PRACTICE IS OVER.

"I'm glad to hear you took all the time needed to recover. Wounds inflicted by the borisin are no joke, and Hoolay himself most of all." He nods, a light smile on his face as he does. "He was a fearsome enemy, beyond the strength of most warriors to hold down, much less best. You should be proud of that accomplishment."

He doesn't know if those words can help, but if they can, no harm in making an attempt. It is not as though he is lying.

"I'm well," he responds to the question posed to him. "Just making a return visit. I've recently felt an itch to come back to the Luofu more often."

He eyes Yanqing more attentively as he speaks.

"And, well, other than the fact that I got into a scuffle with Hoolay - I've been doing well," he responds. "I'm glad to hear that you're doing well, too!"

However, the idea of 'indulging just once' is quickly thrown out the window as soon as Dan Heng suggests a spar.

"The General suggested a spar?" He says, buzzing with energy. "Oh, that's wonderful! I'd love to - I actually was just planning to train today by myself, so, while you're here, we could arrange for that to happen?" A chance to test his skills against Dan Heng in an environment where he can genuinely get positive constructive criticism is good - unlike in his spars with Blade, where he's just beaten again and again.

It's not that he minds tasting defeat (he does, he definitely does. His ego's bruised, but it's what has to be done) but sometimes he really just wants to let his anger take the better of him and just stab Blade repeatedly... But that wouldn't be very Lieutenant-like of him. He hopes that Dan Heng's sort of training would be more helpful than that old snarky man's.

It feels… kind of nice, to be able to not only chat casually like this, but also be able to offer help in such a fashion. Had someone told Dan Heng two or three years ago that he would be doing this on the Luofu, he would have thought them insane. To say nothing of taking on a role of a mentor of sorts, almost, to a brave young soldier like Yanqing.

… And yet, it somehow feels right, to the point where he slipped into it very naturally. It leaves him quietly wondering to himself, why that would be. Is that also a gift that he had left behind?

Perhaps he’ll never know, but that’s okay, isn’t it? He’s himself, now, doing however he wishes to do.

“I have no special plans in mind for today, no. If you don’t have any special plans for your training today, that works just as well for me.”

Bitter undercurrents still exist within the Luofu, and Yanqing does wish that he could change things - but he does not have that much power.

They come to a training area that is currently unoccupied - but is surrounded by trees. There's a few training dummies who have been very, very much beaten up to the side, and the sand on the ground still shows imprints of feet from where he had been standing earlier.

This is the place where Yanqing goes regularly to train - a place that Jing Yuan had shown him before, and the place where he and Blade crossed their swords not too long ago, when he had been trying to recover.

Does Dan Heng too, wonder what happened?

That is not what they are here to do, though - Yanqing excitedly moves forwards, throwing open his arms to gesture to the area.

it's only after training is finished that march 7th finally brings it up between sips of the immortal's delight cupped between her palms. she's had the thought much longer, though, ever since those first few days of being master and pupil of the sword. at first she thought maybe he just hadn't gotten around to laundry or something, but after a week or so, it doesn't seem like that's the case anymore.

“you do have other clothes somewhere in your closet, right? even the conductor has different outfits.” mostly march's doing, and perhaps largely to pom-pom's chagrin. “i think you gotta have at least three: one for casual wear, one for work, and then one for formal attire! isn't it a good rule of thumb?”

"Ah... well, I have one outfit that I use on my days off. And I usually attend other official matters in the outfit I use when I'm on duty, as a symbol of my status. However... It's kind of true, I don't really have a plethora of outfits." he admits. "I don't really think about dressing differently, either - I'm usually really preoccupied with work."

The sentence is adorned with an awkward laugh. Now that he thinks about that, isn't that a little... lame? Ah, but the first priority of a swordsman is the sword, not his outfit.

the cat's tail had an interesting atmosphere. on one hand there were plenty of adorable felines that warmed every patron's hearts. and on the other hand, the fire of competition burned fiercely from the genius invocation fanbase. of course, as natural in any tavern, there were also the drunkards around that had a little too much than they can handle.

a mixture that brewed into a chaotic cocktail. all of which hu tao didn't mind being around. who could resist the cute cats? definitely not her who held a feather toy to try and attract an unamused calico under a table.

However, as he went in, and looked around, he found that the path forwards (to more cute cats) was blocked by a peculiar young woman, who was cooing at a cat who was under the table. Understandable, due to its adorable little face and fluffy coat, it was a very adorable creature and was very deserving of love.

He finds himself crouching down to get a better look at the cat she's trying to get, before he kind of awkwardly crouch-steps towards her with a wave and a smile.

Yanqing is very sure of the fact that none of them are entirely stable. This profession can get dark quickly, of course. Whether substances are used as a tether, an anchor, or a way to escape - they seem to always be there. A lighter in his pocket has become something Yanqing carries around all the time for the sake of whoever he assists - wordlessly, he can now see tell-tale signs in the features of others who are looking like they're itching for a smoke.

"Well, of course, I'm sure others have talked about the calling card of the murderer - has the substance ever been sent in for tests? Did we ever figure out what it was, or were there any clues as to what it was in general?" Unfortunately, the fact that he's new to said case leaves him without many details other than the bases - so he's left turning to Gallagher to lead him through and fill in the gaps. It feels a little like he's thrashing and drowning in inch-deep water - which is a horrifyingly embarrassing feeling. Not knowing what's going on is something that Yanqing has to rectify, quickly, if he's going to help with this case in any capacity.

At the very least, Gallagher has been nothing but kind to him so far - if not a little too laid-back for the situation at hand. However, when Yanqing had checked in with a couple of other people, all he had gotten was a 'he's just like this', and the assistant had decided to just roll with it.

”It’s almost like solving a murder is asking us to make sense out of the senseless.” Sarcasm had become a mode of communication by now, and a way to cope, but his low, gravelly voice contained no ill will. In fact, he’d rather the boy be confused than cocky. That was how one made mistakes. Better to be confused, to think, to take it slow. Smoke drifted up around his head and into the indigo night as the red and blue flashing from below finally stopped. With a short whoop of a siren, the engines of half a dozen idling cars shifted into gear. Sunk down into his shoulders, his arms draped over the rail, he watched the ambulance pull out from in front of the hotel’s valet and rumble onto the street. Then the rest slowly followed. For a while, he left Yanqing like that, hanging in unanswered silence. Whatever ideas he’d started forming in his own head were better than the truth, anyway.

“… Tests haven’t come back with anything useful.” And a bitter truth it was. Gallagher flicked the butt of his cigarette over the edge, watching it fall until it melded into the thin lines that made up the parking lot below. “As far as we know, it’s one-of-a-kind. The killer’s been usin’ it for years, and the best explanation we can come up with is that it’s some kind of cauterizing gel to stop the blood. Every kill’s been just as clean and ordinary as this one.”

There weren’t any traces of blood in the room. There never was. Even cleaning products left residue that could be detected if blood spatter had been cleaned up, whether the crime scene was a newly built house, or in a hotel with a lengthy, unmentionable past revealed only by blacklight, but nothing ever showed up. And each measured word made it obvious that the old captain had recited this speech before, probably more than once. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair as if grasping anything was better than turning around with nothing, and settled his back against the bannister to regard Yanqing with a faint gleam of hope in his tired, amber eyes.

”You’re new though. You’ve learned things some of us old dogs have forgotten or never knew about,” he said, and crossed his arms. “That’s why I decided to take you on. Newbies never get deadends like this, usually. Too demoralizing.”

Hidden within the languid delivery was a second message - it’s time to prove yourself - accompanied by a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

If there's one thing about Yanqing, it's that once he sets his mind to something, despite the bitter taste of defeat, he won't give up what he loves doing. In this case, it's detective work. Even if he manages to never figure out who the murderer is, even if he fails - his passion for this may fall, but it will never be extinguished. Giving up isn't in his vocabulary.

"It won't," he promises, with a confident smile. "Even if I don't manage to figure out - or help figure out - who the killer is, I won't be scared off to a desk job. I love what I do, and one failure isn't enough to deter me."

After being the victim of failing to finish up another case that he'd gotten before transferred to this one, it had hit him hard - he had been a prodigy with a clean record of being able to figure many things out. Being set on a failure was enough to bring his spirits down, but it wasn't enough to take him out entirely - so here he is, dealing with a cold case. He doesn't mind the challenge.

He won't fail, after all.

Perhaps, a year ago, he would have boasted of his skill. He would have confidently stepped up to the challenge with a wide smile and no fear of loss.

Now, though, Yanqing has tasted defeat - over and over. He's bit the dirt and he's tasted of iron on the inside of his mouth. He is cautious when he unsheathes his sword - Yanzhuo - and gets into a fighting stance, pointing his weapon at her.

"We call this style Jianke," Yanqing explains. "And this kind of sword is called a Jian." He does not explain what kind of swordsmanship style it is. Words are useless in the face of combat. "I am honoured to face you in battle." He's used to people asking to face them in battle, but he feels that this battle will be no ordinary one - she obviously outmatches him in terms of stregnth and speed. However-

A small nod was all she offered him as she began to shift her weight, feet planted firmly on the ground. Her right hand shifted upwards to grip the sword's pommel, drawing it into a high guard-- the sheathed blade arcs just slightly above her head, angled outward with expert precision. Acheron remained in a stance that was seemingly relax, yet unyielding and cautious.

She couldn't recall the names of certain stances, katas, or swings. In the face of battle, though, it didn't matter; all that was important was that her body remembered, and her blade sang with the same precision that it always had. "The honor is mine. My name is Acheron- may it remain in your memory in the wake of our battle. I extend the first move to you, young man... Make your choice carefully."

It has been broken, before, but it was reforged, and with it he, too, was reborn. Still, even so, his oldest friend fits nicely in his palm as he takes a stance he has taken a hundred, thousand times before. There is a calm before the storm kind of feeling, here, as Acheron allows him to have the first move - just a moment of silence where they both stand, in their respective stances.

Yanqing has never seen this kind of swordsmanship, but he is more than happy to witness new things, see more, learn more.

There is no moment of contemplation before he swings his sword, after that moment of silence. He crosses the distance swiftly (she sees it all happen, most likely, she is quick, too) and swings upwards with his sword with the precision of someone who has done this before.

And a smile was already on his face pushing the thought back before it snowballed any farther. Yanqing … it certainly didn’t sound like a name he recognized from any nation he had been to. Though that made sense with the clothing, it was quite the curious matter indeed. However the fakery nearly immediately dispelled itself when his technique was mentioned, standing a tad straighter with pride practically giving himself a pat on the back.

He had ben drawn to the art of the blade ever since he could walk - or so the General says to him, with a chuckle and a ruffle of his very carefully-put hair. His pride is not what it used to be - there is no doubt, that in the past, he would have risen to the compliment with a promise to put whoever in front of him down a peg (in friendly terms, of course). But this is not home, not the Luofu, not the soldiers or the people he spars with regularly. This is not a place where he can underestimate his opponents (although he knows he is strong, the cracked pieces of the porcelain outline of his self-esteem rattle uncertainly).

A guide is always something he's happy to have - wandering around by himself hadn't gotten him very far in the past few days that he had been in Liyue. So, with a big, gleaming smile and slightly crooked teeth, he accepts.

“Ah! Sorry, I got a little bit ramble-y there, huh…”It was so easy to get lost in his passions.. Gosh, he must look like a total weirdo. A little embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “They’re out for a supply run at the moment.. if you’d like, you could stay for a little while until they return…?” He offered, just a smidge shyly. He wasn’t really used to talking to people his age.. “Um, there’s drinks and snacks in the other car.. if you’d like, I could serve you something..?”

He skids out of the way of a blade that would have removed his own from his neck, but it catches against his face, drawing blood red as rubies, trailing down his face as he draws back. Keeping up an eternal assault without any mind for defence is an easy way to get yourself killed. When he had first come to Fontaine, he had honestly hoped for a vacation - but after seeing enemies from the cosmos come in, Yanqing's sense of duty had kicked in.

First and foremost, he is a lieutenant, and it is his job to keep peace wherever he goes - even to a foreign planet, where his title of Cloud Knight holds little ground. Who is he to sit around and relax while others spend their time protecting and saving others? There is no way that Yanqing can go against his own morals, so he had picked up his sword, and had ventured outside the walls of the city to go Antimatter Legion hunting.

Dancing around hits and jumping from one flying sword to the next keeps him in his own element, swords of frost and Qi attacking his enemies swiftly. With a few blows, one after the other, they come tumbling down, like snow in spring. Yanqing grins to himself, bringing a hand to wipe the sweat (and blood) off of his face. It leaves streaks of red against his hand. He'll have to wash it off later.

However, in the distance, the sounds of battle do not cease - and Yanqing wastes no time hopping aboard his sword to go and find the source of the battle. When he does arrive at the scene, though, the man seems to be handling himself just fine - however, Yanqing jumps in all the same, even if to just lend a hand at cleaning up.