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He's biting his nails again, and across him (the oblivious object of his scrutiny) Yingxing continues to work away at his latest project, bent at the hip. The other idiot is at the other end of the courtyard, no less inconspicuous, one eye cracked open as he feigns meditation.
She raps the boy at the side of his thigh - he jumps, a testament to his poor situational awareness. Jingliu thinks this should not be forgiven. "I only saw 76 laps."
"Master!" The boy whines. His face is pink, partly from exertion. It deepens when Yingxing laughs.
"How are you going to be the best swordsman if you're slacking off?"
"Stop eavesdropping," Jing Yuan yells across the courtyard, voice pitching high, even as the side of his cheeks dimple. "You're slacking off, too!"
"Sorry I'm not like you Xianzhou freaks of nature," he says. Jing Yuan's eyes track the way his arm moves to bring his water bottle to his lips. Jingliu kicks him again.
"Up. Stop being thirsty."
"Master!" Jing Yuan hisses.
"Thirsty?" Yingxing says, fingers twitching over the slender neck of the bottle. "Want some?" Jing Yuan's eyes brighten.
She feels the mounting energy behind her and steps aside for Imbibitor Lunae's ball of water to pelt her disciple in the back of the head.
"Yinyue-jun!" He shrieks.
"Cooled down?" Dan Feng says blandly.
"Stop bullying him," Yingxing laughs (again), and two pairs of eyes snap to him. Dan Feng's practiced placid expression, Jing Yuan's poorly concealed glee. Jingliu wonders if he knows what he's doing. Sometimes she thinks he must, the way he almost seems to invite it, or perhaps he's just unused to the courtship customs of the Xianzhou, outworlder that he is - the way Dan Feng drags back whatever materials he talks about needing like a dragon to its hoard; or the awkward navigation between the adult Jing Yuan tries to be (the posturing, oh aeons, and the godawful pickup lines) and the juvenile pigtail-pulling that the kids his age are fond of engaging with.
It's cute, Baiheng says, the fifth time that week Dan Feng preens at Yingxing thanking him for the metal he was oh-so conveniently just thinking about ordering, and trying to be the gracious adult by not glaring daggers into her poor disciple who's pretending like he doesn't want to swap spit with Yingxing as he steadily pushes towards him a shared drink and a single straw.
"Yinyue-jun," Jing Yuan says boldly, who - years before, he'd been nervously wringing his hands at the thought of meeting him - now sticks his tongue out. "Yingxing likes me better."
Dan Feng smiles, all sharp teeth. "You're a little too young for him."
"And you're too old."
Another orb of water to the face. Jingliu has no sympathy.
Yinyue-jun goes to bother Yingxing - they're tag-teaming the poor guy. Jing Yuan collapses in a heap like a pathetic wet cat. “Do you think he could lift me up with those arms?”
Jingliu looks to the sky, where no rain of arrows from Lan have descended to put her out of her misery. She stalks up behind him and sternly says, “Jing yuan, a thousand laps around the building.”
Her disciple squeaks in surprise and jumps a meter into the air. Tsk. He’s slacking off.
Jing Yuan has wormed his way into Yingxing’s good graces in the time she’s blinked, the conniving little brat. His efforts will be better dedicated to his katas. He’s made the human pull up a chair for him, like he’s incapable of walking those two extra steps without being dramatic about it, and then he collapses in a sweaty heap of limbs. His face flushes in what could be feigned for exertion when Yingxing upends his water bottle over his face.
“Kids need breaks,” Yingxing says, and Jing Yuan puts a dusty footprint to the back of his thigh.
“I’m defending your insane exercise regiment!” Yingxing yelps.
“I’m not a kid!” Jing Yuan puffs out his chest. It’s sopping wet, plastered in a soaking mess of his messy hair, making him look like a drowned cat. Yingxing’s gaze flicks down and then up again, and he grins, his hand coming to push his hair back from his forehead. “You’re practically a baby, compared to-”
“What if I was a short-lived species?” Jing Yuan challenges, chin jutting out.
“You’d still be plenty young,” Yingxing says. “Sure, you’d be an adult-”
“An adult!” Jing Yuan crows, shooting up from the chair - his heel getting caught in its legs - and toppling over. Yingxing yelps and scrambles to help him up - Jingliu shakes her head and sighs.
Dan Feng meanders over, trying his best to look like he’s not overly curious, even as his tail whips a whirlwind against the weeds in the courtyard.
Jing Yuan is giggling up a storm as Yingxing tries his best to pull him to his feet. “Master!” He calls out. “My ankle is broken!”
“I can heal it for you,” Dan Feng says.
“Yinyue-jun!” He gasps, and bursts into a round of giggles again. It might be the adrenaline, or the fact that Yingxing’s arms are holding him up. Dan Feng’s glowering looks a tad less subtle - Jingliu elbows him.
“Get it together. Stop squabbling with my kid.”
Dan Feng turns his glower towards her. Whatever.
“I know your ankle is fine,” Yingxing is saying. “You took out a legion of the mara-struck by yourself two days ago. Your downfall won’t be a chair.”
“You saw me?” Jing Yuan says. “Was I cool?”
“Very cool. Even cooler with the weapon I made you.”
More delighted giggles.
“Alright, finish your laps,” Jingliu says to Jing Yuan, before the courtyard floods. “We’ll spar after.”
“Eh, Master, did you know Yingxing is a Yinyue-jun fan, too?”
“A Yinyue-jun fan?” Jingliu says. She doesn’t want to know. Unfortunately, she does. Jing Yuan had warned her, but she’d flown too close to the sun in her quest for knowledge. What were kids these days up to? And Yingxing was a grown man!
Pretty much every vidhadyara was a Yinyue-jun fan, that much she knew. She had to check that Jing Yuan wasn’t growing horns when he’d tripped over his feet meeting Dan Feng the first time, the day she’d brought him over to meet Yinyue-jun and the preceptors at the Scalegorge Waterscape. Dan Feng had looked amused, and Jing Yuan - for all that she tried to instil etiquette into him - wouldn’t look him in the eyes. And then he refused her an explanation.
“I’d rather you’d strike me than have me admit it,” he’d said shamefaced to her, palms outstretched, so she did. And then made him tell her anyway.
Yinyue-jun Fan Light Novels wasn’t the reason she’d wager for why her disciple couldn’t properly look at Yinyue-jun’s face. Not that she knew what she’d expected in the first place. “They're really popular, Master!” He began protesting, and she’d fruitlessly tried to run away from him as Jing Yuan (he was growing taller than her already, curses) followed hot on her heels. “I was reading this one the other day - written by a Vidyadhara, so I know it’s accurate - and they described him perfectly! Why do you think he wears his shirts so tight? Master, listen to this other one-”
Now she wouldn’t be able to meet Yinyue-jun in the eyes the next time she saw him. And what was she supposed to say to that? Her disciple - she’d unlocked a dam, damn him, that chatterbox - couldn’t stop telling her about the thousands of fans who wanted to lick Yinyue-jun’s abs, and how he himself was one of them?
They wouldn’t meet again, if she had any say in the matter. At least not until Jing Yuan grew up a little more and developed a sense of propriety about him.
But then the denizens of abundance had the audacity to attack, and in response they had to form the High Cloud Quintet and put these two in the same training arena together, and now Jing Yuan and Yinyue-jun were undergoing the most childish courtship ritual she’s ever seen in her 800 years of life competing over the affections of the same short-lived man.
Jing Yuan was still talking . “-He just looks like the type. The Yinyue-jun fan type, that is.” Jingliu doesn’t know what that means. She wonders if all vidyadharas would be considered that ‘type’. She doesn’t want to ask because Jing Yuan would answer.
He prods her with his pointy elbow. She hums and makes a vague gesture in the air to show that she’s still listening (she doesn’t want to be) because kids need positive reinforcement, or so Baiheng says. “So I sent him some of my book recommendations,” he says. “But only the good ones.”
“Uh huh,” she says.
A pause. “He doesn’t think I’m weird, right?”
“I’m sure you’ve already passed that point,” Jingliu reassures him.
Jing Yuan nods, like she’s given him some sage advice. “It doesn’t matter. We’re past judgement. We’re comrades now. Brothers-in-arms in the Yinyue-jun fan club.”
“Oh my aeons,” Jingliu groans, “Are you done with your training?”
“I just ran a thousand laps for you, Master,” he says. “Oh, do you think Yingxing is at the forge today?”
“I don’t know. Go find out.”
“Okay!” He leaps to his feet and scampers off. Poor Yingxing.
There is a commotion in the courtyard one day, a bit before Jing Yuan's daily training starts. When she arrives to investigate, her disciple is gesturing wildly at Yingxing while he nods along, the boy bouncing on his toes, arm suspended in the air like he's a bit too shy to rest it on Yingxing's bicep despite practically having his chin hooked over his shoulder. Yingxing spies her first, with Jing Yuan preoccupied with the book in his hands, and then scrambles to hide it in his sleeve - to no avail.
It's a slim, leatherbound novella, and as Yingxing moves it out of Jing Yuan's grasp the gold embossed lettering on the spine catches her eye.
Fifty Shades of Yinyue-jun.
She's heard of this one. It's apparently the newest rage among the Yinyue-jun fans. Baiheng had described it to her vividly.
Judging by the sound of the conversation, Jing Yuan seems to be discussing the events of the fan novel. The fan novel, which Jingliu recalls, was extremely explicit . Not that she had asked for details. She begged against it, in fact, but Baiheng was merciless, even more so than Jing Yuan especially since Jingliu cannot make her run laps.
She does not need to know these things about her own student. Making him do drills until he drops would be an adequate punishment for subjecting her to such horrors, she thinks.
"Oh, Master!" Jing Yuan sounds like he's choking. He has the sharp part of Yingxing's gauntlet at the base of his ribs. "It's - er - you're early today!" She is not.
"It seems like I am," she says. The two boys' faces are red. Jing Yuan attempts to be bashful, which she suspects is a ploy to be able to press his cheek to the expanse of Yingxing's back as he pretends to hide behind him. She knows her disciple better than to think he'd be embarrassed about it, but she still finds it amusing, the way Yingxing is humouring him.
"Please don't tell Yinyue-jun," Jing Yuan bats his eyelashes. He already knows she wouldn't - she would have done so ten years ago if she was so inclined. But she still hopes for Jing Yuan to succeed her one day, and he needs to be in the vidhadyara High Elder's good graces for a successful term, love triangles and …extracurricular reading materials aside. She hopes she can trust Yinyue-jun to have the good sense to be professional about this - she will beat that sense into her disciple even if it kills her.
Yingxing looks mortified at the possibility. "Miss - Master Jingliu!"
She sighs. "I didn't see anything," she says, just to protect the poor frail heart of their resident human.
Jing Yuan is grinning to the back of Yingxing's shoulder, looking triumphant. Double the drills, today and tomorrow, she decides.
She does briefly wonder what all of this - Yinyue-jun's undeniable affection for Yingxing, Jing Yuan's confirmation that Yingxing was one of those Yinyue-jun fans - means for their relationship. Surely this absurd dance between them will cease and they'll return her disciple to her.
No such luck. Jing Yuan continues bouncing between them like the ball they're passing. Yingxing, Yinyue-jun looks very handsome when he's meditating, right? Yinyue-jun, Yingxing looks parched today, doesn't he? At least he seems to be having fun.
"You have to wonder what the kid's end goal is," she confers with Baiheng, who looks up from her biscuit with an inquisitive hum and watches Jing Yuan needle Dan Feng into sparring with him. He makes a few gestures at Yingxing's back - Dan Feng summons Cloud Piercer. A clash of metal makes Yingxing startle and whirl around, and then back up a few paces so he can keep watching.
"I think he's just experimenting," Baiheng says. "Give him a break. Not every teen gets the opportunity to actually have their fantasy within reach. And he's never been one of those shy kids."
"They are not within reach," she says. Yinyue-jun's tail has an impressive range, but she guarantees she is faster.
Baiheng is grinning at her. "Okay, mama. Let him play. See? They're gentle with him."
She glances back at the courtyard. The way Yinyue-jun's foot is pressed to Jing Yuan's chest is practically a caress, and Jing Yuan looks exhilarated. A fight and a view? She hears Jing Yuan's voice in her head. Another hundred laps, she deliberates.
Yingxing is clapping politely, and in a moment Jing Yuan is back on his feet, Dan Feng's fingers fluttering over the already-fading cuts by his cheek. Jing Yuan is leaning against it, and his head tips dramatically when Dan Feng pulls his fingers away. He's grinning, and Dan Feng is not, but his gaze remains on the boy long after he turns around to bug Yingxing for praise.
Baiheng laughs, bright and loud. The sky is clear today.
The two of them have their heads bent together. It's too far to hear what they're saying, but she sees Dan Feng throw his head back, and Yingxing leans forward, and for a moment she thinks this will be hard news to break to her little disciple, but they sway in tandem - parallel, lazy, like tall weed grasses in the wind. Dan Feng bends forward a bit too much and Yingxing rocks back. She's a few paces closer when she realizes why they haven't noticed her, the scent of liquor in the air. She wrinkles her nose. They're drunk.
She's seen them drunk before, post their first victory as the High Cloud Quintet, Jing Yuan passed out over her knee after his first shot of baijiu, Baiheng giggling into her tail, Yinyue-jun and Yingxing falling over each other. Still, she thinks it is inappropriate for her to be here; they are two men enjoying each other's private company, previous social engagements notwithstanding. They would do well to get a room, she thinks, but the moon is full tonight.
She turns to leave, but-
"You should stop bullying him so much." Yingxing. He has a hand over his mouth.
"Mm?" Dan Feng's tail is wagging lightly. "Ah, but A-Yuan is so cute, when he-" a wavering pause, "when he makes that face. That little-" A gesture in the air.
Yingxing's hand leaves his face to reach for his cup. Jingliu sees that he's smiling, and his tongue is peeking out from between his teeth. "He's - ah, I shouldn't say-" He tips his cup back. It must burn his shyness away. "Rather pretty, isn't he? A-Feng, do you think-"
Dan Feng tips his head, exposing the shiny, smooth, vulnerable expanse of his neck. "A few more years," he says, "He's already old enough, but I want-"
Oops. Her sword has slipped out of her hand by accident. How careless of her.
The two have frozen mid-conversation. Even the wine Yingxing is about to spill is suspended in a ball mid-air, Dan Feng's hand keeping it in place. They don't try to make eye contact with her. She's not sure if they can hold it anyways, in their inebriated states.
Jingliu retrieves her fallen weapon, which has seemed to embed itself seven inches in the stone floor.
The two are - silhouetted against the moonlight, she cannot discern their expressions - turned towards her. Yingxing raises a hand in an awkward wave - Dan Feng grabs it and forces it down.
She walks away, whistling.
There's no adhesive bond like alcohol, or so she assumes - one more month, and one bright morning, brings Dan Feng (in a reprieve of his duties) to visit once again, and this time he's standing by Yingxing, who must be mid-way between a new blueprint, half-twisted sheet of metal still on his table, but they're standing close, laughing, and their fingers are laced together.
Jing Yuan collides into her back and pauses. Jingliu places a consoling hand on her little disciple's shoulder. The years have tempered her, but she knows a child's first heartbreak (no matter how implausible that love would have been in the first place) is a tender thing.
Jing Yuan says, evidently unaffected by the display of his apparent shamelessness, "Do you think they'll be open to a third?"
She shoves him face-first into the dirt.