Archive of Our Own

“How are the new recruits?” Fu Xuan asks, leaning against the window. Below them the mess hall churns with pilots. Jing Yuan laughs.

“They’re only new to you,” he says. He taps the glass, indicating the table where all his students are sitting. “I’ve already been teaching them for months now.”

Fu Xuan frowns. “There’s so few of them.”

“We did have some drop-outs.” Jing Yuan crosses his arms and sighs. “There are signs of promise. There aren’t going to be many pilots out of this batch though.”

“Really?”

“Qingque wants to go the LOCCENT route,” he says. “Bailu already has an apprenticeship in the infirmary.”

“Odd number of pilots, then,” she murmurs. Fu Xuan side-eyes him. “You did remember to schedule a Drift training session this time, right?”

Jing Yuan gasps, placing a hand over his heart in mock-offense. “Of course I did! Who do you take me for?”

Fu Xuan snorts. “An aging ex-pilot about to be in a wheelchair, that’s who. Don’t forget like last time. I’m not covering for you again.”

He smiles. “So kind of you.”

“All right,” Jing Yuan says. “As I said before, we’ll be testing your compatibility with the Drift. If you don’t remember what I explained before, when you get assigned your designations on your phone there will also be an infographic. You get the rest of today and all of tomorrow off after this. If you even think you’re not feeling well go to the infirmary. Any questions or concerns?”

“Will connecting with the Drift really take us out for so long?” Sushang asks. He shrugs.

“It affects people differently. I was out like a light afterwards.” Albeit several hours afterwards; when he was a pilot trainee, he stumbled out of his solo pod and went straight into more training. Jing Yuan is glad that the rules are stricter now.

“Shifu, what are the designations for?” Bailu asks.

“They’re mainly for LOCCENT to guess who you might be Drift-compatible with,” he explains.

“What are your designations, Shifu?” Guinaifen calls.

Jing Yuan smiles and puts a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret. Now go get into your pods.”

The six solo pods in the room are white, three lined up on each wall - one more than his batch of five students, which feel extremely small to him. But the number of recruits applying have plateaued in the single digits, given the survivability of pilots nowadays. Generally only half a batch actually become pilots - if given the choice, he thinks that Yingxing would have gone into mech engineering. As it was, none of them had a choice.

Sushang, Guinaifen, and Qingque take the three pods lined up against the left wall. Yanqing slips into the pod on the right nearest to the chair Jing Yuan sits himself in, his golden hair slipping in with him. Bailu picks the pod to Yanqing’s left. Jing Yuan pulls up their statuses on his tablet and then finds his chat with Fu Xuan.

JY (L-1): it’s like putting eggs in a carton.

LOC: you shouldn’t describe the recruits that way.

JY (L-1): i put the yolks into the eggs, the eggs go into the carton…

LOC: you always bother me with the most inane crap while i’m busy.

JY (L-1): are you?

JY (L-1): i know you’re just watching their statuses too.

LOC: so what if i am.

JY (L-1): glad to know our loccent head is so hardworking.

LOC: shut up.

Jing Yuan smiles to himself as he watches Fu Xuan’s icon blink out of the chat. The statuses of his students have all updated and now say Calculating. There’s not really anything he can do for now, so he pulls up a book on his tablet.

From personal experience he knows that it feels like a year has passed in the pod. In reality it’s a little less than half an hour. Bailu is the first one out, nearly falling flat on her face. Jing Yuan gets up from his seat and guides her to the corner with all the beanbag chairs. “Thank you, Shifu,” she mumbles, yawning.

“The first Drift is always hard,” he says sympathetically. “You can take a nap, if you want.”

He checks his tablet after she’s settled. Bailu’s status reads Lightning, 3.

Following her is Sushang (Physical, 2), then Qingque (Quantum, 4) and Guinaifen (Fire, 3) together. Yanqing stumbles out last, mumbling that he’s fine from where he’s starfished out on the floor. His status is an innocuous little Ice, 1.

LOC: interesting. my office at 1400, jing yuan.

“What do you mean, ‘interesting’?” He says when he enters Fu Xuan’s office. She gestures that he take the lone chair in front of her desk without looking away from his computer. He does, feeling vaguely like he’s back in school in the principal’s office. For all that Fu Xuan is twenty-six, she is, technically, his superior.

“I mean interesting,” she says. When she looks at him her eyes bore into his. “This is the first One we’ve had in years, Jing Yuan.”

“I know,” he says. He does know; the last one, several years ago, had also been his student. Ones are the pilots with the strongest connection to the Drift; that strength can be both a blessing and a curse. His student had thrown herself into the ocean before she had even stepped foot into her first mech.

With the gift of hindsight Jing Yuan can now see that, if she hadn’t perished in battle, Jingliu might have shared a similar fate. Yingxing, two months in, had started exhibiting the signs too. Sometimes he keeps himself awake, wondering if his and Dan Feng’s MIA statuses are any better than the definite KIA s of Jingliu and Baiheng.

“You don’t,” Fu Xuan says. She takes off her glasses. “Jing Yuan, there’s no one else we can pair him up with. You of all people know that Ones pilot together.”

He blinks. “Pair him up?” He repeats. “Fu Xuan, the war isn’t like it was before. We don’t need to pair every pilot up. And anyway,” he adds resignedly, “My piloting is in the past.”

“Trust me,” Fu Xuan says. “We’ve been hearing that there’s been a recent surge of activity at the Ambrosial Arbor. I’d rather have someone experienced on the ground in case the worst happens.”

Jing Yuan scrubs his face. “Fine,” he says. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“I don’t need you to promise.” Fu Xuan turns back to her computer. “I just need you to try.”

Fortunately all of his students show up to dinner, though they all look like they’ve just woken up hungover from a bender. Jing Yuan watches them eat and wonders why they seem so young, even if they’re years older than he was when he joined up. Sushang is twenty-four; Qingque, Guinaifen, and Yanqing are twenty-three; and Bailu is twenty-one. The legal recruit age, when he had joined, was eighteen. Nine years ago, it changed to twenty-one.

A new mech will likely have to be built for Sushang and Guinaifen - Jing Yuan has a hunch that they’ll be Drift-compatible - unless a free one can be brought in from one of the other Domes. No one comes to his head when he tries to remember a Physical and Fire pair. Likely their mech will be something agile and sharp.

A new mech will have to be built anyway, for him and Yanqing.

“You’re going to have to start training like a pilot again,” Fu Xuan observes as she sits down across from him. “You’re in shape for an instructor, but that’s it.”

He kicks her. “I’m in perfectly fine shape,” he says. “And anyway, it’s not like Yanqing has ever won against me in a spar anyway.”

Yanqing looks up when he hears his name. His ears are good; Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan are only sitting at the next table over, but the mess hall is loud since it’s dinner time. He smiles at him, rice at the corner of his lips, before hunching back down and tucking into his food. He sighs.

“You see what I mean,” Fu Xuan says, amused.

“I can’t keep up with you young people,” he says. “But I suppose I can make the effort to try.”

“Good,” Fu Xuan says. She stands up with her dirty tray in her hands. “Like I said, that’s all I need from you.”

It’s only later that night that Jing Yuan finds the courage to make his way to the training room. His footsteps clank in the hallways, which are only lit by the emergency light strips near the ground. His body still remembers the way to the training room for pilots. When he pushes open the door he’s disappointed that it looks different than he remembers, even though he knows that the Luofu Dome underwent construction a decade ago. Like the trainee training rooms, the pilot training room also has a sparring ring and an area with training dummies. Unlike the room for trainees, there’s a section of the room filled with fitness equipment and the racks hold real weapons.

Jing Yuan stretches before choosing one of the bamboo staffs that most pilots favour for warming up. The weight of it is newly familiar in his hand, and he pads over to the training dummies before putting himself through his old drills.

When he’s done his muscles scream at him in protest. He will most definitely be sore tomorrow; he hasn’t been this harsh with his body since he was truly a pilot. But the burn is familiar, and enjoyable in the way of reuniting with an old friend. Despite the joy it brings him, Fu Xuan’s words go in circles in his head. The old urgency that used to reside in his heart during the most terrible parts of the war has returned. Yingxing used to laugh, wise beyond his years, and tell him that there wasn’t any use rushing. Jing Yuan wishes he could tell him now that he was right.

He’s sweaty, and in desperate need of a shower, so Jing Yuan slots the staff into the rack and heads back to his room. For now he has one of the single rooms usually given to non-pilots. No doubt that will change soon. He luxuriates in his own hot shower and in his own space as he towels off. He really does not miss the communal bathrooms that the pilots have to use.

Jing Yuan has a plan to start packing his belongings to move. Instead his fatigue overtakes him, and he only manages to note it down in his phone before he falls into bed.

A week later his students graduate from him. Jing Yuan personally walks all of his students to their new destinations - Bailu to the infirmary, Sushang and Guinaifen to their first pair-training session, and Qingque to LOCCENT. There are a few teary goodbyes in the group, and he, smiling, refrains from telling them that they’ll all probably see each other around. Yanqing, the last one still with him, cocks his head in confusion when Jing Yuan gestures for him to follow.

“Where are we going, Shifu?” He asks, falling in step next to him. Jing Yuan makes a face.

“I’m not your shifu anymore, Yanqing,” he reminds me. “You can call me Jing Yuan.”

Yanqing sticks his tongue out at him. “You can’t expect me to break a months-long habit that soon, Jing Yuan.”

“You’ll lose it fast enough,” he assures him. “Hurry up, we’ve got an appointment with LOCCENT.”

Yanqing frowns. “But we’re in LOCCENT.”

“Sure, we’re in LOCCENT,” Jing Yuan says. He raps his knuckles against the door to Fu Xuan’s office. “But I meant we’re going to talk with LOCCENT.”

“Enter,” Fu Xuan’s voice says. When Jing Yuan holds the door open and ushers Yanqing in she says, “You’re just now learning it’s polite to knock before entering?”

“Have to set a good example for the younger generation,” he says teasingly. He turns to Yanqing and gestures to Fu Xuan. “Yanqing, this is the head of LOCCENT.”

Hastily Yanqing makes a bow. “L-LOCCENT!”

“Pilot Yanqing.” Fu Xuan gazes at the top of his head. The two of them exchange a glance.

Why doesn’t anyone call me by name, Fu Xuan’s eyes say long-sufferingly.

You have a code name for a reason, he replies.

“Please, sit,” she says to the two of them. There are two chairs in front of her desk this time. Jing Yuan takes the one on the right; Yanqing, hesitatingly, seats himself in the chair on the left. “I’ll be brief. Congratulations to the both of you. You’re now a pair.”

Yanqing whips his head around to look at him, wide-eyed. Jing Yuan coughs into his fist. “I’m a little rusty,” he admits. “I hope I won’t slow you down.”

Yanqing’s eyes are huge and golden. “It’s an honor to pilot with you,” he breathes.

Fu Xuan clears his throat. “Jing Yuan, since you’re no longer an instructor, you’ll have to hand back your tablet. Relevant information will now be sent to your phone.” She takes his tablet when he holds it out to her, tapping around the screen for a moment before turning it to show them. “Your new mech is already under construction. This is her so far.”

Yanqing leans forward, mesmerized. “She’s beautiful,” he murmurs. “Is she really ours?”

In retrospect, Jing Yuan should have thought of this. Their circumstances are insanely coincidental - him and Yanqing, a Lightning and Ice pair of Ones; Baiheng and Jingliu, a Lightning and Ice pair of Ones. Of course they would reuse the remains of Moon Killer to make their new mech.

“She is,” Fu Xuan confirms. “The working name for her is Swallow Lord.” She turns off the tablet and tucks it away. “Your first pair-training session is today. Tomorrow, you’ll have your initial Drift-compatibility test. The details are on your phone calendars.” She flaps a hand at them, turning back to her computer. “Dismissed.”

He and Yanqing leave her office. Jing Yuan, distantly, thinks about if, when they Drift in Swallow Lord, whether or not Jingliu and Baiheng’s last moments will be imprinted in her frame. He scrubs a hand over his face.

“Shi- Jing Yuan?” Yanqing’s voice says. He realises that Yanqing stopped walking a few steps ago, and turns back to look at him. His face is concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he lies, smiling. He checks his phone. “Come on. We’ve got training in fifteen.”

Yanqing follows him to the hall where they had left Sushang and Guinaifen. Jing Yuan checks the room number to make sure it’s the right one, signs them in on the screen set into the wall, and lets Yanqing precede him in.

The pair rooms are much smaller than the main communal training room. The only things in the room are a rack holding a few bamboo staffs and a tiny but literal water fountain for drinking. Otherwise the room is bare. The floor mats are scuffed from countless feet, the walls sporting places where it’s obvious a staff hit them too hard. The ceiling is high, one long horizontal window letting in natural light that mixes with the fluorescent ones. Yanqing does a slow spin, taking it all in.

“I like it better than our old training room,” he says conversationally. Jing Yuan looks over at him from where he’s checking the condition of the staffs.

“Do you? It’s much smaller.”

Yanqing’s nose wrinkles. “No noisy people.”

Unbidden, Jing Yuan laughs. “That there isn’t,” he agrees. “Here, catch.”

He tosses Yanqing one of the staffs; Yanqing catches it, weighing it in his hands. “Nice,” he declares.

“Is that all you have to say?” Jing Yuan says amusedly. He falls into a combat stance, holding his own staff. “Please, go easy on these old bones.”

“You’re not that-!”

Yanqing grunts as he’s forced to parry a blow. The clack their staffs make is satisfying. Jing Yuan continues on offense, pressing forward. Unfortunately for Yanqing, he has the advantage of knowing exactly how he fights. He feints and knocks his staff against Yanqing’s side, holding back just enough that he’ll only have a bruise. “One-zero,” he says pleasantly. “Remember, that could have impaled you.”

Yanqing’s eyes narrow. “Your old bones certainly don’t seem to be a weakness,” he says crossly. He twirls his staff; Jing Yuan pulls his back so it doesn’t go flying out of his hands. This time Yanqing dashes forward, pressing insistently up against his guard. Jing Yuan sidesteps a swing at his head and aims a sweep at his feet. Yanqing hops over it and brings his staff down on his arm. Jing Yuan twists so his staff takes the brunt of the blow instead, but the impact jars him. Yanqing flicks it out of his hand, levels his staff at his throat, and says cheerfully, “One-one!”

“Like I said,” Jing Yuan says, knocking his staff away and bending to pick up his own, “I’m rusty.”

Jing Yuan loses count of how many matches they have, though he knows he won the majority of them because of how Yanqing pouts. They put the staffs back on the rack and exit the room. He logs them out, checking his phone as he does. “We have a room assignment,” he says. Yanqing perks up. “Let’s go shower first, though.”

The communal bathrooms, at least, are still exactly as he remembers them. The two of them had split up to grab clothes; when he enters the bathroom, he recognises Yanqing’s dirty clothes in a basket and his clean ones folded on a shelf outside one of the shower stalls. “Yanqing!” He calls loudly, “I’m putting our laundry together!”

“What?” Yanqing yells back. Jing Yuan opens his mouth to repeat himself but is instead startled when Yanqing’s head pops out from around the shower curtain, his pretty hair plastered to the sides of his face. “What’d you say?”

“I’m putting our laundry together,” he says. “That’s fine, right?”

Yanqing frowns. “We’re sharing a room now,” he points out. “Isn’t it more convenient to have our laundry together?”

“Great,” Jing Yuan says. He claims the shower stall next to Yanqing’s by putting his clothes on the shelf before peeling his clothes - stuck to his body with sweat - off. He dumps them into the basket; when he turns around, Yanqing is back to showering.

The water pressure is no longer as harsh as he remembers. Three bottles - body wash, shampoo, and conditioner - are attached to the wall. He makes a mental note to start bringing his loofah to shower. Belatedly he remembers to take his hair tie out and let down his hair.

When he gets out of the shower Yanqing is already finished, his hair only slightly damp and hanging down loose around him. He’s sitting on the bench by the door and idly flicking around on his phone.

“You can go first, you know,” Jing Yuan tells him as he towels off. Yanqing raises his head and blinks at him before hastily averting his eyes.

“Why? Aren’t pairs supposed to stay together?” He says confusedly. Jing Yuan laughs.

“You might as well take the time you have,” he says. “After we Drift together we’ll really be joined at the hip.” He jokes, “I’m sure you’ll get sick of me soon enough.”

“If I would’ve gotten sick of you, it would have been way earlier than this,” Yanqing snorts. “I’m fine sticking around for a bit longer.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. Yanqing has left the hairdryer out and plugged in for him. He makes another mental note to bring his comb so his hair doesn’t get too tangled. “You could start moving your stuff into our new room.”

In the pause before he turns on the hairdryer Yanqing mumbles, “I don’t want to get lost.”

Jing Yuan cracks a smile. “All right,” he says. “I’ll hurry then.”

The hairdryer, when he’s done with it, goes into a bin beneath the sinks. Yanqing hops up from the bench and grabs the laundry basket before Jing Yuan can. “Let me,” he says. “Just focus on not getting us lost.”

He hides his smile and decides that he’s not telling Yanqing that he can pull up a map of the Dome on his phone if he forgets. “Follow me, then.”

The pilot accommodations are equidistant from the training rooms, the bathrooms, and the mess hall. Conveniently, they’re closest to mech bays and the infirmary. Jing Yuan points this out to Yanqing as he finds their room. The plaque on the wall to the right of the door says 206. He checks the handle - locked, good - and tests both the handprint reader and the passcode number pad. Both his hand and his code work, though Yanqing looks at him strangely when the door opens the first time and he pulls it shut. “Sorry,” he says. “Can’t be too safe, right?”

Once he inputs his code he pushes the door open and holds it for Yanqing. The room is exactly as he remembers the pilot bedrooms being - drab, concrete, and with all the furniture bolted down. Incredibly spartan, the only real non-bed furniture is one large desk against one wall with two chairs pushed in. The two twin beds are, interestingly, pushed together to form a bigger bed, with the nightstand with a clock having been relegated to the left side. They have one, sole porthole window, with shelves on either side of it, and a closet opposite to the beds.

Yanqing sets the basket down on the floor. “Wow,” he says. “For some reason I expected it to be better than the trainee dorms.”

“It’ll look better once we move in,” he says. Jing Yuan checks his phone. He’s going to have to get into that habit again. “Come on. We don’t have anything else for the rest of the day. I’ll help you with your stuff.”

“Really? I won’t refuse, then,” Yanqing says with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Yanqing has already made all of his belongings into organised stacks. He directs him to carry his clothes - one stack of loose training clothes, the second of casual wear; Jing Yuan can carry them both in one arm - as well as a few combs and hairbrushes. He carries his own personal items - a small carved wooden sword, a few children’s storybooks, extra hair ties, and a blue blanket. Combined with how little clothes he has, Jing Yuan elects not to ask.

Back in their new room, Jing Yuan sets his clothes down on the bed. “Put your things wherever you’d like,” he says. “I won’t have any trouble getting my things.”

“Are you sure?” Yanqing asks. He puts one hand on his hip. “You helped me bring all my stuff back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ve got it.”

It takes him three trips to get all of his six boxes. Yanqing watches him from where he’s lying on the bed as he cuts them all open with his keychain switchblade. “You have a lot of things,” he observes. Jing Yuan shrugs as he sets aside the box with all of his training clothes.

“I’ve been here for a while,” he says. “Things just seemed to kind of appear.”

Yanqing watches as he cuts open boxes to reveal his hair and shower things, then his books, then his casual and formal clothes. Jing Yuan looks over his shoulder at him. “Do you care where I put things?”

Yanqing snorts. “It’s your room too,” he says. “I don’t mind. It looks like we’re more or less sleeping in the same bed anyway.”

“Fair point.” Now that he knows what the last two boxes are, Jing Yuan slices them open with more care. The first is filled with all of the personal belongings that he still, really, doesn’t think of his - Baiheng’s bracelets, one with little bells hanging off it and the other made of jade; Dan Feng’s hefty and heavily annotated tomes of folklore; Jingliu’s moon necklace and her favourite cup for the wine they used to sneak into their rooms; and Yingxing’s few, failed attempts at metalworking and his one success, which is a tiny metal bird. Jing Yuan places them all carefully on the shelf closer to the bed. He can feel Yanqing’s eyes on him when his hands linger too long.

The second box holds his laptop and his chargers for it and his phone, but at the bottom is his photo album. His fingers brush the cover and he gets up to put it on the desk, next to Yanqing’s neatly lined-up books. His books go up on the other shelf.

In the closet there’s two dressers, each with a medium-sized plastic storage bin set on top. He puts his shower things in there, leaving his hair ribbons, brushes, and combs on top of his dresser - he knows which one is his, at least, because the first drawer he opened had Yanqing’s clothes in it. His clothes go into his drawers. He stretches as he gets up, his back cracking.

“Wow,” Yanqing says. “I didn’t think you were that old.”

“I did tell you,” he says amusedly. The last things are his laptop - which gets set on the desk - and the charger, which goes into the outlet next to the desk. Yanqing’s phone is already plugged in and charging. The very final thing is stacking all the boxes to be reused by LOCCENT and finding his slippers, which he almost forgot. He sets them at the foot of the bed Yanqing’s not lying on. “I am old for a pilot, you know. The only reason I have to be active one again is because there’s not another One to pair you with.”

Yanqing’s face twists unhappily. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Did you not want to be a pilot again?”

“It’s fine,” he sighs, laying down on his bed. “I was never really a pilot before anyway.”

Yanqing rolls onto his side to face him. Jing Yuan can see the flecks of brown in his eyes. “You never saw combat?” He asks.

“I was the odd one out,” he explains. “We didn’t have a three-way mech, and coincidentally I was Drift-compatible with everyone. I was assigned as a back-up pilot and mainly operated as the voice in their ears connecting them to LOCCENT.”

“Three Ones?” Yanqing says disbelievingly. “Aren’t Ones incredibly rare?”

“Not three Ones,” Jing Yuan corrects, smiling. “There were five of us.”

“Five,” Yanqing mumbles, awed. When he looks at him his eyes are shining. “You’re amazing, Jing Yuan.”

His words make something warm form in his chest. Jing Yuan smiles at him. “What do you think about napping until dinner?”

Fu Xuan shows up as they’re preparing to Drift. The automated voice inside the pod is droning on about rules and do-nots that Jing Yuan could probably still recite his sleep. Over the voice he hears the door open and her distinctive heels click as she walks in. Yanqing turns his head to look at him inquisitively; he shakes his head.

The pod, already hooked up to their neural systems, flicks up a hologram screen in response to a flick of his eyes. Irritatingly, he has to swipe away several windows before he gets to his and Fu Xuan’s chat. A message from her arrives before he can even start the painstaking process of typing solely via his eyes.

LOC: stop it jing yuan. i’m just here to make sure everything goes smoothly. now focus on the drift.

“Fine,” he murmurs to Yanqing. “Just here to make sure we don’t screw up.”

“Comforting,” Yanqing murmurs back.

“Initiate neural connection?” The voice says.

The connection establishes with Yanqing first. Jing Yuan stays aware long enough to watch as his eyes flutter and his body goes lax, cradled by the pod in the half-sitting half-lying down position they’re both in. Then he flicks his eyes to the Yes option on the pod screen.

He’s plunged into the Drift without warning. He forgot how much he craved it - not the Drift itself, but the unflinchingly honest connection it creates between him and another person. It’s the most addictive thing he’s ever known.

yanqing, he thinks. He has to find Yanqing.

The pods are designed to be a safe environment to test Drift-compatibility and to practice Drifting. They will automatically sever a connection that, in a mech, would lead to killing people, but they won’t prevent a pilot from chasing a RABIT. As soon as he thinks of it his own RABIT closes in on him.

“Baiheng!” Jingliu screams. “Baiheng! BAIHENG!”

He sobs into his hands. Baiheng is gone, gone forever. He heard her body squelch as the metal of Moon Killer crushed her body. Jingliu is still screaming in his right ear. The output signal on the screen overhead for Moon Killer is way over the threshold of a dangerous level, but there’s nothing he, stuck back at LOCCENT, can do for her. With a war cry Jingliu swings at the Abomination that took her partner from her.

“---- ----? What are our orders?” Dan Feng’s voice says in his left ear. There’s only a veneer of calm over his tone. He can’t stop the tears flowing down his cheeks.

“Come back,” he chokes out. “Come home. Please, I can’t-”

“No,” Yingxing says. “She can’t defeat that Abomination on her own. We can’t let get to the civilians.” Softer, he says, “---- ----, guide us. Pilots protect people.”

He can’t stop sobbing but he directs them toward the Abomination. Jingliu in his right ear is overtaken with rage, fighting with the heart of a beast. The camera from one of the LOCCENT helicopters in the air is projecting it live as her mech and the Abomination grapple together. “Baiheng!” She shouts, just before the claw of the Abomination penetrates her mech. He can’t even bring himself to look as her heart monitor drops to zero. Her cries of fury disappear, replaced by screeching metal.

“Jingliu,” he cries quietly into his hands. “Jingliu’s gone.”

“Yingxing, on three,” Dan Feng says. “One, two-”

The air feels like it’s punched out of his chest as he watches Imbibitor Ren engage with the Abomination. He wants nothing more for them to come home - but it’s a Category One Abomination, and it’s already killed Baiheng and Jingliu. He knows that Dan Feng and Yingxing will die fighting if it means that there’s even a chance it can be killed.

He watches through a blur of tears as Imbibitor Ren , a lifetime later, deals a fatal blow to the Abomination. Both Yingxing and Dan Feng’s vitals are low. “Come home,” he pleads. “It’s dead, come home.” Onscreen, the holes where the Abomination had punctured Imbibitor Ren are rapidly letting in water.

“Dan Feng,” Yingxing’s voice says faintly, “Dan Feng, did you hear that? We did it.”

“Yingxing,” Dan Feng says dazedly, just as faint. Then: “---- ----. We protected you. We…”

“We love you,” Yingxing finishes. His voice is nothing more than a whisper. “We…”

Trapped in LOCCENT, he wails. He

Is bleeding from his scalp. Is it supposed to be bleeding that much? He doesn’t want to die. What if it gets infected? No doctor is going to see a dirty little orphan without a penny to his name. He shoves the piece of old bread into his mouth and chews ravenously. Only old and stale, with no mold - it was entirely worth it to fight that cat for it.

Even if he thinks he might die now.

But if he dies, it’ll be with something in his black hole of a stomach. And if he dies, he’ll get to see his parents again. He misses them; he cries for them when he has nightmares, like they’ll still come and comfort him. He knows they won’t, he watched them die under the destruction of an Abomination with his own eyes.

He shivers, curling up into a ball. The cardboard box he’s in, lying on its side, is flimsy protection from the cold, but it’s all he has. He won it in a fight from a scrawny boy by biting his wrist until his teeth met bone. If he thinks about it too much he’ll start remembering the warmth of the blood filling his mouth, the taste of the flesh he bit into, the resistance of the other boy’s fragile wrist bone. If he thinks about it too much, he’ll vomit.

Except he’s already thinking about it too much. He puts a hand over his mouth; he can’t throw up the bread he just ate, he just can’t. It’s the most food he’s eaten in so long, and he can’t waste it now, he can’t-

A hand settles on his bleeding head. It’s large, and it reminds him that his own blood is clumping tackily in his hair. He curls into himself more, peeking above the rim of his box.

It’s a large man, crouching so that he’s closer to him. He presses both his hands over his mouth, shaking his head wildly. “-------, it’s okay,” the large man says. His silver hair gleams in its messy ponytail. “I won’t hurt you. I’m going to keep you safe.”

“Nowhere’s safe, mister,” he whispers. “The Abominations are going to get us all.”

The large man smiles at him. “That’s not true,” he says. “We can fight them now. You can fight them now.” He opens his arms and holds them out to him. “Remember, -------?”

The large man is looking at him so gently that he knows. He knows that he’ll be safe with him. Tears well in his eyes as he crawls forward, leaving the safety of his cardboard box and reaching for the large man’s arms and

“Neural connection initiated.”

Jing Yuan gasps, jolted back into his own head. His vision - both mental and physical - swims, overwhelmed with the simultaneous double vision of himself and Yanqing from inserting himself into Yanqing’s memory. The sight of Yanqing, so tiny huddled in a dirty box, his head bleeding profusely, is a sight that’s burned into his memory. So is the image of himself - large but comforting, a symbol of protection. A blaze of warmth erupts in him, knowing that Yanqing sees him like that.

jing yuan, Yanqing says. A hand grabs his wrist. you’re here.

He turns towards him, grinning. why wouldn’t i be?

“Disconnect neural connection?”

yyeess.

The first thing Jing Yuan knows when he returns to his own body is the pure, overwhelming joy thrumming through him. The second is Yanqing’s head, dropping onto his shoulder as he stirs.

A tap on the back of the pod precedes Fu Xuan’s whisper. “Congratulations,” she says. “I was scared for a while. Take the rest of the day off.”

Jing Yuan’s tongue is too heavy to reply; he tilts his head back to look at her through the opening in the pod. She nods at him, smiling, before she exits the room quietly.

“Jing Yuan,” Yanqing slurs. His head lolls on his shoulder. Jing Yuan automatically shifts so that his neck is supported. His awareness of Yanqing’s body is dulled now that he’s not in it, but he knows how slender his limbs are (a result of malnutrition), how soft his hair is (very; unlike his own coarse hair, Yanqing’s is fine), and how it feels to look up to talk to someone (awkward, if it’s for long periods of time, but Yanqing never seems to mind). He turns his head to look at him.

“Yanqing,” he murmurs slowly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone scooped out all my insides and put them back in differently,” he grumbles. His golden eyes are drooping with fatigue. “Is this how it always feels?”

“Only the first few times,” he says. “It’ll get better in time.”

Yanqing yawns, peeling off the wired electrodes from his chest. “Did LOCCENT leave already?”

“Yes, she gave us the rest of the day off.” Jing Yuan peels off the electrodes from his own chest and hooks them back up to the pod. He and Yanqing stumble out the sides.

The room is small and rectangular, with only the pod and a bench by the door. Above the bench is a row of hooks. Jing Yuan grabs Yanqing’s shirt first and passes it to him, then shrugs his jacket on.

“You’re shameless,” Yanqing complains. The room locks behind them as they exit. “All that chest on display.”

“So don’t look then,” he teases. They’re halfway leaning on each other as they make their way back to their room. “I run hot after Drifting.”

“Hot is certainly a word for it,” Yanqing mutters. Jing Yuan, generously, ignores him.

They make a detour to the mess hall to scarf down the baos that are left out as snacks. Drifting also makes him ravenous, and the barbeque pork filling tastes especially good now that he’s hungry. He watches Yanqing lick sauce from his mouth before he grabs one last custard bao for the way back.

Yanqing offers him the last bite as he punches his code in to get into their room. He absently ducks down and eats it from his fingers as he pushes the door open.

“Don’t leave your jacket on the floor,” Yanqing tells him as he collapses face-first onto the bed. “We’ll end up stepping on it later.”

“Yes, Shifu,” Jing Yuan says, rolling his eyes with a smile. Yanqing grumbles at him as he yawns, stretches to crack his back, and falls down onto the bed next to him. “Let’s not wake up unless it’s an emergency.”

Yanqing doesn’t reply. When Jing Yuan turns his head to look at him, he finds that he’s already asleep.

LOC: how do you like him?

Jing Yuan looks up at Yanqing when the message pops up on his phone. He’s taking a break, but Yanqing is putting himself through his paces with a sword. Jing Yuan knows that he had found an instructor during his free time as a trainee - Yanqing’s wooden sword, after all, is one of the last things he has from the time before he was orphaned. The sword in his hands right now is true steel, not one of the wood practice weapons. He turns back to his phone.

JY (L-1): i do.

LOC: that’s not an answer.

JY (L-1): isn’t it?

LOC: ugh. just go enjoy your honeymoon-Drift phase.

JY (L-1): you’re the one who talked to me first.

Jing Yuan smiles and tucks away his phone. Yanqing turns to him as he stands, his arm dropping relaxedly to his side. “Was that break long enough for your old bones?” He says amusedly.

He shakes his head. “You young people,” he says, striding towards the weapons rack. “No respect for your elders nowadays.”

Yanqing watches him curiously as he selects a weapon. In the days since they’ve claimed their pair room their weapon rack has grown fuller. There are three bamboo staffs, four glaives, and four swords - one slot, where Yanqing’s sword rests, is empty. All of the weapons are proportionate to them; Jing Yuan is surprised every time when Yanqing picks up his glaive because it looks so much bigger than him.

“Want to spar?” He asks. Yanqing’s eyes light up.

“Swords?” He asks excitedly.

“Of course.” Jing Yuan takes out his ponytail and puts it up into a bun. Strands of his hair still fall into his face; he tucks them behind his ears as he picks up his training sword. It’s a wooden replica of the one he had practiced with when he was sixteen, just sized up. “Go easy on me, it’s been a while since I’ve sparred with a sword.”

“I won’t,” Yanqing says. He brushes against his side as he reaches and exchanges his steel sword for his wooden one. “I think you need to get taken down a peg.”

“You’re mean,” he says, smiling. “I wouldn’t have a sword in my hand if you weren’t here with me.”

Yanqing smiles sweetly at him as they face each other in the middle of the room. “Doesn’t matter to me if you haven’t picked up a sword in a day or in years. It’s time for revenge.”

True to his word, Yanqing thoroughly trounces him. Jing Yuan comes out of the ring, ruefully rubbing his arm. The flat of Yanqing’s blade had smacked into it in their last match. “Impressive,” he says to him. “The student overtakes the teacher.”

“I thought you said you weren’t my shifu anymore,” Yanqing says. He wipes sweat off his face as they slot their swords back into the rack. “Your body started remembering, though.”

“Did it?” Jing Yuan smiles. “Jingliu always insisted I learned how to wield a sword, even if I preferred the spear.”

“I like her,” Yanqing says simply. “I like her best when she was kicking your ass.”

Jing Yuan laughs. It’s a little raw. “Of course you would.” They’ve Drifted together twice more since their first time. They’ve become like binary stars circling around each other. He’s too scarred to do it when other people are around, but whenever Jing Yuan tentatively mentions Jingliu and Baiheng or Yingxing and Dan Feng when it’s just the two of them, Yanqing always says something like that. If the four of them had ever met Yanqing, he thinks that they would have liked him. Yanqing, already, likes them through what he’s seen in the Drift. It’s easier, in a way, to experience events in the Drift; in bed, when they can’t sleep, they exchange stories. Yanqing told him of the fox kit that had stuck around him for two days before disappearing, and Jing Yuan, in return, had told him of how Baiheng would always flirt obscenely with Jingliu.

“I wouldn’t mind if you taught me some of her moves,” Yanqing says. “That flourish she does with her sword is beautiful. Only if you want,” he adds hurriedly.

When Jing Yuan had asked him why he refers to them in present tense, Yanqing had only blinked at him. “They’re still alive in your head,” he’d said. “I know them as you know them. And besides, only two of them are declared KIA, right?”

“I don’t mind,” he says. Yanqing beams at him. “But give me some time to remember them.”

“That’s fine,” Yanqing says happily as they exit the training room. “Take your time, but don’t take too long. If you take too long you might perish.”

He sighs theatrically. “All my age jokes have finally caught up with me.”

Yanqing snorts, tugging on his wrist to lead him towards the mess hall. “You’re only thirty-seven.”

“Yanqing, an entire teenager could live between our births.”

Yanqing glances up at him. “Does it bother you?”

Jing Yuan smiles. “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all.” Yanqing scowls as they enter the mess hall, navigating through the crowd until they’re standing in the line to get food. “I’m more bothered by the fact that you’re so tall.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Drink more milk,” he advises. Yanqing pouts as he grabs a tray.

“Fat lot of good it would do for me now,” he complains. They each get a scoop of rice, stir-fried vegetables, a large bowl of hot and sour soup, and a bowl of hóng dòu tāng for dessert. “I’m not a teenager, Jing Yuan.”

“You’re the size of one,” he teases. Yanqing puffs up his cheeks at him. Movement in the background catches his eye.

“Shifu!” Guinaifen yells, her arm waving wildly up in the air. Sushang is trying to pull her back into her seat. “Come sit with us!”

“What do you think?” He asks Yanqing. He sighs.

“She’ll hunt us down otherwise,” he says.

“How is pair-training going for you two?” Jing Yuan asks as they sit. Guinaifen grins at him.

“It’s great!” She says, waving her chopsticks around. Sushang flips a napkin up as a shield for her food. “Drifting is so much easier now that we’ve done it a few times!” At his side Yanqing looks at the two of them a little enviously. The Drift is still loath to let them off easy after training sessions. “But nevermind us! I can’t believe they brought you out of retirement, Shifu!”

“He wasn’t retired,” Yanqing says at the same time Jing Yuan says, “Don’t call me shifu anymore, it makes me feel old.”

“I thought they didn’t need to pair up pilots anymore,” Sushang says around a mouthful of rice. He and Yanqing exchange a glance.

“Special case,” Yanqing says. Guinaifen jabs her finger in their direction.

“That!” She shouts. “How many times have the two of you Drifted? Even Sushang and I don’t have that level of communication, and we Drift together after every two days!”

Yanqing turns his head to look at him, startled. “Is it really that impressive?” Jing Yuan makes a so-so motion with his hand, stirring his soup.

“Not really,” he says. “The trade-off is that the Drift wrings us out more, which is why we Drift less often. It’s pretty normal for pairs of our ranking.”

Yanqing makes a face. “I could do without feeling like I’ve clawed my way out of the grave every time.”

“What ranking are you two?” Sushang asks. “I’m a Two, and I never feel like that after I’ve Drifted with Guinaifen.”

Yanqing blushes. “No comment,” he mumbles. Sushang narrows her eyes, then slaps a hand over Guinaifen’s mouth when she opens it to ask.

“Let them have their privacy,” she scolds. Jing Yuan checks his phone when he feels it vibrate.

LOC: that one has good self-preservation instincts.

JY (L-1): i did train her, after all.

JY (L-1): and stop spying on me!

LOC: that definitely did not come from you.

Yanqing takes his phone from his hand and turns it off, sliding it into his pocket. “No talking to her,” he says. “Finish your food.”

“Jealous?” He teases. Yanqing elbows him, and he rubs his arm. “Yes, Shifu, I’ll eat.”

“Girlfriend?” Guinaifen says, a gleam in her eye. Yanqing snickers and Jing Yuan feels his face heat.

“First of all, that’s my superior,” he says. “Second, she’s not my type. Third, she’s twenty-six.”

“Just fifteen minutes ago you said our age difference didn’t bother you,” Yanqing observes. Jing Yuan elbows him back.

“That’s different,” he says.

Yanqing raises an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Riiiiiight.” Sushang grabs Guinaifen’s arm and stands up. “Well, we’re done, so we’ll leave you two in peace.”

“Sushang!” Guinaifen whispers as she’s dragged away. It’s loud enough that they can hear what she says. “Come on! I wanted to keep watching!”

They look at each other before shrugging. Jing Yuan drinks the last of his hóng dòu tāng as Yanqing finishes his rice. “Here,” he says, handing his phone back. “LOCCENT sent you a message.”

He checks it. “She says not being my type is a compliment.”

Yanqing laughs. “I can’t believe that you two use your official work chat to insult each other.”

“Hey, she says I gave her a compliment.”

“Sure,” Yanqing says, rolling his eyes. He grabs his tray as he stands up. “Come on. I want to go shower.”

Fu Xuan leaves a note from them on their phones that they can go see Swallow Lord now. The two of them only see it after they’re done with a Drift session. Yanqing is exhaustedly leaning most of his weight against him. The Drift is still strong between them, because as soon as he asks, “Too tired to go see our mech?” Yanqing responds, “Let’s go see.”

“Want me to carry you?” He asks. Yanqing wrinkles his nose.

“That’s embarrassing,” he says. He grabs his shirt and fumbles it on - it’s not his shirt, actually; it’s Jing Yuan’s. Their laundry is mixed between their dressers now. Likely Yanqing just grabbed the nearest clean shirt before they left.

“Too bad,” Jing Yuan says. Yanqing lets out a little yelp as he scoops him into his arms. “You’re tired, and it’s no hardship.”

“Jing Yuan!” Yanqing thumps him once with his fist before relaxing, laying his head on his shoulder. He yawns widely before mumbling, “Fine, but wake me up if I fall asleep.”

“I will,” he promises. “Grab my jacket?”

It takes them ten minutes to get down to the mech bay proper. Jing Yuan takes the elevator instead of the slide down - which is used in emergencies to get down faster, or if the pilots just want to have fun. Because of how high the ceiling of the mech bay is to accommodate all the mechs, it takes them a while to get down.

Jing Yuan walks them to Bay 7, ascending up the stairs to the catwalk. Swallow Lord is nearly completed. “Yanqing,” he says. “Wake up.”

“‘Mm awake,” Yanqing mumbles. Jing Yuan gingerly sets him down on his feet and holds him steady until he’s properly awake. His eyes go wide when he sees Swallow Lord. “Amazing,” he breathes.

“Look, they’re still putting on the finishing touches,” he says. He shrugs on his jacket before bending down behind Yanqing, his mouth close to his ear so that he can hear him over the sound of construction. Yanqing shivers when he sets a hand on his shoulder. “There, they’re finishing the gold accents. Once we’ve had our first Drift with her they’ll spray on a design on her chest. We’ll get to pick the colours.”

“She’s going to be beautiful,” Yanqing says. Despite the fact that Swallow Lord is built off of Moon Killer’s remains, they look nothing alike. Moon Killer had been a pale silver with blue and purple metal accents, a black moon spray-painted onto her chest. She had been built for speed and lethality. In contrast, Swallow Lord’s gunmetal grey plates have obviously been reinforced.

“She’s an all-rounder,” Jing Yuan tells him. “She’ll be physically strong and durable, and she’ll be agile as well.” 

“Like I said,” Yanqing says, turning to smile at him, “Beautiful.”

Jing Yuan wakes up because Yanqing is hitting him. “Stop hitting me,” he mumbles.

“Your phone is ringing,” he grumbles. He buries his face back into his pillow. “Shut it up.”

Jing Yuan blindly reaches for the nightstand for his phone. It’s well on its way to vibrating on the floor; he disconnects it from the charger and blearily squints at the screen. “Should I go outside?” He asks Yanqing.

“Absolutely not,” Yanqing says. “Don’t go anywhere. You’re warm.” The covers shift as he throws a leg over Jing Yuan’s waist. “Just be quiet.”

He answers the call, propping himself up on his elbow. “Why are you calling me at this uncivilized hour.”

“Because I’m not supposed to share confidential information with you,” Fu Xuan says. “But you’re a One and you’ve been here for two decades now. And it’s relevant to you and I know you won’t overreact.”

He glances over at Yanqing. “You know that whatever you tell me Yanqing will know, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Fu Xuan huffs. “You’re partners. Drift or not, he’ll learn. Anyway, it’s relevant to him too. Just tell him not to talk about it.”

“He’s certainly not going to talk about it now,” Jing Yuan says, amused. “We were sleeping.”

“Still.” He’s mid-yawn when Fu Xuan says, “There’s been a spike in activity at the Ambrosial Arbor.”

He stills. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” she says. “The readings we’re receiving are the strongest we’ve had in twenty-one years. The prediction is we’ll see a Category One Abomination within the month.”

He sits up. He hears Yanqing make a dissatisfied noise as his leg falls off of him. “This is what you wanted me for,” he says, numb. “In case the worst happens.”

“It’s going to happen,” Fu Xuan says, uncharacteristically gentle. “We need you out there, Jing Yuan. You and Pilot Yanqing are the only pair we have capable of standing up to a Category One Abomination.”

“He’s so young,” he whispers. Jing Yuan turns to Yanqing. His face is smooth in sleep, his gold hair laying every which way on his pillow. Tenderly he traces the shell of his ear with one fingertip. “We haven’t even been together that long, Fu Xuan. Everyone around me-”

“He’s a pilot. He knew what he was getting into when he signed up to be a recruit.”

“But he didn’t know then,” he protests.

“He certainly knows now. You forget he’s been inside your head, Jing Yuan.”

Yanqing makes another noise and shifts closer to him. His amber eyes open to slits. “Jing Yuan,” he says firmly, voice sleep-rough, “Just hang up already.”

He swallows. “I will,” he says softly. “Fu Xuan, get us into Swallow Lord as soon as she’s ready. I won’t have him going in unprepared.”

Fu Xuan snorts. “Of course. Get some sleep.”

The dial tone rings and Jing Yuan lets his phone fall from his hand onto the bed. Slowly he lies back down, Yanqing shifting again and curling up against him. “Bad news?”

“Yes,” he admits softly. Yanqing pulls his arm over his shoulder and tucks his head against the hollow of his throat.

“Tomorrow’s problem,” he says faintly, already falling back into sleep. “Tomorrow, Jing Yuan.”

The first session with Swallow Lord comes six days later. Jing Yuan burns off his frustration and anticipation by beating up the training dummies and by letting Yanqing beat him black and blue when they spar.

“I’m your partner,” he says in their room, holding an ice pack to Jing Yuan’s back, the day before they have their session with Swallow Lord . “Tell me what’s wrong. Is it whatever Fu Xuan told you?”

He looks at him over his shoulder, surprised. “When did you learn her name?”

“You said it when you were talking to her on the phone.” Yanqing, a little meanly, presses the ice pack against the bruise. He hisses. “Don’t keep it bottled up and suffer alone. Tell me,” he insists.

Jing Yuan looks down at his hands in his lap. “She told me that there’s been a spike in activity at the Ambrosial Arbor. The prediction is a Category One Abomination.”

Yanqing sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Like the one twenty-one years ago.”

“It’s why we were partnered up. LOCCENT wanted me in a mech in case the worst happened.” He laughs. “I suppose the worst is going to happen.”

“It feels cruel,” Yanqing says quietly.

“Fate is never nice,” Jing Yuan replies. He stills as he feels one of Yanqing’s arms curl around his side, his hand settling over his stomach. The ice pack is held precariously between their bodies as Yanqing’s chest presses gently against his bare back. His forehead falls against his shoulder.

“I won’t leave you,” he whispers. His other arm comes up and folds across his chest. Jing Yuan is incredibly aware of how fast his heart is racing. He can feel Yanqing’s exhales on his skin. “Promise me the same, Jing Yuan.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” he confesses softly. His hands clutch at Yanqing’s wrists, his nails digging in. It probably hurts, but the only indication of that is Yanqing’s quickened breaths. “I can only try to get us back home.”

“That’s okay,” Yanqing says. “If I try to get us home too, then we’ll both come home.” His head shifts as he lays his cheek on his shoulder instead, his nose nudging against his neck. “Does your back feel better?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Good.” Yanqing’s warmth leaves him as he flops down onto the bed. He beckons him. “Nap with me?”

Jing Yuan smiles, laying down beside him. The ice pack unsticks from his back and falls somewhere. “Changing the subject?”

“What more is there to talk about?” Yanqing carefully drags him closer. It feels odd, Jing Yuan thinks, to be tucked up like a child against someone fourteen years younger than him. Yanqing’s throat smells mostly of the lemongrass body wash in the communal bathrooms. Underneath it is the tinge of sweat. Yanqing’s hands tugs the covers up over both of them before falling to rest on his hips. It’s incredibly grounding. “We can only train now. Worrying won’t do us any good.”

“Sounds like something a worried person would say,” Jing Yuan murmurs. He throws one arm over Yanqing’s waist.

“Of course I’m worried,” Yanqing replies easily. “Didn’t you hear me ask you to promise that you wouldn’t leave me?”

Jing Yuan thinks about those words as they suit up inside Swallow Lord. He clicks the spinal plates into place for Yanqing and gets the same done to him. He had never worn the mech suit long enough to get familiar with it. The heavy metal weight of it is clunky and awkward.

Fu Xuan impatiently taps his foot against the ground of the Conn-Pod as she waits for them to connect to Swallow Lord . “Remember, you’ve been Drifting together for a while now,” she says. “We’ve had to accelerate the construction of Swallow Lord, so there are weapons in her now. Don’t go chasing any RABITs or anything else stupid.” Her lip curls. “If necessary, I’ll give the order to forcibly shut her down.”

“Yes, LOCCENT,” Jing Yuan says. Yanqing echoes him as they step up into the rigs for pilots. The hologram automatically pops up in front of them, projecting the view from a camera installed on the exterior of Swallow Lord. Technically, her visor is reinforced shatterproof glass, but everyone knows that won’t stop an Abomination. Nonetheless, the camera has the advantage of being able to swivel.

“Good luck,” Fu Xuan says. In moments it’s only the two of them in Swallow Lord . Jing Yuan busies himself with pulling up his and Yanqing’s vitals on the edge of the hologram. The view they have of the mech bay - utterly empty so that they can test Swallow Lord without having to worry about too many possible casualties - is uninteresting, so he watches the blips of their heartbeats as they appear on the hologram.

He turns his head as Yanqing says, “Jing Yuan.” When he sees him already looking at him he smiles sheepishly. “It’s getting colder. Are we allowed to ask for another blanket?”

“Of course,” he says. “We can go get it after dinner.”

“Testing,” Fu Xuan’s voice says over the comms. “Affirmative on audio from pilots?”

“Affirmative,” Yanqing says.

“Affirmative,” he repeats.

“Initiating neural handshake.”

The Drift feels like it swallows them whole. He has Drifted in a mech a total of two times - both in Inhibitor Ren , once with Dan Feng and once with Yingxing. Both times it had felt like he was being thrown every which way, tumbling head over heels. In comparison Swallow Lord cradles him, mixed memories whirling by like a blizzard.

He accidentally sees Yingxing and Den Feng share their first kiss, and he knows that his crush won’t end up going anywhere. He’s two, and all he knows is the soft brown of his father’s robes and the teal of his baba’s and their loving smiles. The screaming hurts, the same way that metal being torn away hurts. He’s drunk for the first time, and he’s laughing uncontrollably because Baiheng said something, but it wasn’t even funny. He wakes from a wet dream, his underwear uncomfortably tight, and he has to keep his hand over his mouth as he reaches down because Bailu and Qingque are sleeping in the next room over. Losing pilots hurts, and sinking underneath the waves makes sparks shoot off from all the wiring.

“Neural handshake successful.”

Jing Yuan surfaces, his chest heaving as he gulps in air. Yanqing is coughing; he can feel it in his own chest.

“Pilots, verify statuses.”

“Alive,” he says as Yanqing says, “Drifting.”

“Thank you.” Fu Xuan audibly taps away at a keyboard. “Ten minutes with her, max.”

“Who was that?” Yanqing asks him. there was someone else with us in the drift.

swallow lord, he answers. “Sometimes a mech gets imprinted with the past. It happens very, very rarely, so there’s little science behind it.”

i wonder if it only happens to mechs with ones as pilots, Yanqing muses. They lift a hand and rotate it, their camera moving downwards so they can see. “Ones do have the strongest connection to the Drift, so it would make sense.”

“LOCCENT, can we walk?” Jing Yuan asks.

“Save it for when you get outside,” Fu Xuan’s voice says.

people would look like ants from up here, Yanqing observes. “Will she Drift with us all the time?”

i had to eat a live ant once. i was drunk and so was jingliu. she dared me.

disgusting. never put your mouth within five feet of me ever again.

“We are well within five feet of each other,” he says, amused. she’ll likely be there every time we connect with each other. i don’t know if she’ll be conscious outside of combat like this. “Or even in combat.”

“Pilots,” Fu Xuan says over the comms, “ You are aware that you are mixing Drift-speech and verbal speech, correct? ”

Yanqing tilts his head and stares at him. is that a big issue?

“Not that I’m aware of,” Jing Yuan says. He pauses. “Apologies, LOCCENT. Yes, we are aware. Will it be a problem?”

“Not if you respond when talked to,” Fu Xuan says.

They look at each other and shrug at the same time. Swallow Lord copies the motion. It barely feels like they’re commanding an entire mech; Jing Yuan only feels the slightest phantom weight, like the lightest suit of armor.

weapons list, he asks. It shows up on his half of the hologram. Yanqing whistles.

plasmacaster (left arm). plasmacaster (right arm). chain sword (left arm). chain sword (right arm). rocket (left arm). rocket (right arm). spikes (left foot). spikes (right foot), Swallow Lord reads out to them.

Hello, Yanqing tries. There’s no response.

“I suppose there’s also a chance that she’ll surface randomly like that,” he says. “The spikes are new.”

“You don’t know about them?” Yanqing says, surprised. “They were first added onto mechs four years ago.” they’re for, you know. stepping on abominations.

it sounds like they’ll help with stability too. “Should we disconnect?” He asks.

“Probably.” Yanqing glances at the clock on Swallow Lord’s hologram. we’ll be back soon, he promises Swallow Lord.

“Adorable,” he teases. Yanqing scowls at him.

“One of us has manners, obviously.”

He rolls his eyes. goodbye, oldnew friend.

“LOCCENT, request for disconnect,” Yanqing calls.

“Request received,” Fu Xuan says. “Affirmative on disconnect from pilots?”

“Affirmative,” they both confirm.

“Disconnecting neural handshake.”

The Drift drops out from all of them, receding like the tide. The sudden weight of the mech suit takes him by surprise. The cables connecting them to Swallow Lord release with a pressurized hiss, hanging limply in the air as he steps off the elevated rig. He sighs as he takes his helmet off.

“Ugh,” Yanqing agrees. “The suit’s terrible.”

“Very good for your first time Drifting with a mech,” he tells him. “Usually the change from pod to mech prompts at least one RABIT chase.”

Yanqing grins at him in response to the praise. “I like her,” He says. He gazes appreciatively at Swallow Lord’s interior, the expression on his face turning into something gentle and affectionate. “I think I want to paint her blue. Like the sky.”

“I think they’ll definitely use swallows for her motif.” Yanqing walks over to him, his helmet tucked under one arm, and presents him with his back before he even asks. The Ghost Drift between them gets stronger every time they Drift. He shivers once just before Jing Yuan touches his hair. It’s messily tied up, and it looks odd because they’ve both been wearing the suit helmets. He runs his fingers down his back and starts pressing the depressors to release the spinal plates. “I always wished my mech would be violet,” he admits.

“Sky blue and violet,” Yanqing says, a smile in his voice. “It’s a good combination.”

The hatch of the Conn-Pod opens as they’re peeling off the armor layer of the suits, admitting Fu Xuan. She strolls in, looking up from her tablet. “Good first time,” she says. “Come here and look at your data.”

Jing Yuan folds the armor layer over his arm - as much as it folds, anyway - and steps up behind her to see. Yanqing shoulders in between them, peering at the screen. His body through the skin-tight circuitry layer is straddling the line between warm and hot. “It’s just a bunch of graphs,” he says.

“Here, look,” he says. He points at a bar graph where an amber column is nearly double the height of a grey one. Fu Xuan hands him the tablet and rolls her eyes, stepping away. “This is us,” he says, tapping his nail against the amber column. “Our compatibility with the Drift was double the average pair’s.”

“And this?” Yanqing asks, pointing at another bar graph.

“That’s our compatibility with each other,” he says. “You can see that we’re within the average range for Ones.”

“How did you learn how to read all of these?” Yanqing says, scrunching up his nose. “I never liked math.”

Jing Yuan laughs. “Did you forget I was your instructor? That’s technically a branch of LOCCENT.”

“How could I forget, Shifu?” Yanqing says, grinning at him. “You’re kind of hard to forget.”

Fu Xuan clears his throat, rolling her eyes at them again. “Stop fooling around,” she says, beckoning the to follow as she strides outside. “We can do a formal debrief in the Control Center.”

“Your eyes will get stuck like that, you know,” Yanqing informs her. Then he stops in his tracks, horrified. “A-apologies, LOCCENT!”

“You become more like each other by the day,” she says resignedly.

Yanqing sits bolt upright in bed. “What is that?!”

Jing Yuan buries his face into his pillow to escape the shrieking, his arm sliding around Yanqing’s waist and tugging. “It’s just the Abomination alert alarm,” he mumbles. “Go back to sleep.”

“ABOMINATION ALERT,” the automated voice says, very calmly. “CATEGORY ONE. ALL PILOTS TO THE MECH BAY.”

Jing Yuan shoots up. “I’m not LOCCENT anymore!”

“Yes, you idiot!” Yanqing shoves him out of bed, the two of them practically tumbling off it together. “Get your shirt on!”

He gropes around blindly in the dark for it before finding it laid over the back of the desk chair. His slippers are nowhere to be found. Yanqing shoves a pair of socks at him and he puts them on. It isn’t until they’re out of their room, running toward the mech bay, that Jing Yuan sees that Yanqing is wearing his slippers over his socked feet.

There’s already a line at the slide, all of the pilots visibly anxious. But it moves fast; soon Jing Yuan is gently pushing Yanqing down the slide and following him.

His hair whips into his face as they go down and down in a spiral. It’s dizzying, and he spots pilots at the bottom of the slide scrambling out of the way so they don’t get crushed. He almost crashes into Yanqing. Quickly they get out of the way, hurrying over to where Fu Xuan is standing on top of a metal crate in a fluffy pink bathrobe. Her hair hangs straight down her back outside of her usual elaborate hairstyle.

“Pairs greater than Three-Three stand to the right of me!” She yells, one hand stretched diagonally out into the air to indicate which side she means. “Anyone else, get on the other side!”

He grimaces as he and Yanqing move over to the side she indicates. He doesn’t even notice he’s clenching and unclenching his fists until Yanqing squeezes his hands. “It’s a Category One,” Jing Yuan whispers into his ear. He feels too bright, like a drug addict, adrenaline racing through his veins. “Last time…”

“I know, I know,” Yanqing says. “It killed Jingliu and Baiheng, and Dan Feng and Yingxing are still declared MIA.”

Jing Yuan folds Yanqing against his side uneasily. He and Yanqing are the only pair of Ones in the Luofu Dome. There’s not enough time to call another pair from a different Dome. He wonders how many of the pilots standing around them will come back alive.

“Shifu!” Guinaifen’s voice says. She wriggles her way until she’s next to them, dragging a tired-looking Sushang along by the wrist. “What’s going on?! The alert didn’t say anything except that it’s a Category One Abomination!”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Stay calm, LOCCENT’s about to give us orders.”

Fu Xuan claps her hands together. It sounds like thunder. “Pilots!” She shouts. “If you’re to the right of me, suit up and get into your mechs! You will await further orders from your connecting LOCCENT officer. Do not panic.” Jing Yuan barely hears her order to the other group about aiding LOCCENT and the infirmary, already hurrying to Swallow Lord . Yanqing keeps pace with him, a grim look on his face. They split with Guinaifen and Sushang at a fork in the catwalk.

“Good luck!” She calls.

“Same to you!” Yanqing yells back.

Swallow Lord’s hatch is already open. On the catwalk is the shelf for their suits. Jing Yuan pleats the excess fabric of his loose shirt and shorts before dressing in the circuitry suit. Yanqing hands him a hair tie and he holds it in his mouth as he stuffs his feet into the metal boots of the armor suit. He ties his hair up as Yanqing fits his spinal plates for him. He turns and does the same in return, his fingers lingering over Yanqing’s shoulder blades.

“I’m scared,” Yanqing admits for the both of them. Jing Yuan bows his head over him.

“I wish your first Abomination wasn’t this one,” he says. Yanqing turns in his arms.

“I wish yours wasn’t either,” he says, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “Let’s come back home together.”

They have so far Drifted a total of three times with Swallow Lord. It seems an incredibly measly number now. Jing Yuan steps up into his rig and attaches all of the cables to himself. His breathing sounds too loud in his helmet.

Fu Xuan’s voice comes on over the comms. She says brusquely, “Initiate neural handshake? ”

“Affirmative,” they say.

The Drift closes over his head like he’s drowning. Swallow Lord murmurs all around him.

He thinks as he watches him step out of the shower that he wants to ask him if he can wash his back, because he wants to do it. He looks at the sweat dripping down his collarbones out of the corner of his eye and wonders if it would be worth the bonk on the head if he asks to lick it away. There are two girls laughing and laughing, and laughing and laughing, and screaming.

“Neural handshake successful.”

Jing Yuan’s breath fogs up the visor of his helmet. His heart feels like a rabbit’s.

“You two will be the second mech out,” Fu Xuan tells them. “Just go out the front doors.”

isn’t that dangerous? Yanqing asks him.

not unless it’s already here , he answers. if the abomination is already here then it won’t matter.

The huge, sliding doors begin grinding open. Swallow Lord ’s camera is swivelled to see it. Seawater rushes in, lapping against the concrete ramp that leads outside. Jing Yuan can already tell the visibility is going to be terrible - outside it’s the dead of night, barely a difference between water and sky. The crescent moon casts very little light.

A yellow mech is the first to step outside. It wades into the water and stops before continuing slightly more east. that’s our cue, Yanqing says.

They’ve never been outside in Swallow Lord before. Despite that, he and Yanqing are perfectly in sync as they walk outside. Salt water washes around their legs, and Jing Yuan switches the camera over into night vision. He grimaces at the sudden change into green. The other mech is ahead of them, and they change course to follow it.

“The other pair is behind you,” Fu Xuan’s voice says. “Fan out. It’s approaching you.”

“We see it,” Yanqing says. Jing Yuan has to adjust the night vision settings as the mechs fan out simultaneously, with Swallow Lord in the middle. The Abomination is incandescent in the water, its sinuous body alternately forest green, a deep purple, and the orange of sunset. Swallow Lord identifies the true colours for them and, for a moment, the hologram fritzs between the night vision camera and her own pseudo-vision.

we’ve got it, he murmurs to her. thank you.

The Abomination is upon them before they realise it. With a piercing shriek it latches onto the yellow mech, dragging it down into the water by its legs. A plasmacaster fires, barely missing it. The seawater shoots up in huge sprays around them.

“Wait to engage,” Fu Xuan says grimly. 

Jing Yuan has to turn off the night vision when spotlights suddenly beam into existence onto the struggling mech and the Abomination. Yanqing wordlessly adjusts the camera to take in as much light as possible. They watch helpless as the Abomination crushes the mech against its chest in a monstrous mimicry of a hug, impaling it on the spines protruding from its abdomen. It forcibly pulls the mech off itself and leaves it in the water. Jing Yuan feels bile rise in his throat as he watches water rush into the punctured mech.

look, Yanqing says, they scored a hit.

He doesn’t even have to look, the image passing between them literally as quick as thought through the Drift. The Abomination is sluggishly bleeding golden ichor into the water from its side. In the back of his mind he wonders how much of the ocean life the clean-up crews will have to cull later to stop the corruption from spreading.

“Wait to engage,” Fu Xuan says again.

Yanqing’s anticipation is palpable. Jing Yuan has no idea where it starts bleeding into his. i can’t take this, Yanqing says.

The Abomination arrows toward them like a homing missile. Both he and Yanqing fall into a combat stance, putting their arms up defensively, but it’s intercepted by the third mech. It’s coral-orange and white, already shooting plasma from both its hands at the Abomination. It successfully gets it attention, the Abomination’s head turning towards it. The mech stays out of range of close combat, walking backwards and to the side to avoid it. Despite the cauterized wounds it inflicts, superheated ichor falling into the water with a sizzle, the Abomination seems unfazed. It advances unceasingly before it whips around.

Yanqing shouts as it lunges at them. It got too close to Swallow Lord , Jing Yuan realises. They instinctively deploy the spikes in Swallow Lord’s feet as the plasmacaster in their left arm charges. The blast takes off one of the Abomination’s limbs; it goes spinning and lands in the water with a splash. Then it’s upon them.

Anything Jing Yuan feels is swept up into the Drift. He gets flashes of Yanqing - his fear, his determination, his regret - as much as his own emotions are thrown back at him. Their right arm changes into the chain sword, slashing at the Abomination as it gets too close.

where are its internal organs? Yanqing shouts. They stab forward into where a kidney would be located in a human, their sword extending and punching through flesh before retracting back to their arm. The Abomination slashes at them with its remaining three arms, howling. A flower blooms on its head, dripping ichor.

not good, he says grimly. it’s too risky to aim for the head; it’ll dodge before we can get it. we’ll go for the head only if it’s a sure hit. for now we’ll have to inflict as many wounds as possible.

The golden ichor of the Abomination drips into the seawater like miasma. Perhaps it’s moving a little slower, but the way it lunges at them indicates that its killing intent has only been heightened in response to its pain.

The average mech-Abomination battle lasts no more than several minutes, Jing Yuan knows. Prolonged combat is bad for all sides.

Elongated claws score Swallow Lord ’s chest, producing a sound exactly like nails against a chalkboard. In response they stab forward again while firing the plasmacaster. The Abomination snarls. Their sword hits where the other kidney would be while the plasma blasts at its shoulder. He and Yanqing both cough at the smell of burning Abomination flesh.

The Abomination’s eyes glint as it swings its jaw down and bites down on Swallow Lord ’s shoulder. Jing Yuan gasps at the feeling-not-feeling of it, watching through the hologram as the Abomination tears out a mouthful of metal and wires. That arm - the one with the plasmacaster - goes limp, warnings appearing on hologram.

“Weak spot calculated,” Fu Xuan’s voice says. It’s crackly. “Pilots, aim for the neck. 68% chance that it will be lethal.”

“Affirmative,” Yanqing says. only 68%?

that’s rather high, Jing Yuan observes. lure?

are you sure? Yanqing asks. what if-

it’ll end this quickly, he replies. we run more of a risk just waiting for an opening.

all right, Yanqing says determinedly. i trust you.

Swallow Lord’s camera is located at the bottom of her head. Together they flick the flash on and off, drawing the attention of the Abomination. It screams at them, lunging for their head. Its mouth has multiple rows of teeth like a shark, its eyes bulging in grotesque glee.

Their sword expands, the chain wrapping around the Abomination’s neck with the momentum of the swing. Teeth screech against Swallow Lord’s armored head, but the fear Jing Yuan feels is cold when the hologram in front of them disappears and the visor shatters inward.

The bladed chain of the sword slides down as they pull until it catches between the plates of the Abomination’s neck. It roars in frustration, shaking Swallow Lord’s head. Machinery crunches and crumples with sounds that Jing Yuan has nightmares about, the ceiling only a foot above their heads. He and Yanqing pull harder. Ichor seeps down the Abomination’s neck plates.

“Jing Yuan!” Yanqing screams. Jing Yuan looks down; one of the Abomination’s curved fangs has pierced his chest from behind. The white tip of it sticks out from the front of his suit. The pain is delayed. It hurts beyond anything he’s experienced before, making spots fuzz over his vision.

“Keep pulling,” he says raggedly. Yanqing’s worry is so large is eclipses everything in his mind, but with a final heave they cut the head of the Abomination off. The body of it falls against Swallow Lord, making them stumble, before it slides off them and into the water with a splash. Saltwater sprays into the Conn-Pod from where the visor used to be.

The tooth doesn’t move from him. For better or worse, they’ll be dragging the severed head home.

“Status,” Fu Xuan demands. Jing Yuan can barely decipher her words.

“Alive,” Yanqing says. They turn Swallow Lord back towards home, sparks raining down from the top of their rigs. “Jing Yuan’s heavily injured. He’ll need medical attention immediately.”

“Can you ditch the head?”

“Not unless you want me to bleed out,” he says weakly.

Over the comms Fu Xuan curses. He has to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, his thoughts blurring as he struggles to control Swallow Lord . Yanqing’s fear fills him like water falling into a cup.

don’t die on me, he begs.

i’m not, he says. just- i’m sorry, i can’t-

The first thing Jing Yuan knows when he returns to consciousness is the pain that nearly makes him black out again. The second is Yanqing’s hand, clutching his in a death grip.

The infirmary, like everywhere else in the Dome, is terribly grey and all concrete. The bed he’s lying on is firmer than his and Yanqing’s bed. He can hear his heartbeat from a monitor somewhere. He turns his head.

Yanqing has a chair pulled up next to his bed, his gold hair everywhere. The handrail of the bed on that side is down; their heads are resting on the same pillow. Jing Yuan surreptitiously spits his hair out of his mouth.

The sound of the door opening makes him turn his head again. A doctor - one he doesn’t recognise - enters, his hair in a braid over his shoulder. Bailu follows him in, waving. Jing Yuan manages a smile at her.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asks.

“Like I was stabbed,” he answers wryly. The doctor sighs.

“Well, that’s a given,” he says. “You’ve been out for three days. I don’t know when we’ll be able to release you.” He holds up a hand as Jing Yuan opens his mouth. “That’s because there are five ways your recovery can go. You could heal normally, heal faster than usual, or heal slower than usual. There is a small chance that you might become corrupted, and an almost-zero chance that you may never heal at all. There isn’t enough data about injuries caused by Category One Abominations to be sure.” He sighs. “And that’s without considering more mundane obstacles like infections.”

He blinks. “I see,” Jing Yuan says. “Was my partner injured?”

“Miraculously, no.” The doctor taps around on the tablet tucked into the crook of his arm, likely inputting data. He shows it to Bailu, who whispers something quietly to him. He nods. “Conn-Pods are engineered to be the most protected part of a mech for a reason. He did, however, have severe mental exhaustion. Taking the cause into consideration, he’s quite lucky to be alive.”

His hand tightens around Yanqing’s. “What do you mean?”

“As you may or may not remember, you passed out while piloting your mech back to the Dome. Your partner solo-piloted you both back. As soon as we opened the hatch and started attending to you, he collapsed.”

Jing Yuan turns to look at Yanqing again. Nothing about him indicates that he solo-piloted just three days ago. “Will there be any lasting consequences?” He asks.

“Given he’s a One, I’m hoping not,” the doctor says. “He shouldn’t so much as Drift for a month, and I’d like him to come back for weekly check-ups until then. Pilots in similar situations have usually exhibited an increased connection to their mech and increased susceptibility or resistance to RABITs.”

“But that’s typical for Ones,” Jing Yuan says.

“Exactly.” The doctor sighs, pushing up his glasses. “I’ll leave you two now. The both of you need as much rest as you can get.”

Bailu, following her new mentor out, mouths get well soon at him before she closes the door behind her. Jing Yuan sees a last glimpse of their twin white coats as he stares up at the ceiling.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sighs.

The next time he wakes up he doesn’t have to spit hair out of his mouth. Instead Yanqing is twisted in his chair, half in it and half laying on the bed, brows furrowed at a game on his phone. For a moment Jing Yuan just drinks the sight of him in.

“You’re awake!” Yanqing says, whipping around to look at him. His phone drops onto the bed, forgotten, as he scrambles to reorient his body. “Do you know how much worry you caused me?” He demands.

“I can imagine,” Jing Yuan says. “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” Yanqing glares at him. “Worry about yourself first!”

“I’m going to worry about you,” he says. “You have no idea how proud of you I am, Yanqing. You solo-piloted the both of us back home.” He pauses. “It was also incredibly dangerous, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

“I literally felt you drop out of the Drift,” Yanqing says flatly. “I would definitely call those extenuating circumstances.”

Jing Yuan’s hospital gown shifts as he reaches up to cup Yanqing’s cheek. Yanqing’s eyes fall automatically to the bandages wrapped around his chest before he winces and looks back at his face. “You’re amazing,” he says, tilting their foreheads together. Their breaths mix.

He doesn’t know who leans in first. Perhaps it was him; perhaps it was Yanqing. But kissing him feels warm, soothing even, like coming home after a long day. Yanqing is obviously inexperienced, clumsily tilting his head. His nervous, fluttering hands don’t seem to know where to settle. The Ghost Drift between them seems stronger than ever. Emotions are welling up inside of him and overflowing - fondness, joy, love - and he can easily pick out Yanqing’s resonating feelings. Jing Yuan smiles against his lips.

In his opinion, their first kiss ends entirely too early. Yanqing leans back into his chair with a dazed look on his face, touching his lips in awe. “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he says.

“I can pinch you,” Jing Yuan offers. He makes a face.

“No thank you.” Yanqing grins at him. “Can we do it again?”

“No strenuous activity until two weeks after you’re released,” the doctor says. He looks pointedly as his and Yanqing’s intertwined hands.

The first thing they do when Jing Yuan finally gets released from the infirmary is head to the communal bathrooms. Yanqing grabs his shower basket from their room on the way.

“I never thought I would miss these showers,” he comments as they undress. Yanqing helps him unbutton his shirt. “I wish I could have a proper bath.”

“Keep dreaming,” Yanqing tells him. They choose the largest shower stall, Yanqing closing the curtain behind them. “And get used to this. You’re going to have to wait until you’re cleared to get your wound wet.”

Jing Yuan already knows that, when he’s allowed to take the gauze and the bandages off, he’s going to find a big ugly knot of scar tissue on his chest. He sighs. “Just get me clean, please. I feel like I’ve been lying in my own sweat forever.”

“So prissy,” Yanqing says before turning the water on. The spray of it hits him, and, for one very slight moment, Jing Yuan is back in Swallow Lord staring down the Abomination. Yanqing flicks water at him. “Stop that,” he says, running a small towel under the water. Steam begins to fill the stall.

“Sorry,” he says. Yanqing rolls his eyes at him, stepping out from beneath the water. Jing Yuan presents him with his back, and he starts methodically wiping him down. “Maybe you could distract me,” he says suggestively.

“Not in the shower,” Yanqing groans. He deftly avoids all his bandages. “Just stay still.”

They both manage to get clean with minimal wetting to his bandages. Afterwards Yanqing washes his hair in one of the sinks, then helps him dry off and blow-dry his hair. He’s ordered to sit on the bench while Yanqing takes care of his own hair.

“You’re like a guard dog,” Jing Yuan comments as Yanqing leads him back to their room. “It’s very cute.”

Yanqing says nothing, ducking his head away. But his ears are pink, so Jing Yuan takes it as a victory as they enter their room.

Almost nothing about it has changed - which makes sense, once he remembers that Yanqing has spent most of his recovery by his bedside. Jing Yuan’s pillows are all arranged vertically on the bed, like Yanqing has been hugging them as he sleeps. Both their jackets have been thrown over the back of the chair, and his slippers are waiting for him next to the door. Yanqing nudges them over to him.

“What?” He says, putting his feet into them, “You’re not going to steal them?”

“You’re injured,” he says, matter-of-factly, “So you get the slippers.”

“Oh, so you don’t consider all those bruises you gave me injuries?”

“Those were practically self-inflicted!” Yanqing protests as Jing Yuan gingerly lowers himself down onto the bed, laying on his side. The slippers he kicks off his feet - having worn them for all of two seconds - as Yanqing crawls onto the bed on his knees and fixes his pillows under him. “You said it yourself! It’s your old bones. Not my fault you were so slow.”

He laughs. “Come here,” he says, lifting one of his arms. Yanqing hesitates before scooting closer, looking nervous as he does.

“Push me away if I do something stupid like lay on your wound,” he says.

“Relax,” Jing Yuan says. “Let’s just go to sleep, okay? We can get up to shenanigans later.”

“Shenanigans?!” Yanqing squawks. He tugs him closer.

“Well, yes,” he says. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

Yanqing turns red and squirms. He mumbles something. Jing Yuan laughs.

“Don’t worry,” he says fondly. “We can just sleep together for now.”

“Oh my god,” Yaniqng mumbles.

They wait two weeks after Jing Yuan’s release from the infirmary, then another week because Yanqing insists. Jing Yuan was able to calm down his fretting from a whole month after his release.

Unfortunately, now, he’s incredibly nervous.

“You’re sure?” He asks. “That you want to have sex with me?”

Yanqing rolls his eyes, folding his long-sleeve shirt and placing it on the desk. It leaves his lithely-muscled torso and arms on display. “This is the third time you’ve asked me. Of course I’m sure.”

Jing Yuan swallows. He’s already entirely naked on the bed. “Well, it’s just- we do have a fourteen year gap between out ages.”

“I thought it didn’t bother you.” Yanqing pauses undressing to get on the bed and crawl over to him. “Would it help if I told you that I regularly had wet dreams about you during training?” He says. “If I told you I always had to get myself off afterward?”

Jing Yuan feels himself blush and throws an arm over his face to cover his eyes. Yanqing moves it and kisses him. “I think I knew that,” he mumbles against his lips.

“I thought so,” Yanqing says. He leans back on his heels, ears pinkening. “You’ll have to be my shifu in this too.”

He’s stunned speechless. “You’ve never…”

Yanqing looks away. “Just my hand,” he admits. “I never had anything fancy, and never with anyone else.”

“Oh, Yanqing.” Jing Yuan pulls him close and kisses him, nipping at his lower lip. Yanqing pulls away with a startled gasp. “You have no idea what an ego trip that is.”

“As if you need one of those,” he says, scowling.

“I’ll make it good for you,” Jing Yuan promises. “Can you go get the third book from the right on my shelf?”

“Sure?” Yanqing gets up and retrieves the book. He pushes his pants down and kicks them off before sitting next to his legs on the bed. Jing Yuan likes that he’s so unselfconscious about his body. Maybe it’s because they’ve already seen every part of each other before. “What do you need it for?”

“Open it,” he advises. Yanqing does, dropping it once he sees what’s inside. His face is pink and accusatory as he looks at him. Jing Yuan shrugs. “I had to put them somewhere.”

It’s a book he had bought once, liking the premise, but upon reading it he discovered that he utterly hated the writing style of the author. Pilot rooms don’t have convenient places to hide things, and he wasn’t above cutting out the middle of the pages to have somewhere to put his lube and condoms.

“You are a terrible, terrible man,” Yanqing grumbles. He holds up the bottle of lube. “Show me what to do?”

Jing Yuan guides him through slicking his fingers and warming the lube up. Yanqing settles in between his legs at his word, looking at him anxiously. He has to bite back a smile as Yanqing, hesitatingly, puts the first finger in.

It’s still an odd feeling. He gasps because it feels like more than it is; Yanqing’s fingers are long and thin in comparison to his hands, but they’re not long . But Jing Yuan hasn’t had a fuck in ages, so he waits to adjust, shivering. Yanqing’s clean hand finds a home on his hip, his thumb rubbing circles onto the jut of his bone. “Is it okay?” He whispers.

“Very okay,” he replies breathily, tucking one of his legs around Yanqing’s waist. “You can move it.”

Yanqing experiments for a moment, wriggling his finger and crooking it. Once he just barely grazes his prostate, and Jing Yuan nearly bites his lip bloody. Yanqing notices and quests after the spot. After a few futile searches Jing Yuan indicates that he can insert another finger. Yanqing takes his time with it, watching his ass intently as he works it in. It feels like he’s being speared open with his eyes, not his fingers.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his own hand and showing Yanqing a slow scissoring motion. “It’ll stretch me out.”

“Got it,” Yanqing says. His determination is cute as he once again searches for his prostate while stretching him. Yanqing’s middle finger can just hit it, whether by accident or design. Jing Yuan claps a hand over his mouth. Even when he doesn’t touch his prostate Yanqing’s fingers make him shake.

“Take that away,” Yanqing says. He leans over him, working his fingers, and gently closes his teeth over the back of his hand. “I want to kiss you.”

“That’s a dirty trick,” he says, but Jing Yuan removes his hand from his face so that he can kiss him anyway. The position must strain his arm, but they kiss softly until he clutches his shoulders and says, “Give me a third one.”

Yanqing does so obediently, whining a little into his mouth. “How will I ever fit in you?” He mutters.

“You are, technically, in me right now,” Jing Yuan points out teasingly. In reply Yanqing crooks his fingers cruelly, making his hips buck. “Go easy on me!” he protests.

“Like you’ve ever done that for me,” he grumbles. Yet Yanqing’s motions grow gentle as he fucks his fingers in and out of him. Jing Yuan tightens his grip on his shoulders for purchase and lets out punched little noises as Yanqing bullies his prostate.

“Yanqing,” he gasps, “Yanqing, if you don’t stop I’m going to come.”

“Isn’t that the point?” The fingers inside of him slow until Yanqing is, maddeningly, only petting his prostate. His fingers barely move.

“I want to last,” he says shamelessly. “Don’t you want me to come on your cock?”

Jing Yuan watches Yanqing’s pupils dilate, black overtaking pale gold. “I never knew you could be so vulgar,” he breathes. He bites his lip at the feeling his his fingers leaving him, watching as Yanqing wipes them on the blankets. 

“You’re taking the laundry over later,” he complains.

“Later’s for later,” Yanqing says. He tears open a condom and belatedly seems to remember he’s still wearing underwear, because he fumbles for a minute with taking it off. Jing Yuan can’t help put laugh. “Keep laughing and I’ll leave you here alone,” he threatens, face red.

“So mean.” Yanqing rolls on the condom and drizzles lube over himself. When he settles again in between his legs Jing Yuan wraps them around his waist. “Maybe I won’t let someone who’s so mean fuck me stupid.”

“It would take an incredible feat to make you stupid at all,” Yanqing murmurs, bending over to kiss him as he pushes inside. Jing Yuan gasps against him, open-mouthed, and lets Yanqing’s curious tongue explore his teeth. It’s clumsy but absolutely endearing. He presses in in slow increments, until his hips are flush against his ass and Jing Yuan feels like he might combust. Yanqing is so utterly perfect inside of him that his head drops back onto the pillow behind him, his breathing ragged. Yanqing’s head thunks gently down onto his shoulder.

“You’re tight,” he whispers. “And so hot inside.”

“Keep on that track and I won’t even have to give you a lesson on dirty talk,” he says, grinning. Yanqing barely responds to the teasing beyond twitching.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles. “I’m so incredibly lucky to be your partner.”

Jing Yuan flushes. “I’m lucky,” he admits. “Will you move now?”

He doesn’t have to ask twice; Yanqing’s hips buck at the words. The sound he makes is visceral, his body shuddering. “Like this?” Yanqing murmurs, his hips fucking into him in short little bursts. Involuntarily his own hips roll back, meeting him thrust for thrust. Yanqing’s cock is perfect - long but not big enough to hurt, the kind of cock that Jing Yuan would wish was in his mouth if it wasn’t in his ass. He’s sweet and remembers where his prostate is, because he hits it more often than not.

“I cannot believe you’re a virgin,” he breathes into Yanqing’s ear, sweat sticking their chests together. “I really can’t believe I’m the first to have you.”

“Jing Yuan,” he whines, his hips stuttering. His nails press crescents into his biceps. “Jing Yuan.”

Jing Yuan runs his hands over Yanqing’s back. He scratches lines down his back just because he wants to - and because he wants Yanqing to wear his mark. “Yanqing,” he says breathlessly. “I love you.”

Yanqing kisses him helplessly, his cock sinking into him and nailing his prostate dead-on. “Love you too, I love you- Jing Yuan-!”

He spills into him, the condom preventing him from feeling it in its entirety. Yet Jing Yuan can feel the pleasure quaking through him, physically and mentally, and it sends him over the edge. He fists his cock and comes with a moan over both their stomachs. Even as they experience a feedback loop of aftershocks together Yanqing still holds himself above him carefully, afraid of aggravating his wound.

After a moment Yanqing pulls out of him, slides the condom off and takes it to the trash, and flops back down on the bed beside him. Jing Yuan turns onto his side to look at him, smiling. He has a feeling that he’s going to love this postcoital Yanqing, limbs loose and face soft as he looks back at him. He kisses him softly, cupping Yanqing’s cheek and drawing him closer. They exchange more, unhurried, until he catches Yanqing’s eyes fluttering as he tries and fails to suppress a yawn.

“Nap?” Jing Yuan suggests. Yanqing nods, yawning again.

“Why is sex so tiring?” He grumbles, curling into him. “Let’s go shower later. I hate being sweaty.”

“You try taking me next time,” he says, amused. Jing Yuan closes his eyes. “We’ll see how sore you are later.”

Yanqing tilts his head when Jing Yuan hands him his training sword instead of the glaives they’ve been training with recently. “Are we switching weapons today?” He asks as he takes it. He watches as he idly twirls it in his hands.

“Here, watch,” he says. He sinks into a combat stance before stepping forward. Yanqing sucks in a breath, and he sees his eyes up light in the peripheral vision. The movements are awkward to him, practiced only in his memories. But Jing Yuan executes Jingliu’s signature flourish nearly flawlessly, only stumbling at the end. “There,” he says.

“That was incredible!” Yanqing crows in delight, bounding up to him. “Does this mean you’re going to teach her moves to me?”

“Only as I remember them,” he admits. “And most of them were just silly tricks that she used to impress Baiheng.”

“That’s fine,” Yanqing says, beaming at him. “I’d like to learn. And anyway,” he adds, “I hardly need to impress you anymore.”

“Hey,” Jing Yuan protests. Yanqing jabs him with his sword and laughs.

“Just watch,” he says.