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There's a gentle breeze. It's cool, the beckoning sign of spring. The temperature is mild and the flowers are in bloom. The days are growing longer, no longer does the nights dominate. But still the moon is full and inviting. It is quite perfectly the best night to go drinking.
Yingxing hums as he spreads out a blanket. He weights down the corners so that it doesn't fly away. The table should hold most of the weight, but it's never fun when the edges of the blanket kick up.
The collapsible table is set up next. It's one of Yingxing's works, of course. He doesn't just do weapons. When he claims to be the best craftsman in the Xianzhou, that isn't just limited to weapons. There’s nothing he can’t make.
(Not to mention, as he grows older, he comes to see the peace that comes from building things that are not weapons of mass destruction. No wonder his mentor is always going on about crafting the perfect wine cup.)
And this table is a perfect showcase of Yingxing's craftsmanship. He picked the Elbon wood, known for its beautiful shade of dark teal. It's tricky to maintain the color but careful research and testing showed the most optimal coating: a clear coat of Spindlewax Gloss will keep the color vibrant. And since Yingxing wanted to be collapsible and compact as possible he used the folding lines to craft an intricate pattern to highlight the lines instead of presenting them as a flaw. The legs fold out, interconnecting to provide stabilization for the entire table. It's a work of art, in Yingxing's humble opinion.
Once the table is set, Yingxing moves onto food. He takes out containers and lays them out. He made sure to pack everyone's favorites. He even packed extra of Jing Yuan's favorite, Fruitwood-Grilled Shantak Moa Drumettes. The brat can never get enough of it. Baiheng goes crazy over the skewed meat selection from Aurem Alley. Yingxing has even picked up Chef Yancui's newest creation. Jingliu and Dan Feng are never picky about their food but Yingxing knows them well enough to pick up mooncakes for dessert, Dan Feng's favorite and Jingliu’s favorite wine.
Once the food is plated, Yingxing moves to the final touch.
Five cups.
A gift from Master Huayian, made of polished stone. Smooth to the touch, it makes drinking easy to go down.
Yingxing pours out drinks into each cup. Five cups. He takes a seat back, and there under the moonlight. The stage is set for a beautiful, peaceful night to spend among the best company he can ask for.
No one arrives.
Because no one is alive.
Thirty years ago, Baiheng died, unable to walk away from a bad crash on the frontlines. Her death sent Dan Feng into a dragon’s delirium. He wipes out hordes of Abominations of Abundance but his rage could not be quelled. The task of quelling his anger fell to Jing Yuan. A feat that takes Jing Yuan’s life in an exchange. It works, but the guilt of slaying Jing Yuan shatters Dan Feng beyond repair. Jingliu in her grief, goes on a rampage of her own, losing her lover and student too soon, too quickly. Her age had already placed her on the edge of Mara and losing them both sent her over. They lose an entire fleet of soldiers to bring her down.
Yingxing, who had been far from the frontlines when that happened, greets the tragedy upon the troops’ return.
In the span of a single week, Baiheng, Jing Yuan and Jingliu all fall. They left and didn’t return.
Dan Feng returns but…
He doesn’t last long. Not when without any warning he casts himself into Scalegorge Waterscape without a warning barely a year after the battle.
No… there was a single warning, a sad smile on the last night that he and Yingxing shared a drink. The first time Dan Feng has smiled in a year since that disastrous battle. Yingxing convinced himself that Dan Feng was moving on. He should have known better.
Long-life species do not handle loss well.
Even now his reincarnation is still an egg, waiting, and all Yingxing can hope is that Dan Feng is finding some sort of peace.
Yingxing takes a sip from his cup. This particular wine always has a bite. It burns as he drinks.
“I thought I was going to be the first one to go, being the short-life person in the group,” Yingxing said.
Of course, there is no response.
How can the dead give an answer?
But he can still hear Jing Yuan’s bright laughter and can feel Baiheng’s hand messing up his hair. He can still see Jingliu rolling her eyes and the way Dan Feng would have hidden his smile behind his hand.
He should have been the first to go.
And now he is the last one remaining. For as long lived as Xianzhou Natives are, the High Cloud Quintet is nothing more than an old story in their memories. There are few who could still speak kindly of them after the tragedy that befell and Yingxing is one of the last. He carries their story onward, though he knows it falls to deaf ears.
Few these days know how much Yingxing burned for his friends.
Once, he might have entertained the dangerous thought of eternity if meant being by their side.
But now?
“Well the benefit of being a short-life is that I don’t have to wait long to reunite with you guys,” Yingxing muses.
He’s turning 85 this year. His hair is stark white, and his joints have long begun to hurt. Yingxing isn’t ready to put the hammer down. He knows he’ll die forging, but he has disciples now to help with the heavy lifting. Just as Master Huayian said, there is peace in crafting small trinkets the older you get.
Yingxing knocks back the rest of the drink and reaches over for drumette. No sense wasting all the food he bought.
He looks up and the moon shines oh so bright.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he says.
There’s no laughter or merriment in the air.