When Xuan Jing walked off of the arena he looks at Feng Hao especially as he aproaches the two. "Why do i get a feeling that I've seen him somewhere?" Xuan Jing muttered tiredly to himself before collasping infront of them.
Ah...cafeteria, burnt eyes...now i remember him...
Xuan Jing's thoughts slipped away as his eyes shut close. Jiăn Lí lifted Xuan Jing effortlessly, his arms hooking beneath Xuan Jing's shoulders as he braced himself for the weight—but he was met with almost nothing. The surprising lightness made him pause, glancing down at Xuan Jing's unconscious form. A frown creased his face, realizing just how frail Xuan Jing really was beneath the mask of power he projected. But this wasn't the time for contemplation.
Feng Hao shot him a knowing look, catching Jiăn Lí's brief hesitation. "Focus. I'll take care of the food," he said, the humor gone from his voice as he turned and sprinted off toward the stalls just outside the arena. He moved with a fluidity that hinted at training, weaving through the crowds with purpose.
Jiăn Lí shifted his grip on Xuan Jing, glancing back at the arena. The proctor was still recovering from the shock of the match, but he would be fine. It was Guŏ Suàn he worried about, the guy sprawled out on the frosty ground, a strange stillness in his expression despite the pain. But that wasn't Jiăn Lí's problem right now.
As Jiăn Lí hurried through the shadowed corridors of the institute, he couldn't help but glance down at Xuan Jing, his brow furrowing deeper with each step. The guy was lighter than a stray cat. What the hell was he doing, letting himself get this worn down? Jiăn Lí muttered under his breath, half-lecturing the unconscious Xuan Jing as he quickened his pace. "You're gonna owe me for this, you know that? I don't carry half-dead people around for free."
Xuan Jing's head lolled slightly, but he remained silent, his breathing shallow but steady. Jiăn Lí knew they had to get somewhere secluded before anyone saw them—Xuan Jing collapsing wasn't exactly something they wanted spreading through the grapevine.
---
Feng Hao reached the food stalls, his footsteps crunching on the frozen ground as he approached the vendor, who was already preparing a few steaming dishes. "Three orders—Gōngbǎo jīdīng, Peking duck, and one Mapo tofu," Feng Hao rattled off quickly. "And make it extra peppery."
The vendor nodded, bustling around to prepare the dishes while Feng Hao tapped his foot impatiently, glancing over his shoulder back towards the institute. He couldn't help but think about how chaotic this day had become, and how quickly things had gone sideways with that fight. Xuan Jing's face, the way he'd suddenly smiled like that, flashed in his mind, and he shook his head with a smirk. "Crazy bastard," he muttered to himself.
The vendor handed him the bags, and Feng Hao tossed a few coins onto the counter before grabbing them and turning back. He didn't have time to waste. The food wasn't even the priority—it was getting Xuan Jing somewhere safe.
---
"You know, my eyes still burn from time to time in the night... I guess I deserved that."
Jiăn Lí reached a secluded courtyard, one of the quieter spots within the institute, its perimeter lined with leafless trees and a snow-covered bench. He laid Xuan Jing down carefully against the bench, propping him up slightly. The night air was biting cold, but it would have to do for now. He knelt beside Xuan Jing, checking his pulse out of habit, though he knew the guy wasn't dying—not yet, anyway.
"Okay, Jing, just... hang in there until Feng Hao gets back," Jiăn Lí muttered, half to himself as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. He kept an eye on the path leading back to the arena, making sure no one had followed them.
Gosh, why am I doing all of this?
His thoughts drifted back to the fight. What the hell was Guŏ Suàn's deal, anyway? The guy was almost like a mirror version of Xuan Jing, but more unsettling, like a reflection that didn't quite match up. And that element of his—Residual Veil. It could mess with memories, drag out the past and twist it. Jiăn Lí had caught glimpses of the terror in Xuan Jing's eyes, the way his expression had cracked before he'd pulled himself back together.
Yet, Xuan Jing's dry smile afterward... It was as if he had calculated everything, even the aftermath. Jiăn Lí's frown deepened. He knew Xuan Jing was strategic, but this... this was different. It was like he was playing a game only he understood. Jiăn Lí knows Xuan Jing all too well although it may seem like they don't get along with eachother, himself, Feng Hao and Xuan Jing were best buds when they were little kids, that's before Yě Shèng died... after that day, Xuan Jing never spoke back to them, never paid them mind, it's almost like all the time they had together was wiped from his cranium clean.
Just as he was about to spiral deeper into his thoughts, Feng Hao appeared, hurrying into the courtyard with the bags of food in hand. "Got it," he said, holding up the bags triumphantly before his face fell slightly as he took in Xuan Jing's limp form. "Shit, he's really out cold, huh?"
Jiăn Lí nodded, standing up and taking one of the bags from Feng Hao's hands. "Yeah. But he's breathing, and his pulse is steady. Just... let's get him somewhere warmer, give him a minute to wake up."
The two exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They wouldn't let anyone else see Xuan Jing like this, wouldn't let the rumors spread. He was their friend, their leader—whether he liked it or not—and that meant they had his back, even when rumors spread about Xuan Jing liking guys no one ever saw him with a girl ever Feng Hao and Jiăn Lí busted those lying, jealous and petty assholes a new one...secretly though, and discreetly.
With surprising ease, Jiăn Lí hoisted Xuan Jing back up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulder, while Feng Hao supported him on the other side. They began walking slowly, making their way toward the old storage shed near the edge of the courtyard—an unofficial hideout of theirs when they needed a place away from prying eyes. They've been in competitions at the Azure Crest long enough to know some good secluded spots well enough.
As they moved, Feng Hao glanced at Xuan Jing's pale face, his expression softening slightly. "What do you think happened back there?"
Jiăn Lí shook his head. "Not sure. But whatever it was, we're going to find out. And when he wakes up, he's got some explaining to do."
"That's if he actually tells us anything..."
---
In the dim light of the storage shed, with the soft glow of a lantern casting shadows on the walls, Jiăn Lí and Feng Hao finally laid Xuan Jing down on a pile of old blankets, letting him rest. They settled nearby, opening the bags of food and eating in silence, their minds still whirling with the events of the day.
Jiăn Lí chewed slowly on a piece of spicy chicken, staring at Xuan Jing's sleeping form, his expression unreadable. He glanced at Feng Hao, who was lost in his own thoughts as he picked at the Peking duck.
Finally, Jiăn Lí broke the silence. "He's too damn light, you know. Like, way too light."
Feng Hao swallowed a bite, glancing at Jiăn Lí before looking back at Xuan Jing. "Yeah. But... he'll be fine. He has to be."
They both fell silent again, the sound of the wind outside filling the space. Feng Hao pulled his coat tighter around himself, offering a small, grim smile. "If he wakes up complaining about missing the food, we'll know he's okay."
Jiăn Lí chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, that'd be just like him, wouldn't it? Just like younger days." He glanced back at Xuan Jing, his expression serious once more. "But whatever this is... we're in it together."
Feng Hao nodded, his gaze steady. "Yeah. Together."
And so, they stopped digging in and laid next to Xuan Jing. They think it's time that they openly and officially be at Xuan Jing's side whether he likes it or not (Yeah, these too were like shadows when it came to Xuan Jing. Intellectual stalkers.), but they knew one thing for sure—no matter how strange or dangerous things got, they wouldn't let Xuan Jing face it alone.