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The Luofu's climate control systems were notoriously reliable, but even they had their quirks. A sudden, unexplained drop in temperature had swept through the training grounds. Yanqing had refused to let it interrupt his drills.
After all, he was the Lieutenant of the Cloud Knights. He couldn't let a little chill affect him. What kind of example would that set?
So, he'd trained through it, pushing himself harder than usual. The cold air burned in his lungs with each breath, but he ignored it. He'd finish his routine, then go home and wrap himself in a warm blanket. No harm, no foul.
Except, it wasn't just a little chill.
He woke up the next morning feeling like he'd been run over by an angry Borisin.
Everything hurt. His head was pounding. His throat felt scratchy. His nose was stuffed up, and his ears were ringing.
Yanqing was no stranger to getting sick. He'd gotten his fair share of colds growing up, but this one was particularly bad. His muscles ached, and he could barely move without feeling dizzy.
But he couldn't let this stop him. He had a job to do, after all. He was the Lieutenant of the Cloud Knights. He couldn't just take a day off because of a cold. He had duties to attend to, and training to complete. He had to push through.
He pulled himself out of bed, and staggered to the bathroom. His reflection stared back at him with bloodshot eyes. His skin was pale and clammy, and his hair was disheveled. A hot shower helped, a little. He felt more awake, at least.
Getting dressed was a challenge. Even the lightest clothes felt like sandpaper on his oversensitive skin. He could barely stand up straight. But he soldiered on, telling himself that it would get better. He just needed to get through the day.
He made it to the training ground by sheer willpower. He looked worse for wear, and he was running a little late, but he'd made it. No need for his father to find out he was sick and coddle him.
He couldn't help but feel a little resentful of that.
Jing Yuan always babied him when he got even slightly sick. Even with a sniffle, his dad would wrap him up in blankets, feed him medicine and tea with honey, and put cold compresses on his head. He would check on him every five minutes, just to make sure he was alright.
It was sweet, but also a little much, especially for a soldier. And especially for the Lieutenant. He wasn't a child anymore (that's what he told himself, at least). He didn't need to be coddled.
And so, Yanqing resolved to hide it.
He would just have to be extra careful not to show any signs of weakness. He would have to be strong, and tough it out until he got home tonight, where he could crash and sleep it off.
He could do this. He could definitely do this.
But when he got to the training grounds, he was immediately called over by his father.
"Yanqing. You're late."
The General stood by the weapon racks, arms crossed, a disapproving frown on his face. His gaze swept over Yanqing, and for a terrifying moment, Yanqing thought he'd see right through him. But he just sighed.
"Apologies, General," Yanqing said. He hoped the rasp of his throat wasn't obvious. He bowed, a little too quickly, and felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He forced himself to stand up straight, ignoring the way the room tilted.
"And you look like you didn't sleep well," Jing Yuan continued, his tone now laced with concern. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Yanqing said, a little too quickly. "Just had a late night. I'm ready to train."
Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, but didn't push the matter. He gestured towards the training area. "Alright, then. Let's see what you've got."
Yanqing swallowed hard, and followed him.
As soon as they began sparring, he realized it was a terrible idea. The world swam before him, and he couldn't keep up with the blows coming at him.
It wasn't even like his father was putting effort in. Just half-hearted, lazy strikes. Yet each one nearly knocked the breath out of him, and left him reeling. Every strike sent pain lancing through his body, making stars dance across his vision. He couldn't focus. Everything hurt. His limbs were heavy, his head foggy. It was like his body was actively fighting against him, refusing to obey his commands.
Every block or parry cost him more energy than it should've. Every dodge left him gasping. Sweat poured down his face.
"Alright, that's enough!" Jing Yuan lowered his sword and stared at his son, concern evident in his features.
"What... why?" Yanqing rasped.
"You're not yourself today, Yanqing. I've been going easy on you, and you're still struggling. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I am," Yanqing insisted. He tried to catch his breath, but the cold air burned in his lungs.
"No," the General said. He reached out to place a hand on Yanqing's forehead. He didn't even have to press his palm down to feel the heat radiating from the boy's skin. "You're burning up."
"I'm not," Yanqing insisted. "Worst case scenario, it's just a little cold."
"Yanqing." Jing Yuan's tone was final. "We're going home."
"No," the boy protested. "I have to train. I have duties to attend to."
"And you can't do them properly if you're sick," the General argued.
"I'm not sick!"
The boy was a terrible liar, especially when it came to his own well-being. Jing Yuan knew this, of course. He'd always been able to see right through his son. He could tell when he was lying, when he was hiding something, and when he was pushing himself too hard.
Jing Yuan thought about what his mentor would've done. She would've made him learn this as a valuable learning lesson by letting him continue pushing himself, while subtly keeping a close eye on him and nursing him when he was down for the count. Jing Yuan wasn't her, though. He was softer. Softer than he should've been, maybe. But he was soft, especially for Yanqing. He had no idea where he got it, but he knew that if anything happened to him, he'd never forgive himself.
And yet, Yanqing was terribly stubborn. He was incredibly hard-headed, and wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Yanqing," the General said, a hint of warning in his voice. "Go home. Now."
"I will," Yanqing said. "Later."
"Yanqing, go home now, or I'll pick you up and carry you home myself."
Yanqing stared at him defiantly, even as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. "Then you'll have to take me by force, General." He lifted his sword once more, ready to continue. Despite the fact he was obviously sick, he had a challenging smile on his face.
Jing Yuan couldn't help but admire his son's tenacity. Even if it was stupid. "Very well, then." He moved forward, easily swatting Yanqing's sword aside with his own and sending it clattering to the ground. Before Yanqing could react, he scooped him up into his arms and slung him over his shoulder.
"Hey!" Yanqing yelled. He kicked and squirmed, trying to break free, but he was too weak to do much. Jing Yuan barely even felt it.
"I warned you," Jing Yuan said mildly, carrying his son towards the barracks. "I told you I'd take you home if you didn't listen."
"I can walk!" Yanqing protested. "Put me down!"
Jing Yuan chuckled. "No, no. I think I quite like this arrangement."
Yanqing huffed, but stopped struggling to dramatically whine.
"I can't believe you're treating me like a child."
"Last time I checked, you are a child. Specifically, you are my child. Last time I checked, most half-decent parents don't let their kids push themselves until they collapse."
"I'm a Lieutenant!"
"And I am your General."
Yanqing grumbled under his breath. "You're being embarrassing."
"And you're being reckless. Let's call it even."
He carried him all the way back to their residence, ignoring the curious stares from passing Cloud Knights and citizens. They were used to the General's antics by now, but seeing the formidable Lieutenant slung over his shoulder like a sack of vegetables was still an amusing sight.
Once they were inside, Jing Yuan set him down on the sofa, Yanqing landing with a dramatic groan.
"There," he said. "Now, let's get a proper look at you."
He knelt, pressing the back of his hand to Yanqing's forehead again. The fever was undeniable now.
"You have a high fever, Yanqing."
"Just a minor cold," Yanqing muttered.
"I can't tell if that's your stubbornness talking, or your brain being cooked by that temperature," Jing Yuan teased, but his tone was much more soft than his usual teasing one. Yanqing cracked open an eye to give him the death stare. Jing Yuan only chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll stop. Just rest for a bit. I'll get you something to drink. Water? Or do you want tea with honey?"
"...Tea," Yanqing mumbled, closing his eyes again. He was exhausted. He was still aching all over, and now he was starting to get a headache.
Jing Yuan came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug. He helped Yanqing sit up, propping him up with a few pillows. "Careful now. Just sip it."
Yanqing took a small sip of the tea. It was warm and sweet, and it soothed his scratchy throat. He took another, larger sip, then another, until the mug was half-empty.
"Better?" Jing Yuan asked, taking the mug from him and setting it on the coffee table.
Yanqing nodded. "A little."
"Good. Now, let's get you out of your training clothes, I can't imagine those are helping."
"Wait, what if I can still train today after resting some?"
Jing Yuan leveled him with a flat stare.
Yanqing's resolve crumbled. "Okay."
Jing Yuan chuckled. "That's what I thought."
He went to Yanqing's room to get him a change of clothes, coming back with a comfortable-looking pair of sleep pants and a simple shirt. He gently helped Yanqing out of his uniform, and into the softer clothes. He could feel Yanqing trembling under his fingers, and his heart ached. He was so stubborn, always trying to act tough, always trying to prove himself. It reminded Jing Yuan of himself when he was younger. Yanqing had a good head on his shoulders, but sometimes he just needed someone to remind him to slow down.
He was the only person Yanqing really listened to, even if it was sometimes a challenge.
Once he was dressed, Yanqing curled up on the sofa again, hugging a pillow. Jing Yuan pulled a blanket over him, and brushed a few stray locks of hair from his face. Yanqing leaned into his touch.
"Are you hungry?" Jing Yuan asked. "I can make you some congee."
Yanqing shook his head. "Not hungry."
"Alright. But you need to eat something later. Even if it's just a little bit."
"Okay."
Jing Yuan sat on the edge of the sofa, watching him for a few minutes, just to be sure he was okay.
Barely two hours later, Yanqing woke up, just to rush to the bathroom and get sick.
Jing Yuan was by his side in an instant, pulling back his hair and rubbing soothing circles on his back as Yanqing heaved into the toilet. His body shook with the force of it, and he was breathing heavily by the time he was done, slumping against the wall. His face was pale, and he was covered in a cold sweat.
The General wordlessly wet a washcloth and pressed it to the back of Yanqing's neck. The boy flinched at the sudden cold, but soon relaxed into the touch.
"Mmm... Dad..."
"I'm here, sweetheart." Jing Yuan took a glass of water he had filled earlier and handed it to him. "Drink. It'll help settle your stomach."
Yanqing took a tentative sip, and nearly got sick again, but managed to swallow it down.
"Aren't you going back to work?" Yanqing asked. "I'm not gonna die if you leave for five minutes."
"And miss out on taking care of my baby?"
"Daaaad."
Jing Yuan laughed softly. "Yes, yes. I know. 'I'm not a baby, Dad, I'm fourteen.'"
"I don't sound like that."
"Yes, you do." He handed him another glass of water. "Now, do you want to go back to the couch, or your bed?"
"My bed is too far."
"Ah, so you do admit you're not well."
"...shut."
It took quite a bit of effort to get him back to the couch, but Jing Yuan was able to manage. Yanqing was still trembling, but he was able to keep the water down. Jing Yuan wrapped him up in a fresh blanket, and sat next to him, stroking his hair.
"Are you sure you don't want any congee?" Jing Yuan asked. "It'll be good for you. Light, easy to digest."
Yanqing shook his head, burrowing into the couch cushions. "No, thank you."
"Alright, but you need to eat something later. Even if it's just a little bit. Your body needs fuel to fight this off."
Yanqing nodded. "Okay."
Jing Yuan sat in silence for a while, watching him. He could see the boy's eyelids drooping. He was exhausted.
"Go to sleep," he murmured. "I'll be right here when you wake up."
Yanqing didn't need to be told twice this time. He was out like a light.
The next day was a mixed bag. Even though Jing Yuan managed to get his son to have some congee and even a few sips of tea, Yanqing's fever didn't seem to be letting up. His nose was dripping like a leaky faucet, and his cough sounded awful.
The General had been keeping a close eye on him. Yanqing's fever was still too high for his liking, and the boy was barely able to keep any food or drinks down. He looked like a husk. He didn't even have the energy to argue about being fed congee. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his face flushed a deep red.
Jing Yuan managed to doze off for about an hour, perched on the arm of the couch beside his son, when Yanqing's quiet sobs woke him up.
"Yanqing? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately alert.
Yanqing sniffled. "Hurts..."
Jing Yuan frowned. "What hurts?"
"My head," Yanqing whined, curling up into a ball. "My throat. Everything." His voice was barely audible.
Jing Yuan's heart clenched. He hated seeing his son like this. He was so small, so vulnerable. He wanted nothing more than to make it go away.
"Oh, sweetheart," he said. "It's alright. I'm here. You're going to be okay." He reached out and brushed a few strands of hair from Yanqing's forehead. The boy's skin was hot to the touch.
Yanqing whimpered at the contact, leaning into his touch. "Dad..."
"I know. I know." Jing Yuan shifted closer to him, letting Yanqing rest his head in his lap. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you think you can handle some medicine?"
"Just the taste will probably make me throw up again..."
Jing Yuan sighed. "I know, baby. But it'll make you feel better. I promise. I have the kind that tastes like grape."
"Ew, that's even worse."
Jing Yuan had to laugh. "Right. I'll be right back."
He went to the medicine cabinet and got out a small bottle of fever reducer. He poured a dose into a small cup, and went back to the living room.
"Alright, Yanqing. Sit up for me. Can you do that?"
Yanqing grumbled but did so, leaning against Jing Yuan's shoulder. He was shaking, and his teeth were chattering, even though he was wrapped in a thick blanket. He was so weak that he could barely even hold his head up.
Jing Yuan helped him take the medicine, and Yanqing immediately pulled a face. "Ugh..."
"I know, I know. It's gross. But it'll help with your fever and your headache."
Yanqing nodded, not trusting himself to speak without getting sick again. He laid back down, curling into a ball.
Jing Yuan watched him for a few minutes, waiting to see if the medicine would stay down. He was relieved when it did. He stroked Yanqing's hair, trying to soothe him.
Yanqing's breathing was starting to settle down a little, and his face was relaxing, the lines of pain easing away. Jing Yuan sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax. He'd been worried that the boy would need to be hospitalized, which he knew neither of them would've liked.
They sat there together for a while longer, Jing Yuan holding him close. Soon, Yanqing was fast asleep. The General didn't dare move. His son looked peaceful, the pain and illness forgotten, if just for now. Yanqing's body was still hot with fever, but at least it was cooler than it'd been. The General knew he would have to wake him up in a few more hours to give him another dose of medicine, but that could wait for a while longer. They needed some peace and quiet first.
After two more painful days, Yanqing finally began improving. His fever had broke late that evening, and he'd been able to eat a few spoonfuls of the blandest porridge imaginable without getting sick.
Yanqing was currently laying on the couch, covered in a mound of blankets, looking utterly miserable. His nose was still runny, and he had a nasty cough, but the worst seemed to be over.
Jing Yuan was in the kitchen, heating up a pot of broth. He'd decided that the best course of action was to make sure Yanqing got as much nourishment as possible in order to speed his recovery along.
When he entered, he saw Mimi draped over Yanqing's body.
"Mimi, get off him," the General ordered. The lion opened one eye, looked at him, then went back to sleep.
"I don't mind," Yanqing said quietly. "It's like... deep pressure therapy."
Jing Yuan chuckled. "I'm sure it is. But you're still recovering. We don't want you suffocated."
Mimi finally got the message and hopped off the couch, circling a few times before flopping onto the rug with a dramatic sigh.
"I'm sorry, Mimi," Yanqing said, reaching out to pat the lion's head. He gave a heatless glare to the General. "Someone was jealous."
"Someone was worried," Jing Yuan corrected.
"Whatever you want to tell yourself."
Jing Yuan rolled his eyes fondly. "Alright, enough of that. I made you some broth. You need to eat."
Yanqing wrinkled his nose. "Do I have to?"
"Yes."
Even though he was overdramatic about it, Yanqing obeyed. He gave Jing Yuan a look when he held the spoon in front of his lips. "I'm not a baby."
"Could've fooled me. Open up."
Yanqing grumbled about it, but did so. He'd been fed by Jing Yuan a lot over the past few days, especially when he was too weak to even sit up on his own. He'd been so embarrassed by it, but Jing Yuan had been nothing but patient. And Yanqing, despite his protests, secretly appreciated it. It was nice to be taken care of, to have someone fuss over him. He'd never admit it, but he'd enjoyed being the center of the General's attention, even if he also liked his independence, too.
But alas, having both of them in perfect equal measure was just too much to ask for.
Once the broth was finished, he felt a little better.
"You have a bit on your cheek," Jing Yuan said, thumbing it away.
"You're so embarrassing," Yanqing whined.
Jing Yuan only laughed. "You're smiling."
"No, I'm not." He totally was, though. He scooted away, until he was pressed up against the back of the couch. "Cuddles."
"Hmm? What happened to 'Dad, I'm not a baby'?"
"I'm not a baby. Old men can need cuddles, too. You're proof of that."
"Cheeky brat," the General said, but he was already moving to sit next to him. He pulled the boy into a hug. Yanqing immediately melted into it, tucking his head under Jing Yuan's chin.
Yanqing couldn't help it. He loved being held. He always had. He'd been a clingy child, and though he'd grown out of the worst of it, he still craved physical affection, especially from Jing Yuan. He'd learned to hide it, to pretend he was tougher than he really was. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. But Jing Yuan adored the moments when Yanqing's guard would drop, and he would let himself be vulnerable. This was one of those times.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," the General murmured.
"Me too," Yanqing muttered. "I'll make up for my absence at work tomorrow. I'll train extra hard to catch up."
"If you think I'll let my son who just was running a fever go to do physical labor tomorrow, you're very mistaken."
"I think you just want an excuse to not go to work either, General."
Jing Yuan chuckled. "Maybe a little. But mostly, I want you to get better. No need to rush it. Your health is more important than any drills or reports."
Yanqing was quiet for a moment. "Thank you," he whispered. "For taking care of me."
"Of course, sweetheart. I'll always take care of you."
Yanqing grinned to himself, closing his eyes. "I know."