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Yanqing coughed painfully, panting as blood dripped onto the arena floor from the gash in his arm, wrapped over his chest in an attempt to stave off the burning ache in his side. If his ribs hadn’t been broken from Hoolay’s claw, then they definitely were now.
Another tick on the ever growing tally.
Adrenaline pounded like a deafening drumbeat through his chest, fear an endless plea screaming for him to run, to get out of there before it was too late. He refused. He wouldn’t leave his friends or doom his men. He was the Lieutenant and they needed him to be strong. Besides, the fumes of battle were the only reason he was even still standing.
Without it, he was done for.
He wasn’t going to last much longer as it was. His power had long since reached its limits, ice starting to creep along his fingertips, dust his cheeks, and yet he continued to push, burning the edges regardless of how his body begged for him to stop.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not when he had people relying on him to get them out of here safely.
Not when he had a promise to keep.
General Feixiao growled, the sound wild and bestial, her red-rimmed eyes boring into him with merciless disgust. Wind howled around her, lashing in furious gales as she stepped forward.
“Back down, beast.” She snarled. “Take your death with some dignity.”
Yanqing spit a mouthful of saliva mixed with blood onto the floor as he forced himself straighter, willing his trembling knees to bare his weight. Blood ran into his left eye and his hair, long-since fallen from its ponytail, whipped around him in the vicious wind. He needed to end this, and soon. Before anyone else got hurt.
Raising his arms, a small cavalry of frozen swords danced around him, acting more as shield than weapon.
“General,” he called out, trying to force his exhausted voice into some semblance of clarity. “You have to snap out of it. Please. This isn’t you. This isn’t the path you want to take!”
“Master!” He glanced out of the corner of his eye just enough to see Yunli and March huddled nearby the railed edge of the arena. March was doing her best to use the sash from her uniform as a tourniquet for the steadily bleeding gash in Yunli’s side. The two were beat up, but thankfully still breathing. Good. He planned to keep it that way.
“Don’t worry,” Yanqing said, turning his gaze firmly back to the Arbiter-General. “I won’t let anything else happen to you two.”
He could hear Yunli’s frustrated growl behind him. “You idiot, you’re going to get yourself killed like this! Just forget it. We need to get out of here!”
“I’m not leaving her!” Yanqing barked, gritting his teeth as General Feixao lunged for him. He threw his ice swords up, taking the brunt of her axe.
“Die, Abomination!” Feixiao spat, raising her axe to slash into him again.
Yanqing grunted, the force of the wind and her strike pushing him back. His knee almost gave in, but he held strong, even as his ice sword cracked under the weight.
“Please, General, you have to hear me!” He cried. “Snap out of it!”
“General!”
General Feixiao cried out, raising her axe to strike him again. Yanqing threw his arms up in a last ditch effort to protect himself, braced for the pain he knew was to come, his swords unable to keep up their defense.
However, the strike never came. Yanqing blinked, looking up to see the Merlin’s Claw’s arms drop, her axe clattering to the floor just as her knees gave in. Yanqing yelped, lunging forward. He caught her before the general could hit the ground, struggling under her weight. He winced as his wounds tugged and stung, but didn’t have to bear the brunt for long. He heard a grunt and Yunli slid under her other side, helping to support her.
“Is she…” Yunli started.
A weak laugh startled them both, looking down as General Feixao slowly raised her head. Her teal eyes were back to normal - no red to be seen.
“I’m alive…” she croaked, “And me once more.”
Her gaze fell on Yanqing, a mix of gratitude and deep guilt. “Thank you.”
Yunli sighed in relief. Yanqing merely nodded. “Of course. It’s my duty, General.”
“Fei!”
Yanqing looked up just as the Arbiter-General’s guard (Moze, if he remembered right) rushed towards them. Even with blood running down his arm and leg from claw-like gashes he took her weight off of them with little struggle, supporting her as she came back to herself.
It seems the general was just as surprised as the rest of them, as she looked stupified at her young guard’s deeply set frown.
“Moze?” She croaked. “What are you doing here? What about Jiaoque?”
“We found him…” he murmured, taking a shaky breath, like he was fighting to keep his mask of indifference firmly in place despite its edges starting to crack. Yanqing could just make out the glaze of tears at the edges of the man’s vision “He…he…”
He paused, taking a deep breath. “…they said they would do everything they can…”
General Feixiao seemed to understand his meaning, nodding. She slipped her arm around his shoulder for support, pressing her forehead to his temple in a surprising show of tenderness. “He’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”
Moze swallowed, but said nothing. His eyes slid to Yanqing. “We should get out of here.”
“R-right!” Yanqing cleared his throat, looking at the remaining Cloud Knights.
“Listen up! Whoever can still move, aid any comrade or civilian you can. Head to the skiffs.”
“Yes, sir!”
Yanqing picked up his fallen sword and General Feixao’s blade, walking over to hand it to her.
“I believe you’ll be wanting this back.”
She chuckled weakly as she accepted the blade, giving him a thankful look. “I knew I could count on you, kid. Jing Yuan definitely raised you right.”
“I’m just glad I could help.” Yanqing admitted, feeling a blush burn his cheeks.
“Come on, you need rest.” Moze said, guiding the general out.
Yunli went to help March stand and then they followed the rest out into the body of the ship.
The halls of the Skysplitter were littered with the bodies of fallen Borisin and Cloud Knights. A war-zone of carnage that would have been so much worse if it weren’t for his general’s plan. As they headed towards the hanger, Yanqing noticed a figure of silver and black and gold shoving through the crowd.
“March!”
March 7th, who had been walking near Yunli to help if needed, immediately looked up at the voice, eyes widening.
“Caelus!”
The Trailblazer all, but crashed into his disciple, warping her into a bear hug. That seemed to be all that was needed for March to let out a wounded noise, hiccuping as the tears came.
“Oh, Cae! That was was so scary!” She sobbed, holding the back of her friend’s jacket like it was a lifeline.
“I know. I know.” Caelus murmured, petting March’s disheveled hair. “I was so worried about you.”
March sobbed into his chest, heedless of his gentle hushes of comfort. Yanqing’s eyes softened in sympathy before he continued to the hanger, giving her a moment.
He kept a weary eye out as the Cloud Knights aided the injured and shaken up to the skiffs. It was almost hard to believe the whole thing was over. To think it even happened in the first place. They were really going to have to do an overall of the ship once the dust settled, and get to the bottom of all this upheaval. As he rounded a corner, he saw General Huaiyan embracing Yunli, relief clear on the older man’s face. Yanqing’s lips twitched into a small smile, before he turned to guide a few struggling Cloud Knights to the right skiffs.
“Don’t push,” he reprimanded. “Whoever is the more heavily injured goes first. The personnel from the Alchemy Commission will assist you.”
Behind him a familiar, booming voice called out to the new Cloud Knight arrivals.
“The remaining Borisin will be immediately transferred to the Shackling Prison. Do not let a single one escape.” General Jing Yuan ordered.
“Yes, General!”
Yanqing frowned, walking deeper into the hanger and his eyes widened when he saw General Jing Yuan standing at the side of the landing platform as he directed knights and medics to their proper positions. He must of caught sight of Yanqing out of the corner of his eye as when he turned, the hardened mask of a general immediately fell away to reveal the open concern of a worried parent.
“Yanqing.”
Jing Yuan strode towards him, long strides eating away at the length of the hanger in quick succession. Yanqing smiled despite the persistent aches screaming from every inch of his body, moving to meet him half-way.
“General,” he started excitedly, relief washing over him in waves, “Your plan worked! We-“
Gravity suddenly turned, a violent shift that threw Yanqing sickeningly off kilter. He stumbled off course, his knees caving under him, and for a long moment everything around him disappeared, save for the incessant ringing in his ears. He felt like he was drifting, floating in an unknown abyss that felt at once peaceful and deeply disturbing. He struggled, desperate for the handle of his sword, a smooth surface under foot, something, anything to ground him.
Then the ringing began to calm, and in its place were voices, deep and growling and panicked. Or maybe it was just one, reverberating through the strong chest at his ear.
Blinking his eyes open, Yanqing gasped, pain and disorientation slamming into him with the strength of Merlin’s Claw’s storm. He whimpered, gritting his teeth as he pressed his cheek harder into the warm collar, panting heavily for breath around the agony mercilessly tearing through him with vengeance.
“I said get me a medic, now!” The voice ordered, carrying all the ferocity of a lion commanding its pack.
“Y-yes, General!”
Yanqing cracked a bleary eye open again, teeth grit as he looked up at the fuzzy image of the man cradling him in his arms.
“G-General…?” He croaked.
Jing Yuan’s golden eyes immediately turned to him, a wild terror in them the likes Yanqing had never seen before.
“A-qing, Little Cub.” He breathed, lowering his head as he tried - and failed - to school his face into something resembling reassurance. “I have you, all will be well. Just hold on for me. You understand? Hold on. That’s an order.”
Yanqing scoffed despite himself. Of course, that was obvious. The general never needed to dignify a command to him. He knew his tones better than anyone on the ship. It was silly for him to think otherwise. His gaze slid away from his face, noticing the blood smeared across his pristine white collar and down his blouse, brows furrowing weakly.
“G-general…” he croaked. “Y-you’re bleeding…”
A pained laugh, sounding more at the edge of manic, left his lips as he shook his head.
“Not mine, Cub. Yours.”
“Ah…” Yanqing blinked slowly, frowning. “‘M sorry…Qinzue will be mad…”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jing Yuan hushed, and his large calloused hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing across the frosted skin. “Just stay with me, that’s all I ask. Stay awake, my little sparrow.”
Yanqing wanted to push him away in a mix of embarrassment and fond exasperation at the nickname, to admonish the general for dropping his guard in public like this. Now wasn’t the time for him to be distracted. The Cloud Knights and the citizens needed him at his best and most fierce.
He tried to tell the general just that, he really did, but for some reason his body would no longer do as he commanded, feeling both too far away and suffocatingly close at the same time. His arms felt weighted like leaden chains, his legs limp as overcooked noodles. His mind swam and suddenly, he didn’t remember what it was he was going to say, what it was he was even doing there.
Lan, he was so tired.
His vision faltered for a moment, sleep sounding so good right now, but it was abruptly interrupted by those warm fingers tapping frantically against his cheek.
A rare curse slipped from the general’s lips, and the next thing Yanqing knew he was being lifted in the air, head lulling on the general’s strong chest.
“Where is that damned medic!” Jing Yuan roared across the chaotic hanger.
“Right here, General.” In a swish of red fabric carrying the scent of incense, Lingsha rushed to their side, three small pink rabbits hovering in the air beside her. She frowned deeply as her red magic danced over his prone form.
“This isn’t good,” she said. “I can stabilize him for now, but we must get him to Lady Bailu at once. He’s…he’s going into severe shock.”
“Do what you can,” Jing Yuan said before turning towards the other Cloud Knights.
“You heard her, get us a Starskiff immediately!”
“Sir!”
The Cloud Knights nearby scrambled away and he turned his gaze back to Yanqing who was struggling to keep his eye open as Lingsha’s red smoke encircled his body.
“B-Ba…ba…” Yanqing slurred, his eye fluttering. “‘m…so…tired…”
“No. Nonono, don’t sleep yet, Cub.” Jing Yuan said quickly, patting his cheek. “Yanqing, stay awake. Stay awake!”
He wanted to, he really did. But sleep was too alluring, rest too sweet a paradise and before he could so much as apologize for disappointing his general, darkness swallowed him under.
————
“Baba?”
Jing Yuan looked up from the page he was reading, lounging back against the trunk of a wide willow tree. A small child shifted nervously beside him, mop of pale blonde hair partially obscuring his young face.
“Hm?”
“I-I uh…” The boy wrung the bottom of his tunic, small fingers fidgeting with the hem. Jing Yuan didn’t press just yet, waiting patiently with a gentle smile playing at his lips. After a few false starts, the boy finally took a deep, heaving breath and closed his eyes tightly.
“I want you to teach me to be a swordsman like you!” The boy cried, words tumbling out in a quick, yet determined plea. “Please, Baba? Please?”
Despite his best attempts, Jing Yuan couldn’t stop the rumble of a disbelieving laugh from bubbling out of his chest. Surely, he must have heard wrong. Right?
Lan, let him have heard wrong.
Alas, those small cheeks colored further with a huff, puffing out like the fluff of a rather irate Puffergoat.
“Baba!” Yanqing whined, stomping his foot on the ground. “‘M being serewus! You gotta!”
Jing Yuan chuckled, if only because the sight was too cute not to, and waved his hand to calm his child’s annoyance. “My apologies, I was merely caught by surprise. Why the sudden interest?”
His young ward squirmed, flustered and annoyed all at once. “I-I wanna be a Cloud Knight, just like you. So, I gotta be really strong too, right?”
Ah, so he hadn’t heard wrong after all.
“That you do,” Jing Yuan nodded slowly, trying to keep the knot of dread that settled in his stomach from climbing up his throat. “However, I think you may have a little more growing to do before we can talk about training just yet. Why, most of the training swords are nearly as big as you. How would you possibly be able to hold it?”
“Baba!”
It was quite unfair and unbecoming of a general to tease his child so, but Jing Yuan was anything if not a bit self-indulgent when the perfect opportunity struck. He liked to call it being well adept at the subtle art of being a trolling father.
And, if he secretly hoped it could end this conversation before it got any further, well, no one else had to know. No one else had to be aware of the vice constricting around his heart. Yes, Yanqing had been rather infatuated with swords since he was old enough to crawl, but it was merely a phase. He was young, seeing his father in a far shinier light. He would grow out of it eventually. Cultivate new dreams.
Dreams that didn’t have to turn into nightmares.
Yanqing rolled his eyes as best as a 6-year-old could and crossed his arms, pouting as he looked at the dirt as if it had been the one to offend him. “Shu Hua and Chaoxiang are starting their trainings. Even Xiaobo has started his and he’s been bragging about it for weeks!”
“Yes, I did hear about that.” Jing Yuan said thoughtfully. “However, if memory serves right their training is more in the vein of extra lessons. Few, at best. Nothing quite as strenuous as swordplay, nor as improper for a child.”
“But lessons are boring.” Yanqing huffed. “Sword’re more fun and no one else in class is doin’ that. Come on, Baba. Please?”
Jing Yuan sighed and sat up straighter. Shutting his book with a soft thunk, he loosely crossed his legs, beaconing the boy forward.
“Yanqing,” he said softly, the boy’s face flushing with renewed embarrassed. He didn’t move at first, and Jing Yuan hummed patiently. “Come here, Little Cub.”
After a moment of hesitation, the boy approached his father, small feet shuffling across the ground. Jing Yuan reached gentle hands to coax the boy to sit on his thigh, rubbing absent circles into his back.
“Tell me,” he said gently, “What’s really brought this on?”
“Nothin’ really…” Yanqing murmured, scuffing his small shoe against the ground absently. He still refused to look at his guardian. “I like swords and I like watching the knights train. I just wanna train too, that’s all.”
Jing Yuan softened, reaching a hand to brush some of the messy blond strands from his child’s face.
“Is that so?” He asked carefully. “And there is no other reason for your insistence? Say, eavesdropping, perhaps?”
A ripe strawberry would have nothing on the shade of red Yanqing turned. His widening amber eyes confirmation enough that Jing Yuan was indeed correct.
Checkmate.
“H-how did you…I didn’t…” Yanqing stumbled over his words and Jing Yuan hummed nonchalantly, even as a small teasing smile grew on his lips.
“Mimi may have let it slip,” was all he said.
His ward huffed and pouted as he looked away. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you…”
“You know how that old lion can be,” Jing Yuan chuckled. “It must have been rather important for her to decide it worth revealing. Why don’t you enlighten me, hm, Little Cub?”
Heaving a sigh, Yanqing ducked his head to avoid Jing Yuan’s gaze once more and wringing his hands nervously.
“You know how Mimi came to pick me up from classes the other day?” He began.
Jing Yuan nodded. “Yes, as she always does.”
Yanqing swallowed. “Well…um…when we got to the gates of the Seat…I-I may have…heard some of the knights talkin’ a-about how you had a meeting with the-the Pre-cipetors…”
Ah. Now things were becoming clearer, even if Yanqing still struggled to pronounce certain words correctly. Jing Yuan heaved a weary sigh. He was going to need to have a long discussion with the other Cloud Knights about the importance of propriety and watching who may be near before they speak. It would be better if they didn’t gossip at all, but that may be hoping for too much.
Expression softening, he regarded his charge thoughtfully. “I see. And what exactly did you hear, Little Cub?”
Yanqing began to absently pick at the edges of his nails, a nervous tick they’d been working on, and worrying his lip between his teeth. Jing Yuan set a large hand over his, stilling his fingers before he could make his nails bleed again. His son took a shaky breathe, refusing to meet his eyes.
“T-that they were questioning your…ability to oversee the Luofu and-and remain di-ni-gent to your duty with…with the burn-den of an ‘unruly’ child…and some of the knights were worried to…that I might shame your rep-tation…”
Oh. He was mad.
It took every ounce of patience and training gained from his many years under his Master for Jing Yuan to refrain from summoning Lightning-Lord and hunting down the knights who thought it wise to run their mouths where his child might hear them. Alas, that would be a grave abuse of his powers, and would probably result in a rather lengthy lecture from Marshal Fu Han that he wasn’t particularly in the mood to suffer.
He’d merely have to find another way to make them suffer instead, later.
Right now, his son needed him.
Jing Yuan gently cupped Yanqing’s cheek, turning his ward’s face towards him. His eyes softened upon seeing the unshed tears brimming in those wide golden orbs.
Now it all made sense.
“Oh, Cub…”
That seemed to be the breaking point, like a dam caving under too much pressure, and tears began to fall in rivulets down his cheeks.
“I-I’m sorry, Baba! I’ll try harder. I’ll be b-better. I-I promise!” He sobbed.
With the skill of a well-seasoned parent, Jing Yuan gathered his son into his arms, curling Yanqing against his chest, as if he could physically protect him from the storm of emotions running through his small body. Lan, how long must he have kept this in? The meeting was days ago. Had he been suffering like this ever since? How many nights had he laid awake, replaying those words in his mind, drowning under the current of all his supposed wrongs?
How many nights had Jing Yuan done the same?
Yanqing sobbed into his chest and he hushed him, pressing his cheek against the mop of fluffy blonde hair as he rocked them side to side, whispering gentle assurances and sweet promises into his ear. He was a child, barely 6, and yet he carried the weight of an entire ship on his small shoulders. Such was the curse of this life. A curse that Jing Yuan brought upon him. Perhaps there was a time where he should have listened to others, made the hard choice to pass the bundle he’d found abandoned on the battlefield to a quieter, more normal household instead.
Yet, the moment that tiny hand closed around his finger and a smile had lit up that small face like a thousand suns, clearing away the dark ash of bloodshed and grief that had made Jing Yuan wonder what the point was of living at all— he knew there was no other choice.
A choice he would readily make time and time again.
“I-I’ll study better…” Yanqing hiccuped. “I-I won’t cause s-so much trouble in class…I promise…I-I’ll be better…”
“Listen to me carefully, Qing-er.” Jing Yuan said as his heart broke in his chest. He gently coaxing his child’s face from his chest with a hand cupping his wet cheek. Yanqing sniffled, hiccuping as his teary golden eyes looked up at him. “You are the greatest treasure of my life, and the source of my deepest pride. There is not a thing I would change about you, for you are perfect just as you are. Though there are others that may spurn you for being at my side, pay them no heed. They do not know the truth of you. Not like I do. Never doubt that.”
He didn’t know just how much Yanqing truly understood of what he said, but it seemed to be enough to start quelling some of his distress. Jing Yuan hugged him close, rubbing his back in trailing circles. He knew that there were some who looked at Yanqing less than favorably. Jing Yuan had many enemies, many more who scorned his command, and Yanqing was a star in his orbit, bright and brilliant and easily seen by all. He tried his hardest to shield his child from the darker sides of his job, the whispers of the press, the judgments of those who knew only little yet used it to fuel their half-truths.
Try as he might, some things still slipped through the cracks. It was no secret that Yanqing was something of a troublemaker. He had a tendency to act first, think later, and that particular trait, while adorable, also landed him into some troubles of his own. Particularly, with his grades. He wasn’t one to sit in a chair for long periods of time, filling out papers, waiting patiently to move on. He learned best with motion, competition, games, something to help his quick moving mind connect everything in a way that made sense.
To Jing Yuan, it was what made Yanqing special. To some, it was a troublesome, yet mild, disturbance. To others, it was fodder to fuel the flames of those who looked down upon Jing Yuan himself and thought his ‘unruly’ child proof to his own inabilities to properly command the Loufu.
They didn’t know just how wrong they truly were.
Jing Yuan pressed a kiss to Yanqing’s forehead, smiling gently at his now tired, tear stained son.
“Let’s head inside,” he said while standing, cradling Yanqing in one arm as he graped his fallen book with the other.
Yanqing sniffled and nuzzled against his shoulder, small arms tight around his neck.
“I-I just wanna be as strong as you, Baba…” he murmured sleepily.
Jing Yuan’s heart sank. It hurt to hear his usually bubbly and vibrant child so downtrodden. All because of the seeds of doubt prematurely sewn into his young mind. He thought of the boy’s previous request, knowing everything inside him rebelled against the very idea. He had no desire to raise his child as a soldier, to forge an heir as some seemed to suggest. He would not mold his son to one day be his executioner.
Not like his Master had done to him.
And yet…maybe just teaching him a few small moves couldn’t hurt. If nothing else than to give him something to bolster his confidence. After all, he would surely grow out of this phase one day.
“You are, my little cub. You are stronger than you know.” Jing Yuan murmured, kissing his hair as he carried him back inside.
———
The bitter smell of freshly ground herbs and antiseptic tinctures reminded Jing Yuan far too much of his time bedridden after the events of Phantylia.
Back then, Yanqing had refused to leave his side for even a moment. Sparrow-light hands fluttering with anxiety, smoothing blankets and fluffing pillows and keeping a detailed schedule of when his bandages needed to be changed and what medicines he needed to choke down. It didn’t matter that the nurses checked on them every few minutes, or that Bailu personally made sure his wounds were slathered in salve and wrapped in clean bandages. He wouldn’t take any chances of his health slipping for even a moment, a vigilant guard at his side.
Now, it was Jing Yuan who sat restlessly at his child’s bedside, nerves twisting his stomach into sickening knots. Yanqing lay unconscious, changed from his torn and bloodied hanfu into the sterile pale green sleep clothes of Alchemy Commission patients. Bandages circled both arms, peaked from the V of the wrapped pale green shirt, and he knew there were several others along his thin legs, an ankle secured with two wooden rods. Stitches closed the wound at his eyebrow as plasters blanketed the bridge of his nose, the apple of his cheek. Blood still crusted at his lip now hidden by the fogging of the oxygen mask helping him to breathe easier with his fractured ribs.
And he hadn’t woken up once since Jing Yuan brought him here nearly 6 hours ago.
Overexertion, Lady Bailu had said. After taking on Hoolay and then having to stave off Feixiao’s brutal assault, it was too much for his small body to handle. His skin had been cold to the touch when he’d held him close, fingers showing signs of frostbite, ice dusting his skin. Yanqing had gone above and beyond his limitations, forcing himself to stand against two enemies that severally outclassed him. He’d saved countless lives, and ensured those of his two friends. It was admirable and deeply honoring.
Yet, it did nothing to quell the unnerving sense of melancholy festering in his gut.
Jing Yuan had been a fool to think his son’s love of the blade would ever be anything close to a passing fancy. The way his eyes would light up with a new toy sword as a gift, or the aw on his face as he watched the Cloud Knights spar. All the signs were there, and yet even the Divine Foresight had turned his eyes away from truth if only to prolong the inevitable.
He couldn’t help, but wonder if this is how his parents had felt in his youth. If this was why they’d tried so hard to keep him chained, bound to a life he couldn’t yet see would have been a mercy instead of a burden. Years on the battlefield had hardened him beyond measure, grief settling into his bones as surely as any ache. He never regretted his choice to leave, to run away from oppressive disappointments and soul-shearing rage, to avoid one more plate thrown his way, one more glare pinning him in place as he was called a disgrace, selfish, conceded, ungrateful. He had forged his own life out of blood, loss, and resilience. He had saved many lives and commanded his ship with honor. This was the life he chose.
Though time blurred his memories, so far off in the grand scheme of 700 years, he knew he had started training later in his youth. He knew that he had had a blissful childhood, unaware of the torments and tribulations life possessed. Even still, his years of training were arduous, but sheltered to a degree. His Master was never gentle, never one to sugarcoat the truths of the missions she went on. Yet, she never pushed him before she deemed him ready. Jing Yuan hadn’t seen a real battlefield until he was well into his 22nd year, and even then his Master always took the brunt of the horrors.
Yanqing had seen his fair share of battles already at the tender age of 15. He had struck down Borisin, helped stop the Cloudseizer Fleet in its tracks. Jing Yuan had known since that day 9 years ago that this was no phase, but the beginning of a path he could only hope to shield as long as he could. Yanqing was still so stubborn, so reckless and gutsy. They were things he loved about his child, but also terrified him.
Jing Yuan refused for his son to become his executioner, but he also knew that some things were inevitable. Mara came for them all, but until that time came, and though he could never have the heart to turn down his child’s dreams, he would use the rest of his long life to ensure that Yanqing was loved beyond measure. He would make sure that his son didn’t suffer the same pains as he has.
Even if he felt like he was very much failing at that right now.
Jing Yuan heaved a sigh, setting down the paper he’d been trying to read for the last hour. So much needed to be taken care of in the wake of Hoolay, but he’d been too distraught to leave Yanqing’s side. So, he delegated the important bits to Fu Xuan while he handled the more long-term planning. The bedside table was littered with stacks of paperwork he’d been trying to read through and sign. His phone vibrating violently in his pocket with tens of notifications, updates on the situation, people demanding his attention.
None of them he could concentrate on. Not until his son opened his eyes and he knew for himself he would be okay.
Running a hand over his face, Jing Yuan slumped against his knees. Lan, he was so so tired. Tired of these disasters. Tired of these uncertainties. To think, he’d begun to grow bored of the stagnate years of peace the Loufu has had since the last war, had been itching for the chance to fight once more. All while there were those in shadows using their peace as a veil, a curtain to obscure the things they were plotting behind the scenes. He always knew they were there, those lingering dregs. He just never imagined the pieces would shake up quite like this.
So much for Divine Foresight.
He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, tapering into another weary sigh. His eye looked to Yanqing, watching the steady, if somewhat halted, rise and fall of his chest.
“Please,” he whispered, “You must wake up.”
Soft knuckles wrapped against the closed door and Jing Yuan quickly straightened. Between one beat and the next the tired father was effortlessly exchanged for the unshakable foundation of the general.
“Come in,” he called, turning towards the door as it slid open. He’d half expected a nurse, coming around on the usual rotation to check on the IV drips and steadily beeping monitors around his son’s bed. Color him pleasantly surprised when instead none other than Dan Heng and Caelus stepped through, carrying a small caddy of takeaway cups and a folded paper bag.
“Evening, General.” Dan Heng bowed his head in polite respect.
Caelus, on the other hand, paid no mind to the Loufu’s standard etiquette, greeting him instead with a friendly grin marred only by the tired lines around his eyes and the plaster across his cheek.
“We brought food!”
A much needed laugh rumbled its way from Jing Yuan’s broad chest, easing some of the tension in his shoulders if only a little.
“Did you now?” He smiled in amusement.
Caelus nodded as the two of them walked into the room, Dan Heng seeming to hold back an exasperated sigh at the other’s lack of decorum. Jing Yuan found it rather refreshing.
“We originally came by to check up on March, but Bailu seemed to be in a pretty sour mood when we arrived. Saying something about a stubborn General who refused listen and take a break. So, we decided to bring you some of your favorite tea and something to eat.” He said, setting the paper back on the side table while trying to avoid any important looking papers.
Jing Yuan’s expression softened and he gratefully accepted the takeaway cup as Caelus handed it to him.
“My deepest gratitude, friends.” He took a tentative sip of the tea and sighed at the familiar taste. Maybe he really did need a break after all.
He looked back to the two of them. “How is Miss March fairing after this ordeal? I do apologies for roping you all into yet another of our problems.”
Dan Heng shook his head. “No need to apologies, General. It is our duty to help those we have forged friendships with and the Loufu will always have our assistance. As for March, she is a bit shaken up, but thanks to the Lieutenant and Miss Yunli’s involvement she sustained minimal injuries. Miss Himeko is with her now.”
Jing Yuan nodded. “That is good to hear.”
“Speaking of…” Caelus rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Yanqing’s sleeping figure. “How is Yanqing?”
“Stable.” Jing Yuan said, the word a lifeline he’d been clutching ever since Lady Bailu gave the prognosis. “It seems the strain of undertaking Hoolay, on top of General Feixao’s unfortunate affliction pushed his body well beyond its limits. He’ll be bedridden for a while once he awakens.”
If he awakens.
The words were not, could not, be spoken, yet haunted Jing Yuan’s mind like a nightmare that ceased to disperse. Lady Bailu had said everything hindered on his condition upon waking, but given the extent of his injuries and the strain on his body, the likelihood of him succumbing was most certainly not zero.
He didn’t realize he’d been digging his white-knuckled fingers into his own knee until a gentle hand laid on his shoulder, startling him out his reverie. Jing Yuan blinked, looking up at Dan Heng’s softened expression.
“He will be alright, General. Of that, I am certain.”
Jing Yuan let out a breath through his nose, smiling slightly up at him. “Yes, he will.”
The two of Trailblazers stayed hung around for a while longer, Jing Yuan suspecting in part to make sure he finished his tea and actually ate. Not that he minded, the company was very much welcomed. He found out from Caelus that the Borisin in Aurum Alley had been dispatched with little fanfare, their short battle interrupted by Feixao’s overwhelming power making its entrance. He had sustained minimal injuries save for a few scraps and bruises, Moze having taken the brunt in their mission. Though, the general could clearly see the beginnings of exhaustion in the edges of his posture, something he suspected Dan Heng was keenly aware of as they made their polite farewells.
“Thank you again, friends. It seems a break was exactly what I needed.” Jing Yuan said as they two hovered by the doors.
Caelus smiled warmly. “Even esteemed generals need to look out for themselves from time to time too, ya know.”
Jing Yuan chuckled. “Yes, you are quite right.”
“Let us know should you need anything. We’ll be sure to pay another visit tomorrow.” Dan Heng said, bowing his head. “Good night, General.”
“Much appreciated, friends. Please, rest well.” Jing Yuan smiled as he watched the two of them leave, noting with interest the way Caelus so easily slipped his hand into Dan Heng’s. It was good to see the two of them growing closer since Dan Heng’s past had been revealed. He deserved to be happy in his new life.
Jing Yuan’s heart throbbed slightly at the thought of his lost friends, but he quickly dispersed the memories before they could take root. Now wasn’t the time to get dragged into a far gone past. He sighed and shifted in his chair, turning back to the rest of the papers he’d left abandoned on the table. Might as well get some work done while things were quiet.
———
Aeons, everything hurt.
Yanqing swore he must have been stomped on by a Malefic Ape, as the moment he began to stir every inch of his body screamed in protest. All around him, the sounds of steady beeping and mechanical puffs rang out, drilling into his head. Where even was he? It was so loud. His brows furrowed in discomfort and a weak groan pulled from his lips. Lan, it even hurt to breathe.
“Yanqing?”
Huh? That voice…he knew that voice. It was deep and warm and soothed some of the anxiety growing in his chest. It was the sound he heard every morning and the one he heard every night. It was home.
“Qing-er, come now.” The voice pleaded. “Open your eyes. Please, Cub, open your eyes for me.”
It was a great effort, but after a few false tries Yanqing pulled his eyes opened, if only just a bit. He blinked slowly, the blurry figure of the General leaning over him taking a moment to come into focus. His brows were furrowed, his skin pale, his eyes looked worn and so tired. What happened?
Yanqing blinked a few times, grimacing as another throb wracked his body.
“B-Baba?” He croaked, voice muffled under the mask on his face.
Relief rushed over his guardian in waves, clearly seen in the growing smile on his lips.
“Yes. Yes. I’m here, Qing-er.” Jing Yuan murmured, hand cupping his cheek. Fingers combed through his messy hair and he sighed, tilting his head into the warm touch. “How are you feeling?”
“Hurts…” he croaked, frowning. “Everything…”
Jing Yuan hummed in understanding. “Yes, you’ll be quite sore for a while. You have more bruises than I can count.”
Yanqing looked up at the general. “What…what happened…? Where…? The mission….”
“A success, all thanks to your bravery and tenacity.” Jing Yuan smiled slightly at him, proud and sad all at once. “After the battle, you were aiding the other Cloud Knights when you collapsed. I’m just fortunate to have been there to catch you. You were going into shock from the blood loss and tremendous strain on your body. You’ve been asleep for nearly 20 system hours. To be transparent, Lady Bailu and Caldron Master Lingsha were not completely sure when, or if, you would awaken.”
If? Well, that was horrible to think about. At least, it explained why everything hurt so much. He vaguely remembered being crushed in Hoolay’s claw, the feeling of his ribs bending in and his bones creaking. He also remembered pouring all his power into Grandmaster’s attack, determined to stop Hoolay even at the cost of himself. It was reckless and stupid, but thankfully it had paid off. Even if he had to face the consequences.
Yanqing shifted slightly to get comfortable and hissed in pain as his entire body screamed at the movement. He shut his eyes tight, trying desperately to block out the agony wracking across his muscles, whimpering softly.
Gentle hands rubbed over his throbbing muscles as Jing Yuan hushed him softly.
“It’s okay, Cub. It’s okay. I have you. I know it hurts, but pain is temporary. You will get through this.” He said.
Yanqing blinked his eyes open once more, blearily looking at Jing Yuan. He was so tired, but he didn’t want to be alone right now.
“Baba…” he murmured. “Would you stay?”
Jing Yuan seemed surprised by the request and for a moment, Yanqing feared he would say no. It was stupid to ask anyway. By the disheveled look of the general, he hadn’t left his side and if he was out for 20 system hours that was too long for him to be predisposed. The ship was in disarray. People would be scared and they would want answers. He couldn’t keep him, not when the Loufu needed him more.
“I-it’s fine…” Yanqing murmured, trying to retract his words while keeping the growing bit of sadness burrowed in his aching belly. “I-I know you’re busy…I shouldn’t have…forget I said anything…”
“Qing-er. Look at me.” hand cupped his face, gently turning it towards Jing Yuan despite Yanqing trying to hide from his gaze. He swallowed dryly, looking up at his father’s soft expression.
“Of course, I will stay with you.” Jing Yuan said sincerely. “There is nowhere else I would rather be.”
Yanqing felt his lip wobble, his eyes burn. Normally, he would curse himself for being so childish, but right now it didn’t matter. Right now, he didn’t want to be a solider staying strong. Right now, he just wanted his Baba.
“Okay…” Yanqing sniffled, nuzzling into his hand. A watery smile tugging at his lips.
Everything would be okay.