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Jing Yuan chews slowly. The peach is sweet, slightly bitter, yet carries a pleasant taste that spreads on his tongue with each bite of the soft flesh. The droplets of juice run down his wrist and under the sleeve of his shirt, yet Jing Yuan chooses not to notice the growing stickiness of his skin.
Blade, who sits close to him on the blanket — the one that Jing Yuan insisted on calling a blanket for picnics — is rather meticulous about his own fruit. With a small knife, he slices into the peach once until the knife reaches the heart of the fruit, then makes a second parallel cut roughly two centimeters over. Having a perfectly crescent-shaped slice, he brings it up with the help of the knife and places it into his mouth. Chews, wrinkles his nose at how sweet it is, and then continues slowly cutting it again.
Night breeze carries a gentle whiff of salt. The sea is calm tonight, glowing under the full moon like a cloth dotted with countless diamonds. The sand has long since cooled after being under the artificial sun for the whole day, and Jing Yuan finds himself pretty content sitting there with Blade by his side, eating fruits and listening to the sound of waves lapping at the shore.
They don’t talk much this time. Blade asked for a meeting at this particular beach, Jing Yuan agreed, bought some fruits along the way, and there they were now.
The flesh of Jing Yuan’s peach has dissolved on his tongue, leaving only the seed. Before spitting it out, Jing Yuan holds the rough little thing in his mouth, rolls it with his tongue, bites a little, and then carefully plucks it from between his teeth with his fingers.
“How far do you think we’d get,” Jing Yuan begins, breaking the silence, “If we just started swimming?”
Blade is still somewhat busy with the peach, he doesn’t raise his eyes to look at Jing Yuan directly. After eating another slice, he slightly shakes his head. A few loose strands falling over his eyes.
“About fifty meters,” he says. “Before cold hits you. Then you’d turn around.”
Jing Yuan smiles at Blade’s pragmatic response. He shifts closer, until his side pressed flush against Blade’s. The swordsman doesn’t pull away.
“Hmm… I think we’d be far enough that nobody could find us by morning.”
Blade finally turns his head, his crimson eyes looking at the general’s profile. The sea breeze sweeps between them, cold and sharp.
“Are you tired of being on this side?” Blade asks, tracking the noticeable exhaustion hidden behind that faint, ever-present smile.
The said smile fades into something more wistful, Jing Yuan’s gaze drifting back toward the star-filled horizon. He doesn’t look back at Blade, but his voice drops to bare honesty, “I think I am, yeah.”
Then he begins to get up. Blade follows the man’s movements with his eyes, observing, relishing in the view of Jing Yuan’s easy grace. Jing Yuan walks closer to the line of water, and only then does Blade get up to follow. When he reached Jing Yuan’s side, the general had already rolled the pant legs up to his knees, boots placed aside.
“Cold,” Jing Yuan observes, shivering a little when the pale tongue of foam slides up to caress his ankles. He grips the stone of the peach tighter in his hand, the pointy tip bites into his palm.
Blade doesn’t follow Jing Yuan into the sea, he feels perfectly fine standing on the shore.
“You’re not actually planning to swim, are you?” he asks.
“I’d like to,” Jing Yuan says as he moves deeper into the water, until it laps against his knees. He stays there, then looks at his open palm with the peach stone on it. “If I throw this seed hard enough and it accidentally hits a fish, does that count as fishing?”
Blade raises his eyebrow. “It just means the sea gets to keep a seed, and the fish gets a headache.”
“Can a fish get a headache?”
“You’ll find out when it washes ashore in a few minutes.”
The corners of Jing Yuan’s eyes crinkle with amusement.
Holding the peach stone between his thumb and forefinger, Jing Yuan bends a little at his waist, draws his arm back past his hip, and then throws the seed into the sea with a sharp whip of his wrist. The seed doesn’t skip across the surface of the water not even once, and not that Jing Yuan expects it to, really. But still, he’s a little disappointed that the small thing drowned rather instantly. It’s a silly thing to care about, but watching the stone sink so fast leaves a strange, hollow weight behind in his chest. Like the sea took the small offering and offered nothing in return.
He straightens up and lets his arm drop to his side as the ripples wash out. Beside him, Blade doesn’t comment on the terrible throw.
“Everything drowns eventually,” he observes instead.
A soft smile returns to Jing Yuan’s face as he turns his head back to look at Blade standing a few steps behind him. “You’re rather melancholic tonight.”
Blade shrugs, and Jing Yuan can only sigh. He rinses his hand in the cold water, then slowly walks back to the swordsman. Clasping his hands behind his back, Jing Yuan stops right in front of him.
“…What?” Blade asks uncertainly, narrows his eyes. “You didn’t like my answer?”
“I didn’t say that.” Jing Yuan’s smile widens.
He unclasps his hands, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair back from Blade’s face; his fingers are still cool from the sea rinse. Blade doesn’t pull away; his eyes lazily track the movement of Jing Yuan’s hand.
“I just think you're wrong,” Jing Yuan adds softly and steps just a fraction closer until his chest nearly brushes Blade’s. “Some things float for a very long time before they sink. We’ve managed it long enough, haven’t we?”
A crease appears between Blade’s eyebrows. He lets out a quiet, barely audible huff through his nose, looking away toward the black expanse of the sea. His hands settle on Jing Yuan’s waist.
“…Ridiculous,” he says. “We’ll still drown in the end.”
“Perhaps.” Jing Yuan places both of his hands on Blade’s cheeks, cupping the man’s face in his palms. “But I prefer not to dwell on it right now.”
Then he leans in, affectionately brushes the tip of his nose against Blade’s, and then places a brief kiss on the swordsman’s lips. When he retreats, Blade instinctively follows, which only makes Jing Yuan laugh softly.
Jing Yuan lets his eyes flutter shut, resting his weight against the swordsman and listening to the rhythmic crash of the waves swallowing the shore. He covers his lover’s lips properly this time, parts his own when Blade bites him. The lingering taste of peach blends softly with the sweetness of Blade’s tongue.
The kiss ends slowly, and Jing Yuan lets out a soft, pleased hum. Blade doesn’t say anything. He only tightens his grip on Jing Yuan’s waist, pulling him just a little further away from the dark, endless tide.