The low hum of the ship surrounded them, a soft vibration in the soles of Jian’s boots as the spacecraft made its descent through Earth’s atmosphere. Clouds parted like silk being drawn aside, revealing the broken skyline beneath—a devastated earth, still standing but scarred.
Jian sat near the panel, arms crossed, gaze locked ahead—but his mind... it was a mess.
Without Quangya, everything suddenly felt too quiet. The little one’s constant tugging, whining, or squealing had always kept Jian’s nerves on edge, but now, the silence in the cabin felt unnaturally loud.
He shifted uncomfortably.
Something in his chest was off.
It was his heart. Loud. Too loud. Why was it pounding so hard?
He glanced up just as Xing Yu turned to him, the soft hum of the engines muting all other sounds. The man’s white hair caught the ambient light in strands of soft silver, his pale blue eyes glancing Jian’s way with that same unreadable expression he always wore—except this time, it wasn’t unreadable at all.
"Thank you," Xing Yu said.
Jian blinked.
"...W-what?"
"I said thank you," the man repeated, his tone even softer this time. "For trusting us. And... for trusting me."
There it was—that small, calm smile. One that didn’t feel practiced or cold. Just... warm.
Jian’s entire face flushed.
He looked away instantly, ears burning. "I-I still don’t trust you that much..." he mumbled quickly, clutching the strap of his gear. "So... don’t thank me yet."
"It’s okay," Xing Yu replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll prove to you that you can place your trust in me."
Jian dared to glance at him—just a small peek.
well that was a big mistake.
The man was looking ahead now, angled slightly toward the glass. His jawline, sharp yet smooth, caught the descending light. His white hair fell gently over his brow. Even the shadows on his face made him look like a damn model from one of those magazines—every feature chiseled yet delicate. His lashes, long and thick, fluttered subtly as he blinked, lips curling faintly in a private thought.
Jian didn’t hear a word he was saying.
His ears were filled with the relentless thump of his own heartbeat.
He felt lightheaded.
’Gosh... how do his eyelashes look so soft...?’
Xing Yu’s mouth moved—he was saying something else—but Jian didn’t catch a single syllable. He just kept staring at the man’s throat, at the small shift of his Adam’s apple as he spoke, at the relaxed confidence in the way he stood, hands loosely resting at his sides.
’How can someone be this handsome and this calm at the same time...?’
He caught a glimpse of himself reflected faintly in the glass panel beside Xing Yu.
His own face stared back—dark hair messy from earlier winds, eyes still tired, and skin marked from days without proper rest.
In human terms, he knew he was considered good-looking.
But next to Xing Yu... and all those other Farians he’d seen... he looked plain. Too human. Too small.
He swallowed thickly and looked away.
’I guess I really am just... mediocre.’
A hand suddenly brushed against his sleeve. Jian startled slightly and looked up.
Xing Yu had said something again, but this time, he only smiled.
Jian quickly looked down, trying to keep his face from showing too much, but he knew he was probably red all the way up to his hairline. His thoughts spiraled. His throat felt tight.
He wasn’t used to this feeling—this fluttering, frustrating, choking kind of emotion.
"Where do you want to go first?" Xing Yu asked after a stretch of quiet. His voice was low and calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his pale eyes as he glanced at Jian.
He didn’t know why—but ever since they stepped into the small shuttle, Jian had turned pinker and pinker. His cheeks, his ears, even his neck... all flushed with warmth that hadn’t faded.
Was it too hot in the ship?
Xing Yu frowned slightly and discreetly adjusted the climate controls, cooling the temperature by a few degrees. The gentle airflow shifted through the cabin, but Jian didn’t react. He just stood there, clutching the fabric of his own shirt tightly in one hand, lost in thought.
"Jian..." Xing Yu reached out and gently touched the smaller hand curled at Jian’s side.
Jian jolted like someone had just splashed water on him, his eyes flying open wide as he looked up. "H-Huh... what?"
"Where do you want to go now?" Xing Yu repeated patiently, his smile soft.
Jian blinked slowly, looking up at him like he’d only just realized where he was. He didn’t answer immediately—his teeth worried his bottom lip, biting down softly as he turned to glance toward the glass. The gesture was unconscious, almost shy, but it had Xing Yu freezing.
Those lips—already pink—grew darker with every passing second. And the way Jian bit at them, not even knowing what he was doing...
Xing Yu had to hold his breath for a second.
He wanted to reach out. Gently pull that poor lip free, tease them and watch as they change color. But he didn’t. He simply watched, the thud in his own chest betraying the calm expression he wore.
Finally, Jian spoke. "Back where we boarded?" he asked.
Xing Yu shook his head with a chuckle. "No, I mean... anywhere. Anywhere you want."
Jian hesitated. His lashes lowered as he stared out of the window again, a distant look softening his features. "I want to go somewhere..." he murmured, "somewhere I miss."
That voice—so quiet, almost a whisper—was laced with nostalgia. His brows drew together just slightly, a tell-tale sign of emotion threatening to rise. For a second, he didn’t look like the Jian who barked orders or rolled his eyes or threatened to punch Eren in the face. He looked... lost. Like a boy trying to find something already half-gone.
Xing Yu didn’t say anything right away. He only watched him, quietly committing the way Jian’s gaze softened, the way his shoulders fell a little, to memory.
"...Then let’s go there," he finally said, voice just as soft. "Just show me the way."