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Once the training is over, a soldier will never be the same. Yangyang knows hundreds ways to end one’s life, and just a few to prolong it. Yangyang knows thirteen points of life and death in human body, and just one that will make her heart beat faster. They called him Rover, made him their hero — just as much of a hero as possible. Yangyang knows the way his brows furrow and his lips curl up and his eyes glow in the dark.
Once the training is over, a soldier is starting to change for the worse. He is the only thing she can actually study just for herself. To have for herself. She never does but it makes little to no difference in the grand scheme of things.
A soldier can never have anything truly.
Yangyang waits for him, only to learn that he’s not doing the same for her. She’s still there, right where he left her, two years ago, with the view of his back in her eyes and his determination spreading like a wildfire. And Rover moves on. He has a daughter, has a life she never knew of. He has everything she ever wanted to have in a way that she could not afford to.
And he should not be able either. Yangyang has a kind heart, a heart that will end up broken beyond repair. She knows that just as well as Suisui does, and just as a younger sister should — she ignores all the warnings. The flashing red lights, the color is but a reminder of all the blood they are yet destined to spill, all the heartbreak they are yet to witness. To share it all with him is the most Yangyang could ever ask for.
So when Muyu takes interest in her, the pretty face twists in disgust. Yangyang presses her lips together in a clear sign of annoyance. What does a man know of her and her feelings? What does he know of the pain she carefully weaves into the sounds and songs, the reverberations of the past still alive within her? Muyu talks to her as though he’s sure of it all, the world ever so unraveled and clear in his damned eye. He smiles at her, takes no steps closer, but with a heavy heart Yangyang admits — his presence is that of a titan.
“You seem to despise me, my xuanling.” Muyu reaches out to her, his palm open and vulnerable. He’s confident and that can only mean one thing.
Yangyang has to kill him to end this farce.
She doesn't just yet, but never accepts his hand. Her eyes travel across his body. The reverberations of all his sins dawns at her with every second they have to share. “Do keep your lustful thoughts to yourself.”
And he laughs, the sound of it caresses Yangyang’s whole being. The physical part is weak, it’s prone to tenderness she cannot allow.
“My lust is not as superficial, but it is a tip of the iceberg. And it is already much more than your hero can offer.” He tries to bite her, his venom spilling from his mouth but it does no harm for she knows that truth should not be denied. As much as she wants to be there, to have his back, Rover is already two steps ahead. He’s here but he’s also all over Solaris already. He’s a shoulder to lean on, a sword to grip onto, a shadow to be afraid of.
He’s everything Yangyang wants to be, and nothing she craves for.
“What confidence you have for a dead man walking.” Yangyang lets Muyu gets closer, a bit too close. His frame is that of a frail master, not too used to physical work, and in his swordsmanship he’d be no match for her. Still, she doesn’t even try. He pulls her closer with his hand on Yangyang’s stiff back, her muscles hard to his touch.
“Do you find it to be misplaced?”
Muyu lets her get on top of him when they finally lay down on the ground. The site of a past war might not be the most appropriate place, but for all its immorality it makes her heart beat faster.
“My sweet xuanling, will you let me disassemble you and make you whole again?” He places his hands on her hips, pressing his fingers into her soft, pain-trained skin. As his touch traces veins, Yangyang moans out loud. The sound is subtle, unrealistically so. Muyu seems to enjoy it all the same for his lips travel to her neck. He finds the tan lines on her skin, the marks of all the hours she puts into her work, and it makes him hard. The two bodies too used to the lonely nights, unfamiliar with proper care.
She’s a xuanling, and he’s a master of the strings attached to her wings. They kiss, no tenderness in it, but the angry need to prove a point. Freedom of power, freedom of will, freedom to make all the mistakes in the world. Yangyang bites into his tongue, her teeth diving deeper into the red flesh. They share the taste, Muyu cannot stop touching her. His fingers twist her underwear between her thighs, moving out of the way. Yangyang cries out, she’s too far gone to stop, but a heated moment could cost her everything. All that she worked so hard for.
A soldier never really has anything, can owe not one feeling, not one object. So when this moments lets her have this much, she’s a bird in a cage. And happily unraveled when Muyu switches their position, now pressing his hard cock to her entrance. Wet and hot, it’s sticky with shameful excitement.
She hates him so.
He makes her moan when he pushes inside, the walls of her body widening just to take him in. What a joke she is. Yangyang closes her eyes as he presses her nails into his neck, grasping at him. Freedom of will, freedom of power, he lets her have all of it. His expression is free of judgement, but it’s also lacking the softness and care — for he cares not. She’s a prize to have, and he’s a target to dispose of. Yet their bodies go so well together as he thrusts into her, with each time just a little deeper. Muyu tickles her neck with his breath. Veins on her pale skin pulsating more as he take a more violent rhythm.
It’s fiery.
It’s annoyingly good, the way he makes her feel alive with all the shame she can’t shake off.
“What a pure little heart.” Muyu says as he opens his eyes once again, pressing their temples against each other. He breathes in whatever air escapes her mouth. “My treasure. Let me have all of you.”
He lets her hear it all again. It’s war site alright. Yangyang screams, this time, no fun in her pain. Liberating feeling vanishes into the vision the wind slips into her mind. Pulsating, exalting, it flashes red left and right and the voices of the past are all mixing together, living bitter aftertaste. Yangyang doesn’t see the faces, but she can make out each voice.
She knows when and where was the last sound made as it evaporates into the heat of the metal clacking and slicing. Each time Muyu rams into her, it’s a new one — another sword slashes through, another spear breaking. Another screech pierces through the tension in the air. Each time he moans into her ear, she’s closer to her liberation.
Each second longer his fingers hold her throat she’s closer to the end of it.
She needs a moment more—
“Yangyang!”
Yangyang cries out, she’s too far gone to stop, but a heated moment costs her everything. She risked it all, and when she looks up, it’s him — just standing there, his sword in his hand.
All she worked so hard for.
She knows the way to kill the heart.