Archive of Our Own

And what could he have said?

That he would rather go back and guard the Express?

That ice trickled into his veins at the mere mention of the prison?

That he was… scared?

Still scared?

Dan Heng clenched his teeth.

…No.

Those weren’t options, and he couldn’t afford to consider them.

Because now was not the time.

“…I’m okay with that,” he said, feeling his mouth move on its own accord, hoping the words sounded natural. 

Judging by the way everyone moved on to the next matter of business, it seemed to have been.

And so, he fully agreed to the conditions in which they would be questioned. If this was necessary to help provide credible information, then so be it. He’ll be fine — he had to be, he told himself, even though he felt far from the definition of it.

But as soon as his thoughts drifted away from the poorly constructed self reassurances and back to the inevitable topic, he could’ve sworn the room’s temperature dropped a bit. Considering that no one else was affected, maybe it was all in his head, yet he still felt somewhat chilly.

Whatever it was, he suppressed his shivers, the short debrief concluding.

Jing Yuan offered his condolences for the sudden, but necessary, change of events, reassuring them it’ll be a simple process and not much would be required of them. But in Dan Heng’s opinion, anything involving The Shackling Prison was all but simple. The labyrinth of cells and pathways, decorated with chains and complex mechanisms, were accompanied by the pungent stench of dread. Those were just a few, known tiny details that supported his claim, making it evident that much was required to stay afloat the crawling and unmistakable sensation of fear. But he inhaled and exhaled slowly through his nose, recollecting himself.

He’ll trust Jing Yuan on this.

A testimony and then they’ll be on their way. It was as easy as it sounded, so there was no reason to overthink a rather simple plan.

He let his posture slacken a bit, ignoring the quiet, contemplative look all three generals eventually gave him, faces displaying their versions of what could’ve been concern and sympathy, but he pushed it all aside.

He’d be alright.

“As you wish, General,” he said, pleased to find he was more aware of himself speaking this time around. Caelus glanced at him, the concern on his own face almost too much for him to handle. But Dan Heng nodded in his direction, imparting a reassurance that he would be fine.

He wasn’t sure how long Caelus stared at him, the man obviously not believing him outright. But, reluctantly, Caelus nodded in return, sighing.

“Let’s get going,” Caelus confirmed.

…And so they did.

* * *

But how should he have felt?

Less intimidated by the sealed gate now towering before them?

Less anxious about standing in the midst of this horrid place?

…Less frightened?

Dan Heng clenched his hands.

No…

These, too, weren’t options, and he couldn’t afford to consider them.

Because it still wasn’t the time.

“The Shackling Prison… I didn’t expect to be back here after all these years,” he found himself mumbling.

As soon as he uttered the words, an air of stillness draped over his shoulders like a scratchy blanket, uncomfortable and unrelenting. His clothes felt too heavy with the added weight. Even his skin felt too tight.

For a moment, he didn’t see the messenger, nor Caelus, his eyes flitting up to the imposing gate. The face on it bored holes into his person as though it remembered him, but this gate wasn’t the one he recalled leaving through. The exact details of it were fuzzy and not worth remembering to begin with, but this particular gate in front of them might as well have been similar enough to invoke such a feeling of bitter nostalgia. If it did share a connection to all the other gates, perhaps it was wondering why, why of all places, he was back here? 

If it could actually ask such a question, he would say the circumstances around his being here was strictly for business, and that’s all it was.

He was well aware that he did not return because he did something wrong.

It would be unreasonable to believe so, the facts reigning true.

It was for a testimony and then they’d leave.

Yet, the memories disagreed, keen on insisting that these present irrationalities were the reason — insisting that he truly committed a crime severe enough to fall back into this dreadful and hopeless place.

But he wasn’t here because he did something wrong.

And he knew it wasn’t his own actions that caused him to wind up here before. He’s long understood that much.

So why did standing here make it feel different despite all the facts on his side?

His brow furrowed.

Was it because it smelled the same? 

The damp and stale quality of the air intermingled with the scent of oxidized metal. It was an irritating combination of smells, persistently tickling his nose to the point that leaving would be the only way to alleviate said irritation. 

He remembered covering his nose in a vain attempt to block most of it out, his cell reeking strongly of it. Eventually, he gave up trying, growing begrudgingly accustomed to the itchy sensation in his nostrils and to the subtle tingling at the back of his throat. But he also knew that even after leaving the smell would linger, clearly remembering how long it took for him to actually smell the fresh air on the surface given the amount of time he spent in the prison. It came as a shock to him, having briefly believed that the prior smell was the norm, but he was pleased to know this wasn’t the case.

Dan Heng wriggled his nose at the memories, already missing the surface again.

His brow scrunched up further. 

Or was it because it looked the same? 

Coming as a visitor today meant a majority of his experiences would be entirely new since it wasn’t like he took a tour to see anything else when he was imprisoned. He would never plan to make an arrangement for one now either. If such arrangements were even possible, who would take that offer? 

Regardless of this, it was undeniable that, from this new perspective, it was still dark and uninviting, two words out of many that served as suitable descriptors. 

But… when he thought about it, if his cell was just a small extension of the brooding atmosphere, then he could only imagine how everywhere else would be. 

‘Dark and uninviting’ would be scratching the surface then. 

Whatever other words better fitting for the prison’s image were lost on him, but he’s sure there was something.

However, as he took in the prison’s vastness, right now, despite already knowing how small he was in this universe — a fact that didn’t bother him as much, he somehow… felt even smaller here.

…And that bothered him.

A sudden, harsh wave of powerlessness swept over, adding to the scratchy blanket of stillness, his breaths faltering.

So was it… because it all felt the same? 

The cold continued to flood in from every angle, his fingertips on their way to numbing. He remembered how hard it was to keep warm, joints stiffening and nose constantly runny. Sometimes he wound up with a fever, but even those weren’t enough to drive the cold away. 

And ever since then he never cared for lower temperatures, tolerating them at best when he had to venture back into them. In areas like Belobog, he kept his discomfort at bay, for there were, much like now, bigger issues to take care of. But this…

This w-was—

It was getting harder to breathe.

But this was different…

The world grew dark at the corners until all he could see was the gate.

It stared, expectantly.

Waiting.

And the cold…

The cold made the memories buzz, their clatter bouncing off the walls in his mind.

He blinked, the world darkening further, the face of the gate blurring too.

The flow of time thickened.

…Why was he—

He frowned, confusion coating reason.

Why was he back here… again?

Something nearby rattled, clinking against the floor; clinking closely near his ears — familiar.

Were those… 

Were those… chains?

What were they doing here?

…Were they meant for him?

If so, then… why?

His breath hitched again, stuttering oddly in his chest, the air lost on where it should be going.

Was it…

…Was it because—

Dan Heng blinked hard.

No.

The world snapped into focus, minimal light pouring back into view in a disorienting manner.

No.

There were no chains.

That wouldn’t make sense—

He heard the clinking again but this time searched for where it could have come from. His eyes wandered, trying to make the action look inconspicuous, when he saw something on the messenger’s clothes shift with his arm, producing the soft clinking sound he’d heard.

He nearly laughed.

Now he felt ridiculous.

Of course there were no chains, especially none for him.

Because he was not here because he did something wrong.

…He wasn’t—

“Dan Heng…” a familiar voice mumbled, concern applied thickly to it.

Fighting the urge to jump, Dan Heng turned to Caelus as naturally as he should’ve, the stifling air finally moving, time resuming along with it, leaving him wondering just how much had actually passed. Worry and a question rested prominently in Caelus’ golden eyes, piercing through him with an intensity akin to that of the gate. There was no judgment or accusation — just the same open and honest concern, stronger than earlier. The ache from his memories were mostly soothed by it, but at the same time, it did little to fully comfort him.

He didn’t feel fine, anxiety clustering in his stomach, even though there was nothing to worry about.

Yet, he was more than ready to leave despite them just arriving, because…

…Because he didn’t feel safe, even though there was no danger. There wasn’t, and he understood this… and it should’ve been easy to continue understanding.

I don’t like being here, he thought.

I want to leave, he thought.

I’m not okay, he thought.

But, he settled on saying:

“Don’t worry about me.”

Luckily, Caelus didn’t get the chance to expand on the statement, the messenger soon asking if they were ready. Unable to answer himself, Caelus took up the mantle, asking something he failed to pick up on, ruminations sweeping him away, only to be broken out of them when the gate pried open.

The air released from the pressure hit his face, releasing another batch of disjointed memories. Beyond the gate’s teeth, it was easy to see that nothing pleasant was waiting for them. 

The messenger walked ahead, but Caelus had yet to move, facing him.

“…Are you ready?” he asked, voice soft, barely above a whisper, as if others were listening. Dan Heng tore his eyes away from the open gate and met his gaze, eventually nodding, not trusting himself to speak. Again, Caelus hesitated for a while before humming, taking a tentative step forward.

“Then let’s… get going.”

And… so they did.

* * *

Now what could he do?

Look around the room they were waiting in and let curiosity take over?

He screwed up his face at that.

There was nothing of interest here.

Then should he strike up a conversation with one of the people already there?

Looking away, he hid his face.

He didn’t feel up to talking. 

So should he just… stand there?

Well, that seemed like the best option anyway, because what other options did he really have?

From the corner of his eye, he briefly caught Caelus peering at the large screen beside him, reading the information listed on it. Looking a little closer himself, it appeared to be a monitoring screen keeping an attentive eye on all the cells and prisoners. Information seemed to update regularly, cell conditions changing at differing rates depending on who was inside. It also looked like vitals were taken periodically as well, additional information specifying the prisoners’ behaviors and other smaller details flashing beside their names. The list was extensive, properly matching the massive size of the prison, and he could only imagine the amount of work it took to keep everything in order and not get overwhelmed. It made his work in the Archives look like child’s play.

But it was then he realized that… his own information may have been recorded on this screen too… and apart from what he’s learned and known, he wondered what it would have said about his imprisonment.

A faint shift in one of the cells’ were reported, the subsequently timed alert, small and barely noticeable, blinking amidst the sea of names. He only managed to spot it because he was staring in that general area, but it appeared a cell’s conditions would have to change drastically within a certain time frame, implying that whoever was inside may grow irritable or more hostile. 

A shiver skittered down his spine.

To work inside a facility filled with the most dangerous of criminals day by day, knowing full well that these were common occurrences, was unsettling. He commended everyone’s bravery, for it was a given that anyone sent away to this place wouldn’t be the happiest and would surely be prone to anger.

Someone crossed in front of him, stared at the screen, impassive, and with a few practiced inputs, the activity in the cell stabilized as though nothing happened. After the person left, Dan Heng stared at the section they modified.

Was… this how they might’ve changed the conditions of his own cell to reflect the punishment he should be receiving? On certain days, it felt colder than usual, and for a place already so frigid, that said a lot. Were these changes intended for the person they originally locked away? 

Were they meant to be for him?

Or did those specifications truly matter in the end?

Dan Heng shook his head.

It was best not to ponder a now irrelevant detail.

But a detail he couldn’t ignore was just how dark his cell was. It was like staring into a black hole, inescapable and endless, the cold trapped inside with him.

He squinted at the screen.

Did they purposefully… make it like that? 

Whether they did or not, his desperation for warmth never eased under the weight of those conditions, and until he could feel the sun and embrace all he’d read about, he believed such poor conditions were normal too. 

By the mercy of Jing Yuan’s effective persuasion, he was able to realize the world outside was so different from what was depicted on brittle, worn pages. The pages themselves felt like sandpaper — not too coarse, but enough to make his fingertips feel rough and gritty. Despite the texture, he adjusted his eyes to the dark and handled those books with care, for their tangibility were all he had to latch onto — their words all he had to yearn for.

And he yearned for many things back then:

For a proper explanation, or anything that could help make sense of why he was there. From the dark, he emerged clueless and blamed for things that only existed in fragmented memories — those of which belonged to someone he never knew and would never be. But that was enough to form all the harsh opinions he grew used to hearing.

For an opportunity to explain himself, even though it didn’t seem like anyone would listen. He’d been branded a criminal, and by everyone else’s accounts, that was all there was to it, leaving no room for nuance or negotiation. And, even when negotiations had been made, and even with the air mostly clear now, he couldn’t help noticing the way eyes lingered on him as though waiting — waiting for him to slip up and find an excuse worthy enough to cast him away again.

For a chance to hope that… things would be okay. Hope was slippery and the small piece he managed to cling to during that time was harder to maintain. He treated it like something precious, shielding it from the dark world around him, for he was unsure of how long he’d be trapped there. 

Dan Heng blinked away, exhaling a deep, ragged breath, a trail of mist swirling in front of his face.

It was clear coming back did not help push the memories, that were truly his own, away, and it was ironic that the same man who helped him to be released was the same man who, under different circumstances, needed him back here. It was to help him, he understood that, but he couldn’t shake off the unease continuing to creep up his spine, nor the cold.

Because…

“This place… it’s still as cold as it used to be,” he whispered, vision blurring a bit. Whether his words prompted the air to become more crisp or not, he couldn’t tell, but he was certain he felt more uncomfortable. His desire to leave increased to unfathomable heights.

But he had to stay.

He…

Dan Heng grimaced.

He had to stay—

“Are you okay, Dan Heng?” a voice asked, abruptly pulling him free from his daze. He released a small gasp, vapor momentarily covering his line of sight as he locked eyes with Caelus. Within these past few hours, worry seemed to reside permanently on his face, golden eyes glinting with an impossibly more radiant concern. Dan Heng regained a majority of his composure, nodding on a sigh.

“Sorry, I was just reminiscing about some unpleasant memories.”

Caelus’ shifted, took a step forward, and leaned closer, granting them some privacy. “Once we’re done with the testimony, we’ll leave immediately,” he stated.

Dan Heng let a faint smile ghost over his lips but let the expression fall away when they quivered. “Thank you, Caelus,” he said, desperately hoping his voice sounded stable enough until a sudden pulse of something deep and wrenching wormed its way into his chest. He stared at the man before him, considered their surroundings, and frowned, the feeling pulsing strongly to the point of being almost unbearable. His mouth began to move, sour words tumbling out.

“It’s… all my fault that you were involved in the Xianzhou’s problems. You shouldn’t—” he took in a quick breath, “you shouldn’t have to see the inside of The Shackling Prison.”

He wouldn’t want any of them to see the inside. Their bright personalities would mesh poorly with all the gloom, and Caelus was a testament of that.

Should he have advocated to go by himself somehow? Information from both of them were still required, but maybe something could’ve been arranged?

A strange surge of wetness pricked his eyes.

He blinked it away.

Because now was not the time.

Dan Heng looked at Caelus once more and the feeling, that he now recognized as guilt, twisted sharply.

“…I’m so sorry,” he whispered, balling up his fists, fingernails pressing into his rough palms. “I wish I could show you the real sights of the Luofu.”

The words came out surprisingly clear, free of the shakiness his body was currently trying to hold back, because there truly were so many beautiful sights to see — so many places he would love to show them that he knew they’d enjoy. But instead they were here.

All because of him.

He exhaled, reaching forward to pat Caelus’ hand, offering him a comfort he couldn’t feel himself. Whether the other man needed it or not, he didn’t know, but it was the least he could do.

It was all he could do.

Retracting his hand, Dan Heng found it hard to focus on anything else other than his shoes. The soft, almost nonexistent, murmurs from the people around them filled the background, while the memories, a blurred mess of them, were raucous against the quiet.

Healed wounds and scars ached as a reminder of a prior torment he could only recall through pieces alone.

The haunting sound of chains jingled in his head as a lasting reminder of why he sometimes felt phantom sensations in his wrists.

And the insufferable cold, a reminder of just how… lonely he felt, swarmed like a vortex.

Because no one was there.

An involuntary shiver winded through his frame, one he couldn’t hold back, vision adopting a muted gray palette. Something ran down his face, damp and shameful.

His breath hitched.

Because that’s what made it worse, wasn’t it.

That no one was there…

His heart ached.

No one was there—

A heavy warmth barreled into him after the private admission, nearly knocking him off his feet. Eyelids fluttering, a quick exhale forced its way out as confusion set in. Something tugged him closer toward the warmth, holding him fiercely.

But this was The Shackling Prison.

It’s not meant to be this warm. Its location made it impossible, and by its own standards, it was never designed to be.

Dan Heng fidgeted, realization dawning.

“C-Caelus?” he squeaked out. “W-What are you doing?”

A soft laugh echoed in his ears, light and carefree. “What does it look like? I’m giving you a hug.”

“B-But… But why?”

“Because it looked like you could use one.”

The simple words rested heavily in his head.

Dan Heng squirmed after making accidental eye contact with a stranger. “There’s p-people around…”

“So? I don’t care,” Caelus chuckled, holding him tighter. “You looked like you could use one,” he repeated.

The following warmth bled into his body, gradually forcing a bit of the cold away. Words and talking were rendered momentarily inaccessible, Dan Heng’s throat stuffed with an emotion he couldn’t describe. He glanced down at Caelus’ shoulder, the details in the black and yellow fabric becoming indistinguishable.

“But… n-now is not the t-time,” he murmured, progressively sinking further into Caelus’ embrace like a puppet cut loose. “We have important t-things we have to do.”

“We have some time now before we get to them,” Caelus said around a hum, “and I would rather you not bottle up what you’ve been feeling during it, or at any time, actually.”

Dan Heng froze.

“I-I don’t know what you mean—”

“Don’t start that with me,” Caelus interrupted, but not unkindly. Dan Heng let out a tiny, somewhat frustrated breath.

“I-I said I’ll be alright, C-Caelus…” he said, throat dry. “I’m f-fine—”

“I don’t think looking as though you’re haunted by something is ‘fine,’” Caelus stated firmly. “You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling, and no one expects you to either.”

A beat of silence wedged itself between them, but the air still moved — and time still flowed.

“I… know how much this bothers you — has been bothering you…” Caelus continued quietly, “so it’s okay to say you’re not feeling great.”

“But this task is i-important,” Dan Heng mumbled weakly.

“It is, but so are you, you know,” Caelus responded easily. “I hope you haven’t forgotten.”

Dan Heng heard the smile in his voice, and something about that made his chest tighten.

“We can’t afford… t-this—”

“We can,” Caelus interjected. “Whatever you’re thinking, this won’t be like before. We promise you that.”

Dan Heng hid his face, the spot on Caelus’ shoulder dampening instantaneously. After a long moment, he breathed out a brittle laugh.

“T-That’s quite the promise you’re making…”

“Mmm, that’s true. But it’s one worth keeping.”

And the warmth rushed back, blooming, spreading out until every inch of his body was engulfed in it. It’s the warmest he’s felt today, the freezing temperatures having clung to his body with little to no remorse, but now it was surprisingly… tolerable. 

The cold wasn’t sinking its teeth into his skin, now reduced to faint pinpricks; it wasn’t stirring up old memories, the rapid train of thoughts slowing to a halt and resting in the present, awaiting for the tracks to fully change. All the while, the tears, emotions, and everything in between were deposited on Caelus’ poor shoulder, but the man didn’t seem to mind, welcoming his weight and taking on more of it as he sunk deeper into the hold.

Dan Heng sniffed, another round of silent tears leaking out of his eyes, cringing a little at the mess he was surely making. He would’ve made way to wipe them, but with Caelus holding him in a near vice grip, it was impossible to. And… a part of him feared that if he moved away, the warmth would leave too.

So there he stayed, transfixed to the spot in a hold he thought was a bit tighter than necessary, but he didn’t mind, instead choosing to relish in the comfort he didn’t think, at least during this time, he’d be able to receive.

His hand grasped the side of Caelus’ jacket in an attempt to return the hug — to show that he appreciated the gesture, but that’s all he could manage. Caelus uttered a hum, and Dan Heng took it as a sign that the other was aware of that…

…And that it was okay.

And as time ticked away, and as the tears slowed, Caelus finally moved, loosening the hold by a margin.

“When we leave, and after things settle down, you can show all of us what you’d like us to see,” Caelus exclaimed softly. “Only if you still want to, of course.”

Dan Heng nodded, breathing an exhausted sigh. “I… I would.”

“Have any places in mind?”

“Mm. A-A couple.”

“Then make sure you remember them, cuz the first thing we’re gonna do after this is go exploring.”

Dan Heng found some energy to laugh.

“After a… b-break,” he said.

Caelus laughed too.

“The second thing then.”

“Pardon me,” another voice spoke.

Dan Heng felt Caelus turn his head and turn back. A gentle squeeze was given before Caelus slowly pried himself away. Dan Heng quickly dried his face with the back of his sleeve, grateful Caelus decided to stand in front of him for the time being.

“Welcome dear guests from the Express. Judge Hanya of the Interrogation Division, we’ve met before.”

“Miss Hanya?” Caelus said, a bit surprised.

“Glad to meet you again, Caelus,” Hanya responded, expressing her gratitude for a prior incident that occurred some time ago. Dan Heng hummed, amused, stepping from behind Caelus once he felt he looked presentable.

“L-Looks like while March and I were clueless, you already made many friends on the Xianzhou Luofu. But, knowing you, it isn’t so surprising.”

Caelus puffed a short laugh. “Well, you know. Pom-Pom takes care of us at home, and friends take care of us on the road. That’s just how it goes,” he said knowingly.

The words fluttered around his head as Hanya explained the next phase of their visit, instructing them to follow her carefully. She started moving, but Dan Heng stayed behind for a second, rubbing his eyes to reorient himself.

The memories would come and go, but he’ll get better at handling them.

The residual aches would linger, but he will get used to them too.

And, even though the cold would remain… 

…so would they.

Because this trailblazing lifestyle allowed him to step toward those second chances, stepping beyond all his past yearnings, fortifying that glimmer of hope into something more consistent.

It was then he realized the warmth from before had yet to diminish, his previous concerns of it disappearing fading. It seemed to burn a little more now, protecting him against the persistent chill and dispersing the loneliness.

When he removed his hands, the world speckled back into view. Caelus was waiting for him while Hanya, already a couple steps ahead, had stopped and turned around, curious.

Meeting Caelus’ eyes, Dan Heng nodded, chest a touch lighter and his mind a little less turbulent as they walked up to and traveled through the shifting screen.

Dan Heng exhaled another sigh as they proceeded further, Hanya peeking over her shoulder to check if they were still nearby. Caelus nodded at her but slowed down, turning back to him, shooting another look — one that asked if he was ready to continue.

With a steadier breath, Dan Heng hummed in return and kept walking.

He still didn’t feel completely fine, and he didn’t expect to, leftover nerves still finding their way to his hands and chest, but… he believed he would be alright in time.

No longer alone, and with friends to help him on this difficult road, it was easy to be more certain of this.

And that made all the difference.

Dan Heng reached Caelus, walking side by side, matching his pace.

“Let’s get going,” he said clearly, a small, more genuine, smile crossing his face.

And so, they did.