Fanfic | Where the sky holds us
Qingyu’s is emotionally unmoored after loosing his brother, lover, and sense of purpose.
Ye refuses to let him collapse, pushing him towards responsibility and leadership.
Qingyi admires her resilience, the way she keeps functioning despite her devastation.
Qingyi hesitantly steps into Qingyu’s shoes.
Ye chides him when he’s too reckless or too emotional or too intent on proving himself.
Escort missions, emergency landings, fuel optimization, squandron strategy consume their waking hours.
They start reading each other without words — a glance, a pause, a sign, tear swollen eyes, fear hollowed eyes.
They learn when the other is angry, is afraid, wants to be left alone, needs someone to stay.
On Qingyu’s anniversary, they honor him with air formations. Later, they exchange their fondest memories of him.
Ye breaks down after her strategy causes pilots death. Qingyi silently sits beside her throughout.
Sometimes, weeks pass by without either mentioning Qingyu. Sometimes, they talk about him for hours.
Ye watches Qingyi become disciplied, strategic, capable of handling responsibility.
Few times, they laugh about how insufferable Qingyu used to be.
Ye notices things that are exclusively Qingyi — his theatrics, his gentleness with new recruits, his dry humor.
Qingyi notices her terrifying calm during an emergency, her laughter when relaxed, her blunt bob sharpening the severe beauty.
This realization makes them retreat. Neither is prepared to betray the lovers they lost.
The war enters its most critical and most dangerous phase. It lasts 16 brtual months.
After one successful operation, they drink in celebration. The pilots long since christened them the twin engines.
Their eyes keep finding each other across the room. She slips outside, breaking their charged silence.
Qingyi finds her leaning against the aircraft wing, her bob stirring in night wind, the runway washed silver by the full moon.
“I didn’t want to be followed” says she but her gaze drops to his open leather jacket for a heartbeat. Qingyi sees it, sees her.
“I’ve known you for 5 years. You’re terrible at lying” says he, fingers ghosting along her sleek hair. Her eyes soften.
The kiss is hesitant, careful, and silent.
Later, they lie side by side on the runway, watching thin clouds drift across the moon, their hands clasped in between.
Morning brings clarity of an irreversible reaction. Neither thinks it was a mistake.
They fly together more often, their radio exchanges carry new undercurrents, fear and safety become more personal.
Once, Qingyi sidelines her from a dangerous mission. She confronts him in an ugly public showdown “You don’t get to protect me by taking away what I do best.”
Ye rescues Qingyi after he crashes and becomes isolated behind enemy lines. “I couldn’t breathe” she confesses once they’re both safe. “I cannot bear loosing you too”.
“Qingyu is watching over us”, he replies resting his forehead against hers.
The crew notice and smile in secret. They’ve heard enough of “Where’s he?”, “Where’s she?”. They’ve seen enough shared tea cups, enough shoulders touching over maps, enough glances, and enough falling asleep over strategy notes.
Their first night together is after an award ceremony in Nancheng. There is boiling heat; afterwards, melting tenderness.
Eventually, the war ends.
He returns to family affairs, building on the left behind legacy.
She becomes the academy’s first female principal, training 45 female fighter pilots. She teaches them what Qingyu taught her, what she and Qingyi learnt together.
He visits Qingyu often — tells him tales of a laughter-filled house, of steady love, of kids who are too clever and far too naughty, of a gloriously boring life that isn’t dramatic or dangerous. Just home.
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