Work Text:
Yanqing has often met and fought with the members of the High Cloud Quintet. While he had held some hero worship for Jing Yuan—and not so quietly still did—he had been too young to know about the old heroes. All of them had faded away except for the General of the Luofu, Jing Yuan.
He went through those practice swings he was supposed to do while Jing Yuan watched. Yanqing had already done his stretches. His hair was pulled back into a bun. Strands of hair slipped out from it and stuck to his neck.
His teacher was reclining off to the side, leaning on his white tiger Mimi. A book was in Jing Yuan’s hands but he was barely reading. He was the type of person who used whatever was in his hands as a distraction from whatever else he was doing or thinking; it wasn’t a bad habit of his, it was simply something from many years of pretending to pay attention or not scheme during meetings.
“Ready!” Yanqing called. He had to wait a minute for his teacher to stretch.
“I’m coming. Let me get these old bones of mine ready, hm?”
The sparring was rougher this morning. It was the first time they really were able to let loose after Jing Yuan had been injured by Phantylia.
Yanqing had often been chided for being too straightforward in his swordplay. He tried to mix in some of the moves he had seen recently, but he had only observed the result and not the method. Those moves were experimental and interesting, but clumsy. He was tripped three times by his teacher’s spear or foot.
He reminded himself that this was for practice, but it still stung to fall like this.
He rolled and then turned, striking forward. He had not been able to see behind himself and so Jing Yuan’s spear brushed past his cheek.
“Stop,” Jing Yuan called. He lowered his spear.
Yanqing brushed his hand over the cut. “It’s not serious,” he complained. “We can keep going.”
“I like your ingenuity and you need more practice, but being impulsive will not make that faster. We will spar again in two days.” His words on the matter were final, despite his apprentice’s grumbling. “Go clean yourself up.”
Yanqing went inside to wash up and changed clothes. The cut stung. He clicked his teeth. He didn’t want to cover it up, as he thought it looked cool, but his teacher would fuss at him about infections. Additionally, he didn’t like how it got it. This cut wasn’t from being heroic. It was not a decisive punishment. It was just a consequence from rushing forward instead of protecting himself or calling a pause.
He felt tired now. The adrenaline of a morning spar always made him want a nap.
He was off from work for the rest of the day, so he tottered back to the training ground.
Mimi was happy to have another warm body to laze around in the sun with.
Jingyuan was pretending to sleep, so his teacher couldn’t comment about being used as a pillow.
—
It was when Yanqing instinctively blocked Jingliu’s strike that he knew she was connected to Jing Yuan. She was more ruthless. She felt like she was genuinely trying to kill him.
He wasn't sure about who she was until later and he wasn't sure how Jing Yuan felt about Jingliu. Yanqing didn’t want to ask in case he brought he bad memories for his teacher, so he asked Jingliu instead.
“He hasn’t told you about me?”
“My teacher doesn’t like talking about his past. If he had friends back then, I don’t know about them.”
“I was his teacher.”
“And then?”
“I was struck by mara.” Jingliu’s voice was steady. There was no twinge of pain or regret. “He almost killed me. He would have, if he hadn't wanted me to live. Do not be so cruel to your teacher. When he falls, kill him swiftly.”
—
After the initial fight and reveal of Imbibitor Lunae being part of the Astral Express, Yanqing was curious. This was the only one left of his teacher’s comrades that wasn't a criminal. Well, a criminal across galaxies. His status with the Luofu was a bit fuzzy.
Dan Heng was a bit quiet. He preferred to stay in the Archives on the train. He was well regarded by the other passengers.
“Do you like reading?” Dan Heng asked.
Yanging realized that he had been holding a cold cup of coffee while he stared off into space; it was quite interesting to see the Luofu down below. “I like reading stories of heroes.”
Dan Heng didn’t put down the book he was reading but he lowered it. He was digitizing physical books from other worlds into the Archives. It was a lengthy process. “Why? They don’t usually end well.”
“That’s okay.” Yanqing waited, but the man did not say anything more.
That night, he was sent an old collection of folktales. The High Cloud Quintet was featured in several of the wars. Their accolades were highly sung.
It was promising that Dan Heng was even willing to give him this.
Yanqing did not ask questions, because Dan Heng still refused to acknowledge his past memories as Dan Feng. He could understand this. If someone else kept telling him he was his past reincarnation, he would be angry as well. There was something closed off about Dan Heng when he was reminded about the past.
Dan Heng’s style of fighting was very distinct and he rarely felt the need to bring out his other form. Yanqing was careful not to call that form the ‘true’ form, since he was rather sure that would hurt Dan Heng’s feelings.
—
Blade was a tough opponent. There were a few times in those fights when Blade faced Yanqing seriously and he was feeling those cuts on his arms for days later. Even then, he felt somewhat condescending. There was a sneer on that man’s face that never seemed to stop.
Yanqing went several days without hearing anything more about what happened to Blade the Stellaron Hunter.
He walked through one of the shopping alleyways. He had his swords drawn and in formation, circling around him protectively before he even knew who he was fighting.
“Your response is not bad for your age, but your swords are cheap.”
“What did you say?” Yanqing was enraged and he would have burst forth into a fight immediately. However, he was in a market near other citizens. He could not beat Blade. He was not a lieutenant simply from nepotism. He took a breath.
Blade’s lips were curled in a smirk. His tone was full of contempt. “Your swords are cheap. Brittle. They will break and leave you to die. I can’t believe that Jingyuan would let you rely on such terrible craftsmanship.”
Yanqing was sure that was the most words he had heard from this man ever, even when Blade had been stabbing Dan Heng through the chest and gloating. “What is it with all you old people and being ominous about someone dying?” He re-evaluated what was going on in this situation. Blade wasn’t here for revenge against him.
Blade tilted his head. While on some the motion was cute, when he did he looked like a walking corpse. His eyes were rather empty. “Who else have you met?”
“Jingliu. She also tried to stab me.” In the privacy of his own head, Yanqing would admit that he tended to try to stab Jing Yuan’s friends first on most occasions.
There was a huff at that information.
Yanqing shifted to defending his beloved swords against this terrible man’s slander. “My swords didn’t break against her. I spend quite a lot on them.”
“From that, he must have taught you how to perform proper maintenance.”
“I spend quite a lot on sword oils and sharpening stones.”
“Good.”
Yanqing took a step backwards, but the long package was still deposited in his arms. It was a sword, clearly. He just didn’t understand why Blade was giving him anything, nevermind a weapon.
“If this breaks, it was because you were a bad swordsman.” And with that dramatic declaration, Blade walked off.
Once he was sure Blade was gone, Yanqing immediately messaged his teacher.
Student *pat*: Why did Blade give me a sword
Student *pat*: *picture shows a partially unwrapped sword*
Teacher :3: He gave you that?
Teacher :3: What did he say?
Student *pat*: That my swords sucked.
Teacher :3: I know his work well. My spear is one of them. He made that weapon.
Yanqing remembered the tales of the High Cloud Quintet from the book. He understood how Blade fit into the puzzle now. He looked at the beautiful sword, balanced. Silver details on the tough leather hilt and crossguard, blue woven through the metal. This was the most recent creation of a man known as Yingxing, the great short-lived forger of weapons that had committed a terrible sin with the former Vidyadhara Dan Feng.
Yanqing wasn't sure why he had been given such a sword. It was likely something that had to do with his connection to Jing Yuan.
He almost kept it in his collection, but he remembered the words of Blade. It felt like a challenge to Yanqing. This sword would not break.
—
There was no grave for Baiheng, but there was a place to mourn her: the docks. Yanqing was not sure if the rest of the High Cloud Quintet had sent off a ship, or just Jing Yuan. The tale did not say who, only the location.
This bit of the docks jutted out and had a nice overhanging arch.
Yanqing stayed there. He looked over the clouds during that afternoon and into space during that evening. He watched passing people work around the docks.
There was nothing that Baiheng could teach or give him. She was gone. He wished he could have met her, this fiery pilot whose death broke the heroes he loved and pitied and feared.
Jing Yuan came and sat beside Yanqing. He had two cups and bottle. He did not wait on deocurum and seniority, instead pouring the cups himself.
Yanqing sipped. It was weak rice wine.
“How did you know about this spot?”
“Dan Heng gave me a book.”
“Ah.”
Yanqing wasn’t sure whether to ask more. He had a reincarnated man’s book of tales on his jade, a dead man’s sword on his hip, and the warnings of a dead woman in his brain. He sat at the spot where a dead woman’s funeral ship had been sent off with the last truly surviving hero of these five friends as his teacher. However, he knew very well, that although Jing Yuan had continued on, the general had not been unscathed.
“I do not know how much I remember of those days, truly. Maybe you can jog my memory by reading some of those stories to me.” Jing Yuan’s voice was soft. He was on his second cup of that rice wine. It was far too weak for him to relax. He had brought it for Yanqing’s enjoyment and for himself—to have something to do except to sit.
“I know the second one talks about a war with an abundance emanator. I’ll pull it up.” Yanqing had never wanted more to be one of those storytellers who could speak confidently and smoothly. He knew that he would trip over his words and be corrected. He would read anyways.