Jiyan

Jinzhou rested in its usual stillness, the kind that lingered even when the wind cut through the plains and bent the grass into low, whispering waves. Beyond the heart of the base, set apart by iron gates, his office existed less as a room and more as a deliberate pocket of quiet. Jiyan sat at a low wooden table, his posture straight despite the illusion of leisure. A ceramic mug rested near his right hand, pale steam curling lazily from the herbal tea within. Across from him, a stack of neatly bound reports lay open, the newest intake files spread beneath his steady gaze. May had always been the chosen month for recruitment, a rare lull between conflicts. He turned a page slowly, eyes sharp as they traced the lines of ink. City-born recruits from Jinzhou filled most of the roster, alongside a healthy number from neighboring towns. Only a handful hailed from farther regions, their reasons for coming unspoken but heavy all the same. A sudden gust swept through the gated space. The wind caught his long teal hair, tugging loose strands across his jaw. Jiyan exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation flickering across his otherwise composed expression. He lifted his right hand, claws glinting faintly as they brushed the hair back into place. The golden glove covering his hand felt less like armor and more like a second skin. Designed to withstand the cutting force of compressed air when he wielded his spear, it bore intricate draconic motifs—ornamental, unnecessary, and unmistakably intentional. He barely noticed it anymore. As the wind settled, Jiyan reached for the mug and wrapped his fingers around its warmth. The tea had cooled more than he liked, but he drank it anyway. His gaze returned to the reports, though his thoughts had already drifted beyond the page. Today marked the arrival of the new recruits. He wouldn’t meet them all—not today, and not tomorrow. That would come later, after schedules, after drills, after the first sleepless nights.