Work Text:
Yanqing, for all his posturing and ‘ I’m not a child! ’ blustering, was no stranger to receiving gifts.
The Cloud Knights would snicker as he opened a poorly wrapped sword sheath, tagged with a ‘ To xiao dì di ’. Yanqing would forget to reprimand them for the cutesy endearment in favor of pouring over every detail of the sheath’s craftsmanship (no, General, he didn't squeak with joy, that would be ridiculous).
Yanqing would find neatly folded new training robes on his desk, two days after his tore right alongside an embarrassing middle seam (the splits are crucial to swordplay, General!). Fu Xuan would scowl and spout a long-winded rant about how she ‘didn't want an unruly child ruining her reputation’. Yanqing chose not to mention that robes of this quality were at least 4 times his usual allowance.
Dan Heng would stop by every so often, pressing little trinkets into the palm of Yanqing’s hand. The coolest was from this strange ice planet, Bellybog? It was a scaled model of a weapon, one with a long barrel and what looked to be a sword strapped to its bottom. Dan Heng had called it a ‘bayonet’ and refused Yanqing’s pleas to bring him the real thing, shifting his weight uncomfortably and desperately avoiding eye contact with the piercing golden stare from the back.
Mimi would drop and nose dead rats towards him, which was really gross. Mimi, please stop.
The General indulged him the most frequently, buying or leaving fully cooked meals and little sweets for the little Lieutenant when the sword rack in the training area welcomed many newcomers. Jing Yuan would sigh and shake his head, claiming this would be the last time he would cover Yanqing’s reckless spending (a bold-faced lie).
Nevertheless, the fact remained that Yanqing knew gifts. He got them all the time, so surely he would be knowledgeable in giving them… right?
~
Yanqing was going to scare Jing Yuan.
It had become almost a ritual for the two of them. Every so often, the boy would try to hide somewhere and then launch himself as Jing Yuan walked by. Yanqing had not once been successful in eliciting a scream or even a yelp of surprise - but today, today was the day. He was older, wiser, and faster than he was before (two weeks ago). This was it. This would be the moment.
Yanqing stood as quietly as he could possibly muster, inching carefully to the entryway of the manor. Ducking behind a large potted plant (with deep cracks in the porcelain from a prior training mishap), Yanqing peeked just barely over the rim of the pot at the two figures by the entry arch.
Fu Xuan fumed with her arms tightly crossed (was that smoke coming out her ears?), leveling a signature glare at the General, twice her height.
“...and I certainly couldn't tell by the amount of work you’ve done.” Fu Xuan scolded, “You would think if someone worked a hundred-hour work week, they might make a dent in the towers of paperwork on their desk.”
Jing Yuan rubbed his temples with a pinched groan. “You know I have other duties than at the desk, Fu Xuan-”
“Oh really? I-” Fu Xuan cut herself off with a sigh, “This… this isn't what I came here to scold you about.”
Yanqing ducked his head quickly as Jing Yuan glanced at the courtyard, pressing his hand against his mouth to quiet a panicked squeak.
“I am… worried, General.”
Yanqing perked at that, cautiously stretching again to peer over the pot.
Jing Yuan looked to be frowning, full attention on the tiny Diviner.
“How so?”
“You're working too much.”
He laughed, not unkindly, “Master Diviner, you are absolutely the last person who can scold me for overworking.”
“That’s beside the point!” A blush began to creep up her face, “It is in my nature to do so, but you, General Dozer, have not taken a proper break in two months!”
Yanqing scrunched his nose, thinking back to about two months ago. That… would likely have been when he had narrowly dodged an arrow to the heart from a Disciple of Sanctus Medicus. Jing Yuan had yanked Yanqing behind him immediately, ripping a nearby ornamental blade off the wall and hurling it at the head of the would-be assassin.
It dawned on Yanqing that he hadn't seen the General outside of official duties nearly as often as usual in peacetime since then. He was probably trying to make sure none of the other attendants would be attacked like Yanqing was.
Fu Xuan’s voice snapped him into attention.
“...I’m being serious, when’s the last time you were selfish, General? You can’t keep giving and giving without taking; I know you know this very well. I work for personal gain – so answer me this: what do you do for yourself?”
Jing Yuan straightened his back, damningly silent.
Yanqing suddenly felt terribly uncomfortable listening in.
Careful to avoid the loose path stones, Yanqing snuck back around to the open practice area, using the large-leaf plants to cover him. He reached for a blade resting on the door frame, then let it clatter to the ground.
“Oh, I’m home, Yanqing!” Jing Yuan called, alerted to his presence.
Yanqing feigned surprise, “Ah! General! Welcome home!”
A sense of determination filled the little Lieutenant as he made his way over to the courtyard, using the conventional path this time. His General deserved something nice, and Yanqing knew just the person to ask.
~
Master Gongshu was hunched over a shiny grey metal plate, hammering away at some detail work along the metal’s edges. The clanking echoed and masked Yanqing’s approaching footsteps.
“Master Gongshu?”
Said master showed no sign of slowing his work. Yanqing would have gotten closer had he not been a little wary of being accidentally brained with a hammer.
“MASTER GONGSHU!”
Gongshu jumped in shock, placing a hand over his heart as he whirled to face the voice, “Good grief, kid, give an old man some warning.”
“Ah, sorry-” Yanqing gave a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m in need of a gift to give someone.”
Gongshu leaned forward excitedly, beckoning the boy to see what lay on the anvil. As he drew nearer, the shocking amount of detail came into clarity. An ornamental shield (it was far too glamorous to actually wield, Yanqing thought), with a truly absurd number of roses debossed on the surface of the metal.
“This one’s a commissioned work for an outworlder who looks about as flowery as this shield is. So whilst I can’t give you this one, maybe-”
“Ah, no no, I don’t think he’d like-” Yanqing cut himself off, worried he might have offended the master artisan.
Master Gongshu’s smile softened to something knowing.
“In that case, I have the sneaking suspicion your person would prefer something a bit more personal than what I can offer.”
Yanqing’s face grew hot, embarrassed at being seen through so easily.
“What,” He fiddled with the hem of his tunic, “what do you suggest, then?”
Gongshu laughed heartily, setting his hammer down.
“Many of my apprentices get plenty of business from you, kid, so perhaps it’s time to put that passion to use?” He mimed striking hot metal, “A little creative outlet?”
Yanqing wrung his hands nervously.
“I, uh, I could give it a shot?”
~
Master Gongshu and Lieutenant Yanqing stared at the abomination on the anvil.
“I have heard of a faraway planet where they revere creatures with thousands of eyes and heads… perhaps this could be called a- what was it- biblically accurate sword? Yes yes, you see there is… a poetic angle to this creation.”
“Master, I think you should probably melt this down.”
“Ah… that might be for the best.”
The Master clasped a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“It was a good attempt, kid.”
Yanqing could only eye the metal pretzel with reproach.
~
Sushang was watching the starskiffs dart by, enjoying a warm cup of tea poured by Mengming, as a small hunched figure trudged across her field of vision.
“Yanqing!”
Yanqing met her gaze with bleary eyes, turning on his heels to pad over towards her table. Sushang rose quickly to pull a spare chair over, and Yanqing all but collapsed into it.
“Lieutenant, you’re looking awful. Did someone scam you out of a sword?”
Yanqing sighed (with just the right amount of dramatics, thank you very much) and shook his head.
“I’ve been trying to get a gift for the General, but it's been fruitless so far. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.” He accompanied his tale of tragic woe with a hand flung in displeasure, nearly knocking Sushang’s tea clean off the table.
Sushang hummed in thought, pulling her cup closer, “I wouldn't give up hope so soon.”
Yanqing melted ever further into his seat.
“I have absolutely no idea where to go from here,” He groaned.
“You know, I might have an idea for you~”
A devious smile crossed Sushang’s lips. Yanqing felt the hairs on his neck prickle.
“The General always has those birds following him, so why not give him a chicken?”
“...A chicken?”
“Yeah, short and round, go bok bok.”
“And where, pray tell, am I supposed to get a chicken?!”
Sushang giggled, “You do know I raise chickens, right?”
“...I had hoped that that absurdly large bird of yours was one of a kind.”
Sushang raised her cup to her smile, “Phoenix has many brothers and sisters, but maybe we could take a look at the younger ones?”
Yanqing rose to his feet and dusted the seat of his tunic off, “I do suppose Mimi has been getting lonely…” He paused and snickered, “and hungry.”
~
The room was toasty and warm but completely hell on Yanqing’s sinuses. Soft insulating blankets were tied with rope around a large hound crate in the corner of the room, and nearby it was an enormous buffet line of chicken feed. All around the ground, in the rafters, and weaving between Sushang’s legs were tiny, teapot-sized chickens. They cooed and dug through dense yet soft bedding, looking for bugs to eat. In a particularly vigorous attempt to do so, one go-getter bird knocked a plume of sawdust and downy feathers into the air.
Yanqing couldn't hold back a full-body sneeze, the force of it sending the nearby, braver chicks running to safety.
“Oops. I uh forgot to mention, they keep their feathers clean with dust,” Sushang simpered, coddling a spooked chicken.
Yanqing sniffed with derision and to abate the onslaught of allergies.
“Really?” He resisted the urge to wipe his nose on his sleeve, scratching it with his nails instead, “I wouldn't have guessed. This place is sparkling.”
Sushang raised an eyebrow, “You’re far too young for that kind of talk.”
Yanqing stopped rubbing his nose furiously to glare at the brunette.
“I’ll have you know I am perfectly of age-”
“Mm, talk to me when you're taller than a pipsqueak, Lieutenant.”
Yanqing tore his gaze from the bemused knight to scowl at the closest unlucky bird.
He began mentally constructing his perfect counterargument when an impressively curious chick pecked at his shoe. Heart softening a little, he leaned over a bit, vulnerable, to pet the chicken when horror struck.
An air strike. A perfectly aimed, locked-in, bombs-away maneuver. A single horrifying warm spot on the back of his head. Yanqing knew he would die someday, but to this disgrace? To the sound of clucking and Sushang’s camera shutter firing faster than what should be physically possible? His biography would be so painfully short. Yanqing had always dreamt of being a popular heroic swordmaster in the fantasy books the General used to read to him before bed. Which self-respecting parent would read Death by Chicken Sh -
A wet towel patted the crime scene of his hair. When the patting subsided, Yanqing carefully stood back to balefully eye the criminal on the perch above him.
“Yanqi-pfffffft oh man” Sushang wiped her eyes with the crook of her finger, physically shaking from reinvigorated laughter. “S-Stay- stay strong xiao dì di”
Yanqing felt too defeated to even tell off Sushang
“I,” He narrowed his eyes at the assassin, “ really think Mimi’s hungry.”
Sushang bowled over in hysterics behind him.
~
Yanqing walked out of the washroom with damp hair and a new jaded expression far too aged for his face. Sushang snickered once again, clearly enjoying herself a little too much in Yanqing’s humble opinion.
“So.” She scooted over on the hallway bench to make room, “Chickens. Yay or nay?”
Yanqing could only glower as he sat down next to her, inducing another round of terribly insensitive giggles.
“Well -pfft- anyway, I have another idea for you.”
“Last time you had this expression, I got bird bombed.”
“Oh come onnn” Sushang crooned, leaning forward and batting her eyelashes with exaggerated gusto, “I think you’ll like this one.”
~
“ Absolutely not.”
“Oh no.”
“I take it you’ve already met?”
Yanqing had a stare-off with the redhead before him. He felt particularly spiteful today.
“She ate my sword.”
Guinaifen winced at the accusation.
“No! I just… borrowed… it.”
“You asked the audience for a sword, took mine, put it down your throat, and I never saw it again! Conclusion: you ate my sword.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I took it out later; I just… forgot to give it back. And lost it.”
Sushang waved a hand in between the two, breaking the increasingly intense face-off. With two pairs of eyes now trained on her, she grinned.
“Guinaifen, Yanqing wants you to teach him to swallow swords!” She clasped her hands in joy, gleefully disregarding the mounting horror on Yanqing’s and Guinaifen’s faces.
“WH- I-”
“SUSHA-”
“Hold it!” Sushang stomped her foot. “Yanqing, your whole, like, personality revolves around swords. If you want to impress someone trained in everything martial, wouldn't this be so cool?”
Yanqing rocked on the balls of his feet, chewing harshly on his lower lip. Sushang seized the opportunity for the final blow.
“And Guinaifen is experienced in the art! This kind of chance doesn't come by often you know~”
Yanqing looked a bit more pensive, “I suppose…”
Guinaifen appeared relieved now that the heat had let up on her.
“Lieutenant, you should have started with that!” She said with a blinding grin, shoving her hand into the space between them.
Yanqing hesitantly shook the extended hand.
“I’ll be in your care then.”
Sushang squealed, then gave them both a hearty thumbs up.
“Good luck you two!”
Yanqing and Guinaifen watched as she scurried off into the distance, an awkward silence befalling the pair.
“So uhm, is this something I could feasibly learn in a day?”
Guinaifen’s eyes sparkled in excitement, clearly happy to talk about herself, “Of course! It’ll be a little tough, but I learned it in an hour!”
The boy breathed a sigh of relief.
“... I mean, I couldn't eat solid food for a week after, but it worked out!”
Yanqing suddenly felt very, very faint.
***
Yanqing winced at the metallic clink of the sword tapping his teeth.
Guinaifen had one hand on the dull blade, looming overhead far too close for comfort, and the other poking at various spots on his neck to adjust his posture.
“Lieutenant, a crucial part of sword swallowing is opening your mouth.” Yanqing made no move to do so, occupied by staring slightly cross-eyed at the threat. She grew impatient and yanked his ponytail, pushing the sword a bit further when he yelped. Yanqing grumbled a storm in protest.
Guinaifen poked him in the cheek, “Did you want to learn this or not?” Yanqing’s grumbles quieted to a tolerable volume. “Wait, I might have an idea.” Yanqing couldn't see what Guinaifen was fiddling with, given, you know, the freaking sword in his mouth. He heard the tell-tale blip of Guinaifen’s streaming app open.
“Aooluley ot”
Guinaifen patted him on the forehead with a smug smile. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Her grip on the blade loosened a bit as Yanqing assumed she was setting up the most embarrassing livestream in the history of the Luofu. He could only silently pray to any listening Aeons that the General wouldn't see this.
Yanqing bit down to try and ease the ache in his jaw, when Guinaifen nearly yanked his teeth out, pulling harshly on the blade.
“Whf-GUINAIFEN”
“yanQING, WOULD YOU JUST- JUST STOP BITING”
“STOF FULLING”
“NO LET GO- JUST OPEN-”
“There had better be a good explanation for this, you two.”
Guinaifen whipped her head around at the intruder, eyes wide, looking at Yanqing, looking back at the newcomer, looking at Yanqing…
“plese donft”
Guinaifen dropped the handle of the sword and sprinted off into the crowd. Yanqing, catching the handle before the weight could knock his teeth out, slowly turned to see none other than Madame Yukong.
“i san esplain”
“You had better do so.” Yukong paused, then grimaced, “Preferably without a sword in your mouth.”
***
Yanqing nursed a steaming cup of too-sweet tea with fiddling fingers. He traced the outline of an embossed paper kite with his index finger as Madame Yukong hummed from the kitchen. Something about the shape of the kite’s wings reminded him of the pesky little finches that were enamored with the General. He had tried to win them over many times with little seeds and red fruits, but they eyed him with suspicion and chattered loudly when he drew near. The General would only laugh, claiming (rather unfairly) that they were only giving him a wide berth since he started using their favorite tree as a practice dummy (what else was he supposed to use?).
Yukong returned, interrupting his musings with a spoonful of honey. Yanqing dutifully took the spoon and let it sit in his sore mouth.
“Let that sit for a minute,” Yukong tucked an escaped bang behind his ear. “You’ll be fine.”
Yanqing nodded, a bit red from being mothered, and having a moment ago had to explain why, exactly, he put a sword in his mouth. The two sat at Madame Yukong’s tea table, watching distant sparrows hop around a dozing stray dog.
After he had counted to sixty, Yanqing set the teaspoon on the saucer of the cup. He almost began to excuse himself when he saw an indiscernible emotion in the Madame’s eyes. Somehow, even though she was looking at him, it didn't feel like she was seeing him but someone else entirely. Once again, he found himself at a loss for words, looking anywhere but at her.
“Have you decided what to get General Jing Yuan?” Yukong asked, voice cutting through the thick silence amidst them.
Yanqing drummed his fingertips on the porcelain, “I have no idea what to get him. Everything’s just been a bust so far.”
Yukong chuckled at the emanating misery. “That’s not true, is it? Do any of the people you’ve asked regularly meet and know the General?”
Yanqing furrowed his brow in contemplation.
“I suppose not…”
“Who, in your opinion, might spend the most time off-duty with him?”
Understanding dawned on Yanqing’s face. “That might be… me?”
“Indeed. Now ask yourself this: what does the General enjoy?”
Yanqing set his cup down in favor of scrolling through his messages with his mentor. “Let’s see… uhm… he likes strategy games? Books and poetry? And birds- no- weird fauna on the Luofu…?” Yanqing shot to his feet in excitement. “I’VE GOT IT!”
The birds startled and fluttered away as Yanqing hastily pocketed his phone.
“Oh? And what conclusion have you come to?” Yukong questioned, amused with the youth’s quick recovery.
“I’ll buy him a book on weird animals from another planet!” He paused and pulled out his coin purse, rolling its weight on lithe fingers, “I should have enough…”
He started running to the door before his mind caught up.
“Thanks for all the help, Madame Yukong!!”
Madame Yukong smiled and waved him off, all with that faraway look in her eyes again.
~
Yanqing sprinted down the streets, weaving through the port hustle and bustle. If he turned right up ahead, he could take a quick detour alongside some old docks no one used anymore, get to Aurum Alley, buy the book, and get home in time to wrap the gift and give it to the General over dinner. The day’s trials and tribulations hadn't been a waste after all!
He leaped over a hissing cat, apologizing belatedly for bothering her, and ran straight for the old docks. There were not nearly as many people here, Yanqing noted offhandedly. He shrugged to himself. It was certainly easier to navigate.
Still keeping his pace, Yanqing’s eyes glimmered as he approached the gateway to the mercantile alley- when a piercing wail stopped him in his tracks.
About twenty meters away, on the edge of a dock, lay prone a terrified young girl, probably no more than six years old. A sparking Aurumaton Gatekeeper towered over her, mechanical limbs steadily approaching and threatening her.
Yanqing glanced longingly at the alley entryway once- before hardening his resolve and changing course, running straight at the robot. He could beat this robot quickly and still make it to the outworlder book stall on time.
Yanqing summoned a wicked ice blade, flinging it to shatter against the back of the sentry. The gatekeeper abandoned its pursuit of the girl, rotating and lumbering towards him, raising a glowing red baton.
“Stay back, miss!” Yanqing launched himself past the sentry, ducking under a devastating swing. He shot her a grin, “I got you!”
Eyes swiveling back onto his target, Lieutenant Yanqing jumped onto the splintered ice blade still stuck in its back, swung, and viciously severed the whirring turrets on the gatekeeper’s shoulders. The destroyed guns suddenly burst, knocking Yanqing clean off his ledge and rolling onto the dock. He couldn't help a groan, scrambling to his feet and summoning two auxiliary ice blades.
The Aurumaton Gatekeeper was in utter shambles, shuddering and seizing its way to its faultily perceived threat.
Yanqing took a deep breath and let two more swords form and ice his fingers until they numbed.
“STRIKE!”
Four blades spun menacingly before violently stabbing into the creaking metal, demolishing the automaton for good.
Yanqing watched the hunk of spasming metal for any sign of recovery- which didn't appear likely. He sighed, patting himself down for stray shrapnel snagged on his robe. Fu Xuan would definitely scold him if he forgot to scrub it clean before visiting the Seat of Divine Foresight.
“Th-thank you, mister!” Yanqing looked up at the still-trembling girl and put on his best charming smile (the one he gave to Jing Yuan whenever his coin purse grew too light for his liking).
“Of course, Miss …?”
“...Xiaoyu” The girl didn't quite meet his eyes. Ah well, kids.
“Well, Miss Xiaoyu, I’ll walk you back home! ..where might that be?” The little girl waved for his hand, which Yanqing gladly grasped.
“By Aurum Alley, mister.” Yanqing let loose a sigh of relief. They’d get his General’s book yet.
“Perfect!” He trotted alongside the girl, “that’s exactly where I was heading anyway.”
~
Yanqing bid farewell to the elderly woman and her blind granddaughter (the General might have been right about Yanqing’s situational awareness), who had nearly fallen over herself in spouting profuse thanks and ‘ oh thank goodness ’s. She had tried to offer what Yanqing could only assume was their meager savings, which he turned down in good-natured fashion.
His path illuminated by the yellowish glow of the streetlamps, Yanqing made his way to the booksellers- thankfully open. He reached to fiddle with the tie of his coin bag-
which was not there.
Yanqing’s heart dropped to his knees as he desperately patted himself down to no avail. He could've sworn he had it just moments ago! Chewing nearly through his lip, Yanqing recounted his steps. He had it for sure at Madame Yukong’s, he had felt its weight as he ran through the crowd, which meant one thing.
It had to be at the hidden dock.
Feet pounding the pavement, Yanqing neared the wet metal pile - the only indication of any conflict in this area - as his blades had splintered and melted.
And there it was.
One piece of shredded blue fabric, with not a single strale to be found.
It took all of the many years of Yanqing’s etiquette training not to fall to his knees in despair. Burying his face in his hands. Yanqing wiped at his eyes, trying to abate the shameful onslaught of tears. All of this work , this running around, making a fool out of himself- and he couldn't even get the damn gift in the end. No wonder the General avoided coming home early these days – how could he? His apprentice couldn't even get a single task done right.
Swallowing down the train of self-pity (right on time, as per usual), Yanqing kicked the hunk of metal once for good riddance and turned to walk the longways back home.
~
This universe offered no small mercies to the little Lieutenant. Yanqing had hoped he would be able to wash up before the General returned from his duties, but as he stepped barefoot into the main hallway, he was greeted by a soft baritone hum from the kitchen. A sound he would have normally run towards, hyper and ready to ramble endlessly about his day – but today had really, really not been his day.
The General, hair lying loose after what was most likely yet another terribly trying day behind a desk, sent a warm look to the boy as he set their utensils down next to steaming piles of rice with garnished, firm, richly seasoned tofu. Yanqing quietly thanked him for the meal, not entirely present in the moment. He could feel eyes burning into his forehead but chose not to comment, and the General held his tongue. The two ate in silence for what felt like an eternity.
“Strale for your thoughts?” Jing Yuan chuckled, cradling well-worn chopsticks in his hand.
Yanqing poked at the last few grains of rice in his bowl. “... had a long day.”
He spared a glance up, where his mentor watched him with a questioning yet weary look on his face. The General no doubt had also had a long day, and then to make food… Yanqing supposed he should at least come clean about the whole fiasco, since he would probably have to explain why he needed a new coin purse.
“Well I mean, it started yesterday when I overheard your conversation about overworking- so I thought I should get you a gift- little did I know I would end up ruining Master Gongshu’s metal, getting pooped on by a chicken, and trying to eat a sword.” Yanqing huffed, “and then when I finally figured out what to get you, I got in a fight with a broken robot and tore my purse and lost all my allowance in the process!”
The General looked like he was seconds from doubling over in laughter.
“It isn't funny.”
“But of course.” Jing Yuan disguised a laugh with an unconvincing cough. “It isn't funny at all.”
Yanqing felt his entire face glow red. “Sue me for wanting you to be happy!” He sputtered, grabbing the dishes off the table.
Deeply flustered, he rose quickly to set their dishes in the sink. He reached for the cleaning rag when a large calloused hand came to rest on his shoulder, derailing any and all other trains of thought. The hand grasped his shoulder and spun him to face its owner. Yanqing couldn’t bring himself to lift his gaze from the floor.
“The day I carried you home,” Jing Yuan mused, silver hair swaying in the corners of his vision, “...you were just a tiny thing. From the top of your head to the tip of your toes, I could fit you completely in one arm. It was a novel experience for me; I may have been a well-respected public figure, but I wasn't the sort of man mothers would hand their newborns to.”
Jing Yuan’s hand tightened its vice grip on his shoulder.
“Those days, friends were few and far between, and I was a shell of the man I used to be. But that day, Yanqing, the day I held you in my arms for the first time? That was the happiest moment of my life.”
Yanqing fumbled and picked at the embroidered detail on his robe. “You… You couldn’t possibly mean that.”
“Yanqing.” A finger under his chin raised his gaze to meet gentle liquid gold eyes, and he realized with overwhelming certainty that painfully few had ever seen this window so open to the General’s soul. “What need do I have for gifts when the greatest one stands right before me?”
The tears Yanqing so desperately shoved back came back with a vengeance, and he threw himself into Jing Yuan’s waiting arms if only to spare himself the humiliation of being seen.
Yanqing burrowed his face as far as he possibly could, into the folds of his mentor’s lounging robes. Jing Yuan’s ensuing hum reverberated through his body not unlike Mimi’s purring, on the nights all was good and well and stars twinkled and his General was recounting a heroic tale of victory and Yanqing’s eyelids would grow so heavy and a strong arm would tuck him into the safest spot in whole universe between powerful legs and the sturdiest heartbeat and and and
And Yanqing felt a sob erupt from the depth of his throat. The hand resting at the nape of his neck started to circle and work little tangles out that had formed in the course of the day. The other flattened against his back, pressing him ever closer to that deep, steady heartbeat.
“My lieutenant,” Jing Yuan whispered so, so softly over muffled sniffles and whimpers. “my son.”