Another performance wrapped; Yun-Han Opera got its mora and its applause. Yet Yun Jin felt no joy.
Today's piece, The Geo Lord Quells the Sea, was pure tradition—Morax subduing sea beasts in Guyun Stone Forest. No room for the rock arrangements she'd been sketching. Her assistant was relieved; had she forced it, Liyue's old guard would have rushed the stage shouting "rites and music are broken!"
Disappointed and out of ideas, Yun Jin decided to hit Xinyan's concert later and talk riffs and arrangement. For now, she wanted to visit the one man who'd rattled her thinking: Ji Ming. She'd heard—from Master Zhongli, no less—that he'd moved into a courtyard south of Feiyun Slope. Gifts first; she bought some dates and tonics from Mingxing Jewelry's grocer stall and set off.
Down by the docks, she stopped short. A black-haired youth was doing a handstand on a mooring post, face flushing crimson.
"Mr. Ji… Ji Ming?"
Blood slow, brain slower, he turned after a beat. "Miss Yun Jin? What a coincidence. Grabbing lunch?"
"It's only ten in the morning. Lunch is a bit… early." She tilted her head, worried. "Are you sure you won't faint?"
"I'm fine. Necessary cultivation."
Sweat beaded and ran down his neck; salty trails stung his eyes. He gritted his teeth. Yun Jin couldn't help but smile, tugged a handkerchief from her sleeve, and dabbed his brow—careful around the eyes.
"Much better. Leave the handkerchief on the post," he said. "I'll wash it and return it… when I finally come watch your opera."
"You still haven't come even once," she murmured, mock-wounded. She had given him a VIP card—free snacks!
Sunlight knifed off the sea, skittered across the dock, and flashed on steel at his waist. A blade? She didn't dwell on it. Any kid training at dawn like this might be from a martial house.
"Mr. Ji Ming, I wanted to talk about opera."
"Opera? Another day. I'm tied up training. I'll find you later."
"How long will this… training take?"
He thought, arm trembling as the veins stood out, sweat turning to gold under the sun. "Ten more minutes of handstand…"
"Great. I'll wait."
"…Then five hundred frog jumps, five hundred push-ups, five hundred strikes on the wooden post, and finally sandbags while I run five laps around Liyue Harbor."
She stared, lips parting. "Are you sure you're cultivating?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because it looks like self-torture."
He barked a laugh. "Do you think I'm training martial arts? Wrong. I'm going to cultivate into an immortal."
She played along. "But you don't know adeptal arts. This only builds the body."
"Ever heard of sanctifying the flesh?"
"No. You're making that up, aren't you?"
"Ha! Doubt me? I'll come down there and— ow— would you give me a hand? My fingers cramped."
She bit back a laugh and steadied him down from the post, then stuffed the gift bag of dates into his arms. "Don't overdo it."
He grinned. "When I do sanctify the flesh, you can adapt my story. Liyue will eat it up."
Jueyun Karst was far, and his talent for spellcraft… middling. So he'd double down: breathing-circulation plus bodywork. Yun Jin frowned.
"You'll ruin your voice—your body like that. When I was little I chased the 'perfect tone,' doing dawn warm-ups every day. My voice went hoarse. I still shudder thinking about it."
He nodded thoughtfully, hugged the gift, then pulled a handful of Qingxin from his hidden pouch and held it out. "Qingxin's good stuff. I'll make you Qingxin-mint lozenges later—good for the throat."
"Mr. Ji Ming, I'm the one worrying about you."
"Mhm. I'm worrying about you too."
She took the blossoms carefully. Most people only looked at her with reverence—as the opera prodigy. Few saw the girl who loved rock shows. Only Ji Ming handed her something to care for her voice.
Without stage makeup, Yun Jin looked even more fresh and girlish. She sniffled once, eyes bright. "Thank you. I'll treasure them."
"It's food. Why treasure it?" he blinked, tossed a few blossoms into his mouth, and chewed. "Like this."
She froze, then lunged too late. "Qingxin is for cooking or tea! Who eats it straight? Quick—dates, for the bitterness."
"I'm used to it. Eat enough and it's actually sweet."
Has he broken his taste buds? She sighed—and respected his fate.
"I'm not leaving," she declared. "If I miss anything, adapting your life into opera gets harder."
He blinked, then smiled. "Alright. Let's head outside the city. It's quieter there."
They set off together, unaware that a figure who had been eavesdropping for some time slipped into their shadow and followed.