Distance and Time Were Never Obstacles
On the morning of his departure, the weather on Rovini was almost impossibly fine. Sunlight lit up the streets, giving even the edges of the charred shell craters a warm glow.
The Corporation's shuttle had landed outside the city, and the low hum of its Imaginary reactor warming up kept the ground trembling. The local natives watched from afar, their eyes full of curiosity about the alien technology.
Jingxing, who was preparing to leave ahead of the others, stood beside the boarding ramp. The sachet Robin had given him, which could be used as a dimensional storage pouch, rested against his heart. It gave off the same fragrance she wore, while its extremely faint Path energy constantly reminded him to keep it running. But as a result, even lowering his head now made his eyes sting from the Imaginary Energy seeping out of it.
His god-given eyes were growing more delicate by the day. He not only had to visit Herta Space Station, but had to get there as soon as possible.
Ofila checked the itinerary one last time at the foot of the ramp. The Interastral Peace Entertainment agent, whom Robin had asked to look after Jingxing, now had dark circles under her eyes. "Once you reach Thousand Stars City, you'll need to transfer once more. The pass is already in your suitcase, and Mr. Sunday sealed the letter of introduction with the Oak Family's emblem, so make sure you don't open it before you reach the space station."
She paused and lowered her voice. "Miss Robin asked me to remind you to keep a low profile on the way. Don't tell anyone what happened that day."
Jingxing nodded. He knew Robin wasn't saying that to erase their friendship, but because she hoped he wouldn't attract the attention of those colossal powers.
Having been glanced at by an Aeon who had been missing for so long, Jingxing was bound to become someone the various factions wanted to dissect.
If he didn't want to get tangled up in trouble, it was better to keep a low profile.
Sunday stood a few steps away, his white suit immaculate and a polite smile on his face. But when his gaze fell on Jingxing, he looked like a bird perched on a branch, watching another bird fly into his territory.
Robin stood between them, head lowered, her fingers twisting the hem of her clothes.
"...Remember to send me a message when you reach the space station," she said.
Jingxing closed his eyes and nodded firmly. "I will. Robin, remember to change your dressing too, and don't get the wound wet. Also, try not to use your ability much lately."
"I know."
"Don't push yourself to sing. The bullet didn't hit your vocal cords directly, but the wound on your neck still needs time to heal."
"I know."
The two went back and forth, reminding each other what to do.
At that, Jingxing took the sachet from the pocket against his chest and held it out to her. "Here, take this back. I've already taken all my luggage out of it."
But Robin didn't take it. She glanced at the sachet, then at him, and reached out to push it back. "Keep it. It'll make a nice memento, and you can use it to practice controlling Imaginary Energy."
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, too reasonable to refuse.
Jingxing held the sachet, his throat bobbing. "Then I'm off."
For an instant, a glimmer appeared in Robin's emerald-green eyes. She blinked hard, pushing back her tears, and once again broke into a radiant smile. "All right, Jingxing. Have a safe journey."
"Once my eyes are cured," Jingxing said, "and I've made a name for myself, I'll paint an album cover for you."
Robin's eyes curved into a smile. "I'll be waiting."
Sunday hadn't interrupted them once. He stood quietly, his expression as serene as a statue's.
Only when Jingxing turned and stepped onto the ramp did he speak, unhurriedly. "Mr. Jingxing."
Jingxing looked back.
"Ms. Herta has a rather strange temper." Sunday smiled. "She isn't nearly as easy to talk to as I am."
"Thank you, Mr. Sunday." Having already figured out that Sunday was a siscon, Jingxing nodded with a grin, paying no mind to the implication.
The cabin door closed behind him, shutting out Rovini's sunlight.
The seat on the ship was spacious enough for Jingxing to lie down and use it as a bed. It was all thanks to Robin.
"I wonder when we'll see each other again." He sank into the seat, his thoughts wandering. "I hope I can narrow the gap in our status by then."
At the very least, he would first become the best painter in Klimt.
The engine's vibrations traveled up through the floor. Outside the window, Rovini gradually receded and grew smaller. On the ground, Robin was still standing where he had left her, waving vigorously at him.
Her figure shrank to a tiny dot in the morning light, then vanished altogether.
Jingxing looked away and leaned back in his seat. The screen in front of him was showing an Interastral Peace Corporation news program. The host spoke with crisp diction. "...Thanks to the active mediation of Interastral Peace Entertainment, the two sides in the Vesna IV conflict reached a ceasefire yesterday. The peace performance by the renowned singer Miss Robin has been hailed by people from all walks of life as 'the most moving mediation of this Amber Era'..."
The footage cut to the square, then to the sea of people, then to Robin's white-clad figure onstage. Having been there himself, Jingxing noticed at once that the footage had been edited in post-production.
He watched without expression. A peace bought by putting Robin in danger had immediately become a fine piece of business in the Corporation's telling.
At the end of the news release, the host's tone grew considerably more solemn. "In other news, an observatory of the Genius Society has confirmed that a large number of Beauty Pathstriders have recently been gathering in the Epsilon Galaxy. This is suspected to be connected to the earlier manifestation of Idrila, the Aeon of Beauty."
Jingxing rubbed the sachet in his pocket, his fingertips freezing against the silk.
The figure that had appeared above Vesna IV had drawn in the most devout and the most fanatical people in the entire galaxy.
The Knights of Beauty had an excellent reputation, but the Mirror Holders' reputation stank.
He tilted his seat back a little and closed his eyes to rest, deciding to switch gears and think about something else.
It wasn't as though Jingxing couldn't see why Sunday had hurriedly joined forces with the Corporation to send him away.
Sunday didn't approve of Robin and Jingxing's relationship crossing the boundary of friendship. So he had chosen to separate them, hoping that distance and time would diminish that possibility.
But to be honest, Jingxing had a vague feeling that Sunday might be shooting himself in the foot.
Time and distance didn't just weaken relationships. They could also make an existing bond even more intoxicating.
The ship entered a warp lane, and the starlight outside the window stretched into thin lines. The hum of the Imaginary engine settled into a steady rhythm. Jingxing took a sketchbook from his bag, turned to a blank page, and pulled out a pencil.
First came the steel framework of the stage, then the dark red velvet, then the buildings at the edge of the square gleaming in the morning light, and finally the figure at the center of the picture, so beautiful that anyone who saw her would lose themselves for a moment.
When he reached that point, a burning pain welled up deep in his eyes again. This time, he himself was the culprit. While drawing the sketch, Jingxing had involuntarily used Path energy, giving the picture a buff. Anyone who saw the sketch, which hadn't taken him long to finish, would find it astonishingly beautiful.
Tears fell and splashed onto the paper. Jingxing casually wiped them away with the pad of his finger and continued drawing.
Although the pain brought him to tears, he couldn't stop practicing. Neglecting practice would leave him out of practice, a price Jingxing couldn't accept. So even if drawing made his eyes burn, he would grit his teeth and carry on.
Besides, perhaps he would get used to the pain eventually. And the person he was about to meet was the galaxy's foremost expert on Imaginary Energy, Ms. Herta, #83 of the Genius Society.
If even she couldn't solve it, then perhaps no one in the galaxy could help him get rid of the negative effects of his eyes.