Jingxing's family

Jingxing woke early the next morning, roused by the cold. The temperature on the riverbank was lower than he had expected. The tent could keep out the wind, but not the chill seeping in bit by bit from the ground.

He didn't get up immediately, though. He lay on his side in his sleeping bag, listening to the steady breathing beside him. Robin didn't seem to be awake yet. She slept peacefully, lying there like the Arcane Blade listening to breathing sounds.

Jingxing stared at the top of the tent. The morning light cast a faint gray-white glow on the canvas, and the fabric rippled gently whenever the wind blew.

He lay there in a daze for a while. Only when his stiff body became too uncomfortable to bear did he slowly prop himself up, ready to go out and make breakfast.

Though Jingxing had tried to move quietly, Robin woke up too. A strand of silver-white hair spilled over the edge of her sleeping bag. She opened her eyes, and her emerald-green gaze remained unfocused for a long moment before slowly settling on Jingxing's face.

"Good morning?" Her voice was a little hoarse from sleep, lacking some of its usual clarity onstage.

"Good morning, Miss Robin," Jingxing replied. "Take your time getting ready. I'll go out and start a fire for breakfast."

With that, he rolled out of the tent while wrapped in his sleeping bag, then crawled out of it.

The cold wind rushed down his collar and into his clothes. His body involuntarily shrank back, and he couldn't help shivering.

But thanks to that shiver, the last traces of sleepiness vanished.

Jingxing went around to the sheltered side of the tent, found a relatively flat spot, and arranged some stones into a simple fire pit. The supplies Robin had taken out the night before were still there. He took a lighter and some firewood from the pack, then crouched down and rubbed dry grass into fluffy tinder.

If only I had a fire-type ability. I could start a fire with a snap of my fingers, Jingxing muttered inwardly as he worked.

"Mr. Jingxing." Just as the campfire caught, Robin's voice came from behind him.

Jingxing turned to see that Robin had already tidied herself up and was watching him from beside the tent. Today, she had changed into a dark gray windbreaker, and her long silver-white hair was tied in a low ponytail, giving her a much neater look.

"Morning." Jingxing took two packets of instant oatmeal and some compressed biscuits out of the supply pack. "We'll have to make do with these for breakfast. Is that all right?"

Robin nodded and walked over to crouch beside the fire. "Of course. Don't assume I'm delicate because of who I am."

But honestly, Jingxing found it hard to imagine Robin in a disheveled state. After all, every impression he'd had of her before this was of her glamorous appearance on posters.

"Let me." While Jingxing was lost in thought, Robin took the oatmeal, tore open the packets, and poured it into enamel mugs. All that remained was to wait for the water to boil.

Firelight flickered across their faces, and the firewood occasionally popped with a soft crackle, accentuating the quiet of the camp with its two occupants. There was nothing there but the two of them.

After a moment, Robin stirred the oatmeal in her mug with a spoon. "Mr. Jingxing, have you been drawing since you were little?"

"Yeah," Jingxing replied. "I started holding a pen when I was three. Later, a teacher noticed me, so I started down this path in middle school. I stayed on it until I graduated a few days ago."

"Then... did your family support you?" Robin's eyes flickered.

Jingxing lowered his gaze. After a few seconds, he said, "Both my parents died when I was very young. They were P35s in the Corporation. When I was five, they went on a mission and unfortunately ran into the Antimatter Legion. They died in the line of duty."

Robin bit her lip, feeling that she had asked an unfortunate question.

Jingxing lifted his head and looked at the sky. "After they died, the Corporation helped take care of the aftermath. They deposited enough insurance money in my account for me to grow up without a worry. And Ms. Zhenzhu, who brought the compensation at the time, gave me a choice. I could go with her to Dual-Phase Paradise, and she would take care of me until I came of age."

Jingxing watched the water bubbling to a boil and prepared to make the oatmeal. "But I didn't agree."

Robin looked at him, puzzled. Zhenzhu was one of the Strategic Investment Department's Ten Stonehearts. By any measure, being raised by her would have been a better choice than staying on Klimt as an orphan.

"Why?"

Jingxing looked at the grass swaying in the morning breeze in the distance. "My hometown has excellent welfare provisions for orphans. Since I still had somewhere to go, there was no need to stay within the Corporation's system. After all, if I accepted too much from them, I don't think I would have had the right to choose to paint freely."

Robin listened quietly, then asked softly, "That must have been hard, though?"

Jingxing shook his head. "It was all right. At least compared to those children in the camp, I've been lucky. I had a house to live in, food to eat, and teachers to teach me when I wanted to learn to paint. If I wanted a better life, I earned scholarships myself. There's nothing to complain about."

Robin looked at him without asking any further questions, simply moving her enamel mug a little closer to herself.

"There's more oatmeal." Jingxing turned to look at her. "Another half cup?"

"Sure." Quiet settled over the campfire again. The two of them soon finished a packet of compressed rations and two cups of oatmeal between them.

Jingxing swallowed his last mouthful and stood up. The fire had mostly burned out. He used the sandy soil at his feet to cover the remaining embers bit by bit, then crouched down to make sure no sparks remained before standing up again.

Meanwhile, Robin had already packed away the tent and sleeping bags.

"Which way do we go next?" Jingxing asked after tidying up the campsite.

Robin glanced at the map in her hand. "Our main objective is to reach the government army's base camp, so we need to follow this river upstream."

Jingxing flexed his ankles. "Then let's go."

As the sun climbed, the frost covering the river pebbles began to melt, leaving their surfaces with a damp gray sheen. The two walked over the gravel, their footsteps as regular as a piece of music being played.

After they had walked for about half an hour, Robin suddenly spoke. "Oh, right."

Jingxing looked back.

"You said before that you'd originally planned to go looking for inspiration after graduating."

"Yeah."

"What were you planning to paint?"

"I wanted to go to the Pilopa System. I heard purple and blue were stolen from it."

Robin's steps slowed for a moment. "But wasn't that a lie made up by the Fictionologists?"

"Who knows? But I want to see it for myself." Jingxing turned forward again, his gaze settling on the winding riverbed ahead. "What would a world missing one primary color look like?"

"It really is unlucky that you couldn't make the trip," Robin agreed. Then she immediately changed tack. "But coming here might not be a bad thing. Because this place is also missing a color called 'peace.'"

Jingxing's steps faltered. "Yeah. That's why I want to paint it."

Robin looked at his back. "And after you paint it?"

"I'll decide when everything is over. Maybe I'll hang it in the school's exhibition hall. Or maybe I'll hang it at the highest point in Thousand Stars City and give the Interastral Peace Corporation's conscience a good questioning."

Robin didn't reply, but the corners of her mouth seemed to lift slightly, as though she were imagining what it would look like if he did the latter.