in which you're just a cafe employee, and he is the luofu's revered general — the one who can never seem to stray too far from you, no matter how much time passes.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 10.4k wc, fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, coffee shop!au(-but-not-really-but-yeah-but-also-not), set slightly before current timeline, (old) friends to lovers, (attempts at) humour, pining pining bc they are old..., mentions of death (reader killed a mara-struck for the first time), hints of blade x reader if you squint
A/N : after a month the fic is done... i am so unwell for this man good lord ಥ_ಥ
General Jing Yuan is a cafe addict. That much is common knowledge among the citizens of the Luofu. Spanning from those who have been around for as long as he — and even older — to children and visitors alike, there’s not one person who hasn’t heard of this rumour.
When asked by a few brave (or nosy, depending on how you look at it) souls, the corners of his lips merely quirk up in a display of fond affection as he vocalises with equal sentiment, “They have my favourite there. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”
…Yeah. Whatever that meant.
Unsurprisingly, word spreads fast. News of the Cloud Knight’s general making regular trips to a meagre cafe? Just what in the world did they have to cause the great, beloved General Jing Yuan to return time and time again?
In the end, no one could actually figure out what his favourite item on the menu was. Every time he went in, it would always result in him leaving with something new! The only consistent occurrence, however, was the same employee taking his order with an expression akin to that of exasperation.
Meanwhile, to the regulars who have grown used to his profound presence within the humble cafe, they know better. This so-called ‘favourite menu item’ rumour that’s been going around? Preposterous! Having bore witness to the general breeze through the entrance in a bee-line to wherever it is you may be currently stationed (typically behind the counter) on many occasions, they’re confident the last thing in Jing Yuan’s mind when visiting is the menu.
After all, for what reason would he have to visit other than to converse with and see his favourite employee?
As a Xianzhou Native, you’ve experienced many oddities and menial routines throughout your extensive life. From being a medic-slash-supporter during countless wars and purges to your current job in a humble cafe, your options are beginning to run thin. After all, life is about exploring the new and revisiting the old (in your philosophy, at least), and there’s plenty of time to do so after having lived as long as you have.
Granted, outside of your role in purging the Denizens of Abundance, it’s safe to say your current occupation in the cafe has been your longest one yet! Well, you suppose the citizens of the Luofu — and, by extension, the Xianzhou Alliance — were never really ones for drastic change. At least the outworlders who come to visit bring some semblance of entertainment in your mundane life.
Yes. Your simple, mundane life you have come to appreciate.
“I see you’re busy as ever,” comments a baritone voice — languid in intonation yet you’re no stranger to the power which belies it. Against your better judgement, your eyes lift from the marbled counter to meet the smiling face of the bane of your existence, and the general whom the masses respect and fawn over. “Mind taking another customer?”
Ah. Right. This guy.
Out of everything that has been thrown at you, you’re almost certain this man takes the cake for the strangest experience in your life. And the longest, you suppose.
Although, it seems the same can’t be said for your coworkers, as you practically hear their beams of excitement before they can vocalise it.
“Welcome back, General Jing Yuan!”
You sigh at the enthused greeting from one of your coworkers, the beginnings of a headache teetering along the edges of your conscience.
Ignoring the commotion, you resume your work. What was it you were making again…? Oh, right. One milk tea and a—
“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll drive away customers.”
“Will it drive you away?” you retort, focusing on the last part of the order. After securing the small fruit tart from behind the display case, you pass the milk tea and pastry to a coworker so they can take it to the customer.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawls, impish smile magnified by the glimmer in his eyes when you turn to make contact, “but it’ll take much more than that to drive me away.”
You stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of what it is exactly he wants from you this time. Your eyes begin to narrow. “Are you saying a smile will drive you away?”
He feigns an exaggerated expression of hurt. “Drive me away? Oh, how your accusations wound me!” A chuckle bubbles from his throat when you glare at him for his theatrics, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I concede. Would you believe me if I said I’m worried your attention will be stolen away from me if you smile?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m merely looking out for you, [Name],” he says with a sigh, a shake of his head and a light tutting sound. “While I am immune to your smile, the customers are not. I don’t wish for you to be bored due to the lack of customers.”
Seriously, you can’t believe this guy sometimes. If he wants a challenge, then you accept.
And so you close your eyes and present your best century-perfected customer smile (which, to your credit, has been the number one selling point for many of the regulars and returning customers), deciding to play along with his whims. “Welcome back, General Jing Yuan. Would you like your usual today?”
(Granted, he likes to vary his order every now and then but the caramel latte seems to be his most consistent choice as of late. Pretty good taste, if you do say so yourself.)
“…”
…Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Did everyone just unanimously decide to up and leave?? Is there a minute of silence you’re unaware of???
A meek cough disrupts your thoughts. Relieved at the new sound, you open your eyes only to be stumped by the general in front of you. His prior relaxed posture is now rigid, eyes focusing everywhere but on you. Wait, upon closer inspection, is he… shaking?
“...Please excuse me.”
Huh?
You’re not given much time to process his words. With one swift turn he’s already stalking towards the door.
“Hey! What happened to not being driven away?!” He doesn’t turn back at your shout. No, it seems to only make him speed-walk faster. Barely a blink and he’s gone, the only indication of his presence being the echoing chimes of the bell.
He bigged himself up saying he wouldn’t be driven away but then he goes and leaves you in the dust the moment you smile.
What a hypocrite.
(Unbeknown to you, the regulars who happened to witness the spectacle could only chuckle in fond exasperation at their general’s splutter and flushed skin, the only time they can truly get a read on his thoughts, and your dumbfounded expression.)
“One milk tea, as always.”
“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Tingyun laughs before thanking you. A satisfied hum leaves her lips when drinking the beverage, and that’s all the indication you need to know you have, once again, aced the recipe.
Well done, me! You deserve a pat on the back and a century-long holiday away from as many people as possible!
Graceful movements snap you out of your fantasies. You blink rapidly to process the flutter of a fan, a disarmingly sweet giggle and a cold, paper-like material pressed into your palm.
“Have fun with your dream man~”
“Wait what—”
And then she’s gone, leaving you to stare blankly at the place she was standing mere moments prior. You’re starting to see a pattern here with people abruptly leaving you in a fit of confusion.
Well, nothing you can do about it now, you suppose. So instead you move your focus to the small, thin object enclosed in your hand. Its now-exposed surface gleams under the cafe lights, the reflection obscuring the details. A picture? But what can you do with a—
Wait. Is that… Jing Yuan… winking at the camera…?
Sure enough, under the pressure of your scrutiny as you hold the picture in various angles and heights, the winking face of Jing Yuan stares back at you in mockery. Somehow, this photo feels slightly more personal than the usual ones Tingyun distributes to the masses. Actually, you’re not sure how she even manages to obtain these photos in the first place and, quite frankly, you think it's best you don’t know.
…The hell am I supposed to do with this?
Just as you were wondering what to do with the polaroid, a familiar voice comes from behind — almost as if the small, glossy image clutched between your fingers had the ability to summon him. “If you wanted my photo, all you had to do was ask.”
“Please don’t misunderstand, general,” you deadpan in response, your head swerving to meet his amused gaze before placing the photocard on the counter. “I was given this against my own will.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. ”
“Hmm,” he hums, a melodic sound which serves to speed up the palpitations of your heart. It comes to an abrupt slow, however, when you spot the corners of his lips lift into a smug curve, already dreading whatever it is that may leave his lips. “I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”
“That's not my problem.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
…
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” He laughs at your groan, eyes crinkling with joy at the dispense of your suffering. Yeah, why suffer when you can make drinks? Besides, you already know he’ll accept whatever it is you make, so there’s no reason to ask for his opinion!
He follows close behind when you venture behind the counter in search of some ingredients, uncaring for the stares he receives from the customers who aren’t regulars.
When you crouch, you shoot one last accusatory glare at the still-smiling general before disappearing to rifle through cabinets underneath. “For someone in a position such as yours, you sure do have a lot of spare time to be spending it on a humble cafe worker such as myself.”
You’re not sure if he responds, too focused on searching for what you need. After finding the ingredients, you rock back on your heels and stand, the top of your head brushing against something smooth. When you rise, you realise it was the back of Jing Yuan’s hand which you made contact with, as he grips the edge of the counter where your head most definitely would have hit if he hadn’t cushioned the impact.
He merely grins when your eyes travel up the length of his arm to meet his gaze. “Well, what can I say other than you are worth every second of my time.”
…
“Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”
“Like what?” You watch as his smile strains when you repeat his words from earlier, a victorious grin creeping its way onto your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll make your drink now. It won’t take long.”
True to your words, it doesn’t take long. Within a matter of minutes you’ve prepared a caramel latte. (It was the only thing you could find ingredients for. Perhaps it’s time to go shopping again…)
After securing the lid on the takeaway cup, you hand it over to him. He reaches out, your fingers brushing slightly and—
The silence is unnervingly loud as you both stare blankly at the spilled drink rolling across the counter.
“...I’ll be charging extra for that latte today.”
“Aha…”
You’re no stranger to quiet days in the cafe, and neither are the staff and regulars. After a particular incident way back when, it’s safe to say the establishment has faced many peaceful shifts. Though that’s not to say there hasn’t been any disputes from customers, but they’re usually small, easy to resolve issues that only require a practised smile and a (sometimes threatening) deal before sending them on their merry way.
Today, however, doesn’t seem to be one of those easy days.
“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” your voice resounds in the quiet cafe, stern and unwavering. The man in question tears his attention away from his phone to glance over his shoulder, his once haughty expression now fallen into a scowl.
“And why’s that?” he asks after telling the other person on the line to wait for a moment. “I’m not being disruptive to anyone.” With the progressively hostile looks he’s been getting since earlier, you beg to differ. Well, even if he clearly is an outworlder unaware of the Xianzhou customs, that doesn’t justify his ignorance.
And you decide to tell him just that.
“Since you seem to be a visitor, let me give you a piece of advice: it would do you well to cease all mentions of seeking immortality when aboard any of the Xianzhou ships, lest you want to make an enemy of yourself to the locals.”
“Oh? And who are you to tell me that?”
Your eye twitches at his haughty tone. Within a second your signature customer smile is plastered onto your expression, an even tone conveying your next words, “A Xianzhou Native, of course.”
And the next thing you know there’s a seething customer causing a disruption in the middle of the cafe. Though not unexpected, you still held onto a fraying hope that the issue could be resolved somewhat peacefully.
How bothersome.
A light weight plops itself atop the line of your shoulder, shifting slightly with a soft brush against your jaw before coming to a still. With a blink, you and the man share a brief moment of confusion, and you find yourself more stupefied at the finch gazing up at you with a slight tilt of its head.
It looks familiar, but that isn’t much to go off of. Besides, the first person to come to mind already said he would be busy this week, so you highly doubt he’s managed to appear at just the right time like always… right? Right—
“What seems to be the issue here?”
Your answer comes in the form of a tender warmth encasing your back, a beguiling voice resounding from behind, and a familiar scent relaxing your tensed muscles. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise who’s standing behind you, but perhaps it’s because you’re so used to his presence that you can identify him the moment he steps into a room.
“General…” you trail off at his unexpected appearance. Jing Yuan does not meet your gaze, however, instead choosing to remain upright behind you and fixate his focus onto the man who kicked up a fuss, expression hardened into that akin of a general.
The little finch is not deterred by the overwhelming presence Jing Yuan now exudes. Rather, it chirps happily and nudges its head against your jaw once more before making itself comfortable along the slope of your neck. Looking at it a little closer you realise it's the one who sometimes greets you when you and Jing Yuan meet up, finding purchase on your shoulder during a round or two of starchess. A smile makes its way onto your lips when it leans into the touch of your finger.
It would seem the small bird did a great job in distracting you, however, for the next thing you know wind sweeps past you, exclamatory apologies spewed out in haste follow and gradually fade in its wake. There’s a faint chime of the bell and a missing presence in front of you.
Oh, you blink, he ran away.
Jing Yuan turns to you then, expression much softer than it was a few moments prior. “Are you alright?” he asks, his hand gently squeezing your free shoulder.
“Yeah, thank you,” you sigh. Your fingers lift to massage away the built up tension in your temples. “I’m sorry you had to see that on your break.”
There’s a small pause. “You shouldn’t apologise for something like that.”
“Huh…?” It was a mistake to meet his gaze, you belatedly realise, for your breath is ceased by the flame which burns molten gold, your heart caught in your throat amidst a gravitas you haven’t seen for a while.
His lips part, tone gradually changing to something more light-hearted; a stark contrast to his current expression. “You were just doing your job. It was that customer who was in the wrong. Honestly, he should have known better than to talk so flippantly about that topic.”
Well, you can’t refute his words.
“What are you doing here anyway?” You cough in an attempt to divert the topic, only to raise a brow at his unreadable countenance. “I thought you said you would be busy.”
Jing Yuan pauses, as though hesitant, before responding, “I sent you a message to send notice of my visit but you didn’t even leave me on read, so I knew there was something wrong.”
“I didn’t even notice…” Without a moment’s haste, you pull out your phone. There on your home screen displays notification banners: 6 unread messages from my headache <3.
my headache <3: I have some free time, so I will be paying you a visit. Don’t mention this to Qingzu though, she doesn’t know I am taking a break. =w=
my headache <3: Are you busy? You don’t usually leave me on delivered for longer than five minutes.
my headache <3: Did I do something to make you mad?
my headache <3: [Name]?
my headache <3: …
my headache <3: I will be at the cafe soon. Wait for me.
A pang of guilt seeps into your conscience. You hadn’t realised he sent so many messages. Did that customer take up that much of your attention? Also, do you really not leave him on delivered for more than five minutes??
“Oh! You kept the heart I put there?” Your thoughts are promptly cut off by the baritone voice resounding beside your ear. His light breaths puff against your skin as he leans against you, peeking over your shoulder to read the messages he sent.
“Why wouldn’t I?” you huff, eyes trained onto the device to avoid meeting his gaze. “I said you could make any changes you wanted to your contact name and this was what you wanted.”
He stiffens at your words, breath stuttering ever so slightly against your skin but quickly catches himself. There’s no response for a while, instead a wave of calm washes over you as you scroll through your phone with Jing Yuan watching from his place over your shoulder, sometimes recalling a particular memory which comes to mind at certain photos in your camera roll.
It goes on like this for a little while until he shifts, strands of silver brushing against the shell of your ear when he releases a light sigh. You glance over your shoulder only to see him already looking at you, the lines of his features soft and gentle.
“You know,” he starts, voice soft with a twinge of nostalgia seeping through, “I’m your first and longest supporter.”
Well, that certainly came out of the blue.
But he’s not wrong, and perhaps that is why you find yourself huffing out a breathy laugh in response. “What? You want me to praise you?”
“Would you?” he asks, an instantaneous response to your lighthearted jest.
You stare at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze holds weight, seizing your breath and rendering you speechless. Ah, he really isn’t good for your heart.
“Keep dreaming, general.”
Despite the scoff backing those words, you make no effort to hide your smile. And though you don’t catch it, Jing Yuan makes no effort to hide the adoration glistening in his gaze.
Sidestep to the left. Duck. Step back. Parry. Clang! Step to the right. Pivot. Clack! Raise your arm—!
A sword flies up, twirling mid-air as it plummets back down and digs cleanly into the grass. It gleams under the artificial sun, becoming a focal point in the otherwise barren grounds. You straighten your posture, spear at your side and a bottle of water in hand as you approach the worn-out aspiring Sword Champion.
“You’ve improved, Yanqing.” You smile when he looks up, breathing ragged as he mumbles his thanks before guzzling down the fluids of the water bottle now in his hands. You sit beside him, and it’s not long before a refreshed sigh escapes him, setting the near-empty bottle in his lap.
A lapse of silence. A faint breeze. A wave of heat. A shift of gold.
You sigh upon noticing the boy’s gaze switching between you and your weapon. “What is it?”
“That spear,” he starts, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“How so?”
“It’s different from the spears the rest of the Cloud Knight’s use and, even though it has a similar aura to the general’s Devastator Glaive, it feels like… it was almost made for you. A weapon that only you can wield.”
For a teen yet to explore the larger part of life, he is frighteningly perceptive. He’s quick to pick up subtle nuances and yet retains that innocent curiosity which enables him to ask questions most adults would not. It’s part of a child’s charm, and you can only hope he will never be robbed of that part of him.
“Made for me, you say?” You cast a glance to your side, vision tunnelling into the fine details which adorns the crafted spear. Despite the many centuries the weapon has braved through, it still appears as though it were only crafted yesterday. Its colours are still vibrant and its exterior holds minimal wear. Your breath hitches when your gaze trails down towards the hilt and hones in on the faintly carved names: yours and the one who gifted this to you.
Your mind numbs. There’s a matching bow which sits in your home, you recall, locked away in a spare room deep within the confinement of your walls. There are other accompaniments, too, surrounding it in decorated, bejewelled boxes filled with handicrafts ranging from everyday trinkets to carefully crafted ornaments carved from the purest of jades.
It sits there, collecting dust all year round. All year round except for one single day — a day when your thoughts surge to new heights and can only be tamed when in that room, cleaning off layers of dust and spiralling into seemingly endless nostalgia. It serves as both a commemoration of the past as well as a reminder for what will never again be.
Immortality truly is a wretched thing.
“[Name]?”
You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. Yanqing, who was sitting beside you mere moments prior, is in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. He probably shook you while you were lost in thought, you surmise. How mortifying…
“Your teacher seems to be slacking off,” you cough, swiftly changing the topic. He doesn’t take note of your awkward transition, but, if he did, he’s done a good job hiding it. “Is he busy?”
“The general?” he repeats in a murmur, chin held between his thumb and forefinger with a contemplative expression. He blinks. “Nope! No clue.”
“I see,” you sweatdrop. Worry begins to pool in the back of your mind, but it is quickly smothered when Yanqing jumps up, bouncing on his heels as he shows off his recovered energy and readiness to spar with you for another round.
You cast one last glance at your spear before standing, following close behind an eager Yanqing as he bounds to the middle of the field with his sword in hand.
(You can still recall him; the young man who gave you these gifts way back when, putting on airs of nonchalance in a poor attempt at masking his bashfulness, the furtive glances, the hand raised to rub the back of his neck, the awkward cough he always did before excusing himself after gifting whatever it was he made that time — all of it is practically ingrained into your mind.
You can still recall him; how could you not when he is the same man who haunts you when in your lonesome.)
--
He’s not here. Again.
You’ve lost count of the number of times your focus darts to the door when a resounding chime of the bell is heard, only to be left with aching disappointment when it turns out to be anyone other than Jing Yuan. His radio silence is concerning, though you suppose any kind of silence from him has that effect considering he always made sure to notify you when he would be busy, therefore unable to visit you due to urgent matters.
Has he been well? Has he been eating regularly? What of his sleeping habits? He’s not overworking himself again, is he? What if he left on an expedition without saying anything?
Your answer appears in the form of Yukong.
“The general?” she repeats, blowing lightly on the freshly brewed coffee before answering you. “While I am not completely in the know, I’ve heard in passing that he has been cooped up in his office. For once.”
It’s practically common knowledge to the Luofu citizens how Jing Yuan tends to be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight. More often than not, he will appear as a hologram, sometimes choosing to instead give advance notice of his lack of presence. Well, you suppose most have grown accustomed to finding him at the cafe. So for him to now hide away in his office without a word is of course a matter of concern. After all, the last time he did this was years ago, and that was because he didn’t want you to worry about… him.
You pause, fists clenching at your belated realisation. A tinge of frustration begins to creep up, but the concern over his condition is far more prevalent, curling around and constricting your heart as worry clouds your senses. “That guy…”
--
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments, voice languid in a valiant attempt to hide the undertone of surprise at your arrival. He quickly recovers with a genial smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?”
Admittedly, it would have fooled many others. Unfortunately, you have known him too long to be fooled by such tactics. You’re sure he knows, if the slight waver in his gaze has anything to say about it.
Instead of answering, you choose to remain still in front of the now-shut doors. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he merely resumes his task in a robotic manner. Except for the two of you, the office is void of the usual stationed knights and his few assistants, making the room feel much larger. It’s daunting.
Your unease does not fade after hearing his voice. No, it only heightens, his sluggish movements and voice laden with exhaustion further spiralling you into a state of distress over his well-being. You watch his slow blinks, head dipping slightly only to snap up to prevent himself from falling into slumber before continuing to sign document after document, replacing each signed sheet with a new one in a never-ending cycle.
It would have been comical if you weren’t aware of the fact he’s been neglecting his health to finish these papers.
Typically, he wouldn’t be having this issue, always having been the type to get his work done ahead of time despite his… less than professional demeanour at times, though it seems the papers have been brought in heavy bulk this time around; that, or they contained pressing matters which couldn’t be put off.
“Take a break,” you finally say, unable to stand the sight of him pushing himself any longer. He doesn’t spare you a glance. If it weren’t for the brief pause in his writing before continuing, you would have thought he didn’t hear you. Teeth digging into your lower lip and eyes narrowing into a glare, you try once more. “I’m serious. Take a break.”
Palpable silence douses the room.
And then he lifts his head, meeting your furrowed gaze. His eyes are anything but bright, a dull glaze coupled with dark eyebags signifying his lack of sleep.
“I have to finish signing these papers,” Jing Yuan sighs out, giving what you assume to be an apologetic glance before lowering his head back down to resume the paperwork.
Unfortunately for him, you won’t allow him to succeed in his attempts.
“And I don’t want you to collapse from overwork again!” He flinches at that, and you know you have managed to convince him when he places his pen down on the table’s surface and relents with a deep sigh. When he finally nods, defeated, the building tension dissipates and you’re able to breathe without worry again.
With cautious steps, you make your way over to the large chair. Having been in this room countless times, it’s easy for you to glide to where Jing Yuan sits despite the darkness which now drapes like a veil over the interior.
When you reach his seat, your eyes harden at the scattered documents, staring at them for a few seconds in hopes it will miraculously burn them, before tearing your gaze away and focusing on your weary friend.
“Let’s get you home,” you mutter. You lean down and prepare to help him stand in case he needs the extra support after having sat for too long. It doesn’t go as planned, however, when he tugs you down beside him and plops his head onto your lap. “Hey—!”
“Just for a moment…” he intercepts, voice heavily laced with sleep. The second you lock eyes, you know it’s all over for you. “Just for a moment, stay here with me.”
And you sigh knowing ‘a moment’ will turn into hours. But you’re fine with that. As long as he gets his rest and can finally let his guard down, you would gladly lend him your lap for days on end.
“Fine.” You shift slightly to provide him more comfort “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He responds in the form of a grateful smile and soft squeeze to your hand. Within a matter of seconds he’s sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing the dull ache in your heart.
Cautiously, you raise your free hand and reach out to his peaceful expression. His hair is silkier than you last remember, easily threading your fingers through the soft strands to brush them away from obscuring his features.
‘Than I last remember’, huh…
Your eyes trail to the hand clutched in his.
Thinking back on it, it has been a while since you last relaxed like this with him. Life tends to be busy, the cafe takes up most of your time, and Jing Yuan has his official duties to take care of. No matter how lax he tries to play it off, you’re aware he has his hands full with governmental affairs and conjuring a multitude of tactics to minimise losses. That’s the kind of person he is — to badger you about the happenings in your life, yet hide away and gloss over his with a genial mask so as to not worry you.
You’ve always hated that part of him. Why can’t you worry for him? Why must it always be he who consoles you but not the other way around? Does he truly not know how his evasive tendencies pain you, intentional or not?
Questions, questions, questions; all these questions and yet there’s never a concrete answer.
Is he… really so oblivious to the way his secrecy is what spurs your distance with him?
Your hand pauses.
Perhaps steadily drawing a line between you is a pointless pursuit in clinging onto the past, a fleeting hope for everything to revert back to the way it was before; to deny the happenings of bygones which paved the way for the present.
Things will never be what they once were. You understand that. You accept that. And, perhaps, that is what makes it hurt all the more.
Four familiar faces emerge from deep within the hidden crevices of your conscience, ones you have not physically seen for a long time — too long, perhaps. And yet they appear just as vivid as before everything went up in flames, endlessly haunting you when you’re left alone with the silence of your own mind. No matter how tightly you shut your eyes in blatant refusal of their presence, nor the strength in which you cover your ears to drown out the remnants of their voices, they never leave you alone. They cling to you, desperate; the same way in which you are to be free of them.
But even so, in spite of the hostility and bitterness and hurt which remains in their wake and binds itself to their legacies, you cannot help but to wish they are doing well, wherever it is they may now be.
And maybe it’s the full moon glaring down at you which spurs this wishful thinking but, on the off-chance they return, perhaps those of you that are left can gather at the cafe after closing hours and chat about anything and everything, exciting and menial, you have come to experience in the time spent apart.
(Just like old times.)
But, of them, only Jing Yuan remains, and maybe that is why he doesn’t manifest alongside them as a result of this aching nostalgia, instead resting peacefully on your thighs with steady, even breaths; the only indication that he truly is here with you.
“We will be okay, Jing Yuan,” you find yourself whispering as you gaze down at him. “We’ve made it this far, and we’ll continue on, braving through our fate.”
The image of him blurs, his colours further contorting the more you try to blink it away. It is then you force your eyes shut, lean down towards him, lightly brush away his fringe and press two fleeting, chaste kisses: one against the skin of his forehead and the other atop the mole under his left eye. “If not for myself, then, for you, I’ll be okay.”
Whether that’s to reassure you or him… you’re not sure.
For as long as you can remember, Jing Yuan has always been with you.
It wasn’t merely a matter of staying by each other’s side during the day; no, it’s more than that. Your relationship runs deep — centuries bordering a millennia worth of memories tucked away in the crevices of your mind — and it would be an understatement to say you know each other like the back of your hand.
Together, the two of you have been through it all, in practically every sense of the word.
--
Despite enlisting into the Cloud Knights, it was far from what you wanted, instead aligning with the demands of your parents. To have that expectation of continuing your family’s tradition, to have that burden of battling for the Xianzhou Luofu’s legacy, to have that constant worry of one day being mara-struck due to your race, to perhaps never be able to do what you want for yourself, shackled to generations of family service… that was the meaning of your existence. Whether you liked it or not.
You eventually gave up, simply accepting your unwanted fate and following the hollowed footsteps carved by your ancestors. That was how you ended up amongst the new recruits for the Cloud Knights and listening to the current general’s speech about glory and honour and pride — all for the Xianzhou Alliance; all for the Xianzhou Luofu; all for the Cloud Knights.
Fate is such a weird thing, you remember thinking to yourself as your gaze swept across many others in the same uniform as you. Because despite you all looking the same, despite you all holding the same make of spear, you knew their passion and dedication to serve the alliance would far outweigh your own.
He was no exception.
Contrary to you, the boy who stood a couple rows in front wanted to be there. It was obvious in the way his eyes glimmered, the way he held himself in an upright posture and focused with rapt attention on the general at the front. Perhaps that was what caught your eye back then — the pure, unadulterated desire rolling off him had rooted you in place and forced your attention to be on him.
With a sigh you averted your gaze. There was only one thought which resonated within you in that brief moment: you would never grow close to that boy.
For, unlike you, he was made to shine under the glow of the artificial sun, while you were a passionless bystander relinquished of your fate.
--
It wasn’t long before you made a name for yourself amongst the new recruits of the Cloud Knights. It stemmed from a training session-turned-competition. One which you came out on top.
A natural prodigy is what they called you.
A lucky fluke is what they whispered behind your back.
Looking back, you’re not sure why you tried so hard. Did you think you would have it easy if you won? If anything, it probably made your future that much more troublesome with weighty expectations and watchful eyes from those around you.
Well, there went your quiet life.
At least it couldn’t be as suffocating as it would be back at home. The most you would receive are jealous glances from your weaker peers, or urges from your trainers to try a bit harder. But what reason was there to try when the outcome never changed?
“Why are you here?”
“Huh?” When you looked up, hands still gripped tight around the length of your training spear, your unimpressed eyes meeting pools of gold. They widened upon contact.
“Wait— that’s not what I—!” he had cut himself off with a sigh, pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly regathered himself and faced you once more. “I mean, why are you here when you clearly don’t want to be? I watched your matches earlier, but there was no light in your eyes… Kind of like now.”
Was that the expression you had? You would never know. What you did know was that the boy was persistent. Evading the topic would not work on him and, quite frankly, you were tired.
“I’m only here because of my parents,” you began. Your fists clenched and your eyes hardened as you lowered your gaze to the grass. “I hate my fate. I have no say in what I can or can’t do in my own life. That’s all there is to it.”
There was a moment of silence after your sombre words. Maybe now he would leave you alone and be on his way. Just like it should be. Someone like him who shines above the rest has no business with you, whose passion was extinguished before it could manifest.
“That’s not true.” Your gaze snapped up, words of protest ready to be let loose only for that burst of anger to dissipate the second you locked eyes. “You can escape your fate.”
“Hah! What nonsense are you—”
“Because that’s what I did.” You blinked once, twice. Your disbelief must have been obvious by the way he flushed slightly, the crimson tinge spanned from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. “I mean, my ‘fate’ was originally supposed to be a scholar or some kind of official in the Realm-Keeping Commission and follow my family’s footsteps, but look where I am now. I’m nowhere near that.”
It was strange. He was not supposed to be someone similar to you. He was supposed to be someone you could only gaze at from afar. He burned brightly; you did not.
And yet, through his next words, you discovered that you, too, were capable of dreaming and hoping, the light suddenly appearing in what you deemed to be an abyssal darkness.
“I’m now a Cloud Knight, and I believe that you can also change your fate!”
A sense of camaraderie formed between you and the golden boy that day, an odd, tingling warmth coiled around your heart. Though an unfamiliar feeling, you found you didn’t hate it.
--
“Master asked about you today.”
“Tell her my answer is still no.”
“You don’t even know what she asked about!”
“Don’t need to.”
A sigh came from your left at your instant retorts, but that didn’t bother you. The sun was still up and you were set on soaking up as much of it as you could before Jing Yuan had to leave for his training.
It had been a couple years since you first met now, and you somehow became an inseparable pair; where one of you would be spotted, the other wouldn’t be far behind if not already there.
Well, most of the time, at least.
When Jing Yuan had caught the attention of the Sword Champion, Jingliu, he was offered a place in her team. He accepted, of course, and ever since then he began training under her guidance. As a result, those were the only times you were actively separated.
But by extension, you were somehow roped into her interest.
“So this is where you were.” You grimaced at the familiar tone, turning away as Jing Yuan scrambled beside you.
“Master…!”
“You go on ahead, Jing Yuan. There’s something I need to discuss with [Name].”
Although you hadn’t raised your head, the hesitation in Jing Yuan’s movements were clear. The silence stretched on for a long few seconds before he sighed, “I’ll meet you after I finish, [Name].”
And then he was gone, only you and the Sword Champion remained under the tree’s shade. Blades of grass swayed under the faint breeze, but that, too, came to a standstill within seconds.
“I noticed you didn’t take the oath earlier,” Jingliu said, the silence broken.
A humourless laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t realise the Sword Champion was keeping such a close eye on me.”
“You’re hiding your talent.” You fell silent at her abrupt statement. Your fingers twitched when she continued. “I know you’re capable of more than you let on.”
What do you know? You thought to yourself as your fingers dug into the grass. You know nothing about me, so stop acting like it.
You never understood why she was so persistent. Was it because of how close you and Jing Yuan were? Has your parents somehow managed to contact and persuade her? What did she even gain from chasing after you when it was clearly a waste of her time? Why…
“Why… why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because he worries for you.” Your body stilled at her words. You stayed silent for a moment before responding, albeit weaker than your previous tone.
“I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”
“…[Name]—”
“It’s probably best if you go. Jing Yuan’s waiting for you.” She faltered at your words, ultimately conceding.
A sigh escaped you when you noticed her fall back and prepare to head to their usual training spot. She lingered however, and cast a glance over her shoulder to regard you once more.
“You should visit our training sometime,” Jingliu uttered, her usual stern expression a touch softer than what you were used to. “It would be nice to train together, and you can spend more time with Jing Yuan. I hope you can at least consider it.” And then you could only watch as she walked away, the hues of the sunset steadily engulfing her form.
Back then you had scoffed at her words, unaware of the bond you would come to form with the members of the High-Cloud Quintet as a result of your wretched curiosity.
--
“Someone became mara-struck on the expedition.”
“What…?” A soft gasp came from your left. “Is that why only you…”
“Yeah,” you hummed. You had no courage to face your friend next to you, choosing to instead stare listlessly at your quivering hands. “It happened so quickly. One moment we were discussing tactics, the next we heard screaming. It was agonising. And then, in the blink of an eye…” you gulped, drawing in a harsh breath as your hands clenched into fists, “I killed her. I had to. I… I was the only one left from the team and she kept coming after me and I realised then I truly didn’t want to die and—!”
Your words came to an abrupt halt, smothered by an all-too familiar warmth. The beat of his heart against your ear calmed your erratic breaths, allowing you to regain some semblance of composure. Even when you could no longer hear the rapid pounding of your heart ringing through your ears you remained slumped against his chest, the fatigue weighing down your muscles.
“Jing Yuan,” you called in a hoarse tone, “am I a monster now?”
“You’re not,” came his immediate response. You couldn’t find it in you to believe him.
“But I killed someone, Jing Yuan! We were comrades in arms and I took her life!”
“The situation was out of your control and it was the only thing you could do. It was for your survival and to stop her from suffering any longer. You’re not a monster, [Name].” His voice was steady like a pillar of support, a calm sound that could make you believe all the prior happenings were a mere nightmare you’d just awoken from. His arms around you tightened and pushed you further into his familiarity. “You never could be. Never to me.”
That day was the first time you had ever cried so hard to the point you passed out, the exhaustion having finally caught up. That day you were left unaware of the tears Jing Yuan held back as he bore witness to your rare vulnerability, vision blurring and heart aching as he internally vowed to stay by your side — until he no longer physically could.
--
As you both grew older within this endless spiral of longevity, you could only watch as he became something more than a mere soldier of the Cloud Knights — as he began to be someone out of your reach and unfamiliar against a golden glow too radiant for you to perceive.
It wasn’t long after that you left the Cloud Knights for a placement in a newly opened cafe, having had enough of a life out of your control and dictated by others. You had stayed with the Cloud Knights long enough and you finally found the courage to leave after your numerous contributions.
And while your family may not have been pleased with your decision, Jing Yuan had been supportive, taking it upon himself to visit you when he could despite his limited free time in-between training and expeditions. The other four of the High-Cloud Quintet would tag along as well, sometimes relaying entertaining stories to embarrass the others or to simply catch up with you during your time apart as you readily prepared food and drinks for the six of you to enjoy.
It felt like a dream to still be able to laugh with them.
Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. It was a notion that was so glaringly obvious, and yet it never truly occurred to you; not when their visits gradually became less frequent. Not when you began to notice the tension between a couple of your friends. Not when a familiar cold lingered during the moments where all was silent and you were alone.
It was through those moments you foolishly clung to the fraying hope that everything would turn out okay — that all the budding tension would smooth itself out, allowing for you to all converse like it never happened and to move past the hurdle.
Perhaps it was because you had deluded yourself into believing everything would be okay that, the moment your fantasy shattered before your very eyes, it hit you in a way far more torturous than death could ever hope to be.
It hit you in the form of Jing Yuan returning to you on that fateful day in his lonesome, eyes hollow and empty, body battered and bruised; your heart which beat for him shattered when he slumped against you, your world crashing in pursuit. The after-effects of the sobs wracking his battle-worn being reverberated through your slack form, a seemingly endless stream of tears stung the skin along the crook of your neck as he released his unfiltered anguish within your trembling embrace.
You found there was no need to ask how the confrontation with Jingliu went, for his desperate grip and hitched breaths spoke louder than his voice ever could.
At that moment, you believed there was nothing more painful than the sound of his broken cries — your mind, body and soul yearning to take his pain and make it your own at the sheer despair in his eyes as he seeked your comfort. In that moment, you had never felt so powerless, so utterly weak and useless when all you could do in the face of his agony was lend him your familiarity in the confines of the closed cafe.
Even now, seven hundred years later, you still do not believe there to be anything more painful.
During your quiet moments, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience some of the scenes penned in countless novels you’ve read. Would they be just as heart-throbbing as the authors depict them to be? Or would they fall flat and lacklustre when put into a real-world scenario?
What about the stories you’ve overheard during your shifts, or the tales the regulars recounted during the slow days? Would they ever happen to you as well? You’ve always wondered about these things, however…
Just what is this situation?? Isn’t it a bit too similar to that one scene in a novel you recently read? Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding away in the middle of an apocalypse, but the setting of an empty cafe after dark where it is just the two of you still remains the same.
Jing Yuan stands before you, his imposing silhouette prominent against the fragmented brushes of moonlight, pools of molten gold stark against the night’s backdrop. He remains still in the face of your racing thoughts.
The pelting rain (courtesy of the alliance’s artificial weather) drowns your thoughts. In all honesty, you can’t recall how you came to be in this situation. One moment you were closing up the cafe, the next a sudden downpour arrived alongside a drenched general. In your haste to bring him inside, you didn’t stop to think about why he was in the rain in the first place, the only objective in your mind being to dry him as soon as possible.
And so that’s what you did. Only, in your attempt to persuade the man to share an umbrella and walk back home, you were pulled back into him, the umbrella rolling helplessly across the floor as he rooted you in place by the presence of his hands on your shoulders.
Which leads you to your current predicament now.
“What is it?” you ask upon noticing his silence. There is hesitation in his silence. It prolongs in the way a void is endless, stretching on for miles upon miles with no end in sight. There’s a flicker of light in the form of his voice as he brings himself to speak, his words firm yet lacking that usual self-assured intonation he always has.
“Am I someone close to you? No, do you consider me as someone close to you?”
“What nonsense are you…” your words die out when you fail to see his usual air of playfulness, a grave countenance piercing you in its stead. “Of course I consider you as someone close to me. I wouldn’t have spent centuries upon centuries by your side otherwise.” He doesn’t seem to take your light jest well, if his darkening expression has anything to say about it.
“Then why are you still formal with me, even when in private and away from prying eyes?”
“Because you’re one of the six generals, while I am a cafe employee. In a realistic perspective, we are not the same and I’m aware of our boundaries. In fact,” you mumble, meeting his conflicted gaze with a blank one, “I should be the one asking you if I’m someone close to you.”
It’s silent for a brief moment, up until a whispered murmur of “And just who is the one speaking nonsense now?” shatters it.
Your patience, too, shatters alongside it.
“Then what else am I supposed to think when you’re always keeping things from me? You’re always asking about what I’ve done in the day and prying into the details of my life, but what about you? Whenever I ask how things are, or if there’s anything troubling you, you just brush it off like it’s nothing and avoid answering altogether! Am I not allowed to worry about you? Am I not someone who can lend you a shoulder?
You always blabbered about sharing each other’s pain, to not keep our hardships to ourselves, but take a look at yourself first. ‘Am I someone close to you?’ ‘Do you consider me as someone close to you?’ You have no right to ask me those questions when it’s you who's been the one keeping their distance this whole time. What…” A shuddering breath escapes you, your mouth running dry amidst your high emotions. There’s a dull pain which spreads through your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the soft flesh just as your nails do in your palms. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you can only hope it's enough to prevent the well of tears building behind your lids. “What else am I supposed to do if you refuse to let me in?”
You’re tired, you come to realise. Tired of his avoidance and tired of his secrecy. Even if you don’t have the energy to voice your other built-up sentiments, you have an inkling he already knows — whether or not he wants to admit it… well, that’s a problem for him, not for you.
The sigh you release is heavy; heavy with emotion and fatigue.
Your gaze drifts to the window behind the silent man. Despite the ripples in the puddles, the previous downpour has begun to let up, now only a faint pitter patter is all that remains. Seeing how Jing Yuan has made no effort to move or speak, you decide it would be best to leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no fight left in you, only a frail shell hollowed by your insecurities.
When you try to move, however, his grip tightens. You’re pulled closer than you were just a moment ago and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothing — as though he were desperate to keep you in his sights. Your protests die before they can even arise, for the way his eyes glimmer despite there being no light renders you immobile.
“Do you really not see?” His voice comes in the form of a broken whisper, and you try to suppress the suffocating ache in your heart when he gazes at you as though he witnessed you pluck the stars and hand it to him.
“See what?” you scoff, a weak sound that pales against the hammering of your pulse. “All I see is a coward running away from his problems.”
A cold silence. A trembling grip. A shuddering breath.
“You’re right. I am a coward.” You’re taken aback by his ready agreement, though you’re unable to dwell on it for long when his voice gradually begins to rise, his emotions spilling over in pursuit. “I run from problems I cannot handle. I avoid anything that can be deemed as troublesome. I fear that if I burden you with my pain — with my hardships — you will grow tired of me and leave. You’re already so far away, you’ve always been so far from my reach, and yet…” A strained gulp follows his dying words. “And yet if even your fading silhouette is something I can no longer see, then I don’t know what I will do with myself.”
There’s a plethora of things you want to say, but none can be articulated. No matter how much you try and force the words out, nothing is uttered. Just as you think the words will string together, he laughs, humourless and empty.
“You’re right. I have no right to ask you when I’m the one pushing you away — when I’m the one causing this rift between us. But what else must I do to stay by your side, if not this? Where else can I reach you, if not shadowed by your light? You’re the last person I want to lose, [Name], so please,” his voice trembles ever so slightly, a detail that would go unheard if it were not for the fact it is just the two of you, a desolate silence, and frail streaks of moonlight, “don’t go to some place I can’t find you.”
His chest heaves in tandem with his shuddering breaths, the only sound which punctures the still air. You’re not sure which is louder: that, or the white noise ringing amidst your senses. There is no room for thought, however, as you barely take note of your lips parting and the words which leave them.
“You… make me feel like a fool the longer I stay with you.” Your words are not loud, nor are they particularly harsh. But with the current atmosphere being so tense, you may as well have shouted them from the bottom of your heart with the way the echo ricochets within the empty cafe.
Even if your words are not loud, the silence most definitely is; deafeningly so.
After your… confession, for a lack of better words, belatedly registers in your conscience, you have half a mind to slap yourself silly. After all, who in their right mind responds to such an emotional, heartfelt barrage with… that.
You, it would seem.
(A petty part of you deems it fine considering the inner turmoil he’s put you through for Aeons knows how long.)
“Do you want to know something?” he asks, leaving you with no time to linger on your life choices. “When I’m with you, I feel like a fool as well.” Your surprise must have been obvious as he chuckles lightly with a gaze never straying from you. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, one which lightens your heart without dismissing the emotions woven into the space between you. Before you can even think up a response, he continues. “Even if I rehearse what I plan to say to you, it rarely comes out the way I want. Sometimes the words don’t even come out at all. It’s always been this way, even before we became acquainted with each other.”
You blink at his words, stupefied. “You mean back when we were first enlisted into the Cloud Knights?” His sheepish chuckle is answer enough. “Wait— you mean— since all the way back then— huh??”
“Yeah,” he responds, voice light and teeming with unbridled affection, “since the moment I saw you in the welcome ceremony.”
????? Since then?! All you can remember is not wanting anything to do with him back then! To think you never noticed anything until he said it now, though technically it’s not entirely your fault since he never explicitly said anything… right?
Yeah, no it’s both your faults.
“I’m sorry to not have noticed anything till now,” you sigh, your head drooping. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”
(Jing Yuan just barely manages to control himself from kissing you senseless right then and there. Who gave you the right to be so adorable?? Not him, but you won’t catch him complaining.)
“Anything, you say?” he asks after a cough or two. Your eyes narrow at his behaviour before shrugging it off.
“Well, within reason…” you trail off at his pointed look, your mouth instantly shutting at his expression akin to — dare you say — puppy-dog eyes. It’s oddly cute, though you’ve always found his sleepy, cat-like demeanour to be the most endearing and heart-melting of all. (Not that you would ever admit this to him, of course. Well, not when he’s awake, at least.) And so, unsurprisingly, you relent. “Okay. Anything.”
“Then don’t be formal and act distant in public. Just call me ‘Jing Yuan’ familiarly like you used to.”
You blink once, twice. “...That’s it?”
“Well,” he drawls, “considering how you only addressed me as ‘General’ or ‘General Jing Yuan’, which was admittedly closer to my preference, despite being one of the few who were well aware I never wanted to be a general in the first place, I believe it’s the least you can do to show your sincerity.”
You scoff. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, foolish Jing Yuan.”
And he laughs, a breathy melody which sets your heart ablaze. Then you feel his fingers thread through yours, the faint callouses brushing against the back of your hand a testament to his battle prowess.
His lashes flutter shut as your hand is brought up towards his lips. Just as the plush of his lips grazes against your palm, his head dips, instead planting a soft kiss along the pulse point of your inner wrist. There’s a huff of laughter against your warmed skin, and you’re positive it’s because he found amusement in the way your pulse surged and stuttered under his lips.
Smug bastard.
His lashes flutter once more when they open into a half-lidded gaze, your wrist growing ticklish as his lips begin to move against your skin as he murmurs out, “I suppose that makes two of us, my foolish [Name].” When he turns to stare at you completely, his expression is nothing short of soft — eyes filled to the brim and overflowing with tender adoration doused in liquid gold and a warm, gentle curve of a smile that has you clammed up and breathless.
“Yeah,” you mumble after regaining some semblance of composure, unable to stop the smile which blooms on your lips, “I suppose it does.”
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