Work Text:
“Are you awake?”
As far as Dan Heng could remember, that sentence would always be special. Amid a life that knew neither morning, afternoon, nor night, spinning behind cold stone and silent galaxies, that greeting would always draw him out of sleep blessed by dreams.
He did not know since when, but something within him had always believed that those words were a sign that reality had called him back.
He remembered hearing them the first time he crawled out from beneath the cold shell of an egg, and he recognized them just as clearly when that soft voice wrapped around his mind after he managed to fall asleep upon a cold mattress countless times.
Even now, those words still lingered with the same breath, spoken by the same person. Dan Heng blinked, trying to make sure that the person standing before him, wearing a faint smile that never quite reached the corners of their eyes, was real. He moved his body slowly, stiff from having slept in the wrong position for several hours.
That person walked over leisurely, casually taking the seat across from him. They sat facing each other, and from the calmness in that gaze, Dan Heng could tell that the purpose of this visit was not merely to watch him sleep.
It took a few more blinks before Dan Heng could straighten himself completely, reflexively holding his neck as pain flared when he moved it, noticing a blanket in a gradient of blue and pink draped across his chest. It should have belonged to the person in front of him.
“Are you awake?”
Among greetings of good morning, good afternoon, and good evening, Dan Heng preferred that simple sentence, the one that assured him he had passed through yet another dream, whether beautiful or terrible, only to be awakened once more to the fact that he still had a reality. A life that would welcome him back, no matter what face it chose to wear.
Dan Heng gave a nod, adjusting the blanket that was nearly slipping from his lap. The other person said little, and that felt strangely unsettling, because throughout all their journey together, they had always been the talkative one, the one who opened conversations first, throwing out bizarre remarks that made people press a hand to their forehead and groan fondly at the absurdity of their logic.
“You haven’t slept, March?” His gaze, which had been fixed on the window framing the stars dancing beyond, now turned back to Dan Heng, who was being far too careful with his choice of words.
Dan Heng received a small shake of the head, along with a hand brushing aside the loose strands of hair that had fallen over those eyes. The light of the Parlor Car lamps fell upon irises as red as garnets. Red. For a moment, Dan Heng fell silent, realizing that the eyes before him were not blue adorning with pink.
Yet the strangeness did not last long. It was hardly unusual for March to use the ‘gift’ from their journey to Amphoreus. Sometimes she would wear that matching black dress that fell to her knees, asking the entire crew to acknowledge this new version of herself.
“So certain that I’m March?” The person chuckled softly, casting him a teasing sidelong glance, white teeth appearing behind curved lips.
Dan Heng let out a breath, not blinking even for a moment. “You’re March,” he said, unconsciously wiping the sweat from his forehead.
And that was a gesture whose meaning only the two of them knew, especially March, who always noticed the smallest movements that carried meaning between them. Just as he expected, Dan Heng thought, the girl’s expression had changed completely, anger now flickering beneath her lowered lashes.
Before Dan Heng could refute the assumption hidden behind that face, his words were cut off without warning. “Is the Permanence within your body causing you any trouble?”
The sharpness in that voice caught him off guard, making Dan Heng wonder for a fleeting moment whether the person before him was truly the one he had in mind. Unconsciously, he took the question seriously, shifting his body as he rubbed his arm several times.
“I don't think so?” he answered, prompting the figure before him to tilt her head, carefully studying every expression that crossed Dan Heng's face. She let out a quiet sigh, surrendering to something whose reason Dan Heng could not possibly know.
“If anything starts bothering you, just tell me.” The young woman rested her cheek against her palm once more, turning her gaze away from Dan Heng, who could only watch her silhouette become lost among the endless rows of stars.
Cold sweat slid down the edge of his face. Dan Heng blinked as he swallowed. Why had the girl's words sounded so strange just now? As though someone else had borrowed March's voice and appeared before him wearing her face.
But then again, March had always been exceptionally good at surprising him.
“What about you? How do you feel after gaining the powers of Oblivion and Remembrance as well?” Dan Heng lifted his gaze again, wondering which familiar gesture would make those eyes return to him.
His choice was the same as always. The moment his hand brushed across his forehead, those crimson eyes flicked toward him, carrying a trace of simmering annoyance.
A faint smile tugged at Dan Heng's lips, while the other could only click her tongue softly after realizing she had once again been baited by an emotion she disliked.
“To be honest, I've grown so used to these powers that I don't even struggle to control them anymore.” A heavy silence settled between them. Those garnet eyes disappeared for a moment before revealing ripples far more troubled than before. “It's frightening... as though these had always been my powers from the very beginning,” she murmured softly, her fingers curling within the sleeves of her white coat and the black gloves marked by silver nails.
“Is that strange?” Her gaze returned to Dan Heng, who blinked slowly, though his eyes had already drifted toward something beyond the girl's head.
Dan Heng had not realized it at first, but one of the reasons the atmosphere felt so unfamiliar was the music accompanying their conversation. The phonograph had been switched to a collection of gentle classical pieces, the sound of violins weaving together with the melody of a piano, reminding Dan Heng of a peculiar truth that always filled his chest with quiet pride.
Classical music always filled the room whenever March reached the point where she could no longer put into words the thoughts trapped inside her mind.
Dan Heng looked into those garnet eyes again. Her face had fallen at the unanswered question, replacing his quiet pride with guilt.
“No matter what happens, you will always be March 7th.” The young man rose from his seat, reaching for the fingers locked within a fist clenched so tightly that it had wounded the pale skin of her own palm.
Dan Heng's hand came to rest against the side of the girl's face, their eyes meeting in a single unbroken line capable of pulling him beneath tides that knew no ebb.
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because I'll always remember the complete March 7th.” It was a one-sided declaration, one that made Dan Heng flush the instant he realized what he had just said. “Wasn't I also the one who knew that Evernight wasn't the real you?” He cleared his throat to hide his nervousness, stealing a glance at the expression that had instead softened within his touch.
“That's right. You'll always be able to recognize me, won't you?” March smiled brightly, the very same radiant smile she had worn throughout their journey. Dan Heng let out a relieved smile of his own, withdrawing his hand before it lingered there long enough to become reluctant to leave. His own words still echoed inside his chest, because Dan Heng was certain that even if the entire universe were to change, the one person he would always recognize was this girl and the family they had built together.
The melody continued to fill the silence, accompanied by the gentle hum of the Express's engine, matching the unhurried rhythm of their breathing.
Allowing the two passengers who remained awake to sink into melodies of their own.
Dan Heng gazed at the girl for a very long time, while the one being watched had no intention whatsoever of returning his gaze.
The violin once again reached its crescendo within the melody that surrounded them.
One
Two
Three
Without realizing it, Dan Heng found himself following the rhythm. Memories of the dance lessons he had taken with Mr. Yang surfaced unbidden. He could picture himself and the pink-haired girl matching each other's movements beneath dim lights, their steps guided by the rhythm and the touch of joined hands.
Dan Heng's eyes drifted back toward the vinyl record spinning near the doorway, counting the beats until the next piece would begin.
“Do you still remember our dance lessons?” Perhaps it was simply the atmosphere, but his outstretched hand bridged the distance between them, an open palm entering the edge of her vision. The girl could only stare at him questioningly, silently demanding an explanation from the one who patiently waited.
“The ones Mr. Yang taught us?” she replied softly, trying to pull that long-forgotten memory into the present. Her gaze returned to the hand extended toward her, only for an amused smile to spread across her face as she remembered what had happened back then.
Realizing she was suppressing a laugh, Dan Heng could only let out a quiet sigh. “Don't laugh,” he murmured, trying to stop the warmth that had already reached the nape of his neck from spreading to his face.
“So? Are you going to, or not?” he urged again, with a hint of insistence. The current song was already nearing its end. If they didn't take their positions now, they would miss the very first beat, and Dan Heng could never claim that improvisation was among his greatest talents aboard the Express.
“Are you sure you can manage?” Though her tone carried a hint of teasing doubt, she accepted Dan Heng's outstretched hand. Both of them had already removed their gloves, allowing bare skin to meet bare skin, the touch spreading through their bodies like a bolt of electricity.
The moment they took their first step, the music changed its rhythm, as though it had sensed the mood, returning to the very melody that had played when they first became each other's dance partner.
Their feet brushed softly across the carpeted floor of the Parlor Car, leaving behind gentle whispers that echoed beneath the steady hum of the Express's engines. Dan Heng was still just as terrible as he had been during their last lesson with Mr. Yang.
His shoulders were far too tense, his counting rigid, and even the hand entwined with March's fingers was much colder than the warmth of the girl's skin.
One
Two
Three
Dan Heng's terrible habit, the very one that had made Mr. Yang press a hand to his forehead dozens of times over the course of a single song.
“I told you that back then, didn't I?” March let out a soft laugh, watching his serious expression as his eyes remained fixed on their feet instead of looking at the face of the partner dancing before him.
“You're really awful at this,” she continued, stepping a little closer. The movement finally drew Dan Heng's attention upward, a faint blush coloring his face as he realized how little distance remained between them.
“At least I haven't stepped on your feet.” The corner of Dan Heng's lips lifted ever so slightly. Compared to the first time, he truly had become much better.
But that had never been his goal.
From the very beginning, all he had wanted was to restore something that had gone missing, from within his own heart, and from the girl's.
Dan Heng spun March once, stealing a glance at her garnet eyes as she delighted in the breeze created by the movement. The violin stretched into a long, lingering note, accompanied by the mellow call of a trumpet, allowing the piano to take over the melody that seemed unwilling to come to an end.
Their bodies simply followed the music, paying no mind to elegance or the fleeting perfection that human reason tried so desperately to define. More than once, Dan Heng's steps lagged behind by half a beat, and each time, March casually skipped in place, effortlessly guiding them back into rhythm.
March could not resist teasing her dance partner. She deliberately let go of their joined hands, only for Dan Heng to catch hers again with absolute certainty, half glaring at her in the process.
For a while, silence became a place of comfort for the two of them, a place so familiar to Dan Heng, yet one that March 7th had always feared.
“If you're worried about stepping on my feet, then how about this?” It was only when Dan Heng realized that March's feet were no longer touching the floor that she finally voiced her proposal.
“What do you mean?” Dan Heng could only look at her with a puzzled frown, noticing that they had already fallen far behind the rhythm of the music.
But March did not answer with words. She moved closer, and with effortless grace, placed both of her feet directly atop Dan Heng's.
The young man froze as he felt the added weight while taking his next step. Yet what surprised him even more was how light it was, so light that it hardly felt like he was carrying another person at all.
Dan Heng let out a quiet sigh beneath his breath, making sure March could not hear him. The last thing he wanted was to start an argument he already knew he would lose.
“This way, you're free to move however you like while still making sure I stay right in front of you.” March chuckled softly, the edge of her forehead briefly brushing against Dan Heng's lips, leaving him blinking in growing confusion where he stood.
Meanwhile, the young man could only tighten his hold around her waist, hoping that the frantic beating of his heart would remain too faint to be heard across the almost nonexistent distance between them.
Even so, he obediently followed the rhythm, continuing to step forward as he always had, making certain that March remained with him.
It felt strangely familiar, as though her words and laughter were among the countless things he had once heard or perhaps longed to hear. Yet that possibility could not have come from his own experiences alone, because Dan Heng was certain that far too many things had happened lately without him truly remembering them.
And every single one of those things always seemed to be connected to the girl standing before him.
Dan Heng quickly shook his head, casting aside the unsettling thoughts that had settled within his mind. Whatever they were, they did not deserve even a moment of his attention.
No matter what happened, March 7th was still standing before him.
March 7th, whole, together with every memory of their journey.
Dan Heng's grip tightened around the fingers entwined with his own, drawing their bodies as close as they could possibly be, until even the sound of each other's breathing became something entirely ordinary.
“If we stay like this... then you won't be able to go anywhere, right?” Forget consistency, forget the rules. Dan Heng no longer let the music dictate his movements. His entire focus rested solely on the girl before him. Whatever thoughts had taken hold of him, he leaned even closer, as though asking for all of her attention to belong to him alone.
March 7th, who had been quietly lost within her own thoughts, was abruptly pulled back by the intensity of movements that were no longer under her control. She could only blink softly before letting out a quiet laugh, reclaiming a portion of the composure her dance partner had stolen from her.
March's hands no longer rested upon his shoulder or within their intertwined fingers. Like the silken tentacles of a jellyfish drifting through the sea, they slipped behind Dan Heng's neck instead, pulling them even closer until their bodies were gently pressed against one another.
Amid that delightful chaos, March took the initiative, guiding both of Dan Heng's hands to her waist to keep them from losing their balance.
“Believe me, Dan Heng... I'm not going anywhere,” she whispered softly beside the young man's ear. Dan Heng could only let out a low growl. She knew perfectly well what those actions did to him, yet she carried them out with that same unwavering confidence that had always belonged to March 7th alone.
“You'd better not,” he replied. Though he tried with all his strength to hide the tremor in his voice, he proved weaker than he had believed himself to be. Dan Heng continued walking, carrying both of them across the floor of the Parlor Car with movements that were modest at best.
He tried to listen to the music for guidance, only to end up quietly irritated when he realized the song had already changed two, perhaps even three times since the very first beat they had begun together. In the end, he had no choice but to surrender himself to the universe, while locking those garnet eyes within the gaze of his own jade-colored ones.
Sensing his unease, March narrowed her eyes as she gently pulled Dan Heng's face down a little closer to hers. “It's rude to frown while you're dancing, Dan Heng.”
“Says the person who always starts daydreaming halfway through a dance,” Dan Heng replied, closing the distance just a little more, catching the flicker of surprise that surfaced within those eyes before they softened once again.
“You can't blame a girl who has too much on her mind, you know?” March retorted, pressing lightly against the back of Dan Heng's neck to return him to a more proper distance, while the young man nearly choked on what she had just said.
“Too much on your mind?” he echoed, raising a brow as he suddenly lifted March off the floor, forcing the girl to lower her gaze to look at him for a few moments. Those garnet eyes widened in shock at being picked up so effortlessly, her grip on Dan Heng's shoulders tightening as she silently demanded to be put back down.
It took March several seconds to stop glaring at the rather pleased-looking Dan Heng. “I was thinking about you,” she finally muttered, delivering her revenge by firmly stepping on Dan Heng's foot below. He should have been grateful that March had taken off her high heels beforehand.
“About me?” Wincing slightly from the aftermath, Dan Heng could only repeat her words, searching for March's expression now that her gaze no longer rested upon him.
“About you... and everything waiting for you at the end of your journey.” She repeated herself, this time in a quieter voice, her face turned toward Dan Heng with unmistakable sorrow. It caught him completely off guard, because March 7th was someone who rarely displayed her sadness so openly.
“There will be so many new burdens waiting for you beyond this journey... and I... I can only hope that, at the very least, you won't try to carry them all by yourself.” Their eyes remained locked together, but Dan Heng could feel March's body beginning to slip from his embrace. Acting on instinct, he wrapped his arms around her, refusing to let her take another step away from him.
“What do you mean?”
“The Permanence within your body is only waiting for the right moment to be disturbed once more by the existence of the other Paths.” Dan Heng felt as though a nail had been driven straight through his chest. His embrace around March tightened even further, while at the same time her voice seemed to drift farther and farther from his hearing.
He swallowed hard, never imagining that the conversation they'd had the moment he awoke would become one of the very things weighing so heavily on her mind.
“When Xianzhou faces another crisis, your power will always be needed by all of them, the mad Preceptors, the Ten-Lords Commission, even the other High Elders who pass judgment.” The atmosphere around them grew unbearably heavy, just as March's arms tightened around Dan Heng's back.
“March, listen–”
“And if the Express loses both its passengers... and its guide... then you'll be the one left to bear the burden.” That final possibility left Dan Heng staring blankly at his own reflection in the wide window before them. The image of himself embracing and being embraced by March 7th, inseparable.
“I've always wondered... Why did it have to be you, out of everyone else? Why do you have to be so kind that the universe keeps asking for more than everything you have? And couldn't you, just this once, choose to stay–”
“March?”
“For the sake of someone as selfish as me?”
There were countless languages in the universe, and surely even more answers that Dan Heng could have and perhaps should have given her. But the turmoil within his heart refused. Something whispered to him to let the silence remain for just a little while longer, as though telling him that everything she had just said was both a prophecy and a heartfelt wish from one who knew the course of his destiny.
Dan Heng slowly shook his head. This was not the time to drown in possibilities that had yet to come. Right now was his time with March 7th, a real moment that allowed him to feel every touch, and to hear every worry and every laugh that belonged to the girl before him.
Dan Heng's feet began to move once more. Holding March close with all his strength, he set their motionless bodies back into motion. He allowed them both to sink, whether into their thoughts or into the gravity of one another's presence, he no longer knew. Dan Heng simply kept walking wherever his feet carried him, turning together with her every now and then.
The music from the vinyl record continued to drift through the room, serving as a backdrop, but the quiet sobs against his chest drew far more of Dan Heng's attention. March's words from moments ago returned to haunt his thoughts.
“Why do you have to be so kind that the universe keeps asking for more than everything you have?”
Dan Heng closed his eyes, a quiet chuckle forming at the corner of his lips. It was not because he was laughing at March's question, he could never bring himself to do that. Rather, the brief laugh came from the contradiction he knew all too well.
Dan Heng was not as kind a person as March believed him to be.
The young man knew exactly what he was capable of and what he would willingly do if the people closest to him, or the girl in his arms, were ever demanded as sacrifices to keep the universe's wheel of fate turning.
And kindness would be the very last thing he would involve when it came to any of them.
“I miss hearing you sing,” a quiet murmur rose from against his chest. Dan Heng was certain those words had come from March, though the word miss left him feeling strangely uneasy. After all, it had only been a short while since they had sung together through dozens of songs from across the universe at karaoke.
“What would you like to hear?” Dan Heng replied just as softly, letting out a slow breath as he forced himself not to be swept away by the emotions threatening to make him cry alongside her. When March needed someone to lean on, then it was his duty to become an unshakable wall.
March did not answer. Her voice disappeared once again within his embrace. And so Dan Heng made the choice for her. His thoughts turned, and in that very instant, something naturally settled upon his tongue.
The chant whose lyrics had once guided the parting of the sea upon the Xianzhou Luofu. The voice of his own heart, buried beneath years of exile.
Samudrartha – a song sung in the language of his homeland. One that March could never fully understand. Though she had undoubtedly listened to it dozens of times ever since Dan Heng had shown her the long-haired figure with horns upon his head.
‘Is this what you wanted to hear, March?’ Dan Heng asked silently to himself as the lyrics continued to flow gently through the room.
Beneath his gaze, March could only give a small nod, tightening her embrace with far gentler strength than before. She held back the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, because Dan Heng would never know just how much that song meant to a grieving March 7th, especially when carried by his voice, so gentle and almost magical that it could lull anyone who listened.
Dan Heng truly did not know why March had asked him to sing. He had never thought his voice would be pleasant to the human ear. Even so, he continued, because there was one thing he knew for certain.
March needed to hear him sing.
And he would keep singing for as long as he could.
It was then that a fleeting movement beyond the doorway separating the Parlor Car from the Party Car, connected as well to the Trailblazer's room, caught his eye. Two figures had their faces pressed against the transparent window.
Sunday and the Trailblazer were secretly watching them from outside the Parlor Car. Their expressions were an odd mixture of teasing amusement, surprise, and genuine concern, judging by the occasional quiet claps of excitement or the phone suddenly raised high, its camera flash illuminating the glass.
The main culprit was, of course, the Trailblazer. Sunday, meanwhile, was still trying to stop them, even as he continued stealing glances at the late-night scene unfolding before them.
Deciding they had watched long enough, Dan Heng gradually guided their dance closer to the doorway. When they were only a few steps away, he fixed them with a sharp glare the moment they realized they'd been caught.
Without interrupting the song still flowing from his lips, he mouthed a single, pointed command.
“Go.”
The two figures beyond the door immediately scrambled to flee. Dan Heng managed to catch a glimpse of the Trailblazer tripping and landing face-first before disappearing from sight. He let out a quiet sigh, gently leading March back toward the center of the Parlor Car as though nothing at all had happened.
But March seemed to notice the odd interruption. She slowly lifted her head again before asking, “Why did you stop for a moment? ...Did someone come by just now?”
Dan Heng answered with a shake of his head. “No,” because the young man felt far more relieved simply to see her face lifted once again, looking at him as though it were something she was meant to do. The final verse of the song rested upon the tip of his tongue, and all Dan Heng wished to receive in return was her praise.
He brought every movement to a halt, allowing the two of them to stand motionless where they were, their entire attention fixed upon each other.
“The dance... and the song... they were wonderful, Dan Heng.” At last, March let out a bright, genuine laugh, lowering herself so she would not remain standing atop the backs of Dan Heng's feet any longer, which had undoubtedly turned red by now.
Yet before even five seconds had passed since her feet softly touched the carpeted floor of the Parlor Car, March lost her footing once again.
And all she could do was stare at the culprit who had pulled her back into his embrace.
“Be happy... Yue. That's all I've ever wished for you,” Dan Heng whispered softly–
Only to freeze the very next second as he realized the words that had just left his lips.
“Yue?” The question came from March. She frowned, puffing out her cheeks as though she intended to tease Dan Heng over the unfamiliar name. Only to swallow the joke the moment she saw how pale the young man had become within the span of a heartbeat.
His gaze drifted past March, fixed upon something standing behind her—
As though he had seen a ghost.
Dan Heng swallowed hard before lowering his eyes back to the person in his arms, making certain that the one before him was the whole March 7th, warm and breathing.
Then why… Why did their reflection in the Parlor Car's window suggest something so horrifying?
And amidst it all, Dan Heng felt a cold touch brush against his jaw, trailing upward to the back of his neck. A gentle voice whispered, as though trying to wake him once more, drawing him back to the place where he truly belonged.
“Are you awake, Dan Heng?”
Among greetings of good morning, good afternoon, and good evening, Dan Heng wished that those words alone would always be the greeting that assured him reality was not merely an illusion, one so beautiful that it made him reluctant to awaken from such a dream.