Work Text:
o.
Jing Yuan bites through the Songlotus Cake. The crisp on the first bite was apparent, the following mild sweetness was a comforting taste. It was the same as ever, it was reassuring in its predictable simple flavor.
The bustle in the Aurum Alley was a low hum in the background, not yet crowded but was sure to pick up pace later.
The general enjoys this as much as he can, a day off was after all hard to come by.
A sudden yell at the side catches his attention. A young lady waving a young man closer to her.
"Ya! Shuanglin! Go home now, everybody's waiting for you! Really, straying away. When will you learn that-"
Go home huh? Jing Yuan stares at the two youth in front of him. The woman was animated, hands flying around to give emphasis on the importance of going home while the man scratches the back of his head sheepishly.
An apology was given then. The young woman deflates for a moment before rolling her eyes fondly. She then pulls the young man away.
To go home. Jing Yuan thinks.
He wants to go home too. Jing Yuan absently thinks.
Except, well-
Jing Yuan takes another bite instead.
i. Maybe it starts like this.
The sun was out. Or at least the equivalent of it in the Luofu. It was bright and warm, streaming in through the bamboo leaves. It was golden and beautiful, an everyday sight everyone looks past at. Too used to it, taken for granted with its continuity and seeming permanence.
Jing Yuan sighs and tilts his head towards it, humming in appreciation.
The golden rays seem to press a kiss on his face, warming him. It was a warm day. Summer in their doors. Strangely enough, the general feels cold. A little jittery, but all in all something that can be ignored. The warmth of the sun is enough to chase it away.
The general looks down at the starchess board in front of him, halfway through a game. Yanqing, despite being older and taller, had run off excitedly. A ping of his phone and an excited grin had revealed that another sword purchase had successfully gone through.
He had waved him away then, letting the boy run off to his much too expensive hobby, but deciding to let him be for once. It was a good day after all.
A chirp and something fly down on the board.
He smiles gently at the finch and extends his finger.
The bird tilts its head before flying towards him. Staying still as he bring it closer to him.
"Hello there." He murmurs. It gives one cheerful chirp before flying again. The man chuckles before the starchess board catches his eyes.
The man looks down at the board in front of him, halfway through a game. Who was he playing with again?
He blinks for a moment.
"General! I'm sorry for making you wait!" Jing Yuan blinks again before giving his lieutenant a smile. Ah yes, Yanqing.
"Hmmm. How's your purchase, hopefully you haven't spent all your allowance all at once?" The general teases mildly.
His lieutenant pouts, an embarrassed flush rising on his face. "Generaaal," He whines as he sits down on the other side. "That was years ago!"
The said general laughs, the coldness once again chased away.
ii. It continues like this.
The moon was bright. Or well, at least the equivalent of it in Luofu. It is full, beautiful in its wholeness. With no clouds to obscure its view, one can only stare in awe as it brightens up the dark sky.
It's not alone. The stars twinkle along with it. Ah, this is truly a perfect night. If only he has a drink to go along with it. The golden eyed man sighs as he shifts and leans back on the roof. His white robe rustles along with his movement, his pale hair moving as the wind whistles along.
If only Yinyue-jun was here. He would surely enjoy the view. Jing Yuan grins, already hearing the poetics the man would say. The lieutenant sits up, about to jump down and call him.
The high elder would surely be a good companion, better than Yingxing at least. Jing Yuan snorts at the thought. He bet the older man would just grumble about it being too cold and too late. Then Jing Yuan would comment about him being too old and needing his beauty sleep. Then the other's eyebrow would twitch and faster than Jing Yuan's reflexes, would cuff him at the back of his head.
With his feet dangling at the edge of the roof of the quintet's residence, he was about to jump down except--
Who will he call? Yinyue-jun, Dan Feng? Who was long gone. Whose name has changed. Who looks at him and doesn't even see a friend. Yingxing? Whose hair has gone black. Whose eyes lost their lucidity. Who is now the enemy of Xianzhou.
Who was he about to call? His friends? Who is now long gone?
Jing Yuan freezes. The moon long forgotten. He stares at his hand shakily. The general then places it at his chest, feeling his heart sluggishly pump blood.
He feels cold.
When he realizes it, it descends upon him without mercy. "Ah. They are gone." He says, his hand gripping the white cloth. "They are gone." He repeats. He breathes in and calms his mind. He clenches his hand tighter, trying to calm the shaking. "They are gone." He reminds himself. Stronger this time.
Because he had forgotten.
How can he forget that they are gone?
iii. And then,
"General! How are you? I've been looking for you. You need to see this new-" Jing Yuan nods and smiles, head automatically tuning out the kid's excited babble. He felt guilty doing it, past parenting books he had read always reminded him to listen to what your kid was saying it. Communication was an important aspect of parental relationships.
But no matter how guilty he was, his head throbs with pain that does not want to part with him. His right temple pulsates, like a finger was attempting to dig into it and claw into his brain. The agony was enough that it was all he can do to barely compose himself as he smiles at the kid.
Blond pale hair. The tone was warm, but in a certain light it was almost like Yingxing's. The excited chatter about swords helps too.
A warm smile lights up Jing Yuan's features as he listens on to the kid jabber. He remembers Yingxing, a little bit stoic, grumpy, and too frowny. But a question about sword or any kind of weapon is enough to make him talk the daylight away.
There was even one time where Jing Yuan mistakenly (or maybe not) asked him about the forging process of Dan Feng's spear. The talk lasted literal hours. Yingxing didn't let go of him the whole day. Dragging him between lunches and sparring and forging just so he can finish explaining.
And what can Jing Yuan do but smile helplessly and follow along, smitten young him was memorizing the words as the man goes along.
"General?"
The man blinks and stares at the young kid in front of him. General? Who was he talking to?
"You didn't listen, did you? Ah general, this is important! This new sword is unlike all the others I swear!"
Ah where is Yingxing, maybe he knows the kid. Maybe this is Yingxing's secret little love child. Jing Yuan almost laughs, knowing that this was not the case. But it would totally be such a good teasing material. Pale hair, addiction to swords, man. This little kid is just like his clone.
He bets even Bai Heng would jump into the teasing.
"Kid who are-" His temple throbs with something that sends him grasping for his head. He takes a sharp inhale through his teeth as his thumb attempts to massage and distract himself from the pain.
"General! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?" The kid panics, stepping closer towards him. The boy was already reaching for him.
The general grasps his hand and gives it a pat.
"Ah forgive me for worrying you. It seems like I had stayed up late too much last night. How about I retire for the day, yes?"
The kid, Yanqing nods aggressively. "Yes! Don't worry general I'll tell Lady Fu that you're not feeling well."
"Hmm. See to it. Thank you." With a smile that he doesn't feel, he stands up from his seat and hopes that he doesn't do it as shakily as he is inside.
His insides feels like it was curling at itself on pain. The ache was radiating from his right temple to his eye. Every step was excruciating, magnifying in its intensity that he's forced to swallow back and smile through.
He forgot. How can he forget Yanqing.
Preparations. He had to prepare. Fix things. Because he can't just leave like this.
Briefly he thinks of Yanqing. Young. Too young. Excitable and all to ready to jump in to battle, leaving Jing Yuan trying to appear cool headed and smile through the worry.
Briefly he thinks of Jing Liu. His master. Of the too heavy task left to him.
And he thinks, he can't do that to that kid. His kid. Because he has taught him many things. But he had never taught him yet on how to deal with loss. Of loss so great and debilitating it would leave you grasping your chest as if you have been cored. He had hoped that the boy won't have to learn that.
He will be gone soon. But he thinks that he doesn't want to leave that to Yanqing. He will protect him from this. It's the least he can do.
iv. It doesn't stop.
Jing Yuan gasps awake. "Ah-hah-" He can't-
He clutches at his chest as he tries to free himself from his bed. It was hot, stifling. His bedding felt like bindings on his legs, dragging him back to the bed as he attempts to get himself free. He crawls away away. He has to get away. He has to go to them. He needs to save-
With a thud he frees himself but slams on the floor. The force jolts against his shoulders. The excruciating pain that pierces his chest knocks the breath out of him. He can't breathe. He can't-
He curls on himself, mouth open in a soundless scream at the pain. He trembles as tears fall continuously from his eyes. He needs them. He needs them. Where are they? Where?
Jing Yuan gasps. He chokes on his first inhalation of air. Chokes on the second. His breathing was thready, uneven. Then he sobs.
"Yingxing. D-Dan Feng!" He calls. Ah. It hurts. It hurts. Where are they? They're supposed to be here. They said they'll be safe. Where. Come back.
"Come back," He breathes through his sob, face wet with tears and snot. He pushes himself off the floor, stumbling once and almost going back to the ground. He pushes himself off the unfamiliar bed, scared and in pain.
His hand catches the cool doorknob.
Then he remembers.
At once lucidity drops on him.
They're gone. He remembers. Yingxing is dead. Only Blade remains, a shell. Mara-struck and sanity gone. Dan Feng is gone. Punished and forced to undergo the cycle of rebirth. He had forgotten and has another life.
Only he remains. The Arbiter-General of Luofu. The Divine Foresight. One of the Six Charioteers.
He is strong and mighty. Wise and knowing. Yes. He remembers now.
Like it was never there, the distress on his face falls away. What remains was the blank relaxed mask he always wears. The only clue of his past distress was the last tears left on his face and the unruly clothing.
The general leans his forehead against the door and closes his eyes. It had begun it seems.
v. It won't stop.
The general stares at the mirror.
"You are Jing Yuan." He says with a start. "Seat of Divine Foresight. An Arbiter-General. One of Xianzhou's Six Charioteers." He continues.
It would probably look ridiculous to anyone else. But he ignores the thought. He was long past shame. Long past holding on to something ridiculous like dignity.
He is not Yingxing with his stupidly thin face. Intent on sticking to the cold persona. Nor is he Dan Feng with his ridiculous attempt to look dignified at all times. Intent on looking like an untouchable immortal.
So he sits down and looks at himself and repeats. Because he had started to forget. Started to falter. The mara is starting to set in.
But it is not his time yet. No. He has many to set right. So many things to fix. He can't go yet.
So he repeats it.
"You are Jing Yuan. Seat of Divine Foresight. An Arbiter-General. One of Xianzhou's Six Charioteers. Yingxing is gone. Dan Feng is banished. Bai Heng is dead. Jing Liu is an enemy."
He breathes.
He repeats it.
vi. When will it stop.
Yinyue-jun... No, Dan Feng is beautiful. Jing Yuan thinks.
Dan Feng smiles at him, softly. "A-Yuan," He says, voice clear and soothing. "Come lay with me." He beckons at the other, inviting in his gentleness.
There is a sense of comfort he exudes. Like a worn photograph, or the familiar taste of home-brewed tea, like the most comfortable sleeping robe he owned. It is a tender sight. The ache in his chest felt like it was being soothed. Like a warm kiss on an injury.
"Dan Feng?" He asks, voice but a whisper. Scared of shattering whatever it was he was seeing.
The other man simply shakes his head in amusement, long dark hair framing his face fluttering in his movement. "Silly A-Yuan, who else would it be? Come. It is time to rest."
Jing Yuan steps forward. One. Two. Until he was at his bed. A reach away from the other man.
"Hmm. A-Yuan seems tired. If you are, simply rest. Why be stubborn? How much suffering must you go through before you realize resting is okay?"
Jing Yuan sits down, eyes not faltering from the much beloved sight. Dan Feng smiles, his eyes crinkling like it used to. Fond and loving, the red lines in his eyes seeming gentler with such a look of softness.
"Rest now A-Yuan." Dan Feng raises his hand, slowly, like he's the one scared of shattering Jing Yuan to pieces.
His palm nears, the warmth in it enough to bring tears to Jing Yuan's eyes.
Then he's gone.
Jing Yuan blinks. The tear falls.
The sudden absence was like a void. Sucking in everything until all that's left is an aching empty feeling.
"Ah-" Jing Yuan clutches at his chest as he lurches forward. The bed was at least forgiving as he slumps, curling over and trembling from the pain. It resonates outward, the creeping crawling pain.
It decimates his control, his masks. Leaving him gasping and writhing as it envelopes him.
All he has is pain.
vii.
Then he sees them. Actually really sees them. And he knows it's them.
Because Blade, not Yingxing, Blade looks at him with his red eyes, unsettling in their inhumanness.
He walks towards him, confidently. Like a man that does not answer for crimes and millions of bounty. He smirks unhindered, tainted by mockery and confidence. Gone was the ticked up grin, fond and amused. There was a barely restrained intensity to him. Like a beast leashed, so close into tearing Jing Yuan apart.
Because Dan Heng looks at him and says, I'm not him.
If Jing Yuan had counted every time they broke his heart, he would soon tire of it. Which is why he didn't bother.
The plan continues on, despite this. Maybe even because of this. He was thankful in that at least.
When Dan Heng's spear catches him on the chest, he almost wishes that this was it. That it would end him. He needs it. Craves for it at that point. He is tired and he is old. They had forgotten and he was the only one left.
But he lives. Opens his eyes and manages to smile.
He lives.
viii. We are nearing the end.
Fu Xuan was saying something. It was probably something about his recovery. Or maybe something about the Astral Express' departure. Or maybe asking him to step down. Whatever. He should listen to it.
But the pink-haired woman's nagging falls away at the sight of Yingxing. Brilliant, brilliant Yingxing. Resplendent in his dark robes and white hair, frowning at Jing Yuan behind Fu Xuan's back.
A smile ticks up Jing Yuan's lips.
"She talks a lot, doesn't she?" Yingxing asks with a sigh as he leans against the visitor's chair. "Aeons, she almost talks as much as you." He continues, something aggrieved but fond on his voice as he looks at the general.
"What? Cat got your tongue?"
Jing Yuan remains silent. Eyes stuck on the blue eyes looking at him. It was beloved sight. The lines in Yingxing's face softens as he shakes his head. "You brat, you're tired aren't you."
The man steps forward, stepping in front of Jing Yuan. He squints his eyes in concentration, tilting his head as he observes the much younger man in front of him. The look of worry was familiar. Something that was usually hidden behind frowns and eyerolls but something that is revealed now.
"Ah seriously. I'm going to tell you on Dan Feng if you continue this. See how much you can pretend to be tough after he shows you those big eyes of his." Yingxing continues. Despite his words, he manages to get his concern across. And how could one not see it. The other was already stepping around the table to get closer towards the other, as if he can't bear the distance.
Jing Yuan follows him with eyes. Drinking the sight of him. Concerned and soft.
"Hey A-Yuan, you okay? You're quiet." He says finally. There was a crinkle on his forehead, his lips tilted downwards in upset. "You must hurt so much to be this quiet. You're usually all 'Yingxing-ge! Yingxing-ge!'" The forgemaster adds with an eyeroll. It was softened by his hand reaching towards Jing Yuan.
With his hands looking as if it were about to sweep his head back and feel his temperature, Yingxing says. "You can rest if you're tired you know. You don't have to push it every single time."
Then he disappears.
"General?"
Jing Yuan blinks. He stares at the pink haired woman in front of him.
"Where's Yingxing-ge?"
The woman frowns as if confused. "What? Who's Yingxing?"
The general looks down on his hand. "Ah."
Then his head lolls to the side, his body careening downwards.
"General! Guards! Call the High Elder!"
("You can't just do that to him!"
"Lady Fu, I understand your reservations. But the judges must remain im-"
"He is the General-Arbiter of Luofu! Well-loved by the people! Do you think they will just stand by when their beloved general disappears? Specially so close to an attack we just experienced? I do not need to use the Matrix of Prescience to know this will backfire."
"..."
"Give me time. Let him say goodbyes at least. You owe him that. Xianzhou owes him that.")
"Old friendships became scattered to the winds, and enemies were either captured or dead. Only memories remain. Fallen generals don't have to endure such torment, but those who survive have to go through it all, no matter how great a vision one has dreamed of and no matter how many overwhelming enemies one has defeated, time will always reduce one's strength little by little yet cruelly spares one's life, leaving one cowering in a corner and hating one's own powerlessness.
Only the truly wise can stand proud in front of the undefeated enemy called time."
But there is only so much you can hold on. Can you? He is long-lived. But not immortal. He is strong. But he is not omnipotent. He is wise. But he is not omniscient. There is only so much the general can do.
He is but a man. Who had weathered through heartbreaks and tragedy and death. He is not invulnerable. He is stronger than most, he is after all, the only one who was left. But even the cliffside must yield to the sea. And Jing Yuan had finally yielded to time.
ix. It ends like this.
The sun was out. Or at least the equivalent of it in the Luofu. It was bright and warm, streaming in through the bamboo leaves. It was golden and beautiful, an everyday sight everyone looks past at. Too used to it, taken for granted with its continuity and seeming permanence.
Jing Yuan sighs and tilts his head towards it, humming in appreciation.
The golden rays seem to press a kiss on his face, warming him. It was a warm day. Summer in their doors. Strangely enough, the man feels cold. A little jittery, but all in all something that can be ignored. The warmth of the sun is enough to chase it away.
The man looks down at the starchess board in front of him, halfway through a game. He was waiting for the young blond boy that was playing with him earlier. He had run off, a melancholic expression on his face. It was the face that was bravely trying to stop his tears.
He did not understand nor know the boy, but he knows the hardships of trying to compose yourself and appear strong. So he does not ask. He simply gives him a smile and a pat on the back, wishing him well.
So he stays here alone on the quintet's manor.
But he's not lonely. No. He's just waiting, they'll be here soon.
Jing Yuan smiles as he tilts his head towards the sun. He's cold. It's cold. Always. He does not know why. But the sunshine was enough to battle the jittery feeling inside.
He bets they were stalled by the bickering. He thinks amused as he pushes the hair that got to his right eye.
He can already see it, he thinks, fond and amused. Jing Liu and Yingxing always bickers. Two strong headed, stubborn, geniuses. Maybe they went and bought snacks, the two always convinced that what they had chosen was the best possible choice. It would probably end with Bai Heng pacifying his master and Yinyue-jun using his mediation skills to placate the two.
Or maybe it was Dan Feng himself that pissed of Yingxing. Jing Yuan laughs at this. Yinyue-jun, despite his dignified aura, has the unlikeliest skill of being getting under someone's skin. He does it even better than Bai Heng. Poor Yingxing-ge, if only his reaction isn't the funniest. He always ends up being the one teased.
Or maybe Bai Heng played another prank. Jing Yuan's eyes flutters shut for a moment before opening once again. She has the tendency to do that. Cunning and smart in battle she is, but she usually uses it as a fuel for her mischievous pranks. He can't wait to see her. And Jing Liu always always indulges her. And master says she doesn't play favorites.
Wrapped in blanket loaned to him by the young boy, he waits.
A door slides open.
Jing Yuan turns around to look. Immediately, a smile light up his features.
"Yingxing-ge, Dan Feng, welcome home."
("Bladie, you have to go."
"Another script?"
"Not this time."
She says a name. He rushes. As fast as he can.
His memories are unreliable. His lucidity and sanity even more so. Things are hard to grasp, literally and figuratively. His mind as faulty as his hand. But some things remain. Hatred, yes. Madness too. But also sometimes, golden eyes and cheerful smile. Pale hair and soft skin, a beauty mark below the sun-like eyes. Wise and kind and always there.
He is not Yingxing. Not anymore.
But he finds himself running away. Back there. Because not him too. Not A-Yuan)
("Dan Heng you are not any less of you if you wish to go back."
"..."
"I know it is complicated, your relationship with him. But there is no shame in seeing him once again."
He is not him. Dan Heng thinks. He had left his past, when he had left Xianzhou. The general had promised that his past will no longer hold him back when he had left it a second time. But. When he heard the news-
Something drops. There is an ache he can't quite explain. His eyes burn with something that he doesn't want to call tears.
He is not Dan Feng. Not anymore.
But he finds himself going back. Back there. To the man that he knows fought for his freedom.)
Dan Heng and Blade stare at each other. Dan Heng was called back here by the Master Diviner, an eloquently worded letter asking to come back. Blade, he knows, wasn't mentioned by the Master Diviner. It was highly likely that the other had sneaked in.
The tension was cutting, the silence drowning.
Then,
"Yingxing-ge, Dan Feng, welcome home."
Dan Heng stares at the general. He looked the same as ever. White hair, tied back in red. Handsome. But-
But he looks smaller now. More vulnerable. In plain white robes, as if already in mourning. Wrapped in an old worn blue blanket, embroidered by little birds. A soft smile on his face, welcoming, like he was content in waiting. And them coming home was enough fulfillment.
Dan Heng steps closer. Then he sees it.
His eyes were gold, like the sun had blessed him himself with twin set golden eyes. He only had one now. The other was red. Like freshly drawn blood. Ginkgo leaves peaks out from the back of his robe, a distraction from the delicate slope of his nape. Fragile. He looks too fragile despite the onset of Mara.
"A-Feng, why the sad face. Did you and Yingxing fight again?" The man swaddled in blanket attempts to stand up from where he was seating on the porch.
Dan Heng steps back, something a little wretched and bitter spreading in him. General, he thinks, did you not promise that I would no longer have to walk in anyone's shadow?
Jing Yuan barely has his feet below him before he stumbles. In a flash, Blade was beside him, a steadying arm in his waist.
The Stellaron Hunter's face was blank, but there was an undercurrent of distress on him. A certain sort of despair that he can't quite hide. Dan Heng hates himself a little for knowing the little cues in the face that was supposed to be a stranger's.
"Ah, thank you Yingxing-ge." The name made Blade want to recoil. To run far away from this suffocating little place. From this man left behind who can see nothing but the shadows and memories of people who were long gone.
The movement reveals more skin, gold creeping into scarred porcelain.
It was a painful confirmation.
"Hmm. I can't believe you two are arguing right now. Come, let's talk about it. Nothing tea couldn't fix. Or maybe a harder drink shall mellow you two down." The man chuckles as he moves Blade's hand off his waist and gives it an affectionate pat.
"General." Dan Heng's voice was pained. Thousand unsaid words in one word. Unheard by the man who laughs, like misery isn't in the air.
"Not yet A-Feng."
There was something unsaid when he entered Luofu and was welcomed by the Master Diviner. She talked about intertwined fates. About beginning and endings. Metaphor after metaphor. A knowing look. A pitying look. A despairing look.
Dan Heng had asked about Yanqing. But the Master Diviner had looked away and said that the General had hoped that his disciple won't have to follow his path.
She sighs and says. I leave him to you.
And it's cruel, the softness in the way she says it. Like she wasn't asking for something that cores Dan Heng.
A part of him wonders if it should be easier. Because doing it. Ending this. Ending him would be another severance of the thread that connects him to his past. Should it be freeing? Would he feel lighter if he accepts it? Will he finally taste freedom?
Freedom. What would it taste like. Certainly not like this. Not like despair and an almost debilitating ache from a man he doesn't even know deeply. Not like the tears trying to burn his eyes, aching to fall. He does not know this man. He insists. But his heart aches all the same.
He steps forward, hands clenched.
Blade does too. Their eyes meet, the Stellaron Hunter's a little too knowing.
"Will you do it?" He asks, voice cutting.
Dan Heng does not answer.
Blade summons his sword and steps in front of Jing Yuan.
Jing Yuan simply tilts his head to the side, confused and looking entirely too soft.
Death is something he longed for. Something he had seek for centuries. It's comforting embraced was something he wished for. Who is he to deprive someone of it?
Wrath had powered him. The denial of his own will for death had transformed him into something less than human. Had stolen his sanity. Had turned him into something he was today.
He should kill him. This man who had forgotten, who looked at them and sees shadows.
But-
It kills him to say this. An inkling of understanding settles over him, over Dan Feng's past decision.
The desperation of keeping this clumsy broken man. The almost dizzying urge to clutch at him and never let go. He wants to hold on desperately, wretchedly.
"Yingxing-ge? A-Feng?"
Dan Heng and Blade's eyes meet.