Chapter Text
“When I return next, would you marry me?”
It was a selfish request. He understood that well. Yet still he asked.
“Skipping the courtship straight to the proposal there lieutenant?” For someone who looked so startled you managed quite the response.
His smile was small, perhaps a little sheepish, but wholy unapologetic. His eyes lingered on you, dragging across your face. “Then,” his chest warmed and his lips curled even more without his permission, “when I return next, would you give me the opportunity to court you?”
Your silence was…thoughtful. Most likely. You had that expression you often did when you were thinking of something, and though your gaze was technically upon him, he felt as though you’d ceased actually looking at him to instead look at something he could not see. Still, he did find his heart marching to the beat of the wardrum thundering in his ears.
You looked away from him, yet the silence persisted. He found himself clasping his hands behind his back, taking the familiar stance of soldiers in the presence of their commanding officers.
“How much longer till you’re deployed again?” You turned to look at him.
“A little over a week,” it was his turn to think, “nine days.”
You nodded, “would you come by to meet my parents tomorrow?”
He was certain his surprise shown upon his face. “That leaves us with only eight days,” he found himself saying.
“That should be enough,” you nodded, your tone carrying a certainty that sent a buzz out throughout his entire body, his extremeties included.
“Very well,” ah he really did need to learn to temper his expressions, “I shall see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” you gave him a small, rather demure, rather bashful smile, before scurrying off.
Your foot caught on an uneven stone and you stumbled slightly, turned to him to see that he was indeed watching you, gave him a weak wave, and then carried on your way. Watching you, something in his chest took wing. He all but floated home.
Your parents had their reservations about him, about this entire arrangement, however both of you together had managed to convince them. For six days he courted you, spending long hours discussing all manner of things. He would wake up and immediately head to see you, a gift for your family in hand, and would spend the day in discussion with you.
He’d actually chuckled when you’d pulled out a detailed list of questions that first day when he’d gone to visit your family. “We do not have the same luxury of time as others do,” you’d explained, “so I felt it would be best to tackle the essential details quickly.”
“How very prudent of you,” he couldn’t help the mirth playing on his entire system, “I feel very under prepared.”
“That would be very unlike you lieutenant,” you’d looked up from your notes, “I had heard you were particularly adept at strategy and planning.”
“I am thankful for the few small successes I have had in developing military strategies,” he conceded.
You snorted. It was a charming, inelegant, unrefined sound. Untouched, and unchanged, just you.
“Would you like to form a strategy right now?” You offered him a paper and pen.
He took them gratefully.
Your families were introduced. It was almost amusing watching the four parents seemingly comiserate over the break-neck speed with which your courtship was proceeding. Perhaps sharing such a hardship would bring them closer together, and in truth it likely did.
He’d implied that it was his choice of career that pushed the two of you to move so quickly, successfully securing the blame for the rush. After all, he was the one who had struck first, you’d simply obliged him.
“What pushed you to propose so suddenly?” You asked him on the second day of your courtship as the two of you strolled about Aurum Alley.
That was a fair question, but not one he expected. “Why do you ask?”
Your brow pinched, “you won’t answer me?”
“I will,” he disagreed, “however I was curious about your reasoning.”
“Well I’m curious about your reasoning as well,” you returned — fair enough. Suspicioun was not far removed from curiosity.
“I am attracted to you,” he began, buying himself time to translate his feelings into thoughts and arrange them into communicatable words.
“That’s not enough to propose marriage though,” you interjected.
“You’re right,” he chuckled at you, “forgive me, I’m still putting it into words in my head.”
“Oh,” you looked sheepish, “sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he shook his head at you, “you’re correct in criticizing such a weak claim.”
“Well I could have been patient.”
“You are patient,” he took you in, “one of the most patient people I know. One of the most resilient people I know, with a deep love for your people and your nation,” the words were starting to find him it seemed, “your strength of character, your desire for justice, your passion,” he could only begin to list your virtues, “I wish for nothing more, than to bear witness to it and stand by it my whole life.”
“You make me sound like I’d be a good Cloud Knight,” you huffed.
“Does my explanation disappoint you?” That wouldn’t be any good.
“You referred to my strength,” you trailed off.
“Yes,” he nodded, “you are like a tree amid a raging tempest. You hold steadfast where others would easily be swept away,” his smile grew, “and you are deeply rooted, unwavering in your ideals.”
You diverted your gaze from his. Ah. It would seem he made you shy. He took advantage of your silence to press onwards, “you are like a boulder amid the raging river of time,” he gestured to you, “though affected, you stand firm.”
“So I’m a rock now am I lieutenant?” You struck, playfully.
“It was meant as an analogy,” he parried with the same mirth, “apologies if it wasn’t to your liking.”
You huffed a little laugh under your breath, and something took wing in Jing Yuan’s chest. Your amusement was short-lived though.
“You understand that if you marry me you’d have to bear witness to my weakness, and even hold my weakness, not just my strength, right?” You pursed your lips, your brow furrowing.
“It would be my honor,” his eyes swept across your face savouring each feature, “to be your refuge, as you’ve been mine so many times before.”
“Have I now?” You seemed both disbelieving and amused.
“Without a doubt.”
“You’re a silver tongued swordsman, aren’t you lieutenant?” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Your tongue is as honed as your glaive.”
His laughter bubbled within his gut, erupting from his mouth before he could stop it. He worked to temper his laughter quickly. “You wound me,” he tilted his head to the side, “these are my heartfelt feelings.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed it is,” he paused and turned to face you, and you returned the favor, “I am bearing to you my most vulnerable heart of hearts.”
He watched your eyes search him. “Then I will do my best to be careful with it.”
“I have full faith that you will.”
You were married within the week. Your marriage contract signed and registered with whatever commission handled that. Jing Yuan had not hesitated. No sooner had your marriage been officiated than he’d taken your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. After all, there was no telling when he’d be able to do that next.
You’d had barely a day to run through the necessary rituals such as the tea ceremonies, and the wedding dinner — which had been a small, modest banquet with close family and friends to celebrate your union. You didn’t want too much fanfare, out of respect for the current ongoing war, but you still wanted to announce your commitment to one another. While it was somewhat festive, the whispers about his inevitable and fast approaching departure cast a solemn tone over the event. You didn’t seem to mind too much, having already made peace with the reality of his station.
You saw him off with his family this time, unlike before when you would bid him farewell the night before. You embraced him like you might not get the opportunity to embrace him again — though he wasn’t any better. When you broke away, despite your clear embarrassment, you cradled his face to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, “I feel you will be returning to me safely.”
“I pray you are right my dear,” he held one of your hands that cradled his face, stroking his thumb along the back of it, “may we meet again soon.”
“May we meet again, in victory.”
His lips pulled upwards without his permission, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “in victory my love.”
“Isn’t it rather soon for that?” You questioned.
“Perhaps, but I am already certain of it,” he pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
“Stay safe Jing Yuan.”
“As you wish my love.”
Fifteen years.
For fifteen long years he was kept away from you by his duties as Lieutenant of the Luofu Cloud Knights. While fifteen years are, in a sense, but a drop of water in a vast lake for a long life species — it did not soothe the ache of separation.
Was it that he knew you were waiting for his return that intensified his yearning so? Or would it have been worse with the knowledge that you could be swept away by another at any moment while he was away? It was useless to muse over such things, yet here he was.
Jing Yuan was deeply grateful for your foresight in expediting your marriage to be before this current deployment.
That isn’t to say he would have been distracted in the midst of battles. No. That would be impossible. Not with the stench of gunpowder, copper, smoke, and dirt filling the air around him. Not with the violent clangs and screeches of metal upon metal as decisive battles rang out — the screams of the fallen, the orders of the superiors, and screeches of aerial missiles coming together into an orchestration maestroed by a nightmare hellbent on exacting revenge upon life itself.
There are fates worse than death.
He charged forward.
The field hospital following the battle was a battlefield of its own.
The groans of agony, cries of pain, barking of orders, hum of cloud hymn magic, clattering of tools created a cacophony that could deafen even those with the hardest of hearing. Of course Jing Yuan’s own voice joined into the chaos as he burst in announcing the wounded on his back in a hurry while frantically looking for an open cot. No sooner had a medic responded to him, then he’d been shooed out of the premises.
Exiting the makeshift medical center the Lieutenant heaved a deep, refreshing, breath that pulled at some part of his abdomen. It would seem he did not emerge from the chaos unaffected himself. He would get himself checked out professionally later though. Despite the new arrival of additional medical staff, the field hospital was clearly overwhelmed. For now he would make do with ensuring any wounds were not exposed to anymore contamination.
The casualties were simply of that scale.
Meandering off to a tree, while taking care to look very purposeful and composed while doing so, Jing Yuan rests himself at the base of it for a while. Looking up to the sky littered with stars, he reached his hand behind his breastplate to pull out your most recent correspondence. The strokes of your handwriting kept him company, wrapping around him with your usual kindness, your usual firmness. The tender curves of the letters curving his lips upwards.
You wrote to him of the latest events in your life. You had completed your initial surgical training recently. It felt as though it were not that long ago when he received the letter where you’d announced you would be going to study medicine, inspired by him apparently. My husband risks his life to protect the people of the Xianzhou, how am I to stand by him if I slack off?
Ah. A soft warmth diffused throughout him. You’d acknowledged him directly as your husband, better yet, in writing! That letter sat among the others in the ever growing collection he kept. You had nothing to prove, and stood shoulder to shoulder with him already.
My husband risks his life to protect the people of the Xianzhou, how am I to stand by him if I slack off?
Truly, your foresight in expediting your marriage was unmatched.
You were married now. A beautiful transformation of your friendship if he did say so himself. A natural next step. Yet, he’d been sent off to this far land before you could really taste the difference that came with this change.
He closed his eyes and hugged your letters closer to his chest. What you were up to now? Studying? Conducting research? Writing to him of your day? Perhaps seated near the window of your family home, where he’d glance you while walking by? Diligently reading, writing with that unbearably adorable expression on your face? Maybe with a cup of tea forgotten off to the side?
He chuckled. His chest loosened. The pain in his side persisted. He would make sure to have it examined.
One day. One day this campaign would be over, and he’d sweep you into his arms again, and begin your life together, properly.
“Lieutenant! Did you want to get looked over?” A voice accompanied the thudding footsteps approaching him.
Jing Yuan’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked the exhaustion from his eyes, a yawn tearing its way from his mouth and his body demanding he stretch it — that pesky pulling sensation returning.
“This is no place to be taking a nap lieutenant!” It was a member of the Fourth Infantry Company who was scolding him.
“Rest is absolutely essential to keep our minds sharp and ready for all encounters,” he drowsed in return, carefully folding and tucking your letter back behind his breastplate and rising to his feet.
“Er—yes—right,” the cloud knight agreed, “the medics are saying that they can look over those with minor injuries now,” he gestured, “you were asked after by name.”
“Is that so?” He quirked a brow. “Well it wouldn’t hurt to be looked at.” His master had ordered him to get medical attention himself while handing the wounded soldier over earlier, and there was that persistent pain.
Approaching the tent once again, he found a smaller, temporary station was set up right outside the main field hospital, with a neat line up of soldiers whose injuries weren’t too urgent, but still needed some attention waiting. He managed a quaint conversation with the fighters both in front of and behind him, easing the wait. It wasn’t all that long to be honest. Soon enough he was at the lip of the miniature medical tent.
Despite the departure of yet another member of the conversation, it continued, with his brother-in-arms mentioning something about how he had a girl waiting for him back home. “Sometimes, when I'm reading her letters, or just thinking about her,” the man confessed, “I can hear her voice speaking to me.”
Jing Yuan hummed with understanding, he could almost hear your voice right now as he thought of you again.
“I take it you’re betrothed?”
“Almost?” The knight was sheepish. “I told her I’d ask for her hand from her family once I got back, and she promised she’d wait for me.”
“Ah, I see,” he nodded, “let us hope that you will be able to return to your lover soon enough.”
The soldier grew ever more sheepish. Jing Yuan would have been in the same position if not for your decisiveness. Though he could empathize with the longing ache to return to the arms of his beloved. He’d barely held you before he was torn away from you after all.
“Next,” Jing Yuan paused for a moment.
Curious.
He gently pushed back the flap and bent down slightly to enter through the tentflap. Oh? He blinked at the medic before him, however nothing about them changed.
It couldn’t be.
“I’ll be looking you over Lieutenant,” yet it was.
“Will you now?” He raised a brow.
“Lieutenant,” your scolding wrapped around him like a security blanket despite the way your presence pulled him from the seams, “please take a seat.”
He complied wordlessly. You began your inspection. His eyes drank in the sight of you: from your eyes and the diligent way they swept over him looking for issues, down your nose to the focused press of your lips and then further down to your attire — a field medic’s uniform.
To his misfortune it did not look misplaced on you. You wore it well. Too well.
He vaguely registered and complied with your instructions. Distracted instead by the way your voice — your sweet, sweet, positively delightful voice — filled his ears, momentarily overpowering the cacophony of his thoughts.
It really was you.
He removed his armor in compliance with your request, and again felt that pulling sensation. He ought to tell you about it. “Let me clean this wound here,” your voice continued to fill the space between you, “raise your sleeve for me.”
“For you?” He chuckled lowly, already reaching to free his sleeve from under his arm guard and roll it up to his shoulder. “Anything.”
Your eyes flickered to his momentarily before flickering away, your lips wobbling the way they did when you became flustered. His body betrayed him with an involuntary twitch as your gloved hand came to grab his upper arm.
“Apologies,” you grimaced, “my hands are cold.”
“No worries,” he murmured.
“I didn’t hurt you did I?” You hurriedly asked. “Er—you didn’t feel any pain from me gripping your arm did you?”
“No,” he paused, “there isn’t any pain from you gripping my arm.”
Your hands were steady, despite the way you had not raised your eyes to meet his again, as you cleaned and redressed a light wound on his bicep.
“You didn’t think to inform me of this beforehand?” He murmured only loud enough for you to hear.
“I didn’t want to be deterred,” you answered just as quietly, wiping away grime and disinfecting the cut, “and if I told you, you’d either be hopeful or worried, and neither would be good for you while you’re engaged in active combat.”
Your touch was gentle yet firm, as you applied a clean bandage to the disinfected wound, “I didn’t want to distract you,” Jing Yuan suppressed a shiver. This wasn’t at all how he imagined your reunion.
“And knowing you’re not too far away from danger wouldn’t distract me?” You finally looked up at him, and his eyes bore into your own.
There was no way his parents, no way your parents would have approved of this plot of yours. He definitely didn’t. No matter how much he longed to see you— to be by your side— he wouldn’t want you anywhere near an active battlesite.
Your eyes were downcast as you turned to his palms, probably locking onto the one that was hastily wrapped. He swallowed thickly, his throat painfully dry at the sight of you. It was wholy unfair how his heart twinged at the sight of you looking so shunned.
“If,” your tone was hesitant — yet your hands remained steady, unwinding the dirtied bandage on his hand, “if I said something,” you continued to focus on his hand, “and then I didn’t get deployed out here…”
You went quiet, your brows furrowing with a frown setting on your lips as you took in the damage, “I mean, if I were in your position,” you began cleaning the wound—never once raising your head up from it, “oh thank goodness it doesn’t need stitches.”
The genuine relief that tumbled out of you landed square in his chest, warming it, squeezing it. “If I were in your position, I’d be disappointed if I got my hopes up and then they were dashed.”
“I still wish you’d have talked to me about this before making the decision,” he returned, keeping his voice low so as to not be overheard by the other medic and wounded in the tent.
“I was scared you’d tell me not to,” you confessed — your voice the smallest he’d ever heard it.
“I…” he trailed off watching you.
Watching how your gaze still did not lift. Watching as you continued to professionally wind the dressing on his wound, finishing up quickly and then removing your gloves. Admittedly his palm felt better after your attention.
“Lift your arms for me,” your eyes finally returned to his own, and he had to restrain yet another shiver at the feeling of your unwavering, focused gaze, closely studying him, “how does that feel.”
“There is a pulling sensation on my right side.”
“Where exactly?” It was truly so unfair how he sat here before you vulnerable and pliant, mesmerized by the confidence with which you inspected him, instructed him, and then appropriately, deftly, and gently tended to his wounds. His throat burned and his chest warmed. You looked completely within your element. Even if it was an element he’d never seen you in before.
He repeated the motion, and when he felt the pull again, he placed his left hand over the area. While it shouldn’t have surprised him, you immediately reached out to touch the spot, knocking your hand against his, the feeling did jolt him slightly. To think he could hold it, hold your hand, now.
You pushed down on it, “does it hurt when I press down on it?”
“A little.”
“What kind of pain is it? Dull, sharp, throbbing, heaviness—”
“A dull pain,” he admitted and your gaze never left the hurt part of his body, “It also hurts here,” he gestured to his chest.
The alarm on your face was not what he wanted, “what kind of pain?” But you did glance up at him for a moment.
“The pain of my beloved not telling me she was going to put herself in harm’s way.”
“Lieutenant,” you huffed, but he could see the relief in how your shoulders dropped…as did your gaze.
You ran him through a series of movements, inspecting for pain, before finally deciding to take a look at it. “Could you,” you looked away to the side, “lift your shirt up for me?”
Jing Yuan’s face heated up, his throat and chest constricting. It wasn’t as if medics hadn’t seen him without a shirt before…but those medics weren’t you. Still, he tugged his shirt out from under his uniform pants, raising it to reveal his abdomen to you. And to allow your letters to drop apparently.
Your gaze immediately fell to them, and instinctively you leaned down, then paused. The moment of hesitation cost you as he too had been reaching down and now successfully picked them up and set them to the side.
“Continue,” he commanded, raising his shirt to reveal his abdomen to you again.
This wasn’t how he imagined undressing—if only partially— in front of you for the first time.
Aeons knew that this wasn’t the time for the less savoury half of his thoughts. Yet he could not help but bask in your undivided attention. Especially not with how your gaze clearly diverted away from the affected area to trail over the expanse of his revealed skin. He was almost tempted to raise his shirt further. Would your eyes trail further upward? Regardless, it would seem like he had the same effect on you, as you did on him.
“That really is a nasty bruise,” your voice wavered, then you sighed, “I’m going to,” you trailed off, “touch you to further inspect things, please let me know if it hurts.”
“Go ahead,” you’d thrown Jing Yuan into yet another battlefield, a wholy unfamiliar and foreign one, wherein he gripped his sanity in one hand and guarded his concern in the other.
True to your word you did touch the area surrounding the bruise, and he could not hold back the shiver that wracked through him at the feeling of your fingers coming into contact with the side of his abdomen.
“Oh! Did that hurt?”
“No,” he clipped — voice pulled taut like a drawstring.
“Lieutenant,” you hissed at him — looking positively darling.
“Your hands are cold,” he repeated your previous claim.
“My apologies,” you sighed and continued, “does this hurt?”
Your inspection continued and you’d determined that though he’d been bruised, nothing was broken, thankfully. You cleaned up a few other knicks and scratches. He knew he’d have to part from you soon, but he hadn’t said his piece yet.
“Meet me behind the field hospital after dinner,” he murmured again, taking care to keep his voice low.
“Alright,” you huffed aloud, “you’re good to go.”
“Thank you.”
With that he trekked out to convine with his master, as she’d likely have returned from the battlefield to convene with the strategists.
“Ah Jing Yuan, good timing,” she beckoned him, and immediately began briefing him on the current situation.
This was familiar territory for Jing Yuan. Strategy meetings, laying out plans to minimize casualties while achieving victory. The hours passed him by as he worked together with the other senior military members, debating, considering, plotting. The meeting culminated in a somewhat-satisfactory strategy with contingencies, and they were disbanned to rest up.
His master approached him, “I see you’ve have the opportunity to visit the medics,” she nodded at his fresh dressings, “have you become acquainted with the new arrivals?”
“Master?” He furrowed his brow. “You’re aware?”
“Her documents appeared before me,” she gave him a small nod and smile, “given she looked familiar I thought to inspect them.”
He sighed, shaking his head, “is this part of the reason you had me deliver the wounded?”
“Yes,” she nodded, leading him out of the tent to venture to a more secluded location, “neither of you revealed your relationship to others did you?”
“No.”
“Good,” she scanned the area, “I sense a traitor in our midst.”
He did not respond immediately, “you mean with how the enemy was prepared to intercept us and knew to ambush our weakest flank today?”
“Yes.”
Jing Yuan’s throat dried up all over again. Of all the times for you — of all the places. He shook his head. “Surely my wife isn’t suspect?”
“No,” direct as ever, his master, “unless you found her behavior strange?”
“No,” he shook his head, “however you’d mentioned keeping our relationship secret from the rest of the knights.”
“It would lead to unnecessary complications,” Jing Liu’s voice remained steady as she continued to keep a lookout.
“Indeed,” he agreed, looking away and swallowing thickly, “she decided this unilaterally without informing me.”
“So she did,” did his master sound amused? Looking back to the powerful lady he found a slight upturn to her lips, “she was among the top of her class in her specialty,” she met his gaze, “trauma surgery and medicine.”
Jing Yuan’s eyes widened, he remembered you mentioning needing to select a specialty. You’d confessed you wanted to be equipped for all situations. You had mentioned trauma. How had he missed this hint? Had he been so blinded by the joy of your letters? Him? What a fool you’d made of him. A lovesick fool indeed.
“Her performance was exceptional amongst her peers,” Jing Liu continued on, “it’s why she was allowed to be deployed despite her limited experience.”
Of course. Of course you were exceptional. How could you not be?
“It seems to me like she came here to see you and support you,” his master’s smile was one of the gentlest he’d ever had the privilege of seeing from her, “Jing Yuan.”
A furious heat squeazed his heart igniting his chest and tearing up his chest to set his entire face ablaze.
“Still she did not inform me of this decision,” he frowned, “I was left none-the-wiser to her schemes.”
“Had I been aware of her plans I wouldn’t have informed you either.”
“Master?”
“There was no guarantee that she would be deployed,” Jing Liu folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, “and discussing it would create extra, unnecessary concern on your part.”
“Master, my wife is now closer to danger than ever before,” Jing Yuan argued, “I now carry even more concern than I would have debating her through letters while knowing she is safe on the Luofu.”
His master stared at him for a long while. “Go, speak to her, clear your mind Jing Yuan,” she ordered, “and be discreet.”
“Yes master.”