[Ying Yue watched as Wang Li went behind him to place those large hands over his to grip the sword's hilt. Lifting it up, he moved along with the Ghost King and he found himself smiling.
The swing of the blade, the stretch of his arms, and the twists of his body seemed to spark something in Ying Yue. It felt almost like… it was natural for him, like this was what he was meant to do. When they finally stopped, he was breathing hard, but the smile did not leave his face. Sweat slid down his temples, but it did not deter the blooming of his happiness. He had not felt this alive in so long… he wasn't sure if he ever had before.
They moved in sync as if they were part of a whole, unified into existence. The warmth against his back and the beat of melody harmonized with their breathing. Turning so he could face his king, he smiled wider and opened his mouth to thank him, but the press of those thin lips touched his.
