Work Text:
Flower petals fell from the blooming plum trees, swirling gently with the wind. Light streamed down through the branches of the trees and illuminated the forest as the sun made its way higher across the sky . Loud chirping could be heard from various birds and yet it only added to the tranquility of the mountain landscape.
Bang!
The serenity faded as all animals in the vicinity scrambled away from the loud sound that was followed by a loud crash caused by a tree falling over and slamming into the ground.
"Damn it!"
Chung Myung let out a groan as he sat down and leaned against the tree he had just knocked over.
That persistent pressure in his chest was back again, it pressed down as if someone had placed a metal cart on top of him.
It could be much worse, Chung Myung obviously knew that, but that didn't mean it wasn't endlessly frustrating! A loud thud once again ruined the calm of the forest as he punched the innocent tree again. Before any more unjust hits could land, he sighed and looked towards the sky.
It was so bright it almost hurt to look at.
…
Breathing is obviously essential for everyone no matter their occupation, but shortness of breath at the wrong moment can lead a martial artist to their death — an enemy won't just wait for someone to catch their breath, and even if one can continue fighting despite it, the disadvantage grows as fatigue creeps in.
It hasn't mattered much yet, not when it was still in its initial stage and not when the purest qi runs through his body. For cultivators it usually progressed far slower, and they had it easier — the injuries that would arise in the later stages would heal quicker, would pose less of a problem due to better pain tolerance too. It was one of the reasons there were so many love stories about it. Cultivators could withstand it even in the last stage, could go on with their lives even as their lungs rattled with each breath and every moment was haunted by the smell of flowers.
They could go on and maybe even achieve what it was they longed for. Usually in stories it was a person — a childhood sweetheart or a love at first sight. Someone who would return the love and they'd live happily as the main character healed or would have their own plans for life and be hated along with the storyteller by the foolish listeners. It certainly wasn't an uncommon cause outisde of stories either, but it wasn't the most common one.
The disease of longing was sometimes known as the disease of unrequited love, but more often it was called the disease of grief.
And Chung Myung wondered when the taste of blood mixed with plum blossoms would follow him into this life as well.
…
Pure qi definitely slowed the progress down more than he anticipated, usually cultivation could only slow down each stage by a year or so at most and yet it had taken over two for the disease to reach its second stage. That was almost three months longer than in his previous life so it appeared like the quality of the qi was more important than the quantity even in such a situation. If only he hadn't rushed back then, if he had higher standards, if he hadn't acted like there was nobody who could defeat him, if he had helped his martial siblings, maybe he would have never even developed the disease.
Eventually the dull tightness in his chest progresses into a sharp pain and a wheeze tried to squeeze past his mouth every exhale. Thankfully, keeping his breathing from sounding abnormal in front of others was something Chung Myung had long perfected even before losing everyone that had mattered in his life and then waking up to a second chance.
Everyone that had mattered, but not everyone that mattered. There were more people now, more things that should never be lost.
Chung Myung wouldn't lose anyone this time, he swore he wouldn't.
The promise left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Who was he even trying to lie to?
Not that it mattered — if it's currently a lie, he just has to make it into a truth.
…
It took nearly two more years for the coughing to begin. The metallic taste of blood would flood his mouth every so often like a reminder of those grueling years of not being able to take a moments rest. He couldn't cough blood in front of the others out of nowhere, especially not in front of those who were part of the Allience.
People depended on him, Chung Myung could already tell the Allience would begin leaning on his shoulders just like all those martial artists in the past who had no other hope to cling to.
Chung Myung had never considered himself a leader.
It was always Chung Mun who had taken that role. Chung Mun who would set up all the pieces so Chung Myung could jump around the board as he pleased.
Chung Jin was always there with them too. Chung Jin who always claimed he'd leave something behind, that he'd be remembered.
Chung Jin who should have been remembered.
The feeling of hugging cold bone still lingered. However Chung Myung tried to replace it with the warmth of the sunset over Mount Hua, just like he knew Chung Jin would prefer.
What had Chung Myung done to deserve being remember? Running around the various battlefields and picking off the cultists was what all of them had tried to do. Saving the Beast Palace was not his intention back then, he had just wanted to kill as many of the cultists as he could. Holding back Cheon Ma came at the costs of injuries every time, sometimes it even left him unable to particiapte in important battles. Killing Cheon Ma could not be called an achievement when it took a literal mountain of corpses.
How could anyone who saw that sight call it an achievement?
Most of them had looked at him with trust, with hope and desperation. With the desperate will to cling onto the only person they thought capable of ending the nightmare that had befallen their lives. After that, Chung Myung could not help but think all of their dull, glazed over eyes looked at him with detestation.
Strongest swordsman? That was all the strongest swordsman could do? How dare Cheon Ma call him that? How dare he be right?
…
A bitter cloying taste overpowered the alcohol he gulped down. His throat burned as the liquor agitated the numerous small injuries in different stages of healing. That sensation only helped for a while.
Soon Chung Myung doubled over as his back shook from violent coughs. Looking at the blood soaked petals in his hand only caused him to burst out into laughter.
Just like a hundred years ago, the taste of plum blossoms still found a way to overpower the blood in a way that is wrong.
Because it was wrong for the taste of plum blossoms to make him nauseous.
Their smell reminded him of home and the sight of them brought to mind the faces of the disciples of Mount Hua, past and present, before all else so why couldn't he stand the taste?
Currently it was unknown why developing the disease of longing caused plants to grow in the lungs, however it was known that the plants often had meaning to the afflicted person. In the cases brought about by grieving for multiple people the flowers would often differ in relation to the ones that were lost, even an unimportant memory of them smelling a specific flower while they were alive could be enough for that plant to bloom in the diseased one's lungs.
Chung Myung only coughed out plum blossoms, only felt their taste and only saw their striking red color so similar to blood whenever he looked at his palms afterwards.
Because plum blossoms were all Chung Myung was.
They were the first sights he remembered — plum blossoms engraved on uniforms, forming through sword swings as the older generation performed elegant momovements, plum blossom trees coloring the whole mountain when they bloomed. It was the taste of the plum blossom tea his shayung made him drink, that of the plum blossom pills he used to deal with his hangovers as his sajae yelled at him for wasting such resources. It was part of the title that caused Tang Bo to seek him out. Plum blossoms were what those during the war saw as a sign of hope. Those flowers forming on the swords of his children was the sight he had longed for most when he first learnt of the lost techniques, and their illusory beauty when that wish was fulfilled was what brought him the greatest pride. It was what the craftsmen of the Tang Clan had become obsessed with, it was the gratitude he saw in the eyes of the Beast Palace whenever they gazed at them, it was the intrigued curiosity of the Ice Palace soldiers as they saw such vibrant flowers so unlike what they were used to.
Plum blossoms were the sign of his friends, family and home.
There was no other plant — no herb, spice, or flower — that could convey his emotions, his longing and grief, better than the plum blossom.
Maybe that's why he hated it.
Hated that the familiar taste was caused by something that would worry those precious people. Something that caused that beloved symbol to bring only pain and struggle.
Had Chung Mun been here he would look at Chung Myung with emotions he could not understand in two lifetimes. Would look at him and say words he would not be able to understand even after two lifetimes.
Crushed flower petals fell to the ground as Chung Myung unclenched hands he hadn't even noticed closing.
…
"Chung Myung-ah what took you so long?"
"He was drinking before dinner again, look!"
"Of course he would!"
Like usual there was a lively atmosphere in the dining hall during dinner.
"Sahyung, even Baek Ah already finished eating! What took you so long?"
And like usual should he dare be late he would get showered with exclamations. No, wait, wasn't that last a bit odd?
'Even Baek Ah? Soso, isn't it normal for such a small animal to finish eating quicker than humans…'
Chung Myung wisely kept quiet after sharing confused glances with the others.
That's when his gaze landed on the well fed marten lying on the table…
Uh why did it look like it had eaten in a hurry and was now playing dead? It never did that whenever he was around.
—When will you get some self-awarness, you brat!
Chung Myung picked his ear while scolding that damn animal for being so greedy!
"Eat."
A monotone voice cut the nagging short as Yu Iseol placed more meat onto his plate. Actually his bowl seemed to have more meat than it should even with that addition in mind, and the plates of the others were suspiciously emptier than when he last glanced at them. Even the monk was looking off into the distance in faked lack of involvement.
While wolfing down the food, Chung Myung looked at Baek Cheon's serious face as he nagged about something, Yoon Jong and Jo Gul bickering, and Tang Soso and Yu Iseol's amusement as Baek Ah was trying to steal from Hye Yeon's plate.
The taste of blood no longer overwhelmed that of the food, and the taste of plum blossoms faded into something more bearable.