Chapter Text
That mysterious feeling starts on a completely ordinary visit to Mortefi’s lab.
As the dust settles on Jinzhou's Threnodian disaster, so does peace settle on the city. Jiyan’s presence is no longer required on the frontline nearly as often, but there is still much work cut out for him. Frequently, it brings him to Huaxu Academy to seek advice on the strategic and logistical details of city defense.
The first time, he bumps into Mortefi by coincidence, and despite the rumors of Mortefi’s short temper, he inquires patiently about Jiyan’s purpose for dropping by. But what truly subverts Jiyan’s expectations is not Mortefi’s generosity, nor is it his promise to devise a solution within the day—and that he ends up fulfilling his promise in half the time. It is how it happens again, and again, and again; Mortefi listens to Jiyan’s every problem whenever they see each other, yet any of Jiyan’s gratitude or attempts at repayment would simply be waved away. It makes Jiyan wonder how Mortefi created so much notoriety for himself in the first place.
Over the next few times, the initial surprise becomes normalcy, then eventually habit. Business at the Huaxu Academy means business in Mortefi’s lab—a logical outcome, since their mutual familiarity translates to higher efficiency than if Jiyan were to find another researcher. On the rare occasion where he has a pocket of free time, Mortefi offers him a seat in the lab, and the two chat about anything under the sun as Mortefi works: the trinkets on the desk, the Midnight Rangers' latest exploits, and even the history of classical music on one occasion.
One day, Jiyan drops by the lab, and it starts off like any other day. Surrounded by companionable silence as he waits, he unknowingly drifts off to sleep until he is gently roused awake.
“It’s done,” Mortefi tells him. Then, with a quirk of his lips, he adds: “If you’re tired, don’t sleep here. Nod off in the wrong direction and you might accidentally press a button that’ll leave you with a limb less.”
“Yes, I’m aware of how it is here,” Jiyan chuckles. “Thank you for your quick work, as usual.”
“Don’t mention it. By the way, you left this flower here last time.”
The redhead points to a Pecok stalk sitting in a vase at the corner of his table.
“A flower...? Ah, right,” Jiyan recalls after a while. “It's nothing much. I found it scattered on the road the other day, but thought it was a waste to let it be, pristine as it was. Thanks for holding onto it, though—you can have it, if you like? As a token of my gratitude.”
He gets a side-eye in return. “I'd usually refuse, but I suppose I could lessen the General's burden by being his gardener.”
"That's—Mortefi, that's not what I meant..."
At Jiyan's fluster, Mortefi huffs out a laugh. But after a moment, he falls silent, eyes softening.
“Besides,” he adds quietly, “it should be me who thanks you, General. For all you do for us. Without you, Huanglong and its children might never know the peace we have today.”
At that very moment, something washes over Jiyan. Something intense.
He can’t pinpoint where it comes from. It seems to come from every corner of the lab he frequents so often, which he suddenly realizes he knows like the back of his hand by now; or perhaps it’s from the Pecok, blooming beautifully and cared for when he had just absently picked it up. It even seems to originate from Mortefi himself—his loyal friend who always helps him out with a focused crease of his brows, this rare warmth in his words and gentleness in his expression somewhat out of place, but so…right.
Jiyan suddenly finds himself wanting to fiercely protect that precious smile for the rest of his life, and he doesn't know why.
But the feeling is not a bad one, so to speak, and the next few weeks go by without him quite being able to put a name on it—that is, until he agrees to meet up with a few friends for lunch, and their idle conversation strikes him with a world-shattering epiphany.
“It’s that time of the year again,” Chixia sighs dramatically, setting down her empty bowl. “Flowers everywhere, fancy chocolates on discount, heartfelt letters mysteriously appearing on people’s desks…oh, when will it be my turn?”
Yangyang giggles. “Things always get exciting around this time. There’s still a week left to go, but I’ve already seen someone getting down on one knee in the middle of the city. Remember that, Rover?”
“Oh, yes,” Rover agrees amusedly. “It was really something. He suddenly started waxing poetic in the middle of the street—You’re like my sun in the night, I could be lost in your eyes forever, please let me protect you from all harm and let me stay by your side for eternity’—those kinds of things. The other guy was red as a tomato, but he just wouldn’t stop even though everyone was staring. You could tell his heart was bursting, like he’d die if he didn’t say it.”
In Jiyan’s head, something finally clicks.
“That’s it!” the General exclaims as he slams his teacup on the table, causing his friends (and a couple of diners nearby) to jump. “That’s exactly it!”
“Holy crap, you scared the hell out of me,” Rover gives him a wide-eyed stare. “What’s it?”
“Sorry,” Jiyan murmurs, slightly abashed at his outburst. “I’ve been trying to figure something out for a while. It’s just—that scene you described just now, it…”
It was exactly that mysterious feeling that Jiyan had been struggling to put into words for the past few weeks. No—now that Jiyan thinks about it carefully, it might even have been floating in the back of his head for months.
“It’s that feeling,” Jiyan presses on, attempting to chase down the thought. “That strong desire to protect someone, so much that my heart feels it’s about to burst, that I feel as though I could cherish something as simple as a smile for the rest of my life—that’s the feeling I’ve been struggling so hard to put a name to. It’s been in my head all day and all night for the past few weeks, but I thought it was just me. Please tell me, my friends: have you felt that before? Just what exactly is that feeling?”
His friends exchange a look.
A beat later, Chixia breaks into laughter, Yangyang hides another giggle in her hands, and a wry smirk creeps up Rover’s lips.
“Jiyan,” Rover grins, leaning forward, “are you in love?”