#i default to sad canon rongye when given a YBY prompt any time

[omgpurplefattie]

for the character-centric stories prompts, Ye Baiyi and "What would happen to a houseplant in their care?" ♥

“She’s not going to kill you if they don’t all survive,” Rong Changqing had told Ye Baiyi after Rong-furen had finally stopped with her instructions, repeated instructions, and even more admonitions.

“Not so sure,” Ye Baiyi said, trying to commit to memory what the little yellow orchids needed. They wanted little water, right, but regularly, and they could never be allowed to remain standing in a puddle?

Compared to the orchids, the large pot of silvergrass was simple. The kitchen herbs were even simpler -- give them two ladles of water whenever they started looking a bit wan.

“Don’t think about the damn plants,” Rong Changqing assured him, “the main thing is you keep training Xuan-er and make sure he goes to bed before midnight. And don’t let him tinker in my workshop by himself. At least not after midnight. Please? Baiyi?”

If Changqing looked at him like that, with his beautiful smile and beautiful eyes, what else could Ye Baiyi do but grumble “I’ll try to” ungraciously, rather than smile back and reflect the things that Changqing made him feel. Every. Single. Time.

You’d think he would be used to it by now. For the Heavens’ sake, Xuan-er was already nine; the pain in those feelings should have worn down, become dulled and familiar. Perhaps it was the immortality that Rong Changqing had so unwisely cultivated and then dumped on Ye Baiyi; not only Ye Baiyi’s body, even his feelings were preserved forever unchanging in a block of clear ice.

“Don’t look so crestfallen, Baiyi,” Rong Changqing said. “It’s not even a month; we just have to be at the wedding of my lady’s youngest brother. We’ll hurry back as fast as we can. And Xuan-er can help you. If you’re really scared of what she’ll do to you if her chives have turned into hay, or the forge cats have peed on the basil.”

“I’m not scared,” Ye Baiyi grumbled. “I’m just offended that you wouldn’t even trust me with a fucking potted houseplant. I can feed the forge cats all right, and make sure that Xuan-er eats every day and sets nothing on fire. So why should I kill the damn orchids?”

“The forge cats,” Rong Changqing laughed, “will complain very loudly if you don’t feed them every day. Plants, however, just wilt quietly, and before you realize it, they’re dead.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ye Baiyi said, glaring up at Changqing, “I know what qi feels like, and I won’t let it falter.”

“Course you do,” Rong Changqing said, easily, but Ye Baiyi felt he still didn’t believe him. He made a face.

***

Two lunar months later, the Rongs returned, with a lot of gifts and good food for Xuan-er, and a few books they had thought Ye Baiyi might like, as well as a few bottles of syrup for him to flavor his snow with.

Xuan-er had built a box that would shoot crossbow bolts without the crossbow, steadily feeding them into the mechanism; he proudly presented it to his father, and they took quite a while to take it apart and then improve it so it would shoot even faster.

Baiyi went and had some snow with pomegranate syrup; it wasn’t bad, really. He perched on a rock and looked into the valley where he hadn’t been for so long, except in especially fierce winters, and then only for a little bit.

He didn’t know how he felt about Changqing and Rong-furen being back. Life with Xuan-er had been fun; they had trained every day, there had been no set bedtimes or mealtimes for either of them, and they had just ambled through their days in the snow. Xuan-er’s martial arts had taken leaps and bounds with nobody to interrupt him. He did look a little unkempt now, but really, all those hot baths were overrated, especially for a nine year old.

It was already getting dark when Rong-furen came out to get her husband and son from the workshop; the fire was going, and she had been cooking dinner.

“What have you done to my plants?” she asked, casually, as she passed Ye Baiyi.

“Nothing,” he said, “except what you’d told me. The forge cats were much harder to take care of; the calico brought out her kittens, and we kept running after them. Xuan-er shot at an eagle who tried to grab one. They’re all doing fine.”

“Don’t deflect,” Rong-furen said. “My plants have never been this lush and healthy. You have made cuttings from the orchids, and the roots are coming on fine; the basil is almost a tree now, and the other herbs fairly burst from their window boxes. I have noticed the kittens because they were playing hide-and-seek in the silvergrass and jumping up to catch the fronds. The lotuses in their basin and the peonies in their container are already flowering even though it’s early for them, this far up. You turned out to be an excellent gardener.”

“I just did what you told me,” Ye Baiyi said. “I checked every day, and made sure the forge cats didn’t pee on them. That’s all.”

He may have been feeding the plants a little of his qi, but hey, he was an immortal, he had the stuff to spare.

“Do you want to carry on doing it?” she asked. “I have seen the way you repotted the little blue orchids; there was so much care and attention in the work. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Nah,” Baiyi said, “they’re your plants. I just didn’t want to be the one who killed them. Changqing -- well, he thought I’d screw up, so I wanted to show him I don’t. I’m no good at this, and the plants don’t really like me. I’m the last person you want as a gardener, really.”

“If you change your mind -- any time,” she shrugged, and went about her errand.

Changqing and Xuan-er emerged from the forge even before she had reached the door; they were holding out the kittens and talking enthusiastically while they walked back towards the house and their dinner.

“Good job, Baiyi,” Changqing said vaguely as he passed Ye Baiyi on his perch; he reached up to clap him on the upper arm, then went inside with his family, plants and Baiyi already forgotten.-