"..we..are.. really.."
"....grateful"
"If it..wasn't for you.."
"..if you need...anything..."
"..no need.."
"You..should.. leave.."
"...."
Hazy, broken—words he couldn't piece together swirled around Mo Yichen like fragments of a dream. His temples throbbed, a sharp, needle-like pain drilling into his skull. His limbs were leaden, his body an unbearable weight, yet there was something firm, pressed against his front. Firm hands around his thighs carrying him.
His lashes fluttered weakly, but his vision refused to clear. The world remained a blur of muted colors and shifting shadows. His skin burned, feverish heat licking at his nerves, a familiar coolness in front of him inviting—drew him in like a parched man to water.
Without thought, his lips parted, a soft, ragged exhale escaping as he inched forward, seeking relief. His nose bumped against cold ears. The barest touch sent a shiver through him, and instinctively, he pressed closer, his dry lips brushing against the curve of a neck.
"...So hot," he murmured, the words slurred, half-lost in the hollow of a throat.
Yan Yeqing's body carrying him on his back went rigid. For a breath, everything stilled.
Even the distant voices and bords seemed to fade into silence...
"...Yichen"
Yeqing's voice was low, edged with something echoed. But Mo Yichen was beyond comprehension. The fever had sunk its claws too deep, and the cold against his skin was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
His brows furrowed as he nuzzled deeper into the crook of Yeqing's neck, his nose brushing the delicate dip above a collarbone.
A shudder wracked through Yan Yeqing, his breath uneven. He briefly closed his eyes as if clearing his eyes.
"...So uncomfortable," Mo Yichen mumbled, the words barely coherent.
Yeqing exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tightening for a split second. Then in the next second, he adjusted his grip and abruptly stepped off the path, veering toward a cluster of rocks sheltered by overhanging branches.
Mo Yichen barely registered the movement, his head lolling limply against Yeqing's shoulder. The world tilted again as Yeqing lowered himself onto the ground, one arm still locked securely around Mo Yichen's wrist, the other bracing against the ground to steady them both.
He laid Mo Yichen on the ground, his shoulders against Yichen's upper body.
Mo Yichen let out a weak groan, his fingers twitching where they lay against Yeqing's chest. The fever burned hotter, a relentless fire beneath his skin, and instinctively, he turned his face back toward Yeqing's neck, seeking the coolness there.
Yeqing's fingers lingered, tracing the delicate arch of Mo Yichen's brow before settling against his fevered temples. The touch was deliberate, almost hesitant as if Yeqing himself was surprised by his own actions.
A slow, rhythmic pressure began at Mo Yichen's temples, Yeqing's slender fingers moving in methodical circles. A surge of spiritual energy, crisp as winter stream water, trickled through his meridians, soothing the firestorm beneath his skin.
Mo Yichen's breath hitched—the relief was instantaneous. The fog in his mind receded like tidewater, his senses sharpening with each pulse of that glacial energy.
His lashes fluttered and vision cleared.
The first thing he saw was Yan Yeqing's face—closer than expected, closer than proper, those usually impassive features softened in the dim light. A furrow between his brows, lips pressed into a thin line. And...
Was that concern?
A fleeting shadow in his eyes, there and gone before Mo Yichen could be certain.
"..."
A cold palm cradled his cheek, startling in its gentleness.
"…Are you awake?" Yeqing's voice was low, closer to his ear. "How do you feel?"
The words curled into Mo Yichen's awareness like smoke—too careful. It sent an entirely different kind of heat crawling up his neck.
For a suspended moment, he didn't answer. He couldn't. His thoughts were still tangled in the remnants of fever-dreams: the phantom press of fingers against his pulse, the scent of cold sandalwood..
"I—I am fine!" Mo Yichen jerked upright (or tried to; his body protested vehemently).
His eyes darted around, taking in the jagged outcrop of rocks, the gnarled roots of trees overhead. The air smelled of damp earth. "What happened earlier? Where are we right now?"
"Oh yeah! What about those cultivators!?" Mo Yichen's voice went octave as he continued, ".. And those evil cultivators?"
Yan Yeqing sighed pausing for a moment before speaking, "You don't have to worry about anything. Those evil cultivators are dead and they were working under some lord.." he paused, "..and those cultivators are saved now. They expressed their thanks but I didn't want them to tag along and.. you were injured too so I opted to find a place to spend the night first"
"…Aren't you curious?" Mo Yichen asked, voice low.
Yeqing didn't blink. "About what?" A pause, deliberate. "There are so many things about you to be curious about."
A flicker of amusement darted across his face. Mo Yichen's lips twitched as he caught the faintest upturn of Yeqing's mouth, there and gone like a shadow.
"Well," he began, fingers curling in the fabric of his sleeve, "I'm not sure, but my blood has some… particular powers. Or whatever." A dry laugh. "I only found out last time, during the fight with those demonic wolves."
Yeqing watched him, silent. The firelight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered just enough to veil his thoughts.
"Mm. I know."
Mo Yichen, "You—?"
"I've read about it," Yeqing continued, tone even. "Though there wasn't much information. Almost as if someone had erased all traces of it." His thumb brushed over the the wrist of youth beside him, a habit, Mo Yichen realized when he was choosing his words carefully.
"There was once a clan whose descendants were born with what people called the 'Primordial Phoenix Body.' Their blood essence was said to be the purest in all realms, capable of… unusual things."
"I assume," Yeqing said, quieter now, "you're a descendant. Or at least carry some remnant of their lineage. Even a fraction of that blood would explain what happened earlier."
Mo Yichen stared at him. The fire crackled, casting long shadows that danced over Yeqing's shoulders, over the careful neutrality of his expression. "Is this it?" he said slowly, "..is this the only information about this body type?"
Yeqing met his gaze. "Well, to be honest, I don't think people in this continent know even this much. I once read it in a forbidden book which I don't think just anyone can get it."
"Oh..?" Mo Yichen's brows furrowed, "Is this really all you know about this clan?"
Yan Yeqing nods in affirmation watching the startled face of the youth, "..is there any problem?"
Yesss!! There is a huge problem!! If people barely know anything about that clan then how the fuck did that storyteller recite that whole damn story!?
Goodness, I knew it! He was already suspicious enough!
It's almost like he is shouting out loud to tell everyone about me!
"..Yichen?" Startled Mo Yichen snapped out of his thoughts and looked up to see Yeqing's furrowed brows, "ah no.. I am just a bit hungry."