Chapter Text
f-f-friends?!?!!?
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
The barren cold should be unbearable to many of mortal and god yet that never stops the stubborn and foolish imbeciles from attempting to climb an iced wasteland with air so thin it slices through those uncovered throats of theirs.
Mu Qing resides near the top of the peaks in his fortress of the biting cold. He stands in heavy layers of his iced navy cloak and white fur laid upon his shoulders with clouded gray underlayers on his torso and fluffed silver tipped fur leg warmers. His pale snowy hair of the ponytail whips along the melody of the high winds yet do nothing to disturb the twin braids along the sides of his head.
He narrows those frosty eyes as gloveless hands, with the top side of the hand covered only by the long dark inked sleeves, tighten on his swords hilt.
Looks like some fool was brave enough to climb the mountain after all.
What a stupid god.
Do they simply ignore the warnings of his name?
Do they let the stories not be taken as tales of caution?
Do they need a reminder of his cruel frozen heart?
He frowns deeper at the thought of something warm with a beating heart daring to cross the peaks to meet with him of all ghost kings.
Mu Qing also curses how accessible this mountain is. At least that damn Shi Qingxuan has a everchanging island and the over so friendly Xie Lian his underground playpen. How he wishes he could have chosen something that no mortal nor god would ever try to step foot upon.
He's not a reclusive for nothing.
His body can barely stand the warmth of anything anymore.
It's unbearable.
So he made the journey to him just as unbearable to any visitor.
Mu Qing stops in his tracks.
What a stupid, stupid god.
He lets go of the hilt with an unamused gaze locked down at the body in the snow. Barely enough bronze layers to keep warm, a golden bow and quiver, and umber hair undone from it's top bun.
Feng Xin.
The archer who pierced the heavens.
Mu Qing scoffs rolling his eyes.
With a wave of his hands, he summons his snow leopards and commands them to carry the unconscious archer inside. They conform with a graceful form and low growl.
Only a stupid god could climb these mountains and find himself sick from the cold.
Inside his fortress he places the foolish god on a cot and places a dreadfully heated towel upon the archers forehead. It prickles at the frozen ghost king's fingers yet stubborn from habit much to old to die, he still watches over the man as he rests.
Mu Qing is free from his heavy furred cloak in favor of leaving an equally of not more furred blanket to the archers bed.
The ghost pulls himself up to leave the bedside but as he stands his wrist is caught by a fevered head. He turns to see the god barely aware at all.
"M-mu qing?" the fool asks before sleep catches to him again.
Mu Qing stood paralyzed from both the touch and the name. It's been to long since a warm body has dared to touch his own unbearably cold one and even longer since someone of the living and warm blooded has said that name in centuries.
Most of all, he is surprised the fool still remembers him.
He closes a hand around the wrist the archer dared to taint with warmth.
It's as if the skin aches for such a thing.
How foolish.
Mu Qing puffs his chest in concealed anger and crosses his arms striding away with snow raining upon his head unknowingly. The snow leopards watch this all from their lazed positions and purr to their masters blue tinted cheeks of embarrassment.
Jerk. He thinks as the archer lies passed out with the memory of a white hair and cold hands.
later, when the archer finally does wake again it is not in the fortress of barren cold but in a random town with people who claim he was saved from the mountain from a stranger in silver.
He blinks uncertain.
Did he really dream of Mu Qing after so long? He couldn't have. No. He remembers venturing that mount. But everything is fuzzy after nearing the peaks.
All that is clear from that fever dream is the vision of white hair.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
Mu Qing only ever willingly goes off his snowy mountain for one reason only.
For tea.
With his only two ghost king friends in all of existence.
The same two ghost kings are childishly annoying and amusing enough that he still loves their company.
Plus both are the absolute gossips of the century with Shi "I heard from-" Qingxuan and Xie "Oh tell me more" Lian. And he just brought them the steam of who climbed his mount.
"I still can't believe that fool," He complains to the remainder of the trio.
He sits with layers on top him in deep navy and silver with his cloak on the back of his chair. Xie Lian remains constant in his apparel of white with only his veiled straw hat on the chair. Shi Qingzuan however seems persistent with green robes and ornaments of gold glistened into their untamed brown curls and adorned upon the neck, forearms, and waist.
"Why didn't you just kill him?" Shi Qingxuan asks head tilted, her tone cheery.
White Flower nods looking from Dark Storm back to Mu Qing.
He only sighs tiredly.
"After all that work to make sure the fool was still alive, you think i'd make the kill that swift? How absurd." He scolded before sinking deeper into his seat with furrowed brows and crossed arms.
Xie Lian hums thoughtful, "Mu Qing does raise a good point. So much effort only for a brief death. What a waste indeed." He agrees with a finger under his chin nodding.
"But is that truly the only reason." The damned witch inquires smirking up at him.
He does not feel the blue tint of frost adorn his cheeks.
"Yes." He insists. "Besides you two know how much I despise the company of gods. I only permitted this little misadventure to teach the rest a lesson."
Shi Qingxuan hums clearly not believing him at all.
"I don't want any more gods at my doorstep. Look at you both. You devils let the damned gods business sneak into your affairs. I want no part of it." Mu Qing explains as the two ghost kings smile and sip more tea.
"So is that why you stay up there in that mountain all alone in the cold?" Xie Lian starts his tone light in amusment. "You could just haunt with us here." He assures the now more blue-flushed ghost king.
"Yeah! Then maybe you wouldn't be so miserable!" Shi Qingxuan teases with a wink.
Mu Qing's eye twitches.
"Don't make me freeze your cute tush off sweetheart." He tries to tease back.
But it never works.
"You think I'm cute?" She gushes with a shine to her mint eyes.
"That's all you got out of that. Really?" He deadpans.
"They are cute," Xie Lian agrees with a smile as Dark Storm makes a sound of excitement and lets the current of the wind pick up with all the tea sets raising to fly. He snatches his cup for a long awaited sip.
Despite Mu Qing's cold heart, his f-friends make him feel an unknown warmth other would say is happiness.
He rolls his eyes with a small fond smile at their antics.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
It seems the fool dared to venture back up the mountain. At least he's better prepared, so he must have learned his lesson of baiting the cold tundra lands.
The archer looks determined.
He looks like he might make Mu Qing regret ever saving his sorry soul.
"Oh great. You're back. Not the brightest are you even after all these years?" He griped with two of his snow leopards at each side.
Feng Xin ignored the bite and goes straight for the unanswered question.
"You saved me." He states the fact. "Why?" He asks likes he's begging or pleading on his knees at the alter.
Why indeed.
Why did Mu Qing do something so foolish for this fool?
Why does he still let this fool guide his heart?
Why after so much time?
"Don't you hate me?"
Feng Xin sounds uncertain of that. In fact Mu Qing is uncertain of that exact fact. It's been centuries yet the god still believes the same nonsense of a servant boy. It's been years and the ghost king knows all he said was nonsense to keep the guard at a distance and let the walls of his frozen still heart remain.
"I despise you." He says instead. The ghost despises how the archer makes him feel. How much he mourns what could have been. He despises it so much he might actually think he doesn't hate the archer at all.
He turns his back to leave the god to yearn just as he as. He wants the safety of his freezing fortress. He wants to be alone with the thoughts of a lovesick fool.
Feng Xin interrupts this plan.
"Then why save me?" He asks insistent, following after him.
The snow leopards circle him.
"Maybe I couldn't be bothered with your death. Heavens sake I don't need the gods on my trail." Mu Qing refutes his voice frosty as the white of his hair.
"That's not it. Is it?"
How can one fool be this annoying. He wants to rip his hair out. Why must the fool care? Why does he even care?
Mu Qing's expression does not betray him as he turns back to face the archer with a hard cold look," Well that's all you're getting. So leave or I'll make you leave." He threatens the archer god who won't let history rest.
"Mu Qing." Feng says his name.
It makes him freeze.
He sounds like he's pleading him. Stop that. Don't say my name like that. Don't make me believe such foolish emotions.
"Don't call me that." He hisses out in the bitter cold.
"Mu Qing be honest with me."
Gods.
He's wearing him down bit by bit.
"I just told you!" Mu Qing hisses out.
Feng Xin grabs him by the arm.
It burns with heat.
"Mu Qing," the damned archer speaks his name softly yet firm.
Feng Xin!! He wants to yell and tremble out.
"Tell me the truth." The archer pleads of him, his hand travelling to his cold palm to place upon a warm cheek.
Mu Qing sputters in embarrassment.
"What do you wanna hear?" Mu Qing hears himself wail in desperation. "That I don't actually hate you as much as it seems?" That strives a look of shock on the archers face. "That even in death you haunt me?" He raves on. " That I could never let the hate over come the love I felt for you?" He trembles out that in a shout. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" He gripes.
The fool stands there still processing his words.
"There's your reason." He tries to pull away. "Leave."
How foolish of him.
How embarrassing.
"No."
Mu Qing looks at the serious look the archer grants him.
"No!?" Mu Qing repeats equally as shocked.
Feng Xin simply brings cold fingertips to warm hot breath before the bristles of a heat scorning kiss graces frozen hands.
"Let's not waste anymore years, love."
Mu Qing rolls his eyes at the falter but lets the god whisk him away with those warm sun-like hands.