff make their rounds to make sure I haven’t passed in my sleep.” The smile he sends Blade’s way is sweet and teasing all the same, if a little tired from the events that transpired so early in the day. 

“Still so lazy on a weekday.”

“I wouldn’t be if someone hadn’t crawled through my window like a frightened cat, hm?”

Understanding that some battles simply cannot be won when it comes to the Divine Foresight, Blade gives up as he launches himself through the window in one swift movement. A quiet farewell is said with the passing wind, just enough for Jing Yuan to catch before sleep takes him back into its waiting clutches.

None of Jing Yuan’s ten designated morning alarms wake him up at the usual scheduled times. When he eventually does wake up well into the afternoon, his phone is buzzing on his nightstand with at least five notifications per second, each containing an exclamation mark or distressed emojis. Well over six hologram calls have been made to him in the past few hours, all having gone unanswered during the long hours Jing Yuan had dozed off. 

Only one notification stands out among the rest, so Jing Yuan clicks on it as he adjusts to seeing light again:

Blade

Jing Yuan.

⚠️ Blade sent a link.

You’ve been asleep for too long.

Your lackeys think you’re dead.

Haha, I just saw all the messages.

Is it even possible to send 30 messages in a second?

Even the Trailblazer…

How long was I asleep for then?

14 hours.

Mm…

That’s the most sleep I've gotten in 700 years.

…Really?

Maybe you should make sure I sleep properly.

How about it?

…

⚠️ Blade set a reminder for XX/XX/XXXX.

I’ll see you soon then.

⚠️ Can no longer message this account.

⚠️ This account does not exist.

Chapter Text

A calloused, bloody hand runs down the rougher side of a glaive’s handle, thumbing at something that has long since been torn out from the wood. An unbroken habit, one that stirs up memories that are wistful and painful all the same. His nail catches on a splinter before he breaks it off of the handle with a flick. He always thought that he’d get around to sanding down the wood before another major battle took place, but it seems like time has finally caught up to him now. What a pity that he’ll have to be buried with a weapon that he hasn’t taken care of to the utmost of his abilities. If its maker could see him now… would he be chastised for his carelessness? Perhaps he would be the subject of a handful of complaints. Well, he’s oiled the handle and sharpened the blade countless times over the years— shouldn’t that count for something, at least?

White hair obscures his view of the scorched battlefield. Even if it didn’t, blood keeps dripping from behind his right eyelid and his left eye keeps fading in and out of focus as well. Most others in his position would have already fallen back in battle after failing to avoid even the most head-on of attacks. Then again, it isn’t as if the General of the Xianzhou Luofu was like most others anyway. He raises his glaive to the vast expanse of stars above him and relies on pure instinct to propel him past the never-ending waves of enemies heading his way. Something drives him forward, but whatever it is is currently out of his reach as he cuts down an Abundance beast and narrowly dodges the attack of another.

Battle strategies be damned, the Divine Foresight barks out orders in the futile hope that the soldiers who stood with him still remain lucid or have yet to die. What he is dealing with right now is nothing compared to what the Nameless are fighting at the forefront of this damned Aeon War. He is too far from where the Astral Express is trudging ahead at full steam, confined to the ground of this distant planet to make way for the Nameless’ other allies to break through. Still, his heart lifts when the area in front of him seems to thin out, allowing him to slow down for just a moment so he could catch his breath.

There were an infinite amount of ways for the universe to meet its end before it came to this point. 

It could have ended a few decades ago if the Luofu had fallen into the clutches of a Lord Ravager. It could have ended if a simulation hadn’t defied its coding and had given into its administrator instead. It could have ended if planets fully assimilated into the very Paths they avoided the worship of.

None of those events resulted in the destruction of the universe, in the end.

The General never put that much thought into what the end of the universe would be like. In his youth, he naively thought that the world he so dearly loved would outlive him forever, so what use did he have to ruminate on something that he never would have expected to experience in this unexpectedly long lifetime of his? Only two truths had existed in his world back then: one, that the Hunt would be everlasting, and two, that he couldn’t possibly be alone if his companions were with him.

Of course, like all the things he had believed in those years, none of his fantasies had come true for the General. Perhaps he should have mourned a little on behalf of the youth that once had a terrible little bleeding heart that spilled everywhere, but he was always too busy drafting up new strategies and negotiating alliances for him to do anything else but bury his heart and hope it wouldn’t fester with hatred within him instead.

Now, he wonders if he’ll finally sink to the depths of where his heart lies, shriveled up with nothing left to give, on the very battlefield he never wanted to give his life to.

The clash of weaponry only gets louder. Completely unable to open his right eye now, the General stumbles as he attempts to dodge another Legion beast. His foot catches on a corpse beneath him, throwing him entirely off-balance. Someone must yell at him to move because his ears catch it before he even begins to comprehend the order, but he feels as though his entire body refuses to obey in a final defiance of will. Bitter laughter that doesn’t quite sound like him anymore rings in his ears. Moving his limbs feels like attempting to wade through blood itself. 

As he struggles to push himself back to his feet, the General summons away his glaive in a flash of light, hoping that this precious gift could at least avoid further destruction. He may not be buried with it, but he is satisfied with knowing that this relic of his past will remain untarnished by the bitter whims of fate. 

Another beast— whether it was of the Abundance or the Destruction, he knew not— claws its way to the General, managing to leave a deep gash on his arm. To his left, a Cloud Knight cuts it down before it can get his other arm too. The soldiers behind him must be saying something, but the General can barely hear or see properly in the state he is in now. He has been too reckless in this final battle, and now has to pay a price he knows he cannot pay for anymore. The lifeforce that bleeds out of him makes him dizzy with loss and regrets.

A pitiable body stampeded over by beasts and allies alike. This is his end at the edge of the universe? 

No matter: this battle was never meant to spare him anyway.

“Jing Yuan!”

“Hm? What’d you say, Yingxing? Lalala, can’t hear you~”

“You fool—” 

The scent of spider lilies and iron invade the General’s senses in an instant. “—Move out the way!” Something hard collides into him, forcing him to roll onto the charred earth. A hand cradles the back of his head to keep it from splitting apart on the ground, while another hand holds him close by the waist. The grip is as tender as it is desperate and the General would love to spend more time wondering why it feels this way if not for the way he’s immediately hauled up onto a shoulder with little grace.

“Why didn’t you move?!” The voice, deep as the wounds that decorate the General’s body, yells at him as they move out of the way of an energy blast. “Jing Yuan, what would you have done if I had not found you?! Your— our time has yet to burn to the end of the wick.”

Some awareness returns to Jing Yuan’s mind, hazy and uncoordinated he may be. This angle only makes the blood flow from his head at a faster rate, so he tugs the ends of his companion’s hair, a wordless ask for him to put him down. Much to his dismay, Jing Yuan is simply readjusted to cling onto the Stellaron Hunter’s back, like some grown animal latching onto its parent to keep itself from falling. At least this way Jing Yuan can see the battlefield from a higher (still bloodstained) perspective. It takes everything in him not to sway to the side just so and end up tumbling down all over again.

“Blade,” he forces himself to voice out even as blood coats his throat again, “to your right…”

The sword strikes true, a clean swipe of the head to a Trampler Voidranger before its arrows could pierce Jing Yuan’s head. Somehow the realization that Jing Yuan could have died on his watch only fans the embers of Blade’s rage even more; before long, a whirlwind clears smaller enemies off the field with one flick of Blade’s wrist. While some of the Cloud Knights got caught at the edges of the attack, their conditions don’t seem all that worse off. Jing Yuan eventually lets out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in, but it doesn’t come out of him without an egregious amount of blood to go along with it. Before Blade can react, Jing Yuan shakes his head and presses his face into the curve of Blade’s neck.

“...This lull in battle won’t last forever.” Jing Yuan attempts to get down, only for Blade to hold on tightly to the legs wrapped around his waist. “What are you doing? Let go— You can’t possibly fight when I’m on you!”

“Stay still and be quiet, Jing Yuan,” Blade bites back when Jing Yuan struggles against him. They must look like fools to the Cloud Knights and the Nameless’ allies like this. A part of Jing Yuan finds that he really couldn’t care less. The other part is embarrassed at being carried like a damsel in front of the very people he was tasked to lead into battle. Blade, on the other hand, just keeps cutting down the monsters that dare to get too close despite the lingering winds on the battlefield.

“You—”

“Just wait, will you? Have faith in those Nameless.”

Right on cue, the chromatic tracks of the Astral Express form in the distant sky above them before the train itself rushes past. The force it leaves behind is enough to turn several monster lackeys into dust, leaving only the most dangerous of them in the Destruction’s final line of defense. The intensity of the Astral Express rushing by invigorates something in Jing Yuan’s veins—

“The blessings of the Trailblaze!” The Divine Foresight shouts out with a newfound lightness in his heart. Although his wounds don’t quite close themselves up, his head is no longer swirling with fatigue and blood loss. Not once had he stopped to consider what the blessings of multiple Paths would feel like when converging for a singular cause. Perhaps the universe wasn’t meant to be confined to a future predetermined by the Aeons and the fallacies of their Paths after all, but Jing Yuan has the feeling that he’s hardly the first person to come to such a conclusion.

Once he determines Jing Yuan has recovered enough to stand on his own, Blade finally sets him back down and looks skyward to the fleets appearing alongside the Astral Express. Maybe he sees the Stellaron Hunter-turned-Trailblazer waving from one of the train’s windows, maybe he’s looking for something else along the asteroids trailing behind the Express. 

Once he finds what he’s looking for, Blade laughs in that delightfully crazed way of his and turns to Jing Yuan with an outstretched hand. “Before the stars and planets align themselves with the destiny of the new universe, and before our fates run out of ink in the margins of the script…” The smile on his face is both insane and genuine, just like Jing Yuan remembers him in the last few years they’ve spent getting reacquainted with one another. “Will you dance with me just one last time, Jing Yuan? With the universe as our final witness?”

Oh, what is Jing Yuan if not Blade’s inevitable companion in the ballroom of life?

“I would never deny you anything, Blade.” The smile on Jing Yuan’s face is so wide that it starts to pleasantly ache. In his hands appears Starfall Reverie once more, ready to swing into another performance with Blade as though this is simply another music-filled afternoon practice session in Jing Yuan’s garden.

As the Cloud Knights fall back into their ranks at the Divine Foresight’s command, their chants grow louder and more energized. “Glory to the Xianzhou, glory to the Cloud Knights!” They all march together as one unit towards what could very well be the end for most, if not all of them. The battle has already started anew as the Nameless descend from the train while the stationed space vessels are poised into formation after formation. On the ground, Jing Yuan, with the voice of the other Xianzhou Generals all around them, declare once more—

”Split the sky, shatter the stars, draw back the bow, and launch the hunt!”

General and Stellaron Hunter exchange a glance conveying more than words ever could before finally returning to the Hunt, side by side. Blade’s fighting style is wholly unrestrained in a beautifully brutal way that never fails to impress Jing Yuan, even after he’s witnessed it for himself so many times. As Jing Yuan’s glaive strikes in clean arcs, Blade is at his flank to finish off the enemies Jing Yuan couldn’t reach. There’s a thrill in the way that Jing Yuan no longer has to hold back with the force of his eagerness for battle. He’s never had this much fun on any of the Hunt Campaigns he had to endure in the past, so Blade must be entirely to thank for such an experience.

“Wipe that look off your face, Jing Yuan!” Blade shouts as he kicks away an enemy.

“Why should I?” The General retorts with glee. “You’re here, and I can’t be any happier!”

Blade is so caught up in his exasperation that it takes Jing Yuan pulling him by the hand to narrowly avoid a blast to the face. Even when Blade’s deaths are never permanent, Jing Yuan would rather do all he can to spare Blade unnecessary pain and death, though it’s clear that the other man doesn’t quite share the same sentiment. He ends up returning the favor by kicking Jing Yuan’s feet to make him avoid a tail swipe to the neck.

The battlefield is simultaneously the noisiest and quietest place for a duet, Jing Yuan thinks. Everything rushes past his ears as though he’s listening to everything happen through a vacuum in space, but Blade’s shouts and clashes ring in Jing Yuan’s ears clearer than anything else. The efforts clash into a cacophony of sounds only pleasant to the two of them, and Jing Yuan would give anything to remember this until the last of his days.

It’s anyone’s guess for how long the final Aeon War lasted before the Trailblazer, in all their Stellaron glory, lands the decisive blow that shatters the natural order that the universe has followed for Amber Eras on end. Seconds, minutes, hours could have passed and Jing Yuan would have been none the wiser. Everything has happened both in the blink of an eye and in the span of his lengthy life.

When the last of the war drums cease their beating and the first of the horns herald a new era of humanity, Jing Yuan collapses on the ground next to where his beloved is kneeling and laughs at Blade’s bewildered expression.

“Didn’t expect to survive this, Blade?”

Blade scowls, but it’s softer than usual. “Elio didn’t mention anything about the outcome, other than the Trailblazer would usher in the new dawn.” Shard Sword disappears in a shower of light in the next instant. “Tch, that cat must be so pleased with himself right now.”

Instead of going to rendezvous with the other Xianzhou Generals, Jing Yuan stays exactly where he is, sprawled on the cracked ground like a lazy cat. Blade watches him in contemplative silence, waiting for Jing Yuan to come to a decision himself. The two of them observe the cheering crowds when the Astral Express crew walk over. Jing Yuan can recognize a handful of people that the Nameless have allied with, and even more that he’s surprised were on this side of the Aeon War. If the Trailblazer has time after all this, Jing Yuan would love to listen to all the stories that they accumulated in the years they traveled all across the universe.

That reminds him…

“Where will you go, now that all of this is over?”

A beat passes before Blade says, “Destiny’s Slave has yet to fulfill his end of the contract, so I will seek him out to collect my dues.”

Jing Yuan narrows his eyes and pushes himself up to lean against Blade. “But you haven’t thought about what you’ll do next after you regain your mortality. Perhaps you thought that you would find your end on this battlefield, so you didn’t bother making any plans afterwards.”

Caught off-guard, Blade doesn’t have an answer on the tip of his tongue. “I… Fine. No plans have been made.” The flush on his face spreads across his skin and Jing Yuan can’t help himself from kissing the warm skin. “If you had specific plans in mind, you should have just said so outright. We’re far too old to be playing guessing games.”

Ignoring Blade’s complaints, Jing Yuan laughs and points out that Blade indulges him all the same anyway. A kiss on Blade’s mouth and a hand in his hair later, Blade is all but putty in Jing Yuan’s grasp, easy to mold and even easier to tease like this. Jing Yuan should be worried about whoever sees them in this compromising position (especially when Blade keeps pulling Jing Yuan back onto his body), but for the first time in his too-long of a life, he’s much too giddy with the joy of being alive to really mind.

“Jing Yuan, what do you have in mind?”

He presses another kiss to Blade’s cheek for good measure, just to make sure that he won’t react too quickly. “Everything and nothing. I was thinking of going down our old bucket list because we never did get around to completing all the things I wanted to do when we were young.”

“You were more concerned with doing whatever you wanted without sticking to the list,” Blade points out with poorly concealed affection.

“Had we completed the list back in the day,” Jing Yuan starts with a drawl, “we wouldn’t be able to complete now that we have no more responsibilities and can go anywhere in the universe now.”

“Ah, so this was your ploy all along. To help the Nameless so they could return the favor in the form of free vacation transportation.”

The big cat of a man otherwise known as General Jing Yuan drapes himself all over Blade’s body as if he was mortally wounded. “Alas, you’ve seen through my schemes! How ever will I recover and regain the trust of the Nameless after all I’ve done for them?”

Barely restraining himself from falling for the bait, Blade simply carries Jing Yuan with him back to the Stellaron Hunters’ spaceship, running a little quicker when another Xianzhou General spots them in the midst of the crowd. Clearly delirious, Jing Yuan keeps running his mouth about all the things he wants to do when he officially retires and says his goodbyes to his dearest friends on the Luofu. None of them make sense (and Blade is sure Jing Yuan is making up at least half of these excursions) but Blade doesn’t interrupt his beloved, making use of the opportunity to clean and dress his wounds before the man gets too skittish and tries to worm his way out of medical attention.

Kafka, Firefly, and Silver Wolf find their way back to the spaceship, presumably after meeting up with the Trailblazer, as Jing Yuan just finishes talking about wanting to visit a museum at the other end of the universe dedicated to the history of some obscure universal event that happened on some lost planet that was restored the first and only known collaboration between the Nameless and Galaxy Rangers. Wine-colored eyes shoot Blade a knowing look, and Blade can only shrug helplessly as Jing Yuan perks up at the two who just walked in.

“Pleasure to meet you again, Miss Kafka,” Jing Yuan says with an airy tone.

“Hello to you too, General.” She pauses before amending, “Former general, rather. I must preemptively congratulate you on your retirement and your eventual marriage to Bladie.”

At her side, Silver Wolf pops her bubblegum and grins. “Elio says to expect your wedding gifts soon. Somethin’ about your contracts with him, but also some other stuff he put together for your honeymoon, I guess.”

“We have gifts for you too,” Firefly cuts in before she carefully places a dark box in Blade’s palms. “This is my gift, but please don’t open it until you both have officially retired and settled down. The others will give their gifts when it’s time, but I wanted to give this early before I forgot…”

Speechless, Jing Yuan can do little else at this moment but nod and acknowledge the Stellaron Hunters for all they’ve done until now. Although it feels inadequate, he inclines his head and thanks them for taking care of Blade too, for bringing them back together like this. Blade, ever a man of few words, gives his surprised thanks as well, the scene not entirely unlike a couple asking their loved ones for blessings before getting married.

Once the other Stellaron Hunters (and a mysterious black cat that was hiding in the shadows) leave, Jing Yuan presses kisses to Blade’s scarred knuckles. They bask in the quiet for a while, content to just watch the Astral Express’ allies convene and clean up the battlefield. The various Cloud Knights fleets make quick work of identifying fallen comrades and rushing to the aid of the injured, regardless of faction. Sirens should have already gone off in search of the Divine Foresight, but since no one seems to be looking for him, he figures that his Lieutenant and Master Diviner must be covering for him at a time like this. For exactly one moment, he mulls over what he wants to say to them before he officially leaves the Luofu on the Astral Express, but then his attention is back on Blade, who likely sensed that his mind was wandering and wanted that gaze back on him. How needy.

Now that Blade has Jing Yuan’s full attention, he acts as though he doesn’t know what to do with it. He has this habit of trying to speak his mind, only for him to back down when he actually gets the chance to explain himself. He’s gotten marginally better with the time he’s spent with Jing Yuan, but this part of him has always been difficult for him to overcome.

“…You must know that I sought a return to mortality, an eternal rest, from my deal with Elio,” he starts in a quiet voice, as though he is trying to find the words that won’t shatter Jing Yuan’s newly budding hopes for the future. There truly is no need for all this when Jing Yuan knows everything about Blade, from the person he used to be 700 years ago… to the person that stands in front of him at the end of this millenium.

“I know, Blade.”

Blade scoffs, though not unkindly. “Nothing I say will convince you to rethink your travel plans with me, is that it?” Jing Yuan simply grins at the exasperation, feeling several centuries younger again. He watches the creases on Blade’s face smoothen into a form of relief. “I spent all these years thinking that my final death will be swift and lonely, becoming nothing more than a nameless body on a lost planet… but I suppose I can wait for it a little longer.”

In the explosive silence that follows this revelation, Jing Yuan can’t help the tears that well up in his eyes. He had rambled on hoping to distract himself from the fate that Blade had died endlessly to rewrite, but he also hadn’t expected that Blade would want to spend his— their last mortal moments together.

The smile that finds its way onto Jing Yuan’s face is nothing short of radiant and pure, almost as if he can’t believe that his wishes have come true in the end. He kisses Blade with a gentle yet eager reverence that siphons all the air from their lungs. If happiness had a taste, Jing Yuan knows it would taste like the sweetness of blood and the saltiness of tears shared between him and Blade. He thinks back to the drink shared beneath that ginkgo tree and knows that happiness had tasted like that for him too, once upon a time. The same but undoubtedly different, Jing Yuan savors it all, unwilling to let go of this moment and all the others that came before it.

“Wherever it is that you want to go, Jing Yuan, I will go with you.”

“Then… I would want nothing more, Blade, than to dance to the tune of our hearts towards  that inevitable end we’ll meet together. How about it?”

Blade presses a kiss of his own to Jing Yuan’s palm, looking up at him with the most devoted eyes Jing Yuan has ever seen, both in his memories and in the present he has shared with him. “From this day onwards, your desires will become mine as well. Until the end, I will be with you, Jing Yuan.”