The favorite star of Song Yewan

—Eh, Zhen'er, haha​​... I know you missed your home, but are you really planning to sleep here with the huxians?

A pair of calm golden eyes stare back at him. Before answering his master, Song Yewan sinks deeper into the shiny and soft fur of those beautiful foxes that surround him and shelter him like his own young, accidentally ringing the silver and gold bells that they wear on their necks.

—Yes.

A red-tipped tail flaps right in front of his face. It sweeps him over and over until he stops it and gently pulls it away from his face with one hand, leaving only those two parts of his body uncovered and illuminated by the clear moonlight.

Song Baihua forgot how simple his young student could be.

—Go to your room, érzi.—He orders him.

The disciple nods, withdraws his gaze, and distracts with the first thing he sees on his right. A minute passes without either of the two moving from their place.

—Song Zhen.

Pucker his lips. Seeing that his master will not leave until he sees that he obeys him, he decides to open up. Then, remarkably awkward he mutters:

—I cannot… —And his cheeks turn pink.

They are now in the private office of Song Baihua.

The winter night is cold, but it feels invitingly warm there. Everything is so quiet, only the noisy wobble of the lid of the pot in which the water is boiled and the gentle and deep hum of the elder accompany the rest of the usual nocturnal sounds.

Song Baihua finds himself animatedly choosing between one tea set and another as he sings the song they both know. His young disciple is waiting for him sitting in front of the small coffee table, playing with the jars of herbal teas, dried fruits, and honey that he left by his side a few moments ago. He looks happy, wrapped up in the memories that the lullaby he listens to brings him… ah, and also because of the pair of young foxes who did not want to part with him when he brought him in for some tea.

The older Taoist stifles a light laugh.

Making up his mind, at last, he returns to the table carrying his chosen set of teapot and cups on a dark wooden tray with flower carvings. He arranges everything in its proper place, then goes to the noisy pot to put out the fire that heats it and fill the pretty porcelain kettle with the freshly boiled water.

All his movements are fluid, patient, and elegant, one could even say that they are delicate. After tying his long waterfall of ink behind his shoulders and arranging his robes, he finally takes his seat. Proceed to perform the proper ceremony by preparing the orange tea and serving it; he seems to enjoy doing it very much despite being able to simply avoid it as this is not a formal occasion.

But–

Song Yewan is watching him —a small glint of admiration in his gaze— silently correcting his posture to one more like his master's and recording each step of the procedure in his mind.

The older taoist represses his charm at this adorable attitude of his young son/disciple.

The sweet and pleasant steam caresses the beautiful face when the cup is brought to the lips.

—This will help you sleep today —explains the older man when he hands his student a small vial with a couple of green pills in it. Take them when you are in bed ready. You can chew them, they taste good.

The young man thanks with a bow and keeps the container in the lapel of his tunic. By the movement, the albino fox that was dozing on his lap shifted into place and settled back, now with his belly exposed. Yewan finds him amusing and begins to pet him.

—Don't be shy, you can start. I will listen to you.

His shifu really knows him very well; shifu knows that, when he feels embarrassed about something, he will be distracted by the first thing that catches his eyes.

Song Baihua, while waiting for his disciple to take courage to speak, adds a little honey to his cup by dropping it from the spoon. Song Yewan looked at this fall when he says:

—Just... I cannot sleep.

And drink his tea without sweet.

Shifu takes the floor:

—Your dashijie told me this afternoon that... in the morning she saw you quite tired and that you slept as soon as she carried you. Do you think this insomnia is because you already rested in the morning?

—Answering shifu, I do not think that is why.

—Hmm… Has Zhen'er found the real why yet?

Faced with this question, he automatically opens his mouth, ready to answer; but in the end, he does not and just shakes his head. The master raises an inquisitive eyebrow and Yewan, noticing this and after meditating for a few seconds, adds:

—I have a theory.

—Keep going.

—Back to the mountain, I traveled day and night. I stopped just to eat or drink. —He did not want to say it so as not to worry his master, but if he wanted to support his idea, he had to—. When I arrived and saw everyone well, the sleep and tiredness just fell on me, so I hardly slept dashixiong and dashijie carried me.

Despite being said lightly, the heart of shifu is beaten by every word. Maybe he should have taken more time to calm down before sending him the communication talisman, so he would not have distressed his younger disciple so much...

—However, —he continues—, it was only a few minutes. I do not think that time has made up for my seven nights awake.

Oh, my poppet.

—… Shifu, I must add that, actually, I did stop a couple of times to get some sleep. But when I did not get it, I just kept on my way.

—Oh.

Now understand. What his disciple wants to clarify is that his insomnia comes from before. The master continues to assume that is because he was concern whether the sect was fine or not; however...

—This is so strange, shifu. I feel tired, but I cannot keep my eyes closed for more than a minute. And, before, when I was in my room, even though the weather is leaving its iciness and I was wrapped in blankets... I felt cold.

He shakes his head and tries to correct.

—No… It is not cold. It is a strange feeling, a lack of warmth…? —With each word, he shows some frustration at not finding the right words to describe this unfamiliar feeling—. No, is not that. I don't know how to explain it, father.

—It is okay. Many things are difficult to explain in a few words while staying precise. Maybe later you will find what you want to say, so just go ahead.

Song Yewan nods but does not know what else to say.

—Later, you found me with the huxians.

—Oh, I see.

Setting down his cup on the table, he sighed as he crossed his arms.

—Let me think about this for a moment, Zhen'er.

He nods and concentrates on stroking the two animals around him. The immortal watches him.

This teacher is not naive.

Since he managed to have his youngest disciple back by his side, he has noticed the changes in him. Taking as a guide the stories about his journey through the mortal world, he understands that such changes are related to what he found out there.

Or, rather, to whom.

This master thinks that because of the kind and outgoing company his student had there, so different from him and with whom he grew up, that his disciple has changed.

Otherwise, he would not have gotten —or even imagined— Song Yewan to speak beyond his signature monosyllables or single, concise sentences. Or to get close again to the immortal foxes of this mountain, whom he previously treated from afar.

This is why he is grateful in his heart to that young Xiao: for having become close to his Zhen'er out there, and for having returned him being a little less reserved and kinder to happiness and surprise of everyone.

It is not that Yewan is a bad boy, on the contrary, he is a good boy. But this stage he is going through (called adolescence) had made him more withdrawn, shameful, and irascible.

He and his disciples were definitely missing the most pampered and lovable didi from before!

—Shifu.

Immediately, he comes back to reality: —This teacher is listening.

—Shifu, I remembered a detail: During the first days I returning, my sleeping habits were normal. There was no problem stopping with Xiao-xiong to sleep for a couple of hours before continuing.

He frowns in deep thought.

—Only since I went on my way without him, I have not slept. I could not.

This is where distress is ruled out as the reason for his insomnia.

Song Baihua watches him genuinely interested in this statement from his student, and wonders if the student is aware of the idea that he gives with his words.

—I think… —He looks thoughtful about it—. I think I have gotten used to sleeping with someone.

—Ah.

—Have you tried with mantras?

—Yes.

—Counting stars?

—... Yes.

This last 'yes' was said differently.

The precious golden eyes were partially hidden in half-moons by the rosy cheeks that rose due to a poorly concealed smile.

The teacher notices the expression of his disciple from behind his teacup.

Amid a mixture of strangeness and fascination, Song Baihua wonders about the reason for this and the possible story behind it. The older one smiles too, really happy to see him like this; however… he keeps in mind that his student is not someone who demonstrates their happiness —or emotions in general— so easily, which makes this as unusual as meeting a different Quirin seven times in a single day.

Hmm… But since his érzi returned, he seems a little more willing.

On the other hand, Song Yewan does not even wonder about the thoughts that haunt the head of his shifu, as his own keeps busy remembering his days with Xiao Qingchen: specifically with that snowy and star-filled night; when he became convinced that his friend is at least the incarnation of one.

That time, they had started practicing their sword skills in the courtyard corresponding to the room they rented, but they ended up eagerly chasing each other throughout the area, throwing the snow that their hands managed to gather while running and jumping.

So much fun.

After a couple of hours between games that matched their fighting tactics, they both fell side by side on the soft, white mantle; they were really exhausted. In addition to the agitated breathing of the pair, the vibrant and pleasant laugh of the older of these two adolescents sounded and brightened the place.

Song Yewan remembers it so vividly that he creates the illusion of being there again.

Calming down, they fell silent. Contrary to what one would think, this was not at all uncomfortable for them. They just did not talk anymore and only dealt with what at that moment caught their attention.

In the case of Xiao Qingchen, he began to play with the delicate flakes that fell towards his pink cheeks; he caught them and watched closely to see the uniqueness of each. Song Yewan, for his part, admired the astriferous night sky.

The night would have been so gloomy and fearsome had it not been for the luminous round white lady who ruled over the darkness. The knights of the queen, the stars, were small but bright; silver splatter on black canvas. Gentiles to accompany her and relieve her loneliness; brave protectors and guides of travelers and wanderers.

They reminded him of his friend.

With his white robes and luminous smile, his presence in the night was noticed apparently shining like a star: subtle, but worthy of attention. A fast fighter, he crossed the sky like a shooting star carrying in his hand his translucent sword that left a weak trail due to the speed with which it was maneuvered.

Gentle character, yes. Who mostly decided which way to go, yes.

Xiao Qingchen is a star to Song Yewan. Yes.

And that is why, when he tried to sleep among the foxes by counting the stars above him, he imagined seeing his dear traveling companion and best friend among them.

He blinks and returns to where he was currently: in an office with his master, his orange tea, and the huxians sheltering him.

He feels a little discouraged; he would like to sleep now, but he understands that he will not be able to if there is no one by his side.

«How could I if Qingchen is not here?»

After this, an idea appears from his thoughts and whispers to be carried out. He considers it for a few moments; it is embarrassing, but he wonders if it will work.

So, hugging the young white fox that was on his lap, he asks in a way that neither his master nor his martial brothers could say no to him:

—Father, it is late and it's cold… —He sighs—. Could you allow me to sleep with them this time?

A low look, look nice and call familiarly. It should work.

—Zhen'er...

Or not.