Work Text:
‘Til Death You’ll Share My Crown (And My Soul)
By doodsxd
The thing is, being a general’s son, he never gave that much thought to his appearance.
He could and would be just as much as a boy as he could, enjoying the privilege of not having to take as much care of his appearance as the girls did. He walked barefoot on hard stone, got mud all over him, walked bare-chested under the sun. At least, while he was a youth.
Growing older, he would still kind of break the rules. While Xie Lian was the good, proper, elegant example, he would get sweaty and jump into rivers and do all sort of things. Discipline was a little looser around him, especially because his cultivation and Dianxia’s weren’t the same.
Then came Mu Qing, and he was the prettiest little shit Feng Xin had ever seen. But while Dianxia’s beauty was somewhat “natural” to him — of course, he always ate and slept well, never had to do hard work other than his cultivation, never worked underneath hard sun, that sort of thing made it easier for him to look like he did —, Mu Qing’s beauty was cultivated. Not that he wasn’t already beautiful when he got to Dianxia’s side, but he took extra care and effort on his appearance, which meant he got more beautiful overtime. His skin grew smoother, his hair shinier and softer, his build stronger and leaner seemingly every day.
Feng Xin felt like doing the opposite just to spite him. He always made Dianxia laugh by just doing silly stuff on headstands and never bothering to put any hand cream afterwards, his hand rough as sandpaper. He caught Mu Qing applying whipped goat milk on his skin to lighten any marks he could have on its surface from exposure to the sun, oiling his hair with the best-scented oils around (Dianxia often relied on delicate floral scents while Mu Qing favored some fruit inspired, since they sold on the cheaper side). He never had a hair out of place or a loose thread on his clothes, always meticulously put together with the same attention to detail that he had to pay Dianxia’s appearance, since he was the one responsible for it.
He didn’t think of himself as ugly, per se, but he knew he didn’t look like Dianxia or Mu Qing. They were elegant and beautiful, all long lines and a delicate, although definitely not less strong, essence. While he himself was a little bit on the rougher side, carrying around a bulk that made him very aware that he would never really look like the graceful, polished strength that the other two wore.
So yeah, he had joked a few times about Mu Qing being girly and stuff like that, but what could he do!? He enjoyed to see him pouting in anger. It was… cute fun. Yeah, it was a lot of fun, annoying Mu Qing.
Little did he know this would have consequences. If he knew, he would have stolen some of that goat cream to himself.
It started with Ling Wen, of all people.
He had been on her palace researching about a specific type of ghost that he had been receiving prayers about, when he noticed her looking.
Like, really looking.
And then Pei Ming joined her. They exchanged some words, and then they were both just like. Staring at him.
Feng Xin didn’t think he wanted to know what the fuck was going on there, so he grabbed the scrolls and walked out. Passing them, though, he thought he heard them saying something like—
“Damn, where did you stop?”
“One hundred and seventy eight.”
“Shit, I only got to thirty two!”
… what the fuck was going on?
Visiting Puqi shrine was always a little nerve-wrecking, especially with Hua Cheng in tow. When the man was out at Ghost City it was fine, but when he was there it was just… unnatural. He wasn’t just threatening, he was childishly threatening, as if he would burn the world to the ground if his favorite toy dared to look at anyone but him. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Valiantly slurping some of the goo that Xie Lian had put together — it was better than being glared to death by Hua Cheng, if he was to be honest, which he would never, ever be — when he noticed it.
They were both in front of him. Slurping on Xie Lian’s soup mindlessly as their eyes stared holes at Feng Xin’s face.
He frowned, but wondered if it was a good idea to ask. Like Ling Wen and Pei Ming, they were… tricky. People in general were tricky. He didn’t know how to deal with them. He knew how to fight and to yell and to punch, and that’s why he often preferred Mu Qing’s company over more complicated people, even if the little shit never just fucking said what he fucking meant.
Now, though. Now Dianxia and his very strange lover were staring at him.
“Is there something on my face?”
They answered in unison:
“No.”
“Freckles.”
Feng Xin paused. Yes, there were freckles on his face from standing for too long underneath the sun for a lot of his life. Was Crimson Rain messing with him?
“Hum. Yes?” His eyes flew between them both. “What about that?”
“Stop moving.” Crimson Rain’s voice tried to sound commandeering, but Feng Xin had grown up beside Dianxia. That voice wouldn’t work on him.
“I’m leaving.” He stood up and took the sharpest turn without making the chair fall over, heading towards the door.
“No! Feng Xin!” Xie Lian’s chair stirred behind him, and that voice could make him stop. So he did.
“Dianxia.” He turned out of respect, still hackled. “Do you need something?”
“Ahm.” Xie Lian looked almost shy. “I’m sorry. I just need five more minutes, I swear!”
“Five more minutes for what?” Feng Xin tried not to sound too annoyed, since, again. Risk of his own blood become part of the rain that followed Hua Cheng everywhere. Still, he and Xie Lian were… friends now, right? He had the right to be a little annoyed.
He hoped.
People were so complicated. Shit.
Xie Lian stumbled upon his words, stammering something that he bet not even Hua Cheng could understand.
“Dianxia…”
“Feng Xin, please!” And there he was, pouting with those big eyes. Feng Xin never felt anything but platonic love for the man, but it was still hard to say no to that.
“It was a pleasure sharing a meal with you two, but I have business to attend to.” With that, Feng Xin bowed in goodbye, receiving only one bow back — figures — and walked out.
What he heard, however, gave him some clarity.
“Did you get your side?”
“I only got to one hundred and sixty one, gege.”
“I got to two hundred and three, but there were so many more!”
“We can probably guess the number if we draw him.”
“San Lang, you’re a genius!”
Were they… counting his freckles?
What the fuck?
Feng Xin returned to heaven before he could hear anything else he didn’t want to know about Dianxia.
Back in his palace, Feng Xin ordered his men to stop anyone from coming in and went straight to bathe. The mirror in the bathroom reflected his own tanned skin filled with the small brown dots, making he look even darker than he was.
He never paid that much attention to it, as he didn’t pay that much attention to his reflection in general. He had to look respectable and strong, and his tailored garb usually did that for him by itself. He only had to check if everything was in place and wrangle his hair out in a bun and that was it.
If he, himself, didn’t pay attention to that, then why were there so many people counting his freckles all of the sudden?
Then again, gods lived for a very long time. He supposed they were bored. But for Ling Wen and Pei Ming be on the same activity as Xie Lian and Hua Cheng… there was something there, he knew.
And now, well, fuck him, but he had to find out what the hell was going on.
Feng Xin had been working on his fear of women. He really was. After becoming Ju Yang, he started receiving some… prayers. Some very explicit, weird, specific, strange prayers. Women seeking help to get an orgasm, to give their partners bigger things, for him to teach them in dreams how to use their tongue… like he knew! In eight hundred plus years, the only woman he had been with wanted nothing to do with him. He was not one to seek advice about that sort of thing.
With the years, though… some of the stories made him pity them a little. Some women just never knew any pleasure at all. Their lives were harsh, bearing children and owning little to nothing. It seemed like they deserved at least conjugal happiness. But that meant… learning.
He braved through it. Feng Xin braved through manuscripts about human anatomy, books about love and pleasure from neighboring kingdoms, flushed like a madman as he entered courtesans’ dreams and politely asked them. Thankfully, most of them were respectful back and almost… didactic? Good teachers, they were. He even left those dreams with some extra information that could, in their words, also help, with male pleasure.
Feng Xin gathered all of that information with cold detachment and started helping those poor souls. Those who would never eat a delicious banquet or own fine silks, or even have enough money to oil their hair at the end of the month, now, because of him, knew how and were able to achieve the bit of earthly pleasure that they were owed through the hardships of their lives.
That being said, nothing that he had ever learned helped him deal with Shi Qingxuan. Or Any other woman, for that matter.
Especially not the soft, smiling Rain Master, who glided her way to his palace with a basket on her hands.
“Your- your-“ He bowed deeply, face reddening. “Rain Master. What an honor.”
“No need to bow, General Nan Yang. We are colleagues, are we not?” The woman breezed through his path until she was standing right in front of him.
“And… and what do I owe the visit?” Feng Xin straightened his posture, trying to look respectable. He wondered if it was working.
She was… beautiful. Delicate in an unassuming way. She didn’t have it “easy” on her beauty like Xie Lian, but it also didn’t seem she took care of herself obsessively like Mu Qing once did, paying attention to every little detail. She had some freckles too, her pale green robes fitting her modestly. Of all of the gods, she was the one Feng Xin always thought looked properly like a god: otherworldly, ethereal.
But maybe it wasn’t physical appearance, per se. Maybe her beauty lied somewhere on the dignified way she carried herself everywhere, kind and composed at all times. Feng Xin pitied the soul who dared disrespect her. It wasn’t that she, herself, would take revenge; it was that such an offense would quietly be avenged by the whole Heavens, and the offender would probably follow a faith worse than they would have if they were cursed by a Reverend of Empty Words.
And, with how he never really understood women, accidentally offending her was not out of the realm of possibilities for Feng Xin. He had to be careful.
“Oh, nothing much. I need your help.”
“My help?” Feng Xin’s shoulders tightened. Why would she need the help of a Martial God? Why was she coming to ask in person instead of relaying the need to Ling Wen and letting her manage the task-delegating duty, like they all did?
She nodded. “Yes. I have some sensitive cargo and I need capable hands to move it into my wagon.”
He was about to question it, but decided against the idea. If she was asking him, he was probably needed, even if it was to carry cargo into her wagon. Maybe the things there were extra heavy, or just plain old dangerous, enough that his officials couldn’t handle it by themselves. And who was he to say no to a fellow god in need?
He bowed his head. “Of course, Rain Master. Lead the way.”
Rain Master extended her arms towards Feng Xin, handing him the basket she had been carrying. “For you, as a thank you.” Her smile had mirth on it. Feng Xin couldn’t begin to fathom why.
“Thank you.” Bowing again, he peeked at the basket. …Goat milk cream, lychee and oil?
What a strange combination of gifts to give a Martial God. If only it was for Mu Qing, he’d understand it; as it was, Feng Xin had no idea why she thought those were items he would enjoy.
He handed it to one of his officials, asking them to leave the basket in his room, and followed her to her territory.
An empty field waited for them, a bunch of boxes stacked to Feng Xin’s side. The boxes were his own height in size, and double his bulk, so they were probably heavy. He had no idea what was inside of them, but he was not one to hurt her privacy like that, so he refused to peek and just started to work.
The Rain Master sat nearby, sipping on jasmine tea.
The boxes were heavy. Like, proper heavy. He could carry them, alright, but it took some time.
Midway into the work he started to sweat uncomfortably inside his clothes, to the point that he was feeling a little ill. The air around them was heavy with moisture, making it hard to breathe and uncomfortable to even stand idly around, let alone lift heavy boxes.
Once he stopped for the fifth time on the past ké, he heard her voice again.
“You know, you don’t need to suffer like this. Especially when you are doing me a favor.”
“Excuse me, Rain Master?” He stopped, turning his eyes to her. She looked unruffled in a way he could never dream of looking in such warm weather.
“You are here doing me a favor.” She repeated. “There is no need for you to suffer while you do it. Even my people will take off part of their garb to avoid fainting in such heat, General.”
What?
Was she implying he should…?
Was she hitting on him?
No, that couldn’t be.
“That wouldn’t be appropriate, Rain Master, but I thank you for thinking about my comfort.”
“Nonsense.” She shook her head. “That won’t do. Either you find a way to do this comfortably, or I’ll retreat my request for help and deal with it myself. I cannot allow you suffer because of a favor to me.”
That coming from the woman who slit her throat to save her kingdom after being treated like a servant her whole life. Shit. What should he do. What was he supposed to do?
What would Xie Lian do?
Just recite the ethics sutra a thousand times.
…Dianxia?
Feng Xin?
I need advice. He winced at how stupid he sounded even through the communication line.
Of course. Speak freely. At least he didn’t sound short-winded or anything like that. Hua Cheng was probably at Ghost City, he concluded.
I am helping a … friend. Someone I respect very much.
… what’s the problem?
This … person. Asked me to do something that violates protocol.
How much?
Your mother would have me properly punished for it. At least fifteen strikes of the wooden paddle.
In public?
Yes.
Huh. But your friend still requires that you do it?
They said they needed my help, but they would not let me help if I don ’t do it.
Is it something that you want to do?
He didn’t have to think that much about it. It was really fucking hot. If the Rain Master wasn’t right there, he would have probably gotten rid of everything but his pants at that point.
Yes.
Then I suppose you shouldn ’t care that much about protocol. You have a golden heart, Feng Xin, and I know your intentions are pure in helping this person. So, if that’s what you want, do what they requested of you and finish helping them.
He decided it was time to stop playing around. Do you promise me secrecy?
Of course, Feng Xin. You can tell me anything.
It ’s the Rain Master.
Oh.
She requested me to carry some boxes for her. But it ’s really fucking hot and she told me I could take off my robes to cool off while I finish carrying those boxes.
Sounds reasonable.
Would you take your robes off in front of the Rain Master, though?
After eight hundred years of being a scrap god, do you think I am afraid of not following protocol, Feng Xin? His tone carried amusement.
No. He agreed. But she’s a woman!
What about it?
It ’s not proper!
She ’s one of the most powerful goddesses there is, favored by the whole of the Heavens. If she says it’s proper, then it is proper.
He pondered. Xie Lian had vowed secrecy, hadn’t him? Time to make himself sound ridiculous. At least it was just Xie Lian. They had seen each other at their worst and at their best. He didn’t need to feel that ashamed. Or, at least, he tried to convince himself of that.
What if … whatifshe’shittingonme?
Xie Lian chuckled through their connection. What if she is?
He sputtered. I- I don’t know!
Are you interested in her?
No. It was an honest answer.
Then just let her down gently and leave it be. I ’m sure Yushi Huang isn’t petty enough to take revenge on you over a rejection.
That’s not the point! He roared in despair. Xie Lian chuckled again, unbothered. Never mind. Thank you, Dianxia.
Anytime, Feng Xin.
The connection closed and Feng Xin looked around, finding the Rain Master coming back from the nearby cottage with a tray of a water jug and cups.
He stopped to drink, hoping she would have forgotten about it. When he looked at her, though, her eyes said plainly that she had not forgotten anything in her whole life.
Feng Xin knew he was red in the face, but it was no matter. When he went back to work, he turned his back to the Rain Master and took off his robes, leaving only his pants and boots on.
The relief was immediate. Feng Xin almost sighed as the cool breeze hit his skin, cooling off the sweat that covered him from head to toe now.
The Rain Master, politely, said nothing about it.
He went back to work. Unhindered by sweat and clothes, Feng Xin was able to work much faster, finishing the boxes in no time at all.
“There, it’s all done.“ Feng Xin turned with a smile, robes already wrapped around his form once again.
“Thank you, General.” She stood up and offered a small smile. “I shall not keep you from your duties any longer.”
“Anytime, Rain Master.” He bowed to her and she bowed back, protocols back in place a safety net around his social ineptitude. “I will take my leave now. Have a nice day.”
Feng Xin started to walk down the path of the mountain, since he couldn’t go use short-distancing arrays from the Rain Master’s territory, when something came to him.
Silently, quietly, he entered Heaven’s Communication Array and—
I am sorry, but I could not finish counting before he left. It was the Rain Master’s voice.
Why not? Dianxia! How could he?
He has freckles all over his torso, maybe further. She sounded peaceful as ever.
How can such a simple task be so difficult to accomplish? I refuse to be beaten by this. And Ling Wen, too!
Well, finally we found something that the great Ling Wen can’t know- Pei Ming laughed and Feng Xin had enough.
He stormed into his palace, scaring every single one of his in-duty officials.
“No one goes through those doors, you hear me?” He yelled, voice echoing the halls of Nan Yang.
“But-but general-“
“Not even if Jun Wu raises from his grave and takes his back his place as the Heavenly Emperor, even he’s still not allowed in.” He could see a few of the juniors swallowing dry.
“Go-got it, General.”
After that, Feng Xin did the only adult thing he could do and locked himself inside his room.
The gift basket now looked like a betrayal. He kept it anyway.
He would never admit he was too afraid of the Rain Master to throw it out.
(Nor would he ever admit to using some of that hair oil before bed that night. The smell reminded him of the old times, when he, Dianxia and Mu Qing would stay at a random inn, and Dianxia would have a room but he and Mu Qing would share and the smell of his hair was the only piece of comfort and home around to lull him to sleep).
(He slept like a fucking baby).
Of course Quan Yizhen would barrel into his palace the next day. Of fucking course. The only fucking god who wouldn’t be deterred by propriety and protocols would clearly be the one who would punch his fucking door down and demand to see him, like that was a normal thing to do.
Feng Xin was still in his pajamas when he walked to the main hall. “Qi Ying Jiangjun!” Feng Xin let his voice boom across the hall to catch the destroyer of door’s attention.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.” With his sword on his hand, he dashed and jumped. “General Nan Yang, fight me!”
He was lucky one of his officials threw him a weapon — a fucking spear, but he’d make do — before that sword hit.
“Why the fuck?” He groaned, fixing his stance so the other god didn’t find any openings in his posture. “Did I accidentally spit on Yin Yu or something?”
“No.” Strike after strike and the boy still spoke like he wasn’t even winded by the effort. “But shixiong wants to count your freckles.”
Not that again. “So what?”
Bang, bang. Feng Xin had to dodge an attack that made a whole on his perfect marble wall. In his own fucking palace!
“Shixiong figured it’d be easier if you were knocked out.” Quan Yizhen answered like it was the most natural thing in the world to say.
“What the fuck?” Feng Xin was bordering on qi deviation. “What the fuck?”
“Shixiong asked for my help! I can’t fail him.”
That was sound logic. It just didn’t work for Feng Xin.
“I’m not fighting you!” He dodged and dodged, watching white walls become rubble. Shit.
“What’s the fun in that? I want to fight you before I knock you out!” He mad-dashes towards Feng Xin, who hadn’t even had any tea yet.
“Shit, shit, shit, fuck.” Deciding against putting so much effort on something before he even had the chance to eat something, Feng Xin ran.
He grabbed the first robe his hands could reach, his sword, and made a beeline towards the short-distancing array. He didn’t even know where he was going, all he knew is that he had to get away from Quan Yizhen. And then dunk his shixiong on Black Water’s domain, to see if he learned not to mess with Generals, for fuck’s sake.
Fuck. Why had his life turned out like this?
He had asked his officials to warn him directly if Shi Qingxuan was to ever pray for him. While they had never been friends, it seemed like the courteous thing to do. In the couple of years after the fall of the Heavens, Shi Qingxuan had never called for him. Or for anyone, in that matter. He knew Dianxia visited sometimes, as did Pei Ming and Ling Wen, but other than that, Shi Qingxuan mainly kept to himself.
Which was why he was somewhat surprised when an official told him Shi Qingxuan prayed for his help.
“He didn’t say what he wanted?” Feng Xin asked, tying up his cape over his shoulders, getting ready to descend to the mortal realm.
“No, sir.” The official shook his head vehemently. “He just asked for Nan Yang’s help.”
“The Capital is supposed to be Xianle Dianxia’s territory.” He pondered out loud. “I’m not sure it’s proper for me to overstep like this.”
“I don’t mean to overstep either, but, General, do you think your Dianxia would mind such a thing?” The official asked meekly, as if he was afraid of Feng Xin’s anger. He was still brave enough to speak, though, so Feng Xin took note of his face to promote him later.
“You’re right.” He sighed. “I hate breaking protocol.”
“We could always consult someone who… understands it better.”
The suggestion made him pause. He knew his officials sometimes did that, with his permission, but they had been adamant in refusing to tell him just who they had been consulting in those matters.
“No need.” Feng Xin dismissed. “He asked for me, so I’ll go. Thank you.”
With a bow, the official left, and Feng Xin himself got ready to go. On a second thought, he brought food and new, clean robes with him. Just in case.
The Royal Capital was, as always, bustling. Markets here, people there and everywhere, going about their lives.
He looked around for a bit and then grabbed two copper taels, approaching a beggar.
“Hello, sir.” Protocols were good. Protocols were safe. “I’m looking for a friend. I think he goes by Old Feng now.”
The man looked at him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Old Feng has the strangest friends.” He took the taels and pointed in a random direction.
Feng Xin bowed his head in goodbye and turned to walk.
He found Shi Qingxuan inside one of his old temples, handing out soup to a line of people. He stood on the steps that led inside the temple, which made him readily visible. His clothes were clean, and so were his skin and hair. The damaged limbs seemed… better. In a way that almost made Feng Xin feel embarrassed about bringing him essentials. It seemed like, somehow, he made his way back into accessing the basic, at least.
“Oh, there he is. Feng Xin! Hello!” He waved as soon as he saw him, smiling brightly, turquoise eyes followed as he walked.
Shi Qingxuan was beautiful. A very different kind of beautiful that the Rain Master was, but beautiful nonetheless. He had a cheery air about him, as if nothing could really bring his spirits down. After witnessing a few episodes of his recovery from grieving his brother, Feng Xin had no doubt Shi Qingxuan was one of the most resilient people he knew.
It took him a moment to notice it, though. From the shadows, to the left of Shi Qingxuan’s smiling figure, a dark shadow moved and changed.
“Wind Master, duck!” He yelled, sword in hand, jumping over the long line of people.
His sword struck down over the dark figure. How could he miss it? The malignant aura was astoundingly wide and thick. Other than Crimson Rain, the only other ghost who could do that was-
“Black Water!” He called out, watching the shadowy blob dodge his attacks one, two, three times. Then he hissed, yellow eyes finding Feng Xin’s in a dark corner inside the temple.
“General Nan Yang, no!”
“What the fuck do you mean, no?” None of that were in the protocols. He memorized them, he took notes, he knew all of them by heart. None of it said shit about stopping fighting a fucking supreme ghost to help a fucking fallen god who fell because of said supreme, especially when that supreme killed the fallen god’s brother!
Shi Qingxuan rushed in, still limping, although much less than he had been before. And then he stood right between him and Black Water. With his back to the supreme.
Once again, qi deviation seemed to be what would take Feng Xin’s immortal life. There was just too much pieces of the cosmos trying so hard to tip him over, he didn’t even know how to fight it.
“Wind Master—“ He tried again, fingers squeezing the hilt of his sword. “What type of spell does he have you under?”
“First of all,” The turquoise-eyed man placed both hands on his waist. “I’m not the Wind Master anymore, remember?”
Black Water grumbled something behind him.
“Yes, I know, blah blah blah.” He rolled his eyes and directed them back to Feng Xin. “Where was I? Oh, right! Second, there is no spell, I guarantee it. Your Dianxia already checked.” Shi Qingxuan smiled his usual breezy smile.
“But—“ Qi deviation, he was going to die from qi deviation any minute now— “It’s… he’s…”
“We’ve been…” Shi Qingxuan hesitated, looking over his shoulder. “Working things out.” Then his eyes find Feng Xin’s. “I’m sure you understand it?”
“Understand it?” His voice goes to a indignant high-pitch he never wants to hear coming from his own mouth again.
“Yes.” Wind Master had the decency of looking sheepish. “What with your friendship with Xie Lian and Mu Qing?”
Their eight-hundred-plus-years of mess felt like nothing when compared to Black Water’s actions. What a peculiar idea, to compare them.
His sword lowered. Feng Xin just felt more and more embarrassed and confused. “Whatever. It’s not my problem.”
Shi Qingxuan’s smile could blind someone who stared for too long at it. Behind him, a glare with the darkness of the black sea made sure Feng Xin didn’t look for too long.
It was awkward, but they settled with tea after Shi Qingxuan delegated the soup-serving duties to one of his friends. Feng Xin nursed a cup of tea in his hands for a while, thinking of what to say.
“Oh, I.” He remembered, reaching inside his things for the robes and the good. “I brought these for you.”
Shi Qingxuan eyed the robes and the food with a big, bright smile, but his companion glared daggers at Feng Xin. It was eerily similar to Crimson Rain’s scowl whenever Feng Xin earned praise from Dianxia. “Thank you!”
“I-I can see now that you don’t need it.” He eyed briefly the white robes lined in green silk, averting his gaze as soon as he received another scowl from Black Water.
“Oh, no, no! It’s beautiful! You even remembered my colors.” Wind Master held the robes like they were important, cradling the fabric on his arms. “Thank you very much, General. And for the food, too.”
He coughed weakly, flushing. “Y-Well, I though. I just thought it was in good manners to— to bring you… I don’t, I, I mean, it’s not charity, I swear it’s not, and— and it’s not like you were stealing as well, right?” Nervous laughter followed. “Not with those limbs anyway. Anyway. I. I thought it would. Help.” Feng Xin ducked his head down in shame. Shit. Shitfuck. He and his big mouth.
Shi Qingxuan never lost his smile, although his hand landed over Black Water’s as if to stop him from defending his honor in his stead. “I understand, General.”
A beat of silence passed. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just…
“I. I know we were never… close.” Feng Xin tried to fix it, struggling with his words, eyes down, only briefly looking up towards the Wind Master and Black Water. “But you were always… righteous, and kind.”
“So were you, General.” Shi Qingxuan effortlessly replies to the compliment, making Feng Xin jealous. How did he do that?
He wondered if that was what attracted Black Water to him in the first place. Shi Qingxuan was a bright light in what could be a very dark world. He attracted people like moths, something that neither he, nor Black Water, could ever claim to be able to do.
“I just—“ He stopped and sighed. “I hope… we can be…”
“Friends?” The Wind Master finished easily, still smiling, thanking Black Water for serving more tea in a murmur. Feng Xin saw a softness reflected back at the Wind Master, something that should not have been possible.
Then again, the world had not been the same ever since Crimson Rain rained into his life.
“Yes.” He agreed. “That.”
“Which is why you are here now.” Shi Qingxuan leaned towards Feng Xin, face propped on his hands. “Right?”
“Yes.” He agreed immediately. “You asked for my help.” He avoided looking back at Black Water. What could Feng Xin possibly do that Black Water couldn’t? He was clearly keeping Wind Master clean, fed and probably sheltered too. He was the highest-ranking ghost besides Crimson Rain. Feng Xin couldn’t fathom what Shi Qingxuan wanted from Feng Xin that the Wind Master’s… friend, couldn’t promptly give him.
“I need to cultivate.”
…what?
“I.” Feng Xin muttered. “What?”
“I need to go back to cultivating. The proper way, this time.”
He almost choked on his tongue. “And you’re asking me?”
“Well, yes.”
“I.. I mean…—“ Shit, not again. “Why not Dianxia? He’s a much stronger martial god, and a better teacher. Or the Rain Master, if you’re aiming to go back to being an Elemental God?”
Shi Qingxuan shrugged. “He Xuan was trying to help me, but we came to the conclusion that he would have probably ascended as a Civil God, probably poetry and literature. And while I do enjoy the arts, I’m not going to waste my life away reading all day, so—“
“What he means,” Black Water’s voice sounds just like his name, dark and flowing like liquid into his ears, engulfing his hearing. “Is that his body is weak, and he—“
“You mean you—“ Shi Qingxuan corrected him with a raised brow.
“—can’t have that. He will never finish cultivating if he dies trying to part a scuffle between the beggars of the Royal City, or something equally preposterous.”
“You worry too much.” The Wind Master protested, hand thoughtlessly moving to straighten Black Water’s collar, as if they did that all the time.
Feng Xin supposed they probably did.
“You worry too little.” His eyes pointedly found Shi Qingxuan’s, pressing the issue.
“That’s because you worry for the both of us, silly.” Wind Master grinned and pinched Black Water’s cheek. “But you see the situation, General. I need to be able to defend myself while helping my friends, and it seems convenient to make that my new cultivation path.”
“No offense, but that might take years.” Feng Xin assessed, throwing a look at Wind Master’s figure. With his broken limbs and slim figure, cultivating him in the martial arts would take a while. “Have you considered the abstinence path?”
“Not happening.” Black Water’s voice cut through.
“It’s… a little too late for that.” Shi Qingxuan agreed.
He really didn’t want to know more. “And Rain Master?” He pressed.
“She didn’t really have any training, did she?”
Feng Xin pondered. “True.” He conceded. Then his eyes found Black Water’s figure again, unease spreading on him. “Would you be opposed to your training taking place in Heaven?”
The Wind Master blinked, surprised. “Is that allowed?”
Feng Xin shrugged. “We have no Heavenly Emperor to decide that now. I would usually say it’s not proper, but you were a god. It’s not like you don’t know the Heavenly Capital, or who is there, or what we do.”
“That would…” Shi Qingxuan hesitated, eyes dimming, and then brightening. “That would be wonderful, General.”
—crisis averted. That way, they wouldn’t train in front of Black Water, possibly teaching things that could make him even more difficult to deal with, and he also wouldn’t have to worry about going hard on Shi Qingxuan like he did his own deputies, which was the only way he knew how to train anyone in the first place—
“Oh, He-xiong, it’ll be just like old times!” The Wind Master interrupted his musings by grabbing hold of Black Water’s arm, like they did when he was still Ming Yi.
Black Water huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Wind Master.” Feng Xin tried to hide his horror. “May I have a word with you?” He eyed their linked arms. “In… in private.” They both tensed, so he added. “I give you my word I won’t do anything against your will, Wind Master.”
After a brief exchange of looks, Shi Qingxuan let go of Black Water’s arm and walked outside with Feng Xin until they were far enough not to be heard. Feng Xin activated a noise muffling talisman as well, just for the hell of it.
“Wind Master— Shi Qingxuan.” He started, taking a deep breath. “I can’t allow Black Water inside Heavens again, even if he’s your friend. You understand that, right?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “He was never allowed in, anyway. Don’t worry, you won’t even know he was there.”
Shit. Fuck. That fucker. Feng Xin swallowed a growl. “Wind— Shi Qingxuan! We can’t allow Black Water to cultivate even more power, especially the martial kind! He’ll be a menace to rival Crimson Rain—“
“You don’t have to worry about that, do you? Xie Lian seems to have Crimson Rain under control, and He-xiong has no reason to do anything to Heaven anymore. There are no hard feelings! I swear.”
“Qingxuan.” Feng Xin had to take three deep breaths before speaking again. He could feel his jaw hardening, his shoulder muscles tightening. “Please, be reasonable.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.” No cursing, Feng Xin, no cursing. “You’re really not. How can you say a supreme ghost has no hard feelings towards the Heavens?”
“Well, I asked.”
Qi deviation. He was going to die from qi deviation. “That’s now how it works!”
“You should be more trusting, General.”
“He— I—“ His hand went through his hair, a few strands coming loose with how hard he pulled. “He’s made of resentment. That’s what ghosts are.”
“Not Crimson Rain, though.” Shi Qingxuan pointed out.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He probably resented everyone who had ever tried to talk some sense into Xie Lian, which included him.
“I think there are more things that can drive a ghost.” Shi Qingxuan’s voice turned somber in tone. “I think Crimson Rain is moved by his devotion to Xie Lian.”
“And Black Water?” His mouth spoke before his brain could stop him. “He killed your brother.” Shi Qingxuan winced, Feng Xin did the same. “I’m sorry—“
“No, no. I suppose that must be confusing.” He sighed. “Look. If everything that happened to him, happened to you, do you think your outcome would have been any different?”
Feng Xin pondered. Probably not. Actually, he would have probably done way worse, with his temperament as it was. “That’s not the point.”
“But it is.” He smiled, a sad, tender thing. “I love my brother. I always will. But what he has done… I understand it, the urge to protect family and all of that, but I can’t justify it. Like my brother, He Xuan has also done horrible things. But that’s not all they are.”
He remembered the story about Xie Lian almost unleashing the Human Face Disease upon Yong’an. He remembered how Xie Lian stole, and how Mu Qing left, and how he himself left while the King was ill.
He also remembered how Xie Lian forgave even after being stabbed a hundred times by his own people, how he had kept a strange brand of dignity by living within his own means and not giving a fuck about what other Heavenly Officials thought, as long as he was doing what he thought was the right thing. And he also remembered how he’d find Mu Qing’s calligraphy on the first documents he received after ascending. He tried to imitate the current civil god in charge of introductions and instructions at the time, but Feng Xin knew his calligraphy too well from how their preceptor always compared his own thick strokes with Mu Qing’s elegant lines. Those documents had many side explanations about how everything worked in a way that Feng Xin could actually understand.
He never thanked him for that.
In the end, he supposed, if anyone could ever forgive Black Water, it was Shi Qingxuan with his too big of a heart. He didn’t seem foolishly jumping at a delusion or anything, but he was… trying. And being soft, Feng Xin had learned recently, forgiving, required a lot more strength than being hard and unforgiving. All he needed to remember that was to picture Mu Qing being dragged into the lava and—
“I still can’t let him in.” Feng Xin rubbed his forehead. “It’s not like I can stop him from sneaking in, but I can’t allow that.” Before Shi Qingxuan could celebrate, he raised a hand. “You have promise me two things, though.”
“Anything!” Such a bright smile. Black Water as a lucky ghost. Not that Feng Xin wanted anything to do with Shi Qingxuan — not really his type, too bright, too energetic — but he could see a good thing when he faced one.
“First of all, training is tough shit.” He started. “I curse a lot, and I will have to hit you. I know you understand that, but Black Water…”
“He’ll behave, I promise!”
Oh, the optimism. Feng Xin could already feel himself drowning in the Black Sea for touching Shi Qingxuan after the first fucking lesson. Just. Fucking great, that was.
“Second, Pei Ming and Ling Wen will drop by to see you, you know that.” Wind Master winced at his words. “And I don’t want any trouble with them.” He paused. “They care about you, and I don’t think they’ll understand… whatever this is.” He motions towards him and Black Water’s figure still drinking tea inside the temple.
“I hadn’t thought about that. I was so excited about training in Heaven…” He bit his lower lip. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
“That’s not what I said. We just need a plan.”
“Do you have any ideas?” Shi Qingxuan tilted his head to the side, curious.
“No.” Feng Xin admitted. “But I know someone who can help.”
Shi Qingxuan smiled excitedly. “Who?”
“Get out of my palace.”
Feng Xin grit his teeth. “Mu Qing.”
“Are you deaf?”
“I need your help.”
Fuck him for being this pretty. Feng Xin felt his face warm up at the thought, half anger, half embarrassment.
Mu Qing was currently lounging on a divan at his office. His hair cascaded around him, half up, bangs framing his delicate face nicely. His eyes were lined with navy, same shade as his clothes — he still followed Xianle’s fashion, Feng Xin couldn’t help but find it beautiful — long legs stretched over the whole seat. Feng Xin wanted, for a moment, to draw his sword and fight him right there and then, at least until he lost that smug composure. When that happened, his hair would flail around like snakes, his face would slowly start flushing bright pink, revealing his anger, and his eyes would look so dark and reflective that Feng Xin was sure the form favored by Mu Qing’s followers involved some tale of him having the most dangerous obsidians for eyes.
It sent up a wave of thrill from the bottom of his spine, a restless energy that Feng Xin didn’t really know what to do with. Fight it out, probably. Until his limbs felt too heavy to move ever again.
Thinking back on his talk with Shi Qingxuan, though, he could see it. He could see why Black Water would go back to him, even if he was Shi Wudu’s brother. It took Feng Xin a long time to understand what the State Preceptor meant when he warned them that beauty is dangerous. If Black Water or Crimson Rain felt as disturbed as he felt while looking at Mu Qing, he understood why they would their knees and pray for redemption, if just to get rid of such troubled agony.
Regardless, Mu Qing’s attitude matched his looks, torturing Feng Xin to no end.
“No.” He flipped a page from his report folder, not even deigning Feng Xin with a look.
“Mu Qing, please.” Protocols, follow the protocols, Feng Xin, even if it’s stupid, annoying, insufferable Mu Qing— “It’s for Shi Qingxuan.”
That had him looking up. Fucking finally. “Speak.”
“He wants my help to cultivate.” Feng Xin explained.
“You?” The mocking tone was clear through every syllable.
“Yes.” Feng Xin’s jaw was going to break, he was sure of it. “I suggested Dianxia and the Rain Master, but he refused. Apparently, Black Water has been worried about his safety when he’s at the Royal Capital and—“
Mu Qing’s face darkened. “Wait. Black Water? You said Black Water?”
Feng Xin nodded. “They’re friends, apparently.”
“Did you check for spells?”
“Dianxia did.”
Mu Qing looked surprised. “Alright. Go on.”
“The Wind Master wants to cultivate and asked for my help, but I’d have to be a complete moron not to know that Black Water will come with him in disguise.”
Mu Qing didn’t need to say anything. His face said it all.
“I am not that stupid!” He growled, blood pumping too fast on his veins, ready for a fight. The fact that Mu Qing’s incredulous look involved him tilting his head to the side and thus revealing the pale curve of his neck from underneath his hair was just a coincidence.
“…sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night.”
“Fuck this.” He turned on his heel, giving up. He could find someone else to find a way. Dianxia would probably talk to him if he got to him before Crimson Rain came back from—
“Come back here, stop being such a sensitive maiden.” Feng Xin heard the rustle of fabric.
Fuck him. Fuck that. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shitfuck, crap, damn everyth—
“Are you just going to stand there? Come on.”
Fucker. Feng Xin turned on his heels again and went back, walking with heavy feet, just barely avoiding stomping the floor like a toddler. Mu Qing didn’t comment, just patted a side of the divan for Feng Xin to sit.
“So, Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan are friends, and they asked you to train Wind Master back into godhood.”
“Basically.”
“And you’re afraid of…” Mu Qing tilted his head again, hair swishing behind him.
Feng Xin choked and turned to his side to cough a few times. He should see a healer. “I’m not afraid of anything!”
He could pinpoint the moment when it all clicked in Mu Qing’s head. “Ling Wen.”
He sputtered. “I’m not afraid of Ling Wen!”
“Well, if you were a normal person, you would be afraid of the combination of Ling Wen and Pei Ming, since they were both very close with Shi Wudu. They are conniving and dangerous, you’d be right to fear them making any type of alliance against you.” Mu Qing leaned back on his side of the divan, his robes shifting with him, revealing the beginning of his collarbone. Feng Xin swallowed dry. “But you’re not normal, so you don’t fear Pei Ming.”
“Of course I don’t fear him!” Why was Mu Qing like this?
“You should. He’s the sole martial god of the north, gathering all of the faith to himself. In comparison, you share a region with me, and thus, the power.”
He never thought of it like that. “It doesn’t matter!”
Mu Qing smirked. “Sure it doesn’t. But Ling Wen, on the other hand…” He pulled his legs up the divan, socked feet settling against Feng Xin’s thigh in the limited space they had. He looked like a cat who just found an interesting bug to torture for their amusement.
Feng Xin didn’t repress a shiver. “Are you telling me you’re not afraid of her?”
Mu Qing tsked. “Of course not. Whatever she can do, I can do worse.”
He pulled on his collar, averting his eyes. Were the windows open? It was so warm in there. “Sure.”
Mu Qing frowned for a moment, but then put his feet down on the floor again, straightening his posture. “I suppose there’s a way.”
“There is?” He couldn’t help the hopeful feeling inside his chest.
Mu Qing left his folder on the small table in front of them and nodded. “Yes. But you’ll have to trust me.”
There was a shadow of something like regret in Mu Qing’s face. Feng Xin didn’t like that.
“Sure.” He answered promptly. “Should I know the plan or is it better if I’m in the dark?”
A pause. “Just like that?”
Feng Xin shrugged. “Yes.”
“No threatening me if I mess with you?” He sounded incredulous. “No insults?”
“You said you wanted to be my f-f-friend.” Feng Xin smirked. He couldn’t lose the opportunity, could he? “I trust my friends.”
“I take it back. Get out of my palace.” He grabbed his folder again, placing it in front of his face, as if he was able to immediately go back to reading that thing.
All Nan Yang could do was laugh. He stood up, fixing his cape around his neck. “We’ll start tomorrow at weishi.” He looked over his shoulder, glancing at the funny frown Mu Qing had on his face, angry like a particularly hissy cat.
It was, for a lack of better word, cute, but Feng Xin would rather keep his eyes, so no words were spoken on that regard.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mu Qing waved a hand towards Feng Xin as if dismissing him, going back to pretending to read the scrolls on his hands.
With a smile on his face, Feng Xin left. Whatever Mu Qing had in mind, he was Feng Xin’s best chance at teaching Shi Qingxuan without drowning in the Black Sea or being torn up by Pei Ming or…
Well. Mu Qing was smart. Surely he could anticipate the trouble Feng Xin could get into?
After sharing yet another awkward meal with Black Water and Shi Qingxuan, they headed back to the Heavens, walking straight to Nan Yang’s palace.
Of course, Shi Qingxuan’s presence alerted some officials, but they were quickly dismissed by Feng Xin’s glare — fuck protocol — since he anticipated people questioning him why he had brought a mortal do the Heavens. They could eat his dust.
Inside the palace, Feng Xin was greeted by three officials, one of them completely unknown to him. A brief look and he saw golden eyes and a smirk.
Qi deviation. He could feel it coming, his veins hardened by the amount of fury in his blood, pumping so hard he would burst and die. Mu Qing would probably laugh.
(No, Feng Xin, stop. Thinking about Mu Qing never helps you reign your qi down. Stay strong.)
“You, with us. The rest of you, back to work.” He ordered as he passed them, leading Shi Qingxuan to his training grounds.
There, Feng Xin turned to both of them, hands on his waist. “Okay. Now, and I mean it, I need you two to listen to me, okay?”
Shi Qingxuan nodded a for him and for Black Water, since the man didn’t even blink.
Oh, yeah. Dead. He didn’t need to.
That would never not be creepy.
“First of all, you need to change clothes. In the room to the left there are clean training robes for both of you. That’s because I don’t want to be blamed if your robes tear or rip during training, okay?”
More nods from Shi Qingxuan. A dubious nod from Black Water. He’d take it.
“Second, we’ll have to seal your meridians temporarily.”
Black Water’s hackles immediately rose, ugly dark energy releasing from him in flows.
“He-xiong, please,” Shi Qingxuan touched his arm. “Feng Xin might be a Heaven Official, but he’s never been anything but honest.”
“I’ll seal mine too.” He continued to speak, as if he was speaking to one of his deputies. “Martial training is different than spiritual training. With Dianxia, it’s his yang energy that converts — or converted, I should say — to spiritual energy, so abstinence is, or was, his strength. With Rain Master, it’s a toughness of the mind, and that’s a process I can’t guide you through, but it usually involves meditative work, sometimes manual repetitive labor, sometimes meditation, breath work, that sort of thing.”
“You know a lot about cultivation.” Shi Qingxuan observed, admiration in his eyes.
Feng Xin flushed, hand going to the back of his neck. “I have to. Anyway! What we do here is different, though. Our strength comes from toughness of the body. And if you start using spiritual energy to boost your physical moves when you’re in this path, you’ll never do the hard work that your body needs so it starts being the source of your spiritual energy instead of something that consumes it.”
Black Water had an intrigued look on his face. “Makes sense.”
“Of course it does! Why does everyone think I’m a complete idiot?” Frustration got the best of him, making him almost pull his hair out.
Shi Qingxuan chuckled, a crystalline thing, and the fond curl of Black Water’s lip could not be faked. Shit. Shit, he was in so deep. Feng Xin almost felt sorry for him.
“Anyway.” He started again. “You dress, you seal your meridians. The third rule is: you have to go with whatever Mu Qing says.”
“Mu Qing?” Shi Qingxuan frowned. “Aren’t you going to teach us?”
Us. He was actually going to martially train Black Water Sinking Ships. When the world went down in flames, he wanted that carved into his tombstone.
“I am.” He explained. “But Mu Qing is the one who devised a plan in case Ling Wen or Pei Ming decide to come greet you and recognize him.” He pointed towards Black Water.
Black Water stared at him with that bored face, but Feng Xin was sure he would be rolling his eyes in annoyance if he was a hairbreadth more expressive.
“I am not afraid of Ling Wen.” His voice gave him chills. “Nor am I frightened of Pei Ming.”
“Neither am I!” He lied, throwing his hands up. “But I actually like this palace, and I don’t wanna see it brought to rubble again. I just finished reforming it after Quan Yizhen broke in and demanded I fight him, so—“
“Wait, hold up, Quan Yizhen?” Shi Qingxuan’s eyes shone in delight. “Why would he do such a thing?”
Shit. He forgot how much of a gossip Shi Qingxuan was.
“How should I know? Now go, go, go change clothes! I’ll be here waiting.”
He almost forgot about the freckle thing. He wished he could actually forget it.
It took a strangely long amount of time for those two to leave the dressing rooms, which Feng Xin didn’t really want to think about more than he needed to. He stood up and immediately started, sealing his own meridians (Black Water made quick work of himself and Shi Qingxuan, as if daring Feng Xin to touch him) and going into position.
He taught them the basic routine first, correcting stances where needed. He Xuan was usually good after one or two tries, Shi Qingxuan needed a little bit more attention, especially with his impaired limbs. It was no matter, Feng Xin’s palace never turned someone capable away because of something like that. They just needed to learn how to work their own way, and Feng Xin was good at teaching that.
Right when he was practicing a simple sequence of punch-dodging, Mu Qing entered the pavilion.
He Xuan’s fist connected with Feng Xin’s cheek, doing… nothing, honestly. It barely even hurt. Well, his face wasn’t hurt; Black Water immediately retreated his hand with a wince of pain, shaking it off on the air. Then again, maybe the punch did do something, because Feng Xin felt dizzy.
“Okay, so.” He merely waved to the other two in the grounds before focusing all of his attention on Feng Xin, who was still gaping a little bit.
“Did you change your hair?” Stupid, why would he ask something so stupid?
“What?” Mu Qing blinked once, twice, confused. Then his hand flew up to braids and his cheeks tinged pink, just a little. It could be a play of the light, but Feng Xin would console himself saying that no, he was definitely blushing. It made him feel better about himself. “ No. I mean. Yes. It’s none of your business!”
Feng Xin’s hand moved moved to the back of his neck, and if his chest puffed out just a little bit, that was nobody’s business. “Looks good.”
It did look good. Six braids****** started from his scalp until they met in his usual half-updo. Besides his usual hairpiece, there were also ribbons braided into his hair from the very beginning, swishing loosely with his hair after the updo tying place on the top-back portion of his head.
While Mu Qing was always meticulously put together, Feng Xin had never seen that particular updo, not in eight hundred years anyway. The extra effort meant that something had changed.
He was scouring his brain for what could have caused the shift when Pei Ming and Ling Wen entered too.
He Xuan immediately narrowed his eyes, but just for a second. Everything else about his disguise was still on, perfect. Feng Xin forced himself to relax, eyes fleeting around the two figures who did not belong in his training grounds at all.
Mu Qing touched his arm, bringing his attention to him, and just then Feng Xin noticed just how much yang energy he had been moving, even through his blocked meridians. He tried to convey his gratitude with a look, but the other General had already turned his back to him, the familiar scent of lychee and milk cream following in his stead.
“Here is how this is going to work.” He unsheathed his sword, staring straight at Ling Wen and Pei Ming. “Everyone inside Nan Yang training grounds has to have their meridians sealed off.”
Ling Wen looked unperturbed, Pei Ming’s eyes darkened in a sweep of something threatening.
“Remember what I told you.” Mu Qing’s voice dropped, eyes narrowing.
Feng Xin pulled on his collar, feeling stuffy. Were the windows open?
Shi Qingxuan stifled a chuckle behind his hand. Feng Xin glared at him.
In the end, the tension didn’t dissipate, but whatever Mu Qing did, they both did seal off their meridians. Then Mu Qing sheathed his sword again, sealing his own powers as well.
“But you—“ Feng Xin started to protest, just to snap his mouth closed when Mu Qing scowled at him.
“We have another guest coming up, so don’t start just— oh, there she is. Rain Master, it’s an honor.”
Qi deviation? Feng Xin was wrong. He was going to die from swallowing his own tongue.
“The pleasure is mine.” She had a smile on his face, looking delighted as she greeted everyone with head nods. “Thank you for inviting me, General Xuan Zhen.”
“You three can go change right there-“
“There—“ Feng Xin blushed, voice scratching on his own throat. “There aren’t separate dressing rooms for ladies. I apologize.” Of course there weren’t. Despite what Ling Wen might think of him, it wasn’t like he thought women were worse fighters or less efficient. They were too terrifying to work with, that was all.
“No matter.” Mu Qing dismissed it quickly. “Pei Ming and me will change first, then Rain Master and Ling Wen can go in.”
“You’re changing too?” Feng Xin was not proud of his voice, no sir. It sounded like a distressed squeal even through the fog of his despair.
“You think I’m going to ruin my robes in this atrocity of a training ground? There’s dust everywhere!”
“I’m not complaining! Why do you have to think I’m always complaining! I’m not!” He waved his hands around like a madman. That was the sort of thing that Mu Qing did to him, especially after imagining him wearing Nan Yang colors.
Luckily, their audience seemed amused. Looking sideways, he could see both current and former elemental masters hiding their chuckles behind their sleeves.
Mu Qing said to trust him, so he did. “You heard him. Go change and meet us back here.”
Afterwards, he eyed the six people in front of him, some fidgeting, some staring at him expectantly, and not for the first time this week he wondered what the fuck he did for his life to end up like this.
His thoughts were interrupted by Mu Qing raising his chin and nodding encouragingly towards Feng Xin.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
“I already taught the basics to you, so go train in the corner until I can match them to you, okay?” He asked Shi Qingxuan and Black Water, who retreated for the back.
It seemed ridiculous to teach the basics to Pei Ming and Mu Qing, but there they stood anyway. He felt himself fall easily into the rhythm of the routine, vigilant both to the two men training by the corner, and to the two women — fuck, there were women in his courtyard, there were women in his courtyard! — who were quite new to everything. Having both generals there seemed to help, though, as both Rain Master and Ling Wen seemed to take cues from the martial gods beside them, fixing most of their stances without Feng Xin needed to say a thing. Ling Wen did this like she did everything, with a vicious drive not to be left behind; Yushi Huang, however, seemed to be having fun.
Then it was time for the pair exercises, and Feng Xin had a hard time deciding which should be the pairings. He changed things so He Xuan would be paired up with Mu Qing and Pei Ming with Shi Qingxuan, since there was no way in hell that it would be safe to put He Xuan and Pei Ming against each other. Everything went well until Feng Xin told them to switch do dodging exercises, and partners.
“You can’t possibly— This is not—“ Watching Pei Ming get that red in the face gave Feng Xin some measure of satisfaction, he had to admit it. But only on the inside. “I can’t possibly hit a woman!”
“But you won’t be hitting, she’s the one who’s going to try to kick your fat ass to the ground.” Feng Xin explained. “We need to even out the pairs in one skilled and one non-skilled participant for this.”
“Can’t I be paired with Ling Wen?” He bordered on despair.
“No, because Ling Wen is going to be paired with me.” He explained. “I’m not evil enough to deny her the chance to hit me. Why, are you scared?”
Yes, Pei Ming’s eyes said. He was terrified.
“If this continues, I may being to feel unwanted.” It was a lie, but it worked. As soon as Yushi Huang said that, Pei Ming sputtered. Take that, God of Love. Die like Feng Xin, swallowing your tongue.
They walked together to the side to work together, she attacking and he dodging. Mu Qing would take both Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan — not that hard of a job to take two newbies as a martial god — and he stuck with Ling Wen. She managed to strike him three times, and by the look of satisfaction in her face, it was enough for her to count it was a win.
“We’re done here.” Feng Xin declared after Shi Qingxuan helped a still laughing Rain Master up on her feet. “You’re dismissed. Good job, everyone.”
He received a few ‘thank you’s’ from the proper people as they went back to change. Ling Wen was the first to leave, hurriedly saying she had a meeting to attend to and she was late.
“Black Water.” Rain Master called for him as soon as she left the dressing room, Shi Qingxuan a step behind. “Are your domains limited to the seas?”
He Xuan stopped in shock, and so did Feng Xin. How did she know? Had Ling Wen or Pei Ming heard it? Amongst the storm of his thoughts, she kept speaking:
“Would you mind aiding me in something? I have a need of transposing a river for quite some time now, but doing it by directing the rain is too slow for my current need.”
He Xuan looked at Shi Qingxuan’s face expectantly, receiving an enthusiastic smile in return. Blinded by it, Feng Xin was sure, he merely answered, “Of course. Send for me and I’ll answer, Rain Master.”
“Thank you, Black Water. I’ll be glad to receive you both for a visit.” She bowed her head and turned to walk away.
Feng Xin took one look at her retreating form and made a quick decision, allowing Shi Qingxuan and Black Water to leave unimpeded.
“Rain Master!”
The woman turned again, watching him. “Yes, General?”
He walked towards her. “Have you noticed? The Heavenly Capital was rebuilt differently than before.”
“Oh.” She looked around as if just noticing it. He wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t observed it before. She barely spent any time at the Heavenly Capital at all. “I suppose it was.”
“Since you’re already all the way here, why don’t you take a look around?” He waited for the right time, and it soon arrived when Pei Ming exited the dressing room, distractedly tying up his belt around his waist. “Better yet, take a guide with you! Pei Ming, come here!”
There was no escape without being unforgivably rude to the Rain Master, which was a big no-no, so Pei Ming approached them stiffly. “Rain Master. General Ju Yang.”
The bastard. Feng Xin smiled. He would have a good time fucking with him. “I was just telling the Rain Master how we built the Heavenly Capital differently this time.”
Pei Ming seemed to catch that he was doing something, he just wasn’t sure what it was. “That is true.” He turned his face to the lady beside him. “We thought appropriate to redo it to get rid of Jun Wu’s influence.”
“I think it’s high time that Lord Rain Master is re-introduced to the new Heavenly Capital, don’t you think?” It was hard to refrain from smirking.
“…sure.” Pei Ming agreed, cautious and confused, eyes averting to the woman once again. “You will enjoy the plum gardens, I’m sure, Lord Rain Master. It’s in full-bloom now.”
“Why don’t you show her?”
It clicked in Pei Ming’s head. His horror was barely concealed behind a curtain of anger. Feng Xin made a victory dance on the inside.
“I—“
“You were, after all, one of the head planners, along with Ling Wen.” Feng Xin insisted. “So who better than to show our dear Rain Master around?”
Pei Ming looked from Feng Xin to Rain Master, and then back. “I’m sure Lord Rain Master has more important things to do—“
“You said I would enjoy the plum gardens.” Was her interjection, placid as always. “And I am already here.” She turned to Feng Xin. “Thank you for the thoughtful suggestion, Nan Yang. I accept.”
Blanching, Pei Ming had no other choice but to follow protocol, all the while mentally cursing every generation of Feng Xin’s family to ever put their feet in the mortal realm and beyond. Satisfaction curled in Feng Xin’s stomach as he watched the retreating figures walking beside each other, all the while Pei Ming threw daggers through glares towards a smug-looking Feng Xin.
“I didn’t think you could be this evil.” Mu Qing’s voice startled him.
He was smirking. Feng Xin almost swallowed his tongue again.
“Usually I’m not.” He agreed. “But Pei Ming deserves it.”
“Yes, he does.” Mu Qing agreed easily. It should be weird, but it felt right.
They ended up sitting at the corner benches, sharing cold tea. It was too warm for him to enjoy hot tea. Silence spread between them, curling like a cat underneath the sun, comfortable and soft.
“Thank you.” Feng Xin said, placing his cup down.
“Huh?” Mu Qing looked distracted, just then focusing on him.
“I said thank you.” Feng Xin emphasized it. “Without you here, this would have been a disaster.”
“Mn.” Mu Qing was smirking behind his teacup. “You owe me.”
“I do.” He agreed, fully turning towards him. “What did you say to Pei Ming and Ling Wen to convince them to come?” He thought about it. “What about Rain Master?”
He kept on smirking. “You’re never gonna know.”
“Come on!” He pressed his shoulder again’s Mu Qing’s, shoving him gently. “You have to tell me.”
“No.”
“How am I going to pay you back if you don’t tell me what I owe you, huh?” He blinked slowly, looking down. Shit, but all that tension was finally lodging on his shoulders, making everything too tight, painfully tight, the pull from his shoulder blades steadily rising to his neck and head.
“What’s wrong?” Mu Qing frowned. “Your voice has been weird for a while now.”
“I.” He considered lying, but things had been so good between them lately, hadn’t them? “I have a headache.”
“You were tight as a bowstring this whole time.”
Feng Xin chuckled. “Wouldn’t you be? It was my palace on the line.”
“Hm.” Mu Qing topped for a moment before touching his shoulder. “Come here, turn your back to me.”
“What? Why?” Feng Xin did it anyway, looking over his shoulder to Mu Qing.
“Robes off, come on.” He hurried untying his sash, making him blush.
“Mu Qing!”
“Come on, I don’t have all time in the world.” He insisted. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
“That’s besides the point!”
It wasn’t, apparently, and soon enough Feng Xin was laying on the bench on his stomach, naked from the waist up, while Mu Qing’s hands hovered over his back.
It took a while, but Mu Qing’s soft energy found the problem spot. Feng Xin expected him to use qi to redirect the issue somewhere it could unravel on its own.
Instead, the soft pads of his fingers found Feng Xin’s skin, and from then on, he was lost. Everything he had, everything he was, undone by the feeling of fingers pressing on his stiff muscles, firmly but carefully loosening them up layer by layer.
If the first touch unmade him, the next tore a frankly inhuman sound from his chest.
“Mu Qing—“ He tried, cursing in between breaths. “You don’t have to—“ He shook his head. “I can find a healer.”
“Healers in Heaven are stupid.” He sounded displeased. “They will just tell you to eat something with Yin energy and send you on your way. Like spinach can undo these.” He pressed on a particularly sore point over his shoulder blade, tearing another half-distressed, half-delighted sound from the Nan Yang General.
“Still.” He insisted, mind floating through all the protocols they were breaking. “Still. This is beneath your ranking. You don’t have to—“
“I did this a million times, though, didn’t I?” There was a tinge of something that Feng Xin was afraid to name in Mu Qing’s voice. “For Dianxia and you.”
It was true. Back when Mu Qing was a servant, his duties involved taking care of Dianxia’s well-being in any way that he could. Sometimes, when Feng Xin was particularly whiny, or when the pain struck him into silence, Mu Qing would extend some of that care to Feng Xin as well. He remembered fondly trying to bicker with him while he was turned into a puddle of goo at a random inn’s bed after a particularly nasty job for Dianxia. Mu Qing teased and teased him, back then, but Feng Xin couldn’t even answer properly, literally struck dumb by his hands undoing knots on his back.
“You did.” Feng Xin smiled, melting against the bench. “But you don’t have to, anymore.”
“I know I don’t have to.” Mu Qing’s voice sounded indignant, haughty. Feng Xin repressed a shiver. “But, as you said, we are friends.” Feng Xin was sure Mu Qing was blushing behind him, but he was not going to ruin it by looking. “You trust your friends. I take care of mine. Even if it’s something like this.” Another hard press, another groan. He was dough under Mu Qing’s hands, he didn’t give a shit what shape he was being kneaded into, as long as he didn’t stop.
“Do you do that to many friends?” Something ugly curled inside Feng Xin’s throat, slowly making its way down to his chest. It felt like dark sludge, like poison, eating away his insides. It was supposed to be a light tease. Fuck.
“Of course.” Mu Qing’s voice was filled with sarcasm. “All two of them.”
That shouldn’t make Feng Xin happy. He wanted Mu Qing to have friends, he wanted him well and for his life to be filled with good people who wished him well just like Feng Xin did. Still, there was no stopping him from relaxing again at that information. Still, a knot loosened inside his gut, slowly smoothing over.
Mu Qing only stopped when Feng Xin had melted completely, unable to move a muscle. When the fingers finished, they moved up along his neck and scalp, chasing away the last of his headache by hand. Feng Xin wasn’t embarrassed to say he was probably purring.
“You’re too good to me.” He mumbled, half out of his mind. “Too good, Mu Qing.”
“Mn. True.” He didn’t stop, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice.
Feng Xin wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. When he woke up, Mu Qing was still there, sitting beside him.
“Fell ‘sleep. S’rry.” He made an effort to sit up. Between a yawn and a stretch, he saw Mu Qing looking at his chest, a weird expression on his face. “You’re not counting my freckles too, are you?”
Mu Qing was startled into averting his eyes from Feng Xin’s chest to his eyes, frowning. “What? No. Why would I do such a stupid thing?”
Feng Xin smiled, and then chuckled, relieved. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand as he answered. “Dunno. People have been doing that. ‘S weird.”
Mu Qing hummed. “Have they, now?”
He nodded, yawning again. Shit, Mu Qing’s massage got him good. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in forever. “Mm-mm. Rain Master even tricked me into taking my shirt off to count, but she couldn’t finish.”
“She did what?”
“Shh, shh.” Feng Xin’s fingers found Mu Qing’s lips, making him snap his jaw shut. “Don’t get mad. You’re gonna undo all your work, don’t. Don’t get mad.” He let his head rest back on the wall behind him and shut his eyes, yawning. “I’ll let you count my freckles, even.”
“Idiot.” Despite the insult, Mu Qing sounded calmer. “I don’t need to count your stupid freckles.”
“Why not?” He sighed. “Everyone else seems to be doing it. Don’t ask me, fuck if I know why.”
“Is it bothering you?” He sounded… thoughtful. It was nice.
“Hm. I don’t know. Kinda?” He paused, really thinking about it. “I’m not good at reading people.”
“You don’t say.” Mu Qing’s voice carried amusement.
“Come on.” Feng Xin bumped their arms. “It throws me into a loop.”
“Everything that’s not on your stupid protocols throws you into a loop, Feng Xin.”
His breath caught. He liked hearing Mu Qing say his name like that, with exasperated fondness. “People are complicated, okay? That’s why we have rules!”
“Sure.” The sun could rise and set behind that smile and Feng Xin wouldn’t even notice its light. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
Feng Xin bumped their arms again, enjoying the peace.
“Seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty six.”
“What?” He frowned.
“You have seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty six freckles on your body.” Mu Qing wasn’t looking at him.
Something warm and thick took hold of his chest, like caramel pouring from his heart and filling his whole chest cavity. “You—“ It was kinda hard to breathe. “You counted my freckles?”
“Mm-mm.”
“I.” Think, Feng Xin, think. For once in your life, use your brain. “Why?”
Mu Qing shrugged. “Meditating is boring, especially when you’re nineteen.”
“So you.” He cleared his throat. Stupid tea. “You counted my freckles.”
“The state preceptor told us that as long as our focus was on a single thing, we’d be able to cultivate just fine.” He answered like it didn’t matter. Like it was fickle thing, that he was basically the only witness to everything that Feng Xin was and lived throughout his eight-hundred-plus years of life.
“So you focused on me?” He couldn’t help the smirk from blooming on his face, especially with all that heat squirming inside of him, trying to grow but finding no more space inside Feng Xin to do so. Soon it’d pour out of him, he knew. “Little ol’ me?”
“There’s nothing little about you, Feng Xin.” Mu Qing only seemed to understand what he said when Feng Xin’s smirk grew. He flushed. “That’s not what I meant! I meant you’re large, and loud, and you occupy all available space at all times—“
“I get it, I get it.” Feng Xin took him out of his misery and clapped Mu Qing’s shoulder lightly. “I still think it’s—“
“Don’t say it, Feng Xin, I swear to everything that’s holy—“
“—sweet.”
They held each other’s eyes for a moment. He could see the sky turning a shade of pale pinkish-orange reflected on Mu Qing’s eyes. The breeze caught a strand of Mu Qing’s hair and blew it across his face. Feng Xin’s hand moved before Mu Qing’s could, tucking the flyaway behind his ear.
“I should go back.” Mu Qing’s voice broke the silence softly. “The sun is already setting, I’ve been here for too long.”
Feng Xin nodded, moving away from him, still holding a smile. “If you see Pei Ming and Rain Master walking around, please call me on my private communication, okay?” He stretched and scratched his chest. Shit, he almost forgot he didn’t have his robes on. Flushing, Feng Xin reached for the discarded fabric, wrapping it around himself while he spoke to make it less awkward— “I need an accurate description of Pei Ming’s face and I don’t trust anybody else to do it.”
Mu Qing smiled. The sun meant nothing. “I’ll do my best, General.”
Aaand he was back to swallowing his tongue. “Tha-thanks.”
Mu Qing turned and walked towards the exit, but stopped by the door. With one hand on the threshold, he turned to look at Feng Xin from over his shoulder casually, as if that didn’t give Feng Xin’s heart somersaults. “Yes?”
“… nothing.” Mu Qing decided, eyes intense. “See you around, Feng Xin.”
He left and Feng Xin was once again alone to deal with the wild rhythm of his beating heart.
As things were, he ended up in Puqi Shrine. Crimson Rain wanted to take Dianxia on a trip somewhere, and Xie Lian didn’t want to leave Puqi shrine unattended now, and it would be awful advertisement to allow ghosts to run it while he was away. Who knew what sort of trouble they would get into without supervision?
So, there Feng Xin was, house-sitting.
He did his fill. Swiped, cleaned, cooked soup and handed it to the beggars who came by every day for food. He got rid of incense dust, restocked candle and incense boxes. Anything to keep himself from thinking about—
Pei Xu arrived by sundown. If Feng Xin was surprised, it quickly vanished because the young man started helping him serve the rest of the soup and wash up as if he always did it.
It was way into zíshi that everyone was gone and everything was clean. Pei Xu grabbed a pickle jar and went outside, leaving Feng Xin alone.
Well. Fuck him too, cause Feng Xin was o ascetic and he was going to drink his ass off to forget all about—
He heard whispering outside and looked out of the window to check. Pei Xu sat on the front porch with Ban Yue, both staring at the starry sky.
And, truly. After Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan, after the lava swallowing him up when he thought he and Dianxia wouldn’t even come back for him—
Forgiveness was such a tough thing. Tougher than any punch Feng Xin could ever throw.
He waited until Pei Xu left to go sit beside Ban Yue, hoping to Heavens that she wouldn’t just retreat into her pickle jar again. He was already drunk, he didn’t need to be alone as well.
Thankfully, she stayed, even as he finished yet another jug of wine.
“You know what?” He said, making an effort to keep his voice down. She was such a flighty, frightened thing. “We should take a walk. Wanna take a walk?”
The ghost shrugged. So he did the reasonable thing and grabbed her pickle jar, leaving it open as he walked.
Crimson Rain had planted an orchard on a hill behind the shrine, somewhat hidden underneath the taller trees of the forest. It was a nice place, and the plums, like Pei Ming told Lord Rain Master, were, indeed, in bloom.
He settled the pickle jar gently and sat beside it, eyes on the beautiful falling petals around them. It took a moment, but soon he saw Ban Yue’s silhouette leaning on one of the trees, hugging her legs closer.
He shut his eyes, just for a moment. When he opened them, he caught her staring at his face, a blank, curious look in her eyes.
“You’re not counting my freckles, are you?”
Ban Yue ducked her head behind her knees, embarrassed. Shit.
“I. I don’t care! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“
“Pei Ming asked Pei Xu.” Her voice rang soft and low on his ears. “I thought I could help.”
“It’s.” He pinched the skin over the beginning of his nose, between his eyes. “Never mind.” Somewhat unsettled, he turned to his side, facing her while still lying down. “Hey. Do you know why?”
“Why… what?”
“Why they’re counting my freckles.”
Ban Yue shook her head. “No.”
Feng Xin sighed, shifting so he was belly up, staring at the sky framed by the flowers. They were so pretty. Elegant and haughty, like—
“But I think it has to do with General Hua’s change in cultivation.”
If he had had anything in his mouth, Feng Xin was sure he would have spit it all up. “Dianxia’s change in what now?”
Ban Yue hesitated. “General Hua married the Ghost King.”
“Sure.” Feng Xin encouraged her to keep speaking.
“Abstinence is no longer an option.” He could only see her eyes framed by her knees and hair. “So, General Hua started a new cultivation path a while ago. One that does not get in the way of his happiness.”
“He did?” Feng Xin thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. “Good. I mean. Good for him. Wasn’t Crimson Rain mad, though? He was always so insistent about giving ‘gege’ his spiritual energy himself.”
The girl’s eyes lifted in a way that suggested she was smiling behind the barrier of her legs. “He was, a little bit, I think. But after speaking to General Xuan Zhen, they decided to start cultivating together and—“
“Wait, hold up.” Feng Xin got up so fast, he got dizzy. “Fuck. Shit.” And then the horror of swearing in front of a young girl. “Shit. Sorry! Crap.”
She just giggled.
“You mean to say—“ He stopped himself. “Dianxia and General Xuan Zhen both changed their cultivation path?”
Ban Yue nodded her head. “General Hua wasn’t so sure at first, but he wanted to spend more time with General Xuan Zhen, so he accepted his proposal to start cultivating in a new path together.
“Did Mu— I mean— Did the general say what was his reason for changing paths?”
The girl shook her head no.
Mu Qing was powerful, he didn’t need to change paths to gather even more power, unless…
… unless he wanted to break his vows.
Feng Xin had a terrible panicking moment where he tried to remember and review every interaction that Mu Qing had with other gods ever since the fall of the Heavenly Capital. He didn’t notice anything amiss with those, but he wasn’t the best people reader. He needed help, and the person who usually helped him figure out stuff about people was also the person he needed to figure stuff out about, so he needed a different strategy.
While he struggled, he noticed the girl stare intently at his face again, eyes narrowing.
“Guess.” He told her. At her hesitation, Feng Xin sighed. “Guess a number and I’ll tell you if you’re close to the number of freckles I have or not.”
Ban Yue smiled, and they started treating it like a game.
Once she was tired and retreated to her pickle jar, Feng Xin made his way back to the shrine, laying down to sleep, dreams consisting of variations of images where Mu Qing kissed just about everyone in Heaven.
Everyone but him.
Drowsy and with a shitty humor, Feng Xin had no time for mistakes.
He needed to infiltrate.
Entering the Xuan Zhen palace wasn’t difficult. He did that before. All he needed to do was make himself less tall and bulky, transform so his features looked more haughty and delicate like Mu Qing’s — he could swear the man chose his deputies by how closely matched their looks were with his own — and act like a little shit. Boom. He was in.
(Actually, he was pretty sure that Mu Qing instructed his deputies to allow a few spies from other palaces in and fed them the information he wanted them to think he knew. That knowledge made him feel itchy underneath the Xuan Zhen high collar.)
(Regardless, it worked on his favor, so he wasn’t complaining.)
He did some menial tasks as quick as possible to get rid of them, just so he could be the one in the guard rotation between youshi and xushi time, when Mu Qing was usually inside his office working with the door and windows open.
“You.” The one responsible for delegating tasks that week pointed at Feng Xin. “Door duty.”
He nodded, trying not to look too excited at that.
“Hey.” The guy called him back. Feng Xin stopped, stiff. His heart on his throat; had he been found? What gave him away? Was it the hair? He knew he should have gone a little lighter, but to be discovered this quickly—
A hand touched his back, placing something there. “Don’t forget your talisman.”
“Oh.” Feng Xin nodded. “Thanks.”
Door duty, as he knew, was not something that Xuan Zhen’s deputies were running to do, but at least they didn’t abhor it like Pei Ming’s deputies. It was just boring, according to them; nothing ever happened unless Feng Xin himself barged into the palace demanding something. That, he quickly learned, was their only entertainment for decades of work.
Feng Xin made his way to Mu Qing’s office door, ready for a few hours of profound boredom, waiting for something that was equally probable to happen as it was not to happen.
Distracted as he was, he almost didn’t notice steps approaching.
“Ask the kitchen for tea to be delivered to my room, please.” Mu Qing’s voice cur through his thoughts. “I’ll be retiring for the night. You are dismissed.”
Feng Xin nodded, waiting for Mu Qing to leave the office and retire in his own chambers before heading to the main hall to pass the order along.
Well. That was a waste of his time.
Turning a corner, though, the hair on the back of his neck stood. A shadow to the edges of his sight, half-hidden in a corner, beneath a small alcove around the window. Feng Xin didn’t hesitate. He didn’t have a bow or arrows, but the daggers attached to his belt were more than enough: he threw a couple and tried to contain his heartbeat when the shadow easily dodged them. Shit. Why would there be a trespasser in Mu Qing’s palace now? Good thing he was there, though, or else—
“Bo Qian! What are you doing?” The voice of the head deputy didn’t distract him enough. Bo Qian was a stupid name, he knew, but it was all he had.
“There’s an intrud—“ He tried to urge the other man against the person invading the palace, to no avail.
“Shut up!” He received a slap to the back of his neck, an unthinkable humiliation that finally had him stopping. “We are sorry, general Ming Guang. Bo Qian is new and will be properly punished for attacking you.” The young man bowed deeply, and his hand forced Feng Xin to bow as well.
Feng Xin’s hear hammered even louder, a rush taking over his years. There was something coming up, something roaring for his attention, but he shoved it down, down, down—
“Hah, no problem. I suppose it probably looks very suspicious to see me sneaking around here every night.” Every night, every night, sneaking around here every night. “Is Mu Qing in his bedroom already?”
“Yes, general, Xuan Zhen has already retired.”
“Great, so I’ll meet him there myself.” His voice sounded so at ease. “You don’t need to leave anyone at the door, you know how noisy these things can get.” Pei Ming had the audacity to wink at them.
“Of course, General.”
Feng Xin watched Pei Ming’s retreating back as he walked towards Mu Qing’s room, something slowly falling off of its hinges inside of him.
“Hey, Bo Qian!” Feng Xin almost didn’t hear the deputy calling his fake name, his feet guiding him away. “Oy! Where are you going?”
Feng Xin didn’t answer. He found his way inside Mu Qing’s empty study, a spiritual flame on his hand lighting the way.
There, he didn’t bother to be careful, to the deputy’s absolute horror. He just looked around the files, eyes scanning them quickly until he found—
“Dual cultivation.” The deputy read over his shoulder, probably also curious. “Well. It’s not like we didn’t know the General changed his cultivation path, right?”
“How long?”
“Eh?”
“How long,” Feng Xin stared at the young man, trying and failing to contain the volcano bursting inside of him. “Has general Ming Guang been visiting the Xuan Zhen after hours?”
The deputy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a month? Come on, let’s get out of here before General catches up snooping on his things—“
Feng Xin took off the sash with Xuan Zhen’s colors, throwing it to the ground.
“I quit.”
He left the palace, although he had no idea how he found the exit. He was pretty sure someone was yelling his fake name, but he paid it no mind. He didn’t know where to go, he didn’t know which way was north.
Mu Qing was having an affair with Pei Ming. Mu Qing was letting Pei Ming touch him. Not only touch him, but kiss him, bite him, touch his hair, smell his skin—
—he was there right now, in Mu Qing’s bedroom, smiling that slimy smile of his and taking his clothes off and—
The sound out of his throat was inhuman; so was his strength when he threw a punch over the first structure he saw, which happened to be the central fountain of the Heavenly City. It shattered, scattering dust, water and debris all around him, gathering the attention of all Officials around, which, luckily, weren’t that many.
When someone started to yell at him for making a mess, Feng Xin yelled back a “PUT IT ON PEI MING’S TAB!” and, under the violent crack of thunder on an otherwise clear sky, he descended.
Luckily, the first person he found on Ghost City was none other than the one he was looking for.
“Quan Yizhen!” He called out, a sword on his hand. His bow had no place in what he wanted. Two young men raised their heads from the menu that had been reading, surprised by the name called out like that. “Fight me!”
Quan Yizhen’s face immediately broke into a smile. “I’ll be right back, shixiong!”
Yin Yu looked like he was about to protest, but one look at Feng Xin and he shook his head. “Have fun.”
Feng Xin didn’t wait or didn’t stop, giving Quan Yizhen the same courtesy that he gave him right back. Quan Yizhen, however, didn’t seem to mind that at all. Blow after blow they dodged, blocked and attacked, making ill-advised ghosts scatter and cry out for their Chengzhu. He paid them no mind, although neither he nor Quan Yizhen were assholes enough not to care if they hurt them or not. Still, his focus was on the young god, who took every single one of his blows in stride.
They broke some stalls and a few roofs were missing some pieces as they continued on across the city, only stopping when they reached the empty space at the end of the town. There, without having to care about property damage or hurting other people, the fight got darker and darker, to the point where both panting and bloodied. Looking at Quan Yizhen in that light, he almost looked like Pei Ming. Or maybe that’s what Feng Xin wished for, at least. If it was true, this would feel much more satisfying.
That thought ended on a roar and he advanced over Quan Yizhen once more, only to be stopped by a voice.
“Nan Yang!” Yin Yu’s call echoed around them. “That is enough.”
For the first time since they started fighting, Feng Xin really looked. Quan Yizhen’s palm was slashed open, his brow was split, pouring blood over his eye, he was favoring his right side, the left probably injured. Not that Feng Xin was much better — he was pretty sure his fight shoulder was dislocated from blocking Quan Yizhen’s blows, not to mention all the slashes and bruises across his skin. And they could heal fast, yes, especially Quan Yizhen, who had Yin Yu’s help. But that was besides the point.
“I’m.” He hesitated, looking from one man to the other. “I’m. I didn’t mean—“
“I know.” Yin Yu conceded, walking closer to Quan Yizhen to help support him with an arm around his shoulder. “It’s OK.”
It wasn’t OK. Nothing was OK. Not since—
“I’m sorry.” He said honestly, searching for Quan Yizhen’s eyes.
The boyish smile he threw Feng Xin only made him feel guiltier. “Don’t apologize. This was fun. We should do it again some time.”
“After you recover.” Yin Yu admonished.
Quan Yizhen pouted. “Yes, shixiong.”
“And I suppose you both are aware that you have to pay me for the destruction and the distress you caused my citizens?” For a ghost who only had one eye, Crimson Rain bordered on omniscient.
Feng Xin was sure that the only reason he was alive had a name and a surname, and those spelled Xie Lian.
“Oh, Crimson Rain!” Quan Yizhen waved, smiling his bloody smile towards the ghost. “Sorry we destroyed your citizen’s things. I’ll pay for the damages.”
“You shouldn’t pay for what you did not cause.” Crimson Rain’s eyes were set on Feng Xin with a hatred that knew no bounds. He probably still resented Feng Xin for breathing on the direction of Xie Lian eight hundred years ago.
Fuck this. Fuck them all. With a last look to Quan Yizhen and Yin Yu, who both assured him with small smiles, he averted his eyes back to Hua Cheng.
“Put it on Pei Ming’s tab.”
Crimson Rain clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
With that, Feng Xin left. He thought fighting someone would make him feel better, but it only made him feel even shittier. Worse, he was almost sure he pulled a muscle in his fight with Quan Yizhen, and it hurt like a motherfucker. The healers, just like Mu Qing said, told him to eat spinach and meditate.
Fuckers.
His leg bounced up and down on his seat. He was at a Heavenly Council Meeting, watching some minor martial god make a fuss about his territory being targeted by same ghosts over and over again, I think someone is sabotaging me, they have to be! Like he was important enough to be sabotaged and like the ghosts he was talking about weren’t aquatic ghosts following the abundant fluvial canals that covered his tiny territory—
The doors opened just a sliver, catching his attention. Pei Ming snuck into the meeting, late. Mu Qing was right behind him, both looking like they were trying to blend in and avoid catching the attention of the crowd.
Feng Xin felt felt the blood rush to his ears, thundering around his head.
It took another half a dian’s time for the ridiculous issue to be resolved. Only then Ling Wen took a step forward, a scroll on her hands. “Does anyone else wishes to bring any other issues to the Council? Otherwise, we’ll close this meeting.”
“I have an issue to bring up.”
Just his voice made Feng Xin want to punch something. But he had to watch as Pei Ming took a step forward and started to speak.
“The other day, someone brought down the fountain that stood at the Central Square of the Heavenly Capital. Apparently, whoever that was, they said to put it on my ‘tab’.” He announced. “Then, just this morning, I received a note from Crimson Rain, informing me that compensations for the partial destruction of Ghost City were also put on my ‘tab’ last night.”
“What’s the problem?” Someone asked, confused.
“The problem is, I never left the Heavenly Capital last night. General Xuan Zhen can attest to that. So who the hell is going around, destroying stuff and putting it all in my name?”
“Just don’t pay it.” Lang Qianqiu shrugged. “Crimson Rain can’t enforce you on a debt that isn’t yours to begin with.”
“Oh, but he insisted it was. When I talked to him, Crimson Rain said it was a Heavenly Official who did it, and so, someone from Heaven had to pay.”
“And how do we know he’s not just stirring up trouble?” Lang Qianqiu insisted. “He is a Ghost King, after all. Maybe he just wants to throw us against each other to weaken us.”
“As much as it pains me to admit, I do not believe Crimson Rain has any intention to do anything against Heaven at this point.” Ling Wen interrupted them. “It is an established fact that he would never do anything that might upset His Highness Xie Lian, and while a considerable number of us has wronged him—“ She looked around, seeing some winces spreading among the gods. “—there are still people he holds dear here.”
“So?” Pei Ming insisted, gathering attention back to him. “Who’s the fucker that has been throwing my name around?”
Feng Xin muttered his thoughts, thinking he wouldn’t be heard, but wishing he was.
His request was granted, apparently, because Pei Ming’s eyes zeroed on him. “Excuse me, General Nan Yang?”
Feng Xin stood up, energy bouncing through his whole body. “I said,” He raised his voice to be heard by all. “That you probably deserved it.”
Pei Ming’s usually friendly face morphed into anger. “General, in the name of our friendship, I’ll let that one slide.”
“Did I ask you to let anything slide?” Friendship, right. Good friends, they were, sneaking behind his back and taking his— “I said what I said, Ming Guang. Do with that what you will.”
“Feng Xin—“
“I did not give you permission to call me by anything but my title.” Feng Xin’s fingers were numb and cold; moving them was like touching sand right after lightning struck, painful electric sparks making his every nerve light up and roar.
“What the fuck are you on about, Nan Yang?” Pei Ming played right into it, as Feng Xin knew he would.
“Well, you go around fucking anything on two legs, of course karma’s bound to slap you in the face eventually.”
That did it. Pei Ming walked towards Feng Xin, throwing a punch, Feng Xin used the breach to finally fuck up the imbecile’s face up with his two good fists until they were raw and bloody—
It took at least five martial gods to separate them and hold them apart.
“What the fuck, Nan Yang? What do you want from me, ha?” Pei Ming screamed, just as lost to the brawl as Feng Xin was.
The sight of Mu Qing by Pei Ming’s side made something coil inside Feng Xin, something powerful and harsh, but no harsher than—
“I want you to go back to the whorehouse you should have never left!” Feng Xin yelled right back. But there was something strange. Something about his voice, like there were two, three, more of of them, like all the glass of the Martial Hall trembled at the same time—
“Feng Xin!” Dianxia’s voice brought him back, out from the entrance of the hall. He looked horrified, which only served to make Feng Xin even angrier, especially when Pei Ming finally stopped struggling against the arms holding him. “What in the Heavens is going on here?”
“Feng Xin.” It was Mu Qing, approaching him with the same hands that touched Pei Ming just moments before, and probably that morning, and last night too— “Stop this. I don’t know why you’re so angry, but cut it out now.” He hissed towards him, reproaching him like he was a child.
“Why should I? It’s not like he doesn’t deserve what’s coming to him.” Feng Xin’s voice, in return, was louder and louder, making Pei Ming’s eyes darken once more.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mu Qing frowned, impatient.
“With me? I’m fine. I’m peachy.” Feng Xin answered, his insides roaring, roaring— “Why is it always me? Is your boyfriend so perfect he can do no wrong?”
It was as if Mu Qing had been slapped on the face. “Feng Xin.” He said from parted lips. “Everyone, let go of him.” The martial gods around him hesitated. “I’m serious! There’s something wrong with his qi!”
“Are you sure?” Lang Qianqiu asked, grip still strong on Feng Xin’s arm.
“Yes, I’m sure, you idiot! I’ve known him for eight hundred years, I know what his qi feels like and it’s not this!”
“Maybe this is Crimson Rain’s doing after all, we should—“
“San Lang did no such thing.” Xie Lian approached. A hand gesture and they let go of Feng Xin, who straightened his robes, ignoring the worried looks from Mu Qing and Xie Lian. The energy crawling under his skin made him feel tight, like his flesh was too big for his body, like his bones were being unmade, reshaped. “Feng Xin, we need to get you to a healer.”
“No.”
“Stop being such a stubborn asshole!” Mu Qing’s voice carried an urgency that Feng Xin did not understand. “Feng Xin, there’s something wrong with—“ He reached for Feng Xin’s hand, and then stopped, mouth hanging open.
Xie Lian gasped as his eyes followed. “Feng Xin, your hands!”
He looked down. His hands, numb and hurting like a hundred needles were passing through them, were gray. They felt cold, dead. His wounds had stopped bleeding, knitting themselves like they were never even there in the first place. Dark claws grew from them.
That looked like—
“What, did the prissy princess hurt her hands on my face?” Pei Ming’s voice cut through, making Feng Xin zero his eyes on him again.
“Shut up.”
Pei Ming’s eyes were narrowed, his energy gathering around him, ready for a fight. “No, I don’t think I will. You said your fill, now it’s my turn. Let’s finish this like men.”
“Shut up.” Feng Xin felt it all coming back, crashing into him, barreling against his defenses—
“Pei Ming, you’re not helping.” Xie Lian hissed.
“Fuck that! He said it himself: he deserves whatever’s coming for him.” His mouth lifted into a smirk. “Karma hits fast, princess.”
“SHUT UP!”
Feng Xin wasn’t one. Feng Xin was many. He was a strand in the emptiness, breaking into two, and three, until his voice boomed two, three, five times louder than it should, his spirit tearing into so many strands that he felt like he was going to—
The last thing he heard was a loud cracking sound that shook the very foundations of the Martial Hall.
And then lightning struck, and Feng Xin was gone.
When he came back to himself, he was amongst the clouds. Thunder roared around him, deafening and too bright.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Shi Qingxuan’s face appeared on his line of sight, all smiles. “Get ready.”
“What is— ?” He held his head on his hands. It was pounding painfully. His cold hands helped, but only a tiny amount.
“Heavenly Tribulation.” Was that… He Xuan?
“Can’t be.” Feng Xin shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “Mine was… and you are…” Thinking, speaking, it all felt like walking through sludge.
“I’ve never seen a Heavenly Tribulation with three people either.” Shi Qingxuan seemed to understand him, somehow. “But it’s happening.”
He was trying to wake himself up, trying to understand what was actually happening, when panic seized his whole being.
“I don’t have my bow.” He tapped his whole body for a weapon. “I don’t have anything on me!”
“Were you with it before?” He Xuan asked, eyes trained on the clouds around them.
“Yes! I never leave my palace without my weapons, what the fuck?”
“If they’re not here,” Shi Qingxuan touched the back of his hand. “Then they’re not supposed to be.” He looked sheepish.
“What?” Feng Xin looked from one to the other, and then to the massive clouds steadily, impossibly, undeniably coming to them. He gaped and stared at his gray hands, cold dread settling in his gut. “So what? I just… die?”
“I don’t know, but figure it out soon.” Shi Qingxuan had a fan on his hand, Black Water had another. Of course they had. “It’s coming!”
Indeed, just after Shi Qingxuan stopped talking, lightning struck between them.
Feng Xin dodged once, twice. Lightning seemed to follow him wherever he went, there was no time to breathe or recalculate.
“He Xuan!” Shi Qingxuan yelled over the storm. “Raise the water, I’ll swirl the winds!”
“Hurry up!” He hopped from cloud to cloud without pause.
They worked well in tandem, it was visible even from his incessant jumping around. He Xuan raised a heavy body of water with the precision of a dance. He was calm and steady, patient even in the middle of a storm. Not that Black Water Sinking Ships had anything to be afraid of when it came to water. But then again, maybe he did. This was his Heavenly Tribulation too, after all.
Meanwhile, Shi Qingxuan danced with his fan in hand, eyes sharp and steps breezy. The winds heeded his call, first gently, then twirling faster and faster.
He and He Xuan moved together, syncing their efforts so the body of water was right in the middle of the wind swirl. The two combined mixed perfectly, like they were meant to be, rising to the skies until they were—
“A tornado.” Feng Xin said in awe, watching.
Unfortunately, that was all it took. Lightning struck again near his feet. Feng Xin dodged, but his jump hadn’t been planned as it should and he fell.
He barely had the time to shift the weight of his body before he felt the cyclone encircling him, the force of the air combined with the pull of the water sucking him in.
The force threw his body around mercilessly, cold and harsh like water should never be. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, even with his considerable strength. It wasn’t just He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan; it was the Heavenly Tribulation itself testing him. Daring him. To die or to conquer, there was nothing in between.
Feng Xin felt his hands prickle. He didn’t even need to look up to know what was going on. He felt the itch rise on the back of his throat, on the tip of his fingers. The tornado brought up memories like it brought up water, hitting him right in the face without a drop of regret.
Eight hundred years of memories flooded him, swirling around his being. He let it all swirl, round and round, until he saw a face. He tried to grab it, but it wasn’t possible. He tried again, another memory, the same face, but it kept passing him by, too quick for him to grasp.
This wasn’t a normal Heavenly Tribulation, he thought. He had no weapons, his physical strength meant nothing here. Thinking back, reaching into older times, Feng Xin pulled his legs up in a mocking of a meditating position — it was all he could do with all that wind pulling him around, anyway — and steadied his breath.
Mu Qing had focused on him when he was cultivating, hadn’t he? So he would repay the favor and settle his mind on him right then.
Pei Ming could eat his shit.
He pulled his memories like one passes threads on a silk weaver. One by one, Feng Xin selected Mu Qing’s face from every image, his scent from every scene, his presence from every sound, his skin from every touch. Everything else around him was muted as he recalled every second of every moment he lived alongside Mu Qing until those memories felt like an unmovable rock, the stable pillar he needed to stand on.
Feng Xin opened his eyes. He was steady and stable, standing right in the eye of the storm. He knew what he had to do. There was no time for the fear kicking in his gut, curling its long tail around his stomach.
Conquer or die. Conquer or die.
He wanted to live. He wanted to punch Pei Ming’s stupid mouth again. He wanted to see Mu Qing’s smile light up his heart like the light before the thunder—
The roar deafened him, static claiming his hair, light claiming his eyes. Everything about him was electric, moving, carrying over the energy through his body, through his memories, through his very core, electricity flowing from the gates of Heaven to the pits of Hell guided by his own body—
He screamed to the top of his lungs. He screamed until there was no air, until the pressure of the thunder made it impossible to force his legs to stay firm, a roar of pain, a roar of love, a roar to prove the heavens above that he was alive. He screamed until his voice roared louder than the screaming of the clouds around them.
The storm dissipated, clouds clearing up to a blue sky.
It was over.
They washed away on Black Water’s island, mostly due to the Ghost King’s bone dragons fondness of Shi Qingxuan, since He Xuan passed out.
Hua Cheng was waiting them there. He fed the fish some type of animal leg while he waited for them to walk to dry land.
Shi Qingxuan carried He Xuan until they both fell on the soft sand, panting. Feng Xin sat a few steps aside, eyes trained on the ocean.
Crimson Rain approached Black Water, touching the back of his hand. A moment later he moved to Shi Qingxuan, who dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“Don’t worry ‘bout me.” He said, still breathing hard. “’M fine. Feng Xin, he—“
Hua Cheng snorted and held Shi Qingxuan’s wrist as well. Feng Xin wondered if he realized that the only reason Hua Cheng hadn’t killed all of them like ants was because that might make Dianxia upset. That was probably the reason why he deigned to show a modicum of care towards Shi Qingxuan, anyway.
To his surprise, Crimson Rain also came to him, crouching by his side. He stared at Feng Xin’s hands, a look of displease in his face. “What?” Feng Xin asked. It was pure habit; he did not give a shit about his gray, dead arms.
“You’re dying.”
It… rang true.
“Where is Dianxia?”
“At the Heavenly Capital, cleaning up your mess.”
Ah. So that’s what he was there. Xie Lian couldn’t be in two places at once.
“Stinks.” He Xuan stirred from where he was laying on the soft sand. “Reeks.”
“Yes, he does.” Crimson Rain agreed.
“What?” Feng Xin frowned. “Are you talking about me?”
“You are covered in resentment.” Crimson Rain informed him.
“Jealousy.” He Xuan sat up, helped by Shi Qingxuan. “It’s deviating your qi.”
Crimson Rain pondered for a moment, something grave in his eye. “It’s going to eat your core and spit you out as a ghost.”
Oh. Well. It wasn’t just his hands that were numb, then. If a revelation like that couldn’t stir any feelings inside of him, then probably nothing could.
Maybe it was for the best. If he went back to feeling what he had been feeling, he’d probably fight Pei Ming to death, cause a war between the North and the South, and amplify the rift between him and—
Yes. It was for the best. If Feng Xin was a ghost, then he couldn’t ruin shit anymore. Mu Qing could take care of the South on his own, deserved it, even. Maybe he could redirect his followers and—
“Stop that.” He Xuan growled, yellow eyes surfacing in front of Feng Xin. He looked angry. He hadn’t looked angry around Feng Xin in a while now. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”
“What?” What’s going on?” Shi Qingxuan stood up, cleaning his clothes with a brush of wind.
“Distract him.” Black Water asked him and stood up. “Don’t let him go back to thinking… whatever the hell he was thinking.”
He and Crimson Rain took a few steps back, talking in low voices.
“Huh.” Shi Qingxuan clutched his wind fan. “Will talking help? I can talk!” He sat beside Feng Xin, who didn’t move. “So, our training worked, yay! Yes, it was a little unexpected for us to all… ascend? Is that the proper word? Feels wrong, you were already a god. But anyway! We ascended, and I’m pretty sure your teachings helped us, so thank you, Feng Xin!” He scratched his chin. “Well, I suppose I also have to thank you and Mu Qing for helping with Ling Wen and Pei Ming because without you, none of this would have been possible since they—“
Pei Ming ’s smug smile as he dismissed Feng Xin and the other deputy, sneaking around Xuan Zhen palace at night, heading straight to Mu Qing’s bedroom—
“Stop!” He Xuan screamed from where he was, looking alarmed. “What were you talking about? It’s getting worse!”
—lips upon lips, hands upon hips, a delighted sigh escaping Mu Qing ’s lips as Pei Ming let his hair loose—
“I-I don’t know!” His alarm also alarmed Shi Qingxuan, who looked distressed. “I talked about thanking him for our cultivation and about classes and—“
“He’s amounting too much energy.” Crimson Rain drew E-Ming with definite movements. “He needs to go.”
“Go?” Shi Qingxuan’s alarm grew. “What do you mean, go?” Looking from Crimson Rain to Feng Xin, he spread his arms, shaking his head. “No! I can’t let you do that!”
“Don’t get yourself involved in unnecessary things, Wind Master.” Crimson Rain took a few steps forward.
“He doesn’t even have a weapon to defend himself!” Shi Qingxuan insisted, eyes growing moist. Feng Xin supposed he had seen this scene before, and in that same island, too. “You can’t just kill him, Crimson Rain. Think about Xie Lian!”
“Dianxia wouldn’t want to watch his servant descend from godhood into ghosthood.” He pointed E-Ming towards Feng Xin. “There is no need to worry. In Dianxia’s honor, I will be merciful.”
“Crimson Rain,” He Xuan touched the other supreme’s arm, a significant look on his face. “There might be another way. He just re-ascended as the god of thunder, maybe there’s something there to explore and avoid—”
“We have no time.” Was his answer. “It’s annoying enough dealing with you, there is no space for another Calamity, and especially not one this unstable.” Calamity? Was it that bad? His mind felt like sludge, slowly hardening like clay. “Right now, he could have a mild headache and it would cause him to level a city. No one descends this quickly, we were afforded the time to control our resentment; he doesn’t have that time. He’s a bomb on the verge of exploding. Certainly you can see that’s where he’s heading, even without Tonglu Mountain, probably because he was already powerful to begin with.”
He Xuan watched Feng Xin with careful eyes. Feng Xin knew the ghost king held no lost love for him; still, there was some amount of respect between them.
He hesitated, but walked towards him and Shi Qingxuan. Then, he picked the newly ascended Wind Master by his waist and dragged him away from Feng Xin, clearing the way for Crimson Rain.
“No! Nonono, Hua Cheng, Crimson Rain, you can’t, you can’t—“ Poor Shi Qingxuan. He was so sensitive to violence, and yet happened to always be where the worst of it happened. “He Xuan, please! Please, let me go, let me stop him!” His cries sounded increasingly hysterical.
Feng Xin stared at E-Ming and blinked slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Apparently Hua Cheng was feeling generous enough to give Feng Xin a few last words. “For what?”
“Everything.” His voice sounded strange even to his ears, flat. “Turning you away. Abandoning Dianxia. Not saying anything when the other gods mocked him. This.” He stared at the single red eye in Crimson Rain’s face. “Dianxia will be sad that you had to kill me. I’m sorry.”
It was the first time Feng Xin saw Crimson Rain hesitate. “You better be.”
E-Ming struck down with the will of the god that none of them were completely immune to, the darkness of death carried by fate’s wheels—
—Feng Xin closed his eyes, waiting for it. That was for the better. It was for the better—
—the scent of lychee oil and goat milk cream flooded his nostrils, sun poking through the clouds, blinding him—
He faintly heard voices, harsh and clipped, but he couldn’t pay them no mind, not when his whole being alight in pain.
Feng Xin fell down on the sand, clutching his chest and groaning in pain. He could hear the thunder roaring in the distance, approaching them at a fast pace.
Soft hands and lychees, Feng Xin felt someone cradling his face gently, so gently. A voice was speaking to him, urgent and low, and he made an effort to hear, but his ears could only pick up the crack of the thunder.
“I knew it! I knew it was all a plan! What, Black Water, is your plan to isolate and kill every god one by one?” Pei Ming, that voice was Pei Ming. Why— why did he smell like lychee, who gave him the right to touch—
Thunder broke from Feng Xin’s chest in waves, like a tsunami taking shape, three, two, one. He could hear the people around him screaming, someone calling his name.
And then.
Nothing.
He was startled awake by the sound of bells.
He opened his eyes feeling strangely hollow. The Martial Hall’s ceiling was still broken, the Hall somewhat cleaned, but still in disarray.
Feng Xin tilted his head forward from where it had been hanging limply. Xie Lian sat on the former Heavenly Emperor throne, looking strangely gloomy.
To his sides, all of the customary gods, all looking at him. Some of them were whispering. Something snarky or downright mean, he knew. But looking from one side of the Hall to the other made, something caught his attention. His own hands, purple-ish and gray, now had claws. And that wasn’t the only change.
On each of his wrists, dark lines written in sygils he knew too well from observing Xie Lian.
Cursed shackles.
“General Nan Yang.” Xie Lian’s voice echoed through the hall, softly shushing the parallel gossip. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
“I… ascended?” He tried. Xie Lian nodded. “He Xuan said I was god of thunder. But that’s impossible.”
“Three gods ascended on that day and one god changed domains. Or, to be more accurate, one god added a domain into his already existing one.” Xie Lian explained.
“Four people?” Feng Xin blinked, surprise swimming through the thick fog around his self.
Xie Lian nodded. “Yin Yu ascended as Earth Master, Shi Qingxuan as Wind Master, Black Water Sinking Ships ascended as Water Master and you, General Nan Yang, added the elemental power of thunder to your domains.” He paused. “But only you, Black Water and Wind Master shared a calamity. Yin Yu was with His Highness Quan Yi Zhen at the time.”
“No… fire?” It was the only element missing.
Xie Lian’s face did something familiar to Feng Xin. He was about to tell a half-truth. “The Fire Master ascended, but he chose not to stay and banished himself back to the mortal realm.”
Crimson Rain. Xie Lian’s voice only acquired that tone when it was about Hua Cheng.
“Please, tell us what else you remember.”
“There was… it was all so loud.” He put both hands on his head. “We ended up on Black Water’s domain, so his bone fish dragged us back to the shore. Crimson Rain was waiting there. I suppose he was trying to make sure we were not dead, since that would have made you upset.”
Xie Lian’s lips retreated to a straight line. “And then?”
“They said I smelled bad.” Feng Xin narrowed his eyes. “Like…” Jealousy “…resentment.”
A few gasps around him. More whispers, some harsher than others. Urgency grew like a wave in the Hall.
“Did you feel anything different?”
Feng Xin avoided Xie Lian’s voice. “No.”
“Feng Xin.” Xie Lian snapped. “Please. We need to know the truth. Pei Ming said—“
Electricity sparked around Feng Xin, crackling loudly. A handful of officials jumped back, startled.
“The shackles aren’t containing him!”
“Somebody, quick, knock him out!”
“Where is Pei Ming?”
“Silence!” Xie Lian stood up. It seemed like after two years, people had already forgotten who got rid of Jun Wu. “Feng Xin, what’s going on? You never reacted to Pei Ming’s name like this. I know you are not friends, but you are not in bad terms either.” Xie Lian walked down the stairs of the throne, breaking all protocol. Didn’t he know doing that would work against him? “What is going on?” His voice softened, hand reaching for Feng Xin’s shoulder.
Feng Xin shook his head. “You should have let Crimson Rain kill me.”
More whispers. Feng Xin was so tired.
Xie Lian looked so disappointed. It was hard to look at him. “The healers said the resentment you’re harboring is transforming your golden core into ghost ashes.” He informed Feng Xin, crouching in front of him to be eye-level with him. “I went to find our Guoshi. He said the last Thunder Master ascended way back, before Jun Wu managed to depose him. He was the first the Heavenly Emperor ambushed, because without him, the others would be weaker.”
Sounded like Elemental Gods had some sort of connection among them. Feng Xin hoped that wasn’t the case. “Why now?”
“We don’t know.” Dianxia shook his head. “Fate. Luck. Call it whatever you want.”
Feng Xin snorted, thinking about Mu Qing for a fleeting moment. “I don’t believe in those.”
“Well, it apparently believes in you.” Xie Lian straightened his posture. “The first Thunder Master, according to Mei Nianqing, was called Lei Gong. He found a lychee tree and ate the fruit during a scuffle between the Fox Demon and a Celestial Warrior, which made him transform into his godly form.” Dianxia sighed, as if knowing what kind of reaction his next words would have, but couldn’t help but say them. “He was also worshiped as the god of revenge.”
Gasps, outrage. Feng Xin knew why. Gods didn’t deal with resentment and revenge: ghosts did.
“I think there is a lot that Jun Wu didn’t tell us.” Xie Lian sighed. “I only called all of you here so you would know that General Nan Yang is not leaving, nor is he being banished. He ascended on particular circumstances and, until we find more about the position of Thunder Master, he’ll be under the care of healers until we can take the shackles off. They are there for his protection, not yours.”
The threat was clear: no one was to take matters into their own hands when it came to Feng Xin. Whoever wasn’t afraid of Dianxia was terrified of Crimson Rain, so there was nothing else for them to do. The gods started dispersing, throwing looks over their shoulders and whispering like old gossips, which Feng Xin supposed they were.
In the end, only he and Xie Lian remained. Feng Xin took a breath.
“Dianxia—“
“I’m not done with you, Feng Xin.” Fuck, the sharp tone curled all wrong on his chest. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath but no matter what he did, thunder still cracked over the Heavenly City.
Xie Lian threw him something, a small scent pouch. It smelled like lychee.
The thunder stopped.
He was taken to the Healer’s pavilion and left there to recuperate. Sometimes when he woke up from a nap, he’d catch a healer looking him intently in the face, counting his freckles.
He had fun zapping them into running away.
Quan Yizhen came to visit him with Yin Yu, occasion when Feng Xin congratulated him on his ascension. They played cards until Quan Yizhen started to tell a tale of when he woke up to Xie Lian, Shi Qingxuan and Black Water running from Pei Ming inside his own bedroom and threw his bed at the fucker. At first it made Feng Xin chuckle, but the pain in his chest had the healers running in and pushing both visitors out in a rush to sedate him before anything worse happened.
Rain Master also visited, bringing with her a basket.
“They told me lychee helps keep you calm.” She tried, sitting beside his bed. “Do you have any idea why?”
Feng Xin shook his head. He knew she knew he was lying. She just smiled anyway and left.
And then, on the fifth day of his stay at the healers’ care, Mu Qing literally stormed into his room.
He looked beautiful. So much so that Feng Xin’s heart squeezed inside his chest.
The door was quickly shut by a talisman over the screaming Healers. His hair was ruffled, like his clothes, a faint tinge of pink coloring his cheeks, probably from running.
“Why won’t they let me see you?” He demanded, turning to Feng Xin with a hand on his waist.
“I don’t know.” He lied.
He lied, he lied, he lied.
“Feng Xin.” He called his name like it would change his answer. It just might, as long as it was him. “Tell me what the fuck is going on. Now.” His nose twitched and he frowned. “Why does this room smell like my hair oil?”
“The scent of lychee calms the resentful energy that’s turning my golden core into ghost ashes.” He answered matter-of-factly.
Mu Qing was already pale, but he looked candle-wax-white after the revelation. “Your what?”
“God of Thunder is a god worshiped as god of revenge.” Feng Xin’s short nails play with a loose thread on his robes, avoiding Mu Qing’s eyes. “I don’t know yet how to deal with the resentful energy that comes with the position.” A half lie.
“OK, so what the fuck did Pei Ming do for you to resent him so much?”
Thunder clapped outside as Feng Xin inhaled sharply, fingers closing in fists, black claws tearing the skin of his palms.
“It’s nothing.” Feng Xin spit, pain helping ground him. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
He was just the man loving the love of Feng Xin’s life. And it wasn’t up for Feng Xin to decide if he was worthy of Mu Qing’s love or not.
But if he hurt Mu Qing, he vowed to himself, he wouldn’t even have time to see what came from him before it tore him to pieces.
Feng Xin sometimes forgot how smart Mu Qing was. “Wrong.” He repeated as the cogs turned inside his head.
“What?” Shit.
“You said he didn’t do anything wrong.” He approached the bed, hand hovering over Feng Xin’s blanket before settling on the god’s knee. “I don’t care if it’s wrong or not. Tell me what he did.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“If it’s keeping you on the verge of qi-deviating, then it matters, you fucking moron!”
But that was it, wasn’t it? Forgiveness was tough shit. Dianxia and his subjects, Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan, Rain Master and Pei Ming, Yin Yu and Quan Yizhen, Ban Yue and Pei Xu, they were all so strong, a strength that Feng Xin was struggling to learn. And Pei Ming hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe the one he had to forgive wasn’t Pei Ming or Mu Qing or anyone else. Maybe he just had to look in the mirror.
“Is,” Feng Xin winced. “Is he here with you?”
Mu Qing shook his head. “He’s at a Martial Hall meeting.”
Feng Xin nodded as well. He reached for Mu Qing’s hand, holding it, watching how the jade-pale knuckles looked against his stocky, tanned fingers. He felt so soft.
Mu Qing frowned again. “Feng Xin…”
“It’s time for my medication.” He offered Mu Qing a polite smile. “It makes me drowsy almost immediately.”
“Feng Xin, please.” Mu Qing insisted, expression twisting. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You can tell me what’s wrong.” He squeezed Feng Xin’s hand against his.
“You should go.”
Seeing that it was final, Mu Qing deflated and stood up, taking the talisman from the door. Immediately healers streamed in with medication and things that Feng Xin had to trust were for his own good.
Before Mu Qing could leave the room, though, Feng Xin gathered his strength.
“Mu Qing?” He called.
The god stopped, looking over his shoulder.
“Tonight, when you see him, tell him that I’m sorry.”
He frowned, then nodded, leaving the room to Feng Xin, the calming medication, and the smell of lychee.
Feng Xin had been itching to do something, anything, when Yushi Huasang’s invite to visit her came.
“We thought of inviting you, but she beat us to it.” Shi Qingxuan mused, draped over He Xuan’s back as the ghost turned god carried him up the mountain.
Feng Xin had received the invitation from Xie Lian’s mouth, which told him it wasn’t that simple.
“Who else is coming?” He asked, pushing some branches of trees away before they hit his face.
“She didn’t say, but I saw Quan Yizhen pouting yesterday by the fountain.” Shi Qingxuan shrugged.
So Yin Yu had been called too. Hm. Probably…
… but then…
“Feng Xin!”
“Dianxia.” Feng Xin could feel the headache coming, and rubbed his forehead. “Hi.”
It was Elemental God bonding time. That had Xie Lian written all over it.
“Hello!” He walked forth quickly to catch up with them. And if he was there, and he was doing what Feng Xin thought he was doing, then—
“San Lang, come on!” He waved his hand, ushering the red-clad figure closer.
Feng Xin made an effort to greet the obsessive man that Xie Lian insisted was the love of his life.
While he and Shi Qingxuan made small talk with Xie Lian, Feng Xin could feel himself shut off. He missed Xie Lian. He knew he had fucked up more than once with him, but he had apologized and was trying to be better, especially after Tonglu Mountain and the lava swallowing—
But when Hua Cheng was around, he could never reach Xie Lian. The ghost stood proudly between him and Dianxia, as if defending him with sarcasm, placing a wall between them. And while Feng Xin could understand it — he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same if he was in Crimson Rain’s position — it still hurt that he may never have a chance to re-build something with Xie Lian. Even after all of those years, he still loved him like a brother. But Crimson Rain hated him, and made it so that the rift between him and Xie Lian was always there, looming over his prayers to have his friend back.
He Xuan looked at him weirdly. He had put Shi Qingxuan on the ground so he and Xie Lian could chatter their way up the mountain. Hua Cheng stood between Dianxia and Feng Xin, as always, ignoring him as if his existence was of no consequence to him, and like he wished the same was true for Xie Lian. Feng Xin hadn’t even noticed how many steps behind be fell from the group until He Xuan stared holes on him, walking by his side.
“What are you thinking about?”
What a strange question. “Why do you ask?” He tried to make his tone mild and non-aggressive. He wasn’t offended or angry, he just didn’t understand the question.
“The resentment is growing again.” He explained. “But it’s different this time. Smells different.”
“I.” Feng Xin stared forward. He had been so soft lately. He wondered if he would ever go back to being himself, or if that was a skin he shed permanently, and would never fit inside of again. “Have you wished you could go back in time?”
He Xuan’s face remained impassive. “Yes.”
It took him a moment for him to realize it. Shit. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” With what he heard, the question probably elicited painful memories on the ghost.
Black Water shrugged, his hair, bizarrely tied with a pink ribbon, swishing behind him. “I did want to go back in time, once. Not anymore.” His eyes found Feng Xin’s. “It’s fine.”
“Because of Shi Qingxuan?”
Yellow eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
Feng Xin nodded, processing the information. They were happy. Black Water and Shi Qingxuan. Dianxia and Crimson Rain. He should be happy for Dianxia, and he was. Maybe Feng Xin was being selfish, wanting something that wasn’t supposed to be his. Just like with—
“Stop it.” Black Water slapped his arm in a movement that reminded him of—
“What? What did I do?” He rubbed his arm to chase away the sting.
“You are thinking.” The ghost huffed.
“It’s not like I can turn off my brain.” He defended himself, looking down.
He Xuan huffed again.
“It’s not for you to decide what other people deserve or don’t deserve.”
Cryptic. Feng Xin stared at Black Water’s profile. “What do you mean?”
“I thought I didn’t deserve Qingxuan after I killed Shi Wudu.” His eyes focused forward, fixed on Shi Qingxuan’s form.
“He disagreed.” Feng Xin concluded, also looking at the Wind Master, once again marveling on his inner strength.
He Xuan nodded. “I’m a ghost. I’m made of resentment. I took everything from him.” His eyes found Feng Xin’s again. “But who am I to tell him what he wants?” His eyes avert forward. “If he wants me, then he will have me. End of story.”
Feng Xin pondered on that story. “Crimson Rain would disagree with you.”
The ghost snorted a dark laugh. “Crimson Rain is an overgrown toddler with a god complex.” He answered. “If Xie Lian wants you by his side, then who is he to decide for him?”
“He’s just trying to protect Dianxia.” The god shrugged. “He’s not wrong for doing that. I did fuck up, majorly, and more than once.”
“It’s still not up to him to be prosecutor, judge and executioner. The only one who can tell Xie Lian what he feels is Xie Lian himself.” He Xuan added. “Existing will hurt you no matter what. All we do is choose which things we believe are worth being hurt by.”
If he was honest, he had done that, even if he had been unaware of it. He had decided it was worth being hurt by the kingdom of Xianle. He had decided it was worth being hurt to protect Xie Lian, when he was his body guard. He had decided doing right by his followers, after his ascension, was worth being hurt for. Doing the right thing by helping Xie Lian after his third ascension. Doing the right thing by not ceding to Jun Wu. Mu Q—
He received another slap for his efforts. “Ouch! Stop hitting me!”
He saw Xie Lian looking at He Xuan with narrowed eyes over his shoulder, as if he was angered by their interaction. A little seed of hope tried to hatch inside Feng Xin. Was that—?
“Then stop thinking stupid things.” He rolled his eyes. “I used to think General Xuan Zhen exaggerated when he punched you to the ground so often, but now I can see how the eight-hundred-plus years of annoyance at how stupid you are could culminate in something like that.” His voice was a tad too loud, which was… weird. Black Water’s voice had never changed volumes, not even when he was being punched to the ground during training.
“Feng Xin.” Xie Lian’s voice cut through the Crimson Rain-shaped barrier between them. “Would you mind helping me with something? I’m sorry to interrupt, Black Water.”
He Xuan’s hair covered his face, making it so that only Feng Xin could see his smirk. Feng Xin could hug him.
With a small grateful smile, Feng Xin passed through Crimson Rain, barely avoiding being tripped by him “accidentally”, and reached Xie Lian. It was the stupidest excuse, something about helping him remember a hairstyle from Xianle that ended up with Feng Xin promising to do both Xie Lian’s and Shi Qingxuan’s hair when they got to Rain Master’s territory, but it made the sun shine a little bit brighter inside him to be at his side again.
Rain Master welcomed them with tea and warm food, learning that Yin Yu had arrived a bit earlier and was getting settled in his room. They ate amongst the farmers — there was no separate rooms not even for Rain Master herself, and everyone ate together —, which made it for a funny experience to watch Black Water attempt to hide just how much he was eating.
With dinner done, Xie Lian asked them for walk. It led them towards the river that Rain Master wanted He Xuan to help her transposing. The two of them talked about it while Xie Lian made a fire, sitting by it with the rest of them.
“Your Highness, tell me something I always wanted to know.” Shi Qingxuan untangled his arms from He Xuan to sit closer to Xie Lian. “How was Xianle?”
“In which sense do you want to know?” Xie Lian threw a kind look towards Shi Qingxuan. “I have a feeling you don’t want me ranting about its history for half half a geng.”
The tip of the Wind Master’s fan touched Shi Qingxuan’s lips as he thought about it. “Well, I think arts and fashion are the things that interest me the most.”
“You’re in luck.” Xie Lian smiled. “I happen to know about arts, and Feng Xin was, along with Mu Qing, the specialist in fashion.”
Shi Qingxuan’s eyes found Feng Xin, colored in surprise. “You don’t say?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m a specialist.” Feng Xin explained. “I was Dianxia’s bodyguard, so I was often around helping him get ready.”
“Mu Qing was bossy.” Xie Lian chuckled.
“That’s because you were lazy, Dianxia.” Feng Xin tilted his head, reminding him. “You always wanted ten, twenty more minutes to sleep, so we were always in a rush for you not to be late for things.”
“That’s why you also learned how to do hair, right?” Xie Lian pulled his hair from his back to his front, twirling the ends with his hand.
“I was tired of seeing that vein pulse like it was going to burst on Mu Qing’s forehead, so I thought I better help.”
“Hmm.” Xie Lian’s smile was half sad. “Would you… would you do it now? Like old times.”
Feng Xin paused. “I already promised you I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes, I know,” Xie Lian breathed a chuckle. “But it… you don’t have to. You’re not my helper anymore.”
“No.” Feng Xin agreed. “I’m your friend, right?”
You trust your friends. I take care of mine. Even if it ’s something like this.
Xie Lian’s smile was hopeful and shy. “Yes. Yes, you are.”
Feng Xin moved to sit behind Xie Lian. It was all so familiar. He continued his conversation with Shi Qingxuan, speaking about Xianle’s architecture and artistic manifestations, while Feng Xin fell into something that was close to a meditative state, working Xie Lian’s strands. He only stopped when a familiar voice called out behind him.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
He was so startled, he zapped himself, hands retreating from Xie Lian’s hair immediately. “Ouch!”
“Mu Qing!” Xie Lian opened a huge smile, delighted. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to accompany His Highness Quan Yizhen.” He revealed. He was so, so beautiful. Feng Xin had to look elsewhere to avoid having a worse reaction.
“Did he pester you do come?” Shi Qingxuan looked amused.
“You have no idea.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes and knelt beside Feng Xin, pushing him with his shoulder. “You’re doing it wrong, go away.”
“But I—“ Feng Xin looked helplessly to the braid he had been doing and frowned. “What did I do wrong? It looks right to me.”
“Eight hundred years and you haven’t learned.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes again, taking Feng Xin’s place. “Watch closely, or else you won’t learn.”
“Ayo! You know I can’t learn stuff just by watching.” Feng Xin complained, scowling.
“I’ll do it! I’ll be the training sword.” Shi Qingxuan quickly stood up and took a place beside Xie Lian, changing into his male form. “You can do my hair and learn!”
He looked to Mu Qing, who nodded in agreement.
Feng Xin untied Shi Qingxuan’s hair and begun again, the same thing he had done to Xie Lian’s hair. Or, well, almost the same thing.
“You see here?” Mu Qing snapped his attention back to him. “It has to go down, not up.”
“What’s the difference?” Feng Xin frowned, looking. It was the same thing, just on another direction.
“The difference is that when you’re done with this, you’ll have to do this,” He showed Mu Qing how the hair would go through the other piece. “And if you do it your way, it’ll—“
“—I get it, you’re right.” He nodded and undid Shi Qingxuan’s hair, starting again.
“I see why you asked him to do this.” Shi Qingxuan told Xie Lian, smiling. “It’s so relaxing.”
“Hm-mn.” Xie Lian looked up, finding Mu Qing’s eyes. “It really is.”
Mu Qing smiled back, and Feng Xin zapped himself again, cursing.
They finish almost together, tying Shi Qingxuan’s and Xie Lian’s hairs with their respective ribbons — or not, considering Shi Qingxuan’s was black.
“Let me see, let me see!” Shi Qingxuan pulled Xie Lian with him to the river, begging He Xuan to make a water mirror so he could look. Feng Xin could hear his delighted noises from the campfire, a thoughtful look on his face.
They came back practically carrying He Xuan by his arm, Yushi Huang following along with a small smile.
“General Nan Yang, Xie Lian said you can dance!?” Shi Qingxuan was a menace.
He threw a look at Black Water, asking him to save him. The man shrugged.
Damn it.
“We all do.” He answered between gritted teeth. What was Xie Lian doing, saying those things? “We were trained in Xianle’s dances.”
“Mostly because someone had to be Dianxia’s practice pair and he refused to let anyone else touch him at that time.” Mu Qing added, crossing his arms over his chest, back leaned on the log they had been using as a seat. “What was he then, fourteen?”
“Yes.” Feng Xin chuckled, fond memories filling him. “He thought touching a girl would give him cooties.”
Xie Lian blushed. “And why did I think that?”
Feng Xin shrugged. “No idea.” He lied.
“You told me touching girls could give me cooties!” Dianxia pouted, sitting down beside Mu Qing, but on the log instead of leaning on it. “You kept showing me servants with pimples and saying it was because they had girlfriends!”
Feng Xin laughed hard, picturing a small Xie Lian horrified when he bumped a servant on the palace’s hallway. Oh, but how he cried on his mother’s lap, both hands covering his face. The Queen had no idea what was ailing her child until he finally stopped sobbing for long enough that he explained to her what his bodyguard had told him. Feng Xin had been very lucky the Queen and King liked him as a son and encouraged some amount of informality between him and Xie Lian, otherwise he could have been arrested for joking around like that.
“Well, it worked out, didn’t it?” He shrugged. “It’s not like you liked girls anyway. Crimson Rain should thank me.”
“I was so scared I wore gloves to balls!” Xie Lian huffed, cheeks expanding with air, but then it dissolved into chuckles.
“But if you were partners with Xie Lian training the dances—“ Shi Qingxuan tilted his head. “Then you learned the girl part, right?”
Both him and Mu Qing blushed furiously. Shit.
“Not really.” Xie Lian covered his smile behind his sleeve. “There were some demonstrations involved. I had a hard time learning, and both Feng Xin and Mu Qing were better teachers than my actual dance teachers.”
“Sounds adorable.” Wind Master grinned. “You should show us.”
“Show you what?” Dianxia tilted his head, confused.
“The dances.” Shi Qingxuan explained. “You should teach us. We could make a small party, just for us here.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Xie Lian’s eyes lightened up. “Rain Master, would that be okay?”
“We have a kiosk that has been used for celebrations before.” She answered. “All we need to do is light the candles, it’s ready to use.” The woman stood up. “I would also be delighted to learn Xianle’s dances.”
“Great! I’m going to find San Lang and meet you there!” Xie Lian stood up, running towards… somewhere, Feng Xin didn’t really know, but there was a butterfly involved so he wasn’t worried.
He and Mu Qing were tasked with lighting up the candles on the kiosk, while the others went to… Feng Xin didn’t know. When they came back, though, they had light food for snacks, wine and tea with them.
“Show us! He Xuan, come on!” Shi Qingxuan stood close to Feng Xin, pulling Black Water with him. “You’re dancing with me!”
“I know how to dance.” He deadpanned.
“You do?” Wind Master looked… flustered? “Oh, of course you do, I do too! But we don’t know Xianle dances, we were born too late for that.” He pouted. “Come oooon! It’s gonna be fun!”
And it was all he needed to say, because Black Water was wrapped around his little finger. Feng Xin understood the feeling.
When Xie Lian and Crimson Rain arrived, Xie Lian looked delighted and a little flushed. He didn’t want to know, he really didn’t.
Quan Yizhen wasn’t interested on dancing in the least, so Yin Yu was paired with Lord Rain Master while his shidi sat on a stool nearby, watching them.
“What do you want us to show?” Feng Xin asked Dianxia, looking around.
“It has to be something simple.” Mu Qing pointed out.
“Ah, I.” Xie Lian scratched his cheek in a way that told them there was something else there. Something they wouldn’t enjoy. “Let’s start with regular festival dances and see where this goes, okay?”
Mu Qing and him exchanged a look. “Do you wanna…?”
“I’ll do it.” Mu Qing shrugged off his cape. “You’re larger than me, it’d look ridiculous.”
“I don’t care.” Feng Xin shrugged. It was the truth.
“Well, I do!”
Fussy, he was so fussy. Feng Xin wanted to be on his knees catering to his every whim.
He shook his head and followed Mu Qing to the center of the kiosk. From his first position, Feng Xin already knew which dance he wanted to show: it was a simple duet that could be followed by everyone in a line without any of them bumping into each other. It involved little to no touching other than wrists, but the steps had to be well-timed. The whole dance was short but it was fun enough to repeat over and over, lasting the expanse of a whole song.
They didn’t have any music there — at least not until Rain Master handed Quan Yizhen a guqin. Feng Xin had doubted Quan Yizhen had the patience to learn such an instrument, until he saw Rain Master handing him a few scrolls — music sheets. Was she teaching him? His technique wasn’t perfect, and his brows furrowed a lot with concentration with such a small task, but his determination carried him through a whole song.
After the first demonstration, most caught on quickly. Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan bumped into each other one, making Wind Master laugh and He Xuan smile; Yin Yu lost concentration here and there as his eyes kept fleeting to Quan Yizhen, seemingly disbelieving that his shidi could play music.
Dancing with Mu Qing was like fighting him, or fighting alongside him. He knew his movements like an extension of his own body, every cue of his body followed easily, predicted like a reflex, anticipated as if they were his own. It was an easy rhythm to fall into, but eventually Mu Qing left him to go get tea, and Feng Xin stayed behind, paired with Lord Rain Master to let Yin Yu go speak to Quan Yizhen.
“Are you sure, gege?” He heard from Hua Cheng nearby. “We could create something better.”
“I’m sure, San Lang.” Xie Lian got on the tips of his toes to peck the ghost’s lips. “It’s very beautiful, you’re going to love it.”
“If gege says so.” Crimson Rain smiled that sickly sweet smile. “Gege is always right.”
Xie Lian beamed and walked towards Mu Qing, speaking quickly to him. When he came back, it was with a slightly flushed Mu Qing in tow. By the way Xie Lian was smiling and Mu Qing was frowning, Feng Xin guessed he wouldn’t enjoy Dianxia’s request.
“No.” He said in reflex, looking from one to the other. He didn’t even need to know what he was going to ask: if that pout-y face was involved, it couldn’t be good.
“Feng Xiiin!” Dianxia insisted, pouting. That damn pout.
“What does he want?” He asked Mu Qing instead, since Xie Lian refused to be reasonable.
Mu Qing spoke, but his voice was too low to be heard.
“What did you say?”
“The Blessing Dance.”
Feng Xin knew he looked properly horrified. “No.”
“But Mu Qing already said yes!”
“You did?”
Mu Qing shrugged, but still refused to look Feng Xin in the face. “Whatever.”
“Dianxia,” Feng Xin insisted. “You know how that dance goes, you don’t need to see it. Plus, it was a secret!”
“Yes, I know, you were going to find proper partners to train with and present it to mother’s and father’s anniversary, you only danced with each other to decide on the dance,” Xie Lian repeated as if it was an idiom, dismissing his complaints easily. “But you never had the time, and it’s such a beautiful dance.” He twirled a lock of hair, that damn man, ruining Mu Qing’s work. “I wanted to see if I could do it for my wedding.”
Low blow, Xie Lian. “Wedding?”
“Yes.” He beamed at Feng Xin, pulling all of the tricks. “I mean, San Lang and I did get married already, but you know mother always wanted me to have a big ceremony with all of our family there.” He held out his hands, taking Mu Qing’s and Feng Xin’s and squeezing them. “Nowadays, this means you.”
“You are a horrible person, Dianxia.” Feng Xin narrowed his eyes, no heat in his voice.
“The worst.” Mu Qing agreed.
Xie Lian kept on beaming that smile upon them. “Does that mean you’ll do it?” He joined Mu Qing’s and Feng Xin’s hands, one over the other.
Feng Xin grunted, very eloquent. Mu Qing rolled his eyes.
“Great! Let me get the guqin with Quan Yizhen and see if I remember the song!” He turned and ran quickly to find the instrument, knowing that any minute now any of them could give up on the idea.
“Do you remember…”
Mu Qing nodded.
“Do you want me to…”
He shook his head.
“Because I’ll look ridiculous?” Feng Xin tried. “I can shift so my body is smaller.”
“Because I look prettier doing the girl part.” Mu Qing admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.
Feng Xin missed the warmth of his hand on his own. “That’s true.”
Mu Qing raised his eyes, finding Feng Xin’s. There was something there. Feng Xin wasn’t sure what was it.
“Not that looking prettier than me is any difficult.” Feng Xin continued. “You said it yourself. There’s nothing small about me.” His teasing smile wasn’t missed, earning him a glare.
In another life, he would care about being considered unmanly, or to be “offended” as a cut-sleeve. In this one, even if all around him weren’t men who fell in love with each other, he would still only need one look at Mu Qing to know. If there was something Feng Xin couldn’t be accused of, it was not changing his ways.
Before Mu Qing could answer, the song begun, its tender notes filling the air, as Xie Lian tried to remember how to play the song.
Feng Xin offered him a hand. “Let’s go. The faster we go, the faster we get rid of this.”
Mu Qing accepted it, following him to the center of the kiosk.
Everyone scattered around and he took his position, back to back with Mu Qing.
“Scared?” He asked. A riled up Mu Qing was a brave Mu Qing, and Feng Xin needed him to be oh so brave.
“In your dreams.” Was his answer.
Xie Lian took one look at them and started playing proper. The strings emitted slow sounds, hopeful and delicate. Feng Xin didn’t need a reminder of that particular dance. Even back then, it had elicited strange feelings in his body. If he was honest, it was Mu Qing. It had always been Mu Qing. It would probably aways be Mu Qing.
The dance was a wish of longevity for the King and Queen of Xianle, a homage to their love. It was supposed to convey love, to represent it, and, if Feng Xin was to be asked, he would say it did. At least it did on him, while he was dancing.
They started back to back, Feng Xin waving his arms first, Mu Qing afterwards, as if they were trying to reach for something in front of them, only for them to notice, because of that same movement, that there was someone on their back. The recognition is a delicate thing, breakable. But both characters of the dance know who is on the other side. They know they’re what each other is seeking*.
A step, a twirl, and Feng Xin stays with his back turned to the audience as Mu Qing slowly takes steps back towards him. He starts tipping to the side until he’s almost falling, and Feng Xin catches him by the back of his neck, rewarding his trust with a gentle grip. He pulls Mu Qing back up, the characters of the dance finally meeting, taking another twirl before standing face to face.
His hand reaches for Mu Qing’s face, hovering over it from his forehead to his chin, making him close his eyes, also a sign of trust. Mu Qing takes his hand and his right leg moves front and back, using Feng Xin as support— right before turning his back and letting all of his weight back on Feng Xin, arms around his neck.
Feng Xin twirls him around, his legs drawing circles on the kiosk. Feng Xin didn’t see the kiosk, though. He saw the large ballroom he, Mu Qing and Xie Lian used for dance lessons. He saw the golden dawn reflected on Xianle’s white walls, the stubborn peach blossoms that refused to be kept away from the building, staining its floors the prettiest shade of pink.
After three rounds, he puts Mu Qing on his stomach on the floor and flips over him, legs making an arc over his body while Mu Qing accompanies, rolling on the floor. They both stand side by side then, lifting one hand, then the other. The character that Feng Xin represented would once again notice his partner and walk towards them, chasing, while Mu Qing retreated— not in fear, but to be coy. That’s when Feng Xin’s character is supposed to take Mu Qing’s in his arms and lift them to the skies with a promise and a prayer: be my heaven, and I will lift you to yours.
Mu Qing raises his legs and makes and arc over Feng Xin’s shoulders, making him tip until Mu Qing’s feet touch the floor again. They twirl with their hands joined, as if the characters couldn’t not touch each other, and every time Mu Qing tipped his body, Feng Xin was there to stop the fall, to lift him up, to promise him the world, if only—
The finally separate, twirling away from each other. Their movements are twins in everything, from the way their arms lifted and bowed, to the twists and turns on the ground, feet making graceful arcs in the air. The characters would walk away from each other watching their hands, as if parting in disbelief they had touched each other— only to turn around in longing. Mu Qing runs towards him and jumps, a trust fall on his back that would end with Feng Xin turning and turning with Mu Qing’s legs around his shoulder, looking up as if the other man was the sun, and everything Feng Xin was revolved around him. Which wasn’t untrue.
The dance finished with Mu Qing sitting on Feng Xin’s shoulder, representing the characters’ devotions to each other, the fulfilled promise to be each other’s heaven. Feng Xin was breathing hard, and so was Mu Qing, and—
He almost forgot they had an audience.
There were a few teary eyes, and definitely applause.
“Why are you martial gods?” Shi Qingxuan complained when they drew closer to the group. “You should be patrons of art.”
Feng Xin huffed a laugh, reaching for a cup of wine.
“I’m serious!” He hit Feng Xin on the arm with his fan. “That was beautiful. How did you come up with it?”
“We needed to give an anniversary gift for the Queen and King of Xianle.” Feng Xin sat down and grabbed a handful of the snacks. He felt the absence of Mu Qing’s skin touching his body like a missing limb.
“But I had no money—“ Mu Qing added. Maybe he felt it too, because he sat beside Feng Xin, reaching for fruit. Lychees, unsurprisingly. Although, from what Feng Xin remembered, he also enjoyed peaches.
“—we had no money.” Feng Xin corrected. “My parents had money, but it wasn’t mine, because I was the crown prince’s bodyguard, and they would only give it to someone who had a chance of having children to keep the family name alive—“
Mu Qing just rolled his eyes. “Well, you did manage that, didn’t you?”
It hurt, to think of Cuo Cuo. It hurt even more to think of his mother, and how much she looked like—
“Anyway,” Feng Xin continued, brushing off that particular train of thought. “The Queen had seen a presentation in passing when she was making a courtesy visit to a neighboring kingdom—“
“Mother was obsessed.” Xie Lian agreed. “She would only speak of it for months.”
“It was an easy decision.” Mu Qing agreed. “But the whole presentation is supposed to be performed by four people, not two. We came up with the dance but we were going to invite partners, ladies from Dianxia’s future harem, most likely, to dance with us.”
“Well, I think it’s perfect the way it is.” Xie Lian reached for Crimson Rain’s hand, squeezing it. “Do you think we could pull that off?”
Crimson Rain seemed to think very hard about something, his eyes searching over Feng Xin and Mu Qing. “I think we can do better, gege.” He turned to Xie Lian, bringing his hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. Strangely, Feng Xin didn’t feel like that was a jab at him, or at Mu Qing, for once.
Xie Lian only smiled in return.
Conversation arrived and went away as time flew by. They snacked, they talked and joked. Feng Xin couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed, and safe. There was nothing to defend himself from other than Hua Cheng’s constant annoyance.
“You will have to forgive my oversight,” Rain Master said after leaving them for a few minutes. “I forgot to warn you. Everyone here shares sleeping quarters. It is the same with the guest bedrooms as well.”
Feng Xin paled. Shit. Shitfuck.
Xie Lian caught his expression and bit his lip.
Do you still …?
Yes.
Oh. Dianxia thought really hard, but there was no easy solution. Maybe I can convince San Lang to share with Mu Qing so I can share with you.
Whatever you two are gossiping about, Mu Qing opened a parallel conversation between the three of them on the communication array. Just stop.
But Feng Xin—
With all due respect, Dianxia, you are an idiot when it comes to solving problems that involve your lover. Mu Qing added categorically. I assume you are planning on begging him to share with me so Feng Xin can save face.
…yes. Is Dianxia’s meek answer.
Well, forget it. I won ’t be able to sleep with Crimson Rain in the same room as me, and he might just accidentally kill me because he would assume that the reason he’s not sharing a room with you is because I refused to share with Feng Xin.
Damn him for being so smart. Feng Xin had no comeback for that.
But then what do we do?
What we have always done.
… are you sure?
Yes.
Even with the …?
It's not like it’s a novelty.
Feng Xin ducked his head, humiliated.
The thing was, Feng Xin was a cuddler.
Ever since he started to share a room with Mu Qing, back when they were officials for Xie Lian and would travel together, sharing rooms to save merits — Xie Lian had still been growing his merits by then, not as rich as he used to be as Crown Prince of Xianle — they discovered (Feng Xin included, since he never shared a bedroom before) that Feng Xin didn’t even do it on purpose. He would be elbowed, punched, everything in between, and nothing would work to keep him apart from holding the person beside him.
One time, when he shared with both Xie Lian and Mu Qing — Mu Qing insisted on Xie Lian being in the middle “for his own protection” —, Feng Xin, asleep, went so far as climbing over Xie Lian and squeezed himself in the middle of both men, an arm thrown over Xie Lian’s chest, the rest of his body chasing for Mu Qing’s warmth.
Feng Xin would always apologize profusely and be genuine about it; it was so fucking embarrassing. But Mu Qing was a practical man, so he just accepted the situation as it was and stopped fighting Feng Xin’s half-awake mind. Feng Xin pondered if he did that because he was too tired to continue fighting, since it was affecting their sleep quite badly at that point. Feng Xin wished he could fix it, but no healer had an answer to his problem (some of them going as far as laughing at him), so he had to give up.
Then he ascended, and got his own palace, and it ceased being an issue for him.
Until now.
Mu Qing didn’t say anything, following as Rain Master introduced them to their lodgings and provided sleeping clothes to Mu Qing and Quan Yizhen.
Feng Xin pondered on the merit of simply not sleeping, but decided against it under Rain Master’s generous smile. He had no right to make things more difficult.
They were guided into a small building, and inside even smaller rooms.
“Don’t hesitate to call for me if you need anything.” Rain Master said before closing the room’s door.
And then, silence.
He hesitated, watching as Mu Qing left the sleeping robes over a dresser. There were two beds in there, one in each corner of the room. Underneath Feng Xin’s stunned gaze, Mu Qing walked towards one of the beds and started pulling it towards the center of the room.
“What—“ Feng Xin stammered. “What are you doing?”
“Saving us time.” Mu Qing huffed. “Come on, help me.”
“Why…?” But Feng Xin moved to help him regardless. Like he could say no.
“We both know you’ll make your way into my bed anyway.” Mu Qing announced plainly. “This way, I don’t have to share a single bed with you, and will actually have the space to sleep while you octopus your way into—“
“I get it! I get it! You don’t need to say it!” Embarrassment took his face once more. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
“Stop being stupid and stop apologizing.” Mu Qing retorted, watching Feng Xin drag his own mattress to the center of the room. “I was there, I watched you try to stop and almost swallow your tongue out of shame. If this is something you can’t change, then it’s something you can’t change. We deal. End of story.”
“But—“
“Didn’t you poison all of the loropetalum bushes planted around the palace when you figured out I was allergic to them?”
Feng Xin bristled. “That’s different!” He flushed. “How did you know that?”
“Please.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “You weren’t discreet about it.”
“But what does it have to do with anything now?”
“Do I have to spell everything out for you?” Mu Qing huffed. “You figured I had a problem, there was no changing it, and you dealt with it. How is that different from this?”
“I didn’t mind killing a few plants.” Feng Xin replied meekly.
“Good.” Mu Qing’s eyes met Feng Xin’s. “And I don’t mind doing this.”
“You can’t even say what this is.”
“Cuddling.” Mu Qing deadpanned, and Feng Xin could die.
The screech was not one of his best moments. “Why did you say it!?”
“You said I couldn’t.”
“Ugh!” Feng Xin felt nervous, like a boy before his first kiss with the girl he liked. But that was not it, was it? He had known Mu Qing forever. He had loved Mu Qing forever.
Mu Qing changed his clothes behind a screen, and Feng Xin hovered beside the bed. When he came back, his own clothes folded tidily, he laid on one side of the joined bed, garnering Feng Xin’s protest.
“Move over.” He said automatically. “That’s my side.”
Mu Qing eyed him over his shoulder. “I can’t believe you still do this.”
“I’ll never not do this.” Feng Xin waited, and then laid down where Mu Qing had just left, the nearest to the door.
“You don’t need to act like a bodyguard anymore, Feng Xin.” Mu Qing argued. “I don’t need your protection.”
“And you don’t need to give me massages anymore, so what’s your point?”
This was getting them nowhere. Mu Qing shut up for a bit.
Feng Xin almost thought he was sleeping when his voice sounded again.
“Do it already.”
Feng Xin frowned. “What?”
“Hold me.” He couldn’t see Mu Qing’s face with his back turned to him like that, but he could swear he heard him blushing.
“You want me to hold you?” Supremely confused, he leaned on his elbows.
Mu Qing huffed. “You’re going to do it anyway. Better to get it over with now and not be woken up by you trying to find a good position to sleep on top of me in the middle of the night.”
It brought redness to Feng Xin’s face. He did have a point. Feng Xin didn’t want to trouble Mu Qing more than he was already doing, but it seemed inevitable.
“What about Pei Ming?” The name hurt, like he was throwing up thorns.
“What about him?” There was impatience in Mu Qing’s tone.
“Won’t he be mad?”
“Why would Pei Ming care about this?” His confusion seemed genuine.
Feng Xin took a breath. “I know he’s been helping you cultivate.”
Mu Qing’s eyes flashed to Feng Xin’s face. “What about that?”
Mu Qing… Feng Xin knew, of course. He saw it with his own eyes. But to hear Mu Qing talk about it, to admit that he had been… with Pei Ming. Feng Xin had a hard time breathing for a few moments, feeling exactly as if a blade had torn over his heart, slicing it painfully in two.
“Wouldn’t he care?” He swallowed dry. “That you’re here. With me.”
“Pei Ming doesn’t get to say who I spend my time with.” Mu Qing huffed, turning his back to Feng Xin again.
Right. Mu Qing would never let anyone tell him what to do. It wasn’t in his nature. It had never been.
Or maybe they were a casual thing. Maybe they only… maybe it was only about cultivation. But then it would make even less sense. Why would Mu Qing switch his cultivation to dual cultivation, of all things, if he didn’t plan on having a long-term partner to help him with that?
Well. One explanation was that Mu Qing simply decided that eight hundred years of abstinence was too much, and decided to enjoy his time. Shi Wudu’s death and Mu Qing’s almost death had affected them all. Gods were not immortal, not really. They were killable. That truth soared on his bones, wrecking havoc inside Feng Xin too. He could understand the urgency to live differently, to try things they never tried. To enjoy it while it lasted.
On another note, he had heard of cultivators who married and used dual cultivation simply to boost their own powers, and Mu Qing definitely needed the boost since he decided to change his cultivation path, even with all the spiritual power rolling from the prayers directed to him.
Yes, Mu Qing was smart enough to set something like this up for himself while he worked on replenishing his core. By the way he spoke of it, he and Pei Ming might not have something serious going on. Yet. Pei Ming would be a fool to keep it casual with Mu Qing after being deigned good enough to break his cultivation with, but then again, Pei Ming was one of the most foolish men Feng Xin had ever encountered.
“Come on, I’m almost falling asleep already.” Mu Qing brought him out of his thoughts, sounding sleepy. “I will elbow you if you come pawing at me in the middle of the night.”
It squeezed Feng Xin’s heart and soul, twisting them.
He settled behind Mu Qing, his chest to the man’s back. He had to maneuver his hair up the pillow so he wouldn’t be breathing it. The strands were so silky.
He relaxed beside Mu Qing. His left arm carefully encircled him, coming to rest around his waist, landing between his stomach and heart touched, over his ribs. Careful. He had been allowed this before, but not so deliberately. Not while they were awake.
Mu Qing’s own left hand landed over Feng Xin’s. His heart skipped a beat. He was allowed. He was allowed. At least for that night, he was allowed.
He scooted closer with a small sound. His thighs fit behind the back of Mu Qing’s legs, his nose found its way to the nape of Mu Qing’s neck. Breathing him in. Inhaling the lychee scent, knowing it would lull his soul into peace.
Feng Xin woke up blissfully warm and rested. He never wanted to leave that bed. There was also the awareness that he was being watched.
Opening his eyes slowly, he was faced with Mu Qing, sleep-soft and slightly ruffled. He stared at Feng Xin’s face with concentration, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Shh. Go back to sleep.” Mu Qing urged him. They were so close like this, chest to chest, legs tangled.
“Mn.” Feng Xin shut his eyes again. “Why?” He turned belly up and stretched. “I thought you knew how many freckles I have.”
“I have to check if there are more.” Mu Qing drew closer, propping himself on his elbows. “You have been in the sun in the past eight hundred years. There could be more.”
Feng Xin hummed, turning his face towards the scent of lychee. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
He stayed there, silent, enjoying the closeness. Mu Qing’s finger, he noticed, was hovering over his cheek to help him count.
“Finished already?” Feng Xin asked after a few minutes, amused.
“No. Let me… there’s hair on the way.” Mu Qing’s skin touched his, brushing the hair aside from his face.
Then, Mu Qing gasped.
“What?” Feng Xin opened a single eye. “Did you miss the count?”
Mu Qing’s eyes were wide, breath caught in his chest. “They’re blue.”
“What?”
“Your freckles.” Mu Qing explained. He reached out on the other side of his face, swiping his finger over the top of Feng Xin’s cheeks. “They turn blue where I touched them.” His nose scrunched up in displease. “You’re getting all stained, I’m sorry.”
Feng Xin watched Mu Qing’s face, his heart a steady thrum inside his chest. He wasn’t sure he cared, but Mu Qing seemed to.
“Then touch them all.” He breathed out, as if any noise could break it. As if any noise could pull them apart. “I won’t be stained. They’ll be all blue. Make it even.”
He didn’t want anything to pull them apart.
Mu Qing seemed to think about it before making a decision. He lifted both hands, uncertain, bringing them close to Feng Xin’s face.
Feng Xin shut his eyes, waiting.
The touches come soft, but electric. He could feel some of them crackle, could see the brief light, but it didn’t hurt him. Apparently, it didn’t hurt Mu Qing either. He touched Feng Xin’s forehead, his temples, the space between his eyes. He cupped Feng Xin’s face and swept both thumbs over his eyelids, his cheeks. It was all so soft. Feng Xin let the air escape between his lips.
He felt filled with something. He didn’t know what. I. It was energy, vibrating inside of him, airy and sparkly. I love. Feng Xin felt a rush, like free falling, like flying, or walking on the sky. I love you. Every touch made him feel like it was too much, like it was going to tear him apart, filled to the brim with love, with want, with something, something much larger than him, larger than life. I love you, I love you. Every touch made him feel like he was pouring, spilling that energy around him, letting something more primordial than him have it. I love you, I love you, Iloveyou—
There was a knock to the door. Mu Qing looked towards the noise, Feng Xin just opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your sleep.” It was Rain Master’s voice. “But there is something you need to see.”
They went down wrapped in outer robes. It was before the time to wake up, even for farmers; the sky was tinged dark, still, although brightening up slowly.
Everyone was on the front porch of the building, looking up. Once Feng Xin got there, he could see why.
“Clouds.” Mu Qing breathed beside him.
He was right, but that was only half of it. The clouds were spread out, lighted by the beginnings of the daylight coming from behind the mountain. It would be an ordinary, although beautiful scenery, wasn’t for the fact that the clouds were reflecting every color that Feng Xin knew, into his eyes. Like a veil of light, or scales from a particularly beautiful fish, those clouds reflected the sun to them with a magical iridescence to them, painting the most gorgeous picture in the skies**.
It was the second most beautiful thing Feng Xin had ever seen.
He looked to his right, watching Mu Qing’s fascinated expression. Rain Master’s knowing look caught his attention, and, for some reason, Feng Xin felt like blushing.
“Did you do that, Lord Rain Master?” Shi Qingxuan looked at her, a bright smile on his face.
She shook her head. “That wasn’t me.” She assured. “But I did sense an influx of spiritual energy floating towards the sky this morning.” Her eyes fell on Feng Xin.
His traitor heart accelerated when Shi Qingxuan sent a look his way, thoughtful, and then realization dawned on his face. “Oh.”
It seemed like the same realization occurred to Xie Lian, who looked at him as well. Dianxia, however, kept on looking, narrowing his eyes… and then gasping.
“Feng Xin!” He pointed at his face. “Your freckles are all blue!”
Now he was blushing proper, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“We should get dressed.” Rain Master took him out of his misery by drawing attention back to herself, a knowing smile on her lips. “Breakfast will be served soon.”
He Xuan said something to Shi Qingxuan, who smiled and nodded.
“General Xuan Zhen, would you do my hair this morning again?” He asked, half-pouting.
“Oh! Great idea!” Xie Lian immediately agreed. “Feng Xin, could you-?”
“He will be right there, gege.” Crimson Rain told Xie Lian with a smile.
Xie Lian’s eyes followed from He Xuan to Crimson Rain and back to Feng Xin before following where Shi Qingxuan had dragged Mu Qing and Rain Master after him.
“What?” Feng Xin asked once they were just the three of them.
“You smell different.” He Xuan narrowed his eyes. Behind the menacing expression, he looked… amused?
“Why are you smelling me?” Feng Xin protested. “That’s creepy.”
“It’s a ghost thing.” Crimson Rain stopped him. “Black Water is right. The scent of your energy changed.”
“You smell sweet.” Black Water amended.
“Sweet?” Feng Xin tried not to feel horrified.
“Like fruit.” He looked at Crimson Rain for help.
“Lychees.” The man answered, an all-knowing look over Feng Xin.
He averted his eyes from them to the clouds, trying his best not to blush. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because,” Crimson Rain stepped beside him. “Whatever you were doing up there,” His gaze followed the iridescent clouds. “If you keep on doing that, we might not have to kill you after all.”
His eyes widened, looking from Crimson Rain to Black Water. He wasn’t sure if they were joking or not.
“How reassuring.”
Black Water barked a wet, humorless chuckle. “It’s like your core decided to do the opposite it was doing before, turning resentful energy back into spiritual energy.”
He can’t help but remember the feeling of being too small for his skin, but in the best way possible, like there was too much love pouring from his heart, so much that it spilled out and into—
The clouds. Probably the clouds, he supposed.
With a him, Crimson Rain turned to him, breaking his thoughts. “What’s with the blue freckles?” Crimson Rain looked entirely too smug.
He shook his head. “Fuck you too.”
He turned and left under the gazes of two entertained ghosts, trying his hardest not to stomp away like a toddler.
Back in his room, their room, he found Mu Qing already dressed, finishing brushing his hair. The blue of the freckles was slowly fading, he noticed, like the first rays of sunshine upon the morning sky, slowly turning back to their normal tan color.
“They had me doing their hair for so long, I almost don’t have time to get ready.” He complained as soon as he saw Feng Xin entering. “Where were you? You could have helped me.”
“I’m sorry.” Feng Xin walked until he was behind the screen, changing clothes as well. “Crimson Rain and Black Water wanted to talk to me.”
“Talk?” Feng Xin could hear the confusion in his voice. “After they almost killed you? I’m still not sure why you accept to be around them after what they did to you.”
His chest felt a bit warm. Was that indignation on his behalf? “They weren’t wrong in wanting to kill me. There was a chance I could harm a lot of people if I hadn’t been stopped.”
“You—“ He huffed, stopping himself. “You’re lucky I got there in time. You passed out as soon as I reached Black Water Island. If I hadn’t gotten there with Pei Ming—“
“You were there?” He couldn’t remember that.
“Of course I was there. One moment you were fighting Pei Ming and almost qi-deviating, then lightning literally struck down on the Martial Hall and you were gone. Dianxia was all over the place but he had to stay there and fix the mess, so he asked me to go check on you.”
Ah, that made sense. Feng Xin rounded the screen, watching Mu Qing fight with his hair in a way that didn’t seem usual. He walked behind him, bating his hand away from the brush.
“Stop that. You’re going to break it.”
Another huff and Mu Qing crossed both arms over his chest, looking somewhat juvenile. Feng Xin grabbed the oil bottle, spreading some on his palms. He made quick work of applying it to Mu Qing’s hair, following it with the comb much more gently than Mu Qing had done.
Silence spread between them. Feng Xin focused on brushing Mu Qing’s hair, carefully untangling it.
“I thought you were going to die.” Mu Qing’s voice broke the silence. It trembled, if just so.
“I didn’t.” Feng Xin answered, leaving the comb on the table.
“You could have.” He insisted. “You could have. Feng Xin.” His hand held onto Feng Xin’s forearm, stopping his movements. “Why didn’t you fight them?”
He sighed. “They were right, Mu Qing.” He forced Mu Qing to let go of him by continuing to move his arm, getting his hair piece. “I could feel the resentful energy all over me. It was too much, and it reacted to my mood.”
Mu Qing’s breath stuttered. “You’ve never been the most stable.”
He smiled, piecing black hair into sections, preparing it for the half-updo.
Another long pause. “What did they want to talk to you about?”
“Things.”
“Feng Xin.” And there came the exasperation.
“Look,” By then he was already twisting the metallic pin inside the crown, setting it in place. “Everything is okay. Since Dianxia put shackles on me, my power has been more controlled.”
“It should be totally controlled.” Mu Qing turned his head to him, eyes wide. “You can access it? Even with four shackles?”
Feng Xin shrugged. “I don’t think the shackles are made to contain resentful energy.”
“Shit.” Mu Qing’s eyes unfocused, as they did when he was thinking very hard about something. “Then why…? The healers, why aren’t you…?”
“I’m learning.” He smiled encouragingly, hoping it would soothe Mu Qing’s worries.
“To deal with the new powers?”
To train my pain to roar in silence. “Yes.”
“Why don’t they teach you to deal with the resentful energy, then?” Mu Qing looked indignant again. Feng Xin repressed the urge to smile.
“Can you imagine Crimson Rain taking his eyes off of Dianxia for long enough to teach anything to anybody?”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Okay, no. But what about Black Water?” He insisted. “He owes you. You helped him and Shi Qingxuan ascend. You were there at their tribulation, even!”
“Mu Qing.” His hand landed on Mu Qing’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m dealing with it.” Another soothing smile. “Trust me.”
Mu Qing looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but stopped himself when Xie Lian knocked on their door to hurry them to breakfast.
“This is not over.” Mu Qing warned him, standing up.
Feng Xin knew it wasn’t. He would just enjoy the calm in between the storms.
Xie Lian dragged them into a table, and Feng Xin didn’t know what happened. Maybe it was because Xie Lian had them both sitting on each of his sides, maybe it was because he had been thrown off by what had been happening since the day before. All he knew was that, accidentally, they fell into an old rhythm. They didn’t even notice it, none of them. It was like they had been transported through time, back to when things were simpler.
In taverns and inns, it would be the same. They would both sit on each of Xie Lian’s sides. Mu Qing was responsible for filling Xie Lian’s plate with the things he liked to eat, and push a small amount of the things he needed to eat in there as well. Xie Lian hadn’t been all that fussy about food, but there were necessary things he would refuse to eat if there wasn’t enough cheese or sauce to mask the taste, and Mu Qing was the one who would remember that, rather than Feng Xin, who would fill the place with the same things that he was eating and get frustrated if Xie Lian left anything on his plate.
Feng Xin was tasked with other two things: one was making sure Xie Lian’s hair was tied to his back, and then he would take a bite of each of the things Mu Qing put in Xie Lian’s plate, testing it for poison.
They bickered through it like always.
“You took half of the goat cheese, now he’s not going to eat the arugula, you idiot.” Mu Qing complained, reaching for the melted cheese again to pour more into his plate.
“It got caught in my spoon, okay? I’m sorry! It’s not like it’s the end of the world, arugula isn’t even that bitter.”
“Say that again when he leaves half of it in his plate and you’re annoyed he didn’t eat everything.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes.
“I said I’m sorry, what do you—“ Something caught his eye, a strange expression on Xie Lian’s face. “Dianxia?” Feng Xin looked at Xie Lian, alarmed.
Xie Lian was looking forward, staring very intently at his place. Oh, shit. Feng Xin was about to— he didn’t even know, Crimson Rain had both his eyebrows up, he had no idea what that expression meant, and Xie Lian looked like he was about to—
“Dianxia, I’m sorry,” Feng Xin licked his lips, nervous, helpless. “I didn’t mean to grab so much of your cheese.” Heck, he didn’t even mean to taste Xie Lian’s food, of course they wouldn’t be poisoned at Rain Master’s territory, she would probably be offended as hell—
Xie Lian grabbed his arm, and the Mu Qing’s. His eyes were filled with tears, and they fell down his face when the smaller man blinked, his cheeks turning a worrying shade of pink.
“Dianxia?” Mu Qing looked just as horrified as Feng Xin. “I put more cheese in your plate, see? Feng Xin was stupid, but he didn’t mean it.” He scooted closer to Xie Lian. “Dianxia, please, don’t cry—“
“I missed you.” Xie Lian sobbed, a real, ugly sob, a bit of snot wetting the skin under his nose. “I missed you both so much. I’m so happy you’re here, I’m so happy.”
Realization dawned on Feng Xin; he saw the same happen to Mu Qing while Xie Lian clumsily wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them closer.
They went without complain. Mu Qing was the first to wrap his own arms around Dianxia, Feng Xin followed suit, draping himself over them.
Shit. Yeah. He missed Xie Lian too, he missed them, missed this, the easiness, the familiarity, the feeling of home. Xianle didn’t exist anymore, but there they stood, together after so long. This is what he had been missing like a piece of his heart had been gone for the longest time, and was now piecing itself together.
“Don’t leave me again, okay?” Xie Lian whispered between them, breaking Feng Xin’s heart a little. He sounded so young. “Don’t leave me. I wanted you to leave, before, but I don’t. I don’t want it anymore.” He sniffed. “Don’t leave me. I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you.”
They stayed like that for a while, Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s bodies a curtain around Xie Lian’s vulnerability, protecting it. Like it had always been.
Mu Qing was the first to recompose himself, wiping his eyes with his hands quickly, and then Xie Lian’s. “Come on. Eat your arugula before Feng Xin accidentally grabs all of your cheese again.”
Xie Lian offered them a reassuring wet chuckle, picking up his spoon. Feng Xin fixed the ribbon tying his hair back. Xie Lian smiled at him and he felt himself melt a little bit looking at those red-rimmed eyes. He offered him a napkin and he finished drying his face on it, looking thankful.
The strangest part was that Crimson Rain hadn’t interfered with any of it. When Feng Xin caught his eye, he looked like he was studying him, as if he had just learned something brand new about them. Not far from him, Black Water looked fucking delighted, which. Huh. He’d file that for later.
Feng Xin put his head down and went back to eating, unsure if he wished to know who else had noticed the commotion. Probably everyone.
It didn’t matter. The clouds were the colors of the rainbow, his freckles were blue, and Xie Lian wanted him back at his side.
They had been helping the farmers cut fire wood the old way — there was not much to do around here. It was nice. — when Quan Yizhen dropped a box in front of Hua Cheng.
The loud sound startled everyone into stopping. Not that Quan Yizhen seemed to mind. He never did.
“Payment for the damages.” He said simply.
The box was heavy, and familiar, by the way Hua Cheng looked at it.
Crimson Rain narrowed his eye and opened the box. They all knew what was inside. Bars and bars of gold gleamed, neatly stacked against each other.
“It’s too much.” Crimson Rain answered, shutting it.
“I know.” Quan Yizhen’s eyes were narrowed, sharp. It was a weird look on him. He looked like an angry kitten, if kittens were one of the strongest martial gods there were. “I want to pay shixiong’s debt.”
Beside Feng Xin, Yin Yu blushed, his hold on the ax almost faltering.
Crimson Rain narrowed his eye even more. He opened the box again, counting, and shut it back down.
“It’s still too much.”
Quan Yizhen nodded. “I know.” A lot of people had stopped to watch. It felt like a match. If there was someone who was leveled with Crimson Rain’s stubbornest, it was probably Quan Yizhen. “I want to pay Black Water’s debt too.”
He Xuan inhaled sharply, eyes zeroing on Quan Yizhen.
Crimson Rain tilted his head, scrutinizing Quan Yizhen’s figure carefully. “And why would you want that?”
Quan Yizhen looked at Black Water. “He was kind to me when shixiong was—“ He stopped himself as if unable to speak the words. “When he wasn’t here. When I was waiting for you to come back to put shixiong back together.” His eyes followed the trail from Yin Yu to He Xuan. “He was kind.”
Something softened in He Xuan’s face. Shi Qingxuan wrapped his arm around the man’s waist, smiling.
“That’s it?” Hua Cheng snorted. “He was kind?”
Quan Yizhen nodded firmly.
Crimson Rain made a show of checking again, taking his sweet time. Nobody spoke, waiting for his assessment. “You’re a little short to pay for Black Water’s debt.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Feng Xin dropped his ax and took off his own crown, throwing it towards Crimson Rain, just barely refraining from throwing it at his face. “The stones there are worth at least four gold bars. Will that be enough?”
“Do you have another one of those?” Before Hua Cheng finished asking, another crown fell on his lap.
“There.” Mu Qing had his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the pillar that sustained the roof over the porch. “That should cover the rest.”
Hua Cheng’s jaw worked, eye darting from Mu Qing, Feng Xin, Quan Yizhen and Black Water.
Finally, he shut the box. “Congratulations, Black Water Sinking Ships. Your debt has been paid.”
Shi Qingxuan pulled a stunned He Xuan for a kiss and Quan Yizhen smiled wistfully, watching them. Feng Xin approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Yizhen didn’t answer, he just looked at Feng Xin over his shoulder and nodded his head in thanks.
“I’ll buy them back.” He said, but Feng Xin shook his head.
“He won’t sell them.” Of that, he was certain.
“Why?” Yizhen frowned, nose crinkling.
“He hates us.” Mu Qing approached as well, arms still crossed. His hair swished behind him, dark like the night sky. “He’ll probably display them at the Gambler’s Den as a memento of our humiliation or something.”
He traded one look with Mu Qing while Yizhen processed that. “Don’t worry, we don’t care. Dianxia will probably find a way to give them back, but it’s not like we don’t have other crowns, or money to buy more.”
Lord Rain Master breezed through them, all smiles. “Meanwhile, you can borrow ribbons.”
Feng Xin smiled in response, tying his hair back up; Mu Qing did the same. It was a shame that he had to undo Feng Xin’s work, but it was for a good cause. He offered Mu Qing a smile, happy about how things had turned out, Mu Qing rolled his eyes, but tentatively smiled back at him, pushing laughter from Feng Xin’s chest.
“Oh?” Rain Master’s interjection caught his attention. Her eyes were cast up, so he looked in the same direction.
More rainbow clouds. He shook his head and lowered it, pretending to bend to pick his ax back up, to see if the shadow over his face would mask the blush. Unfortunately, that made the knot on top of his head loosen, hair almost falling off.
“Oh, let me help.” Shi Qingxuan approached, picking up the ends of the ribbon. Feng Xin didn’t look up, since he was taller than Shi Qingxuan, he had to stay a little bent for him to be able to tie the ribbon around his hair.
“Thanks.” He said when he was finished.
“No problem!” Shi Qingxuan offered him a smile.
After picking up the ax, however, he felt eyes on himself. Looking to his side, he saw Mu Qing watching him. Which was weird.
Black Water had been speaking at length with Quan Yizhen, to no avail. Feng Xin cut a few more logs while he watched side-eyed, until Quan Yizhen noticed that Yin Yu had stopped chopping wood to accept the offered refreshments at the kitchen and followed him without so much as goodbye.
Feng Xin dropped the ax and walked to Black Water, who looked distressed. “He won’t accept any payment.” It wasn’t a question. Feng Xin just knew.
“Will you?” Black Water asked him defeated.
Feng Xin shook his head no; before he spoke, however, he was interrupted.
“Not in money.” Mu Qing approached them at a lazy pace. “How are you as a teacher?”
“Mu Qing!” Feng Xin frowned. “There’s no need for that, really—“
“What do you wish to learn?” He Xuan looked more curious than reluctant now.
“Resentful energy.” Mu Qing, always regal, caught up with them. Haughty, beautiful, infuriating. “He needs to learn how to deal with it.”
“Crimson Rain told him, though, this morning, what—“
Feng Xin blushed furiously. “Nothing! He didn’t tell me anything useful!”
He Xuan narrowed his eyes. It took him a bit to understand. “Oh. Surely not. My mistake.”
Mu Qing was looking from one to the other suspiciously. “Well. Regardless. This idiot might not accept payment, but I will. I did give up my crown to pay your debt, and I expect you to deliver.”
“And your price is…” Black Water tilted his head. “For me to teach General Nan Yang how to deal with resentful energy?”
Mu Qing nodded, chin high, as if daring him to question his choices. “Do you have a problem with that? I know Feng Xin is not the sharpest blade in the box, but he can learn.”
“Ayo!” Feng Xin glared at him.
“What? It’s the truth.” He huffed back. “So?”
He Xuan looked from one to the other until he bowed his head. “I accept.”
“Ah, whatever, sure, don’t ask me if I want to take fucking lessons.” He shook his head. Too late. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to pay Quan Yizhen back.”
“How?” Black Water’s voice supported his look of distress. “I am not rich right now, but prayers will come, and I will have merits. It doesn’t seem like he will accept money, however.”
“He won’t.” Feng Xin agreed. “He already donated boxes of gold to Puqi shrine, just because he took a liking to Dianxia and, according to himself, he had too many of them.”
Shi Qingxuan behind them, giggled. “He’s adorable.”
Feng Xin could not disagree. “I have an idea of something we could do for him.”
“What is it?”
He saw a few interested looks upon him.
“We’ll do it like this…”
It didn’t take much to coach Quan Yizhen to come to him. They fought before, and the sparring seemed to entertain Lord Rain Master’s subjects.
“We know you don’t want any gold.” Feng Xin told him, looking closely. “But what do you think about information?”
“I don’t like gossip.” Was his automatic response.
“Not that kind of information.” He rolled his eyes, tipping his sword. “I know a way to take off Yin Yu’s shackles.”
Quan Yizhen’s whole face lit up and he jumped over Feng Xin, sword clashing with his producing sparks around them. “How?”
“I saw it myself with Hua Cheng and Xie Lian inside Tonglu Mountain.” He explained. “The shackles are like a door. If you put enough energy over them, they’ll rupture and break.”
Quan Yizhen frowned. “So I… beat the shackles energetically?”
He shook his head. “You just pour energy on it and it’ll break by itself.” Feng Xin dodged two attacks and threw one himself, backing Quan Yizhen against a tree.
They traded two more blows before the conversation could resume.
“You don’t have enough energy by yourself, though.” Feng Xin continued. “You’ll need to borrow it.”
“From you?”
“I have shackles myself.” He showed them to him. “But the person who put mine in, as you know, is willing to take them off if I ask them to. Your shixiong is not so lucky.”
“Then who?” The boy’s scowl only grew. He didn’t have deputies, he didn’t have anyone to order around and ask for spiritual energy.
Feng Xin took the opportunity to try and disarm him, almost succeeding due to his distraction. “You can borrow from multiple people. You should do that, actually. It takes a lot of energy to break a shackle, but—“ He stopped fighting, walking towards Yizhen. “There’s something else. A way to transfer spiritual energy that Crimson Rain swears is more effective.”
“Oh?” Yizhen’s eyes sparkle. Feng Xin could bet he heard of it.
“Are you interested in that, Yizhen?”
He saw the younger man swallow dry and nod.
Feng Xin nodded as well. “Then come with me.”
They met behind the shed and watched Quan Yizhen grow steadily more agitated with the time that it took to transfer spiritual energy, especially because they had to do this one by one.
Black Water, Shi Qingxuan, Mu Qing and Rain Master had offered. They streamed spiritual energy into Quan Yizhen’s meridians until his eyes glowed and he bounced on the balls of his feet, ready to fucking go. Feng Xin could sympathize.
“It’s done.” He checked one last time the young man’s pulse, but everything seemed fine. “You can go.”
Yizhen didn’t even wait for him to say anything else before he was dashing off.
“Remember to ask! Ask before you do it!” He sighed. “Shit.”
“You told him to get consent to kiss Yin Yu about a eighty-six times.” Shi Qingxuan chuckled.
“Yeah, but will he listen?” Feng Xin rubbed his face with his hands. “I hate to meddle like this.”
“They do need a push.” Qingxuan sat beside him, shrugging. “If it means anything, I wouldn’t be mad if you were to meddle to help me like this.”
It did help. Feng Xin smiled at him. “Thanks.”
His eyes seemed to catch up on something on Feng Xin’s face and he frowned. “You have a little…” He pointed at Feng Xin’s skin.
“Oh?” Self-conscious, he tried to rub the spot with his hand. He was probably filthy from rolling around in dirty while sparring with Yizhen.
“You’re making it worse.” He chuckled. “Let me, hold up,” His finger touched Feng Xin’s face, cleaning up whatever he had seen on him. “There, all clean.”
“Thanks.”
“The other side is dirty too.”
Mu Qing. His head whipped in this direction so fast he got dizzy. “I’m probably filthy right now.”
“Yes.” That didn’t stop him from getting closer to Feng Xin and wiping the top of his cheek, eyes narrowing.
“What? What’s it?” He didn’t know what was going on, but Shi Qingxuan moved until he was in front of him to look. “What’s going on?”
Qingxuan looked at Mu Qing, who seemed to be studying Feng Xin’s skin as if he found it equally fascinating and annoying as hell.
“There’s more dirt here.” Wind Master’s hand approached again, touching his forehead. He smiled immediately, eyes going from one side of his face to the other. “Oh. I see.”
He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he doesn’t wanna know more. “I’ll go take a bath.” Feng Xin stood up and brushed through them. “I’ll see you on our—“
Beyond the empty grass, across the trees, a light. Feng Xin had seen that light before. He stopped and smiled, shoulders relaxing.
It worked. Quan Yizhen did it.
He looked back to see Shi Qingxuan making celebratory jumps around He Xuan, who looked mildly amused. He smiled at them, engaging on the celebratory mood for a moment. Then he was also trapped under an intense look from Mu Qing, one he didn’t want to examine the meaning of.
Whatever was happening — and he didn’t really know — he was sure that Mu Qing changed his cultivation method, and that he had been dual cultivating with Pei Ming. It didn’t matter how… not committed they were to each other, Feng Xin could not survive… this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t know, but he knows he’s weak, he knows if Mu Qing gets too close he’ll give him anything, and he also knows that when Mu Qing rejects him or goes back to cultivating, Feng Xin will break. He knows that.
So he squared his shoulders and moved away to find somewhere to bathe, before the fire burning in his belly could turn him to smoke.
On that same day — scratch that, on the very moment Feng Xin put his feet on Heaven’s grounds, Pei Ming came out of nowhere and punched Feng Xin.
He didn’t greet anyone, didn’t speak a single word; he just strolled right in and punched Feng Xin.
Even Ling Wen, the person who he had been with at the time, was shocked.
“Pei Ming!” She squealed, eyes wide.
“You fucker, you think you can to ahead and do whatever you want, heh? You think you can go around and do whatever the fuck you want?” There were saliva bubbles on the corner of Pei Ming’s mouth.
“What did I do?” Feng Xin held his face, extremely confused.
“You know what you did! And to think that I thought we were friends!” His eyes bulged more and more from his face, to the point that Feng Xin frowned, a little worried. “This is war, Nan Yang. War!”
He stomped away, leaving a stunned Feng Xin behind.
Ling Wen threw him an apologetic look before running off behind her… friend? Ally?
Did he know? With horror in his gut settled cold. Shit, did he know that he and Mu Qing shared a bed? Did he know…?
Shit. Shit.
How did he know?
Well. That didn’t matter. He had to warn Mu Qing, weird as it sounded. He had ascended before Feng Xin, he was probably at his palace, but—
No. He couldn’t go. Not as himself, not after that. He had to stay away from Mu Qing.
He sent one of his officials with a message and waited. Did Pei Ming mean it? Was he preparing to war? Was it war against Feng Xin, or was it a war between territories? Surely he wouldn’t go against Mu Qing, but the Southeast was probably fair game to him.
Would Pei Ming do such a thing for something so small, though? He would have said no a few hours ago, but then the sheer fury of Pei Ming’s expression when he punched Feng Xin had him reeling. Was he really that jealous of Mu Qing? Regardless of whatever Mu Qing said about Pei Ming not owning him, that sort of reaction wasn’t a “we’re having a casual fling” reaction.
That… reassured Feng Xin. At least Mu Qing wasn’t dual cultivating with someone who didn’t care. Sure, it would probably take a bit of coaxing for Mu Qing to surrender to feelings, but if Pei Ming straightened his act, he probably wouldn’t be a bad choice. He was strong, experienced and reliable. He seemed to understand Mu Qing’s moods and never take it too seriously, which was for the best, lest their relationship ended up like…
Feng Xin grimaced. Well. This would be easier than he thought, then. He just had to step aside and prove to Pei Ming that he had nothing of the sorts with Mu Qing. The rest should fix itself on its own with time. Their relationship would solidify and everything would be alr—
“General Nan Yang, Sir.” One of his subordinates ran to him, terrified. “You’re being called to the Martial Hall.”
Well. Shit.
“Come with me.” He told two of his deputies, throwing a sword at one, his bow and arrows at the other.
They followed dutifully. Feng Xin wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t enter the hall without a way to reach his weapons, which stayed with his deputies at the door of the room, but he also didn’t want to aggravate Pei Ming even more, so. Weaponless it was.
The Hall was basically empty, only very few attendees to the impromptu session. Ling Wen stood in the middle of the room, looking tense. Pei Ming, behind her, was pacing and fuming, looking thoroughly furious.
He stood on his corner and waited the session to start.
“This better be important.” Xie Lian arrived less gracefully than usual, making his way to the Ling Wen. “I’m still unpacking.”
Ling Wen nodded, lips pursed in tension. “General Ming Guang wishes to declare war on General Nan Yang.”
Xie Lian’s face lost all color. “What? Why?” His eyes found Feng Xin’s in the crowd, but all he could do was shrug and duck his head.
“He won’t say.” Ling Wen added, eyes narrowed.
“This fucker went too far.” Pei Ming approached the center of the room, eyes fixed on Feng Xin. “Now he’ll deal with the consequences.”
“But what—?”
“Calling for war is a big thing, Pei Ming.” Lang Qianqiu interfered. “You can’t just produce a heavenly feud like this and expect us to stand by and do nothing, especially when we don’t know the reason behind it.”
Xie Lian looked so proud, it was disgusting. “Yes. Yes, sh— General Tai Hua is right. You can’t just do that without giving us a reason.”
“The reason is that I want to.” Pei Ming narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders. “The reason is that he’s a fucker, and I’m taking him down.”
Feng Xin took a step forward and clasped his fist, taking a small bow. “General Ming Guang, I apologize.”
Pei Ming sputtered. “You apologize?”
Feng Xin nodded. “I came here unarmed. I don’t want to fight. I am aware that I overstepped, and it will not happen again.”
“You—“ He started laughing, but there was nothing funny about the sound. It was creepy, and weird, and it made Feng Xin feel like he felt when Hua Cheng looked at him. “You fucker. You absolute disgusting—“ Unable to find words, Pei Ming spit on the floor right at Feng Xin’s feet.
He stared at it, blood boiling. Clenching his fists, Feng Xin looked back up. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
The punch came quick, the second just as much. Feng Xin didn’t have time to react, falling to the floor, moment in which Pei Ming sat on top of his chest and kept mauling his face while Feng Xin did his best to get away from him without making matters worse.
Ruoye wrapped itself around Pei Ming and Feng Xin accepted Xie Lian’s help to get up, straightening his robes.
“Your Highness,” Ling Wen’s voice echoed through the hall. “I might have an idea of what this is about. Do you mind if I…?”
“Not at all.” Xie Lian looked relieved. “Go ahead.”
She placed two fingers on her temple, most likely speaking to someone on the communication array.
It took about five minutes and two more attempts of Pei Ming to punch the daylights out of Feng Xin before someone stepped inside the Martial Hall.
“What did idiot one and idiot two did this time?” Mu Qing sounded tired.
“General Ming Guang declared war against the Southeast.” Ling Wen declared.
Mu Qing’s face whipped towards her. “What?” His eyes narrowed towards Pei Ming, approaching him. “Are you insane?”
“This doesn’t concern you, Xuan Zhen.” Pei Ming answered acidly. Oh, great. Jealous. He was jealous.
Wasn’t that just fucking great.
Feng Xin watched as Mu Qing clenched his fists. “Look. I don’t know what Feng Xin did, but I’m sure his foolhardy stupidity doesn’t warrant war—“
“It does.” Pei Ming growled.
“I apologized.” Feng Xin added with no small amount of uncertainty. “I did, everyone saw. I’m sincere. I’m sorry.”
“Your apologies are worth nothing to me, Nan Yang, noth—“
Mu Qing’s hair fell from ups half-updo. Behind him, Ling Wen had pulled the pale green ribbon, showing it to Pei Ming.
Pei Ming was speechless, eyes wide as saucers, jaw slack.
“You are such an idiot.” There was no fondness in Ling Wen’s voice.
Feng Xin missed something. He was sure of it.
Mu Qing frowned, eyes going from the ribbon to Pei Ming’s face, and he started to laugh.
Xie Lian covered his lips with his sleeves, amused. Ruoye let Pei Ming go slowly. His hair fell forth as he fixed his clothes. Was he… blushing? Was that a blush? No. No, it couldn’t be.
Feng Xin tried, but he didn’t understand. Not until Pei Ming approached him, bowing curtly.
“I apologize for my behavior, Nan Yang.” He cleaned his throat. “I lost control. I guess…” His voice lowered, loud enough for just Feng Xin to hear it. “I guess even I become a fool for... love from time to time.”
Was it the ribbons? Oh, of course. He had been wearing matching ribbons with Mu Qing, hasn’t he? He didn’t even remember to take them off after he came back, so worried about the punch. Pei Ming had probably thought it meant something, perhaps a promise of affection between him and Mu Qing.
Feng Xin could relate. Jealousy made him a very ugly monster when it had its claws around his heart.
He reached behind his head and pulled the ribbon loose, offering it to Pei Ming. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to make it seem that I—”
“No.” Pei Ming cleared his throat again. “No, of course not. Thank you for understanding, Nan Yang.”
Feng Xin never saw anyone leave so fast in his entire life. Pei Ming’s form was already very small when he looked through the door of the Martial Hall, crossing streets and parks as if his feet were on fire.
“Are we really just letting him get away with this?” Mu Qing wondered out loud, arms crossed over his chest.
Xie Lian shrugged, still half smiling. “Love does strange things to people. Plus,” He raised his hand, allowing Ruoye to wrap itself back on his arm. “Ling Wen is still allowed around, isn’t she? Then why not Pei Ming?”
Ling Wen arched one eyebrow. “Pei Ming is General Xuan Zhen’s problem now.”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Damn the moment I accepted this.” He looked at Feng Xin, and then at Xie Lian. “At least this means that idiot is your problem.”
“I am nobody’s problem!” Feng Xin argued very maturely, thank you. “Go deal with Pei Ming before he tries to use my face as a punching bag again.”
Mu Qing’s face changed, but he didn’t say anything. He nodded and turned back, night-sky hair flowing around him like water.
Xie Lian approached Feng Xin, eying him curiously. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Feng Xin nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Did you even understand what happened?” Ling Wen watched him closely.
Feng Xin shrugged. “He was jealous, right?”
“Right.” Xie Lian traded a glance with Ling Wen. “But who was he jealous of?”
Feng Xin ducked his head. “I don’t think these matters should be spoken of in the Martial Hall, Dianxia.”
Xie Lian pursed his lips. Maybe it was a boss thing. “Certainly not. Perhaps I can visit your palace for tea, then.”
“Of course.” Feng Xin nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
He bowed and was dismissed, finally leaving the Martial Hall. His two deputies looked at his face with an emotion Feng Xin couldn’t quite place.
“Let’s go back.” He told them.
“So… there will be no war?” The deputy by his left arm asked, looking just as scared as Feng Xin had felt.
“No.” He confirmed, nodding his head. “There will be no wars today.”
Training with He Xuan is… weird.
They were sitting down in front of each other, legs crossed, one feet over the curve of their own knees.
“Resentful energy is heavily influenced by mood.” He Xuan explained. “Which means you need to work on controlling your mood.”
Feng Xin snorted.
“I’m serious.” The ghost turned god insisted.
“I can’t not feel stuff.”
“It’s not about that.” Black Water shook his head. “It’s about letting your emotions pass through you without acting on them. Feeling and processing without acting on it.”
The man knew how to wait, that was for sure. “How do I do that?”
He Xuan then sat down on meditation pose, and Feng Xin groaned.
He knew how to meditate, he just didn’t like it.
“You don’t need to empty your mind.” He Xuan reminded him. “You just need to focus on a single thing.”
Feng Xin took a deep breath.
He tried to find a single thing to think about.
Feng Xin thought about training. He thought about clouds. He thought about a lot of things, from the buzzing from the nearby bee to training idioms, he tried a lot of stuff. His thoughts kept bouncing from one thing to the other, incapable of settling.
“It’s not working.” He Xuan deadpanned. “Try breathing.”
He does. He paid attention to his breath like it was a precious thing. The air coming into his nostrils was cold, the air coming out was warmer. He counted the breaths at the beginning, making sure the exhales were longer than the inhales. He also tried to make sure to empty all of his lungs before trying again. He did it all perfectly, not a single preceptor in the whole world could fault his technique, but—
“It’s not working.” He Xuan sighed. “Try visualization.”
He tried to visualize stuff. Guoshi had taught him that much. So he did, he imagined Taicang Mountain and Dianxia to his right, meditating. It was autumn. The air was crisp and fresh, the light golden, the swift wind brushing past the orange leaves, a broom rustling against the stone floors—
“That’s good.” He Xuan said, but his voice wavered. Feng Xin knew something was wrong.
“Doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s… working.” Black Water explained. “In a matter of what the word ‘working’ can convey.”
He could feel the change, the stream of energy trickling through him. It was a tender thing, but warm and bright, nothing like the heavy resentment he felt before.
“Whatever you were focusing on, explore it.” His current teacher told him. “I’ll tell you when you get it right.”
So, he kept trying. Taicang Mountain, Dianxia, the other trainees. Autumn, meditation, the fresh breeze making the leaves rustle, a hand on broom, swiping—
“You’re getting closer.”
“It’s been weeks.” Feng Xin threw his arms up in frustration. “This is not for me. Can’t we just let Crimson Rain kill me?”
“What have you been thinking about?” He Xuan sipped on tea beside Shi Qingxuan.
“Hm.” He hesitated. “My cultivation.”
“Your cultivation?” He Xuan repeated, a long eyebrow arched up. “Explain.”
He felt exposed. “Well. I cultivated as a martial disciple, as you know. But.” Feng Xin took a breath in. “When Xie Lian started cultivating, he didn’t want to be alone.”
“Ah,” Shi Qingxuan smiled. “I almost forget sometimes. Xie Lian was a bit spoiled as a prince, was he not?”
Feng Xin bit his lip. It still felt like a betrayal to speak of those things. “I guess.”
“So?” He Xuan encouraged him again. The contrast was startling: his black robes, black nails, black hair, and then the delicate white-and-green porcelain on his hands, decorated in gold and rose. He did not seem to mind.
Feng Xin cleared his throat. “Well. So I stayed with him in Taicang Mountain. I was his body guard, after all, but he didn’t really want me to just stand there and do my job. I.” He took a breath. “I meditated with him, and things like that.”
“You?” Shi Qingxuan looked amused.
“Yes.” Feng Xin kept going. “It was hard for me, so Guoshi had to go through a few techniques with me. I tried them all, but they didn’t work until they did.”
“How come?” Black eyes fell on Feng Xin like they could read through him, making him nervous.
“I don’t know. We never figured it out.” He shrugged. “We had been trying through spring and summer, but then during autumn they suddenly started working and I could meditate. I felt like a small stream was trickling through my meridians.”
“Yes, that’s the right feeling.” He agreed easily. “But you only manage to get there by the end of the meditation session.” The ghost king hummed. “Do you know why?”
Feng Xin shook his head.
“Well.” He Xuan dismissed the thought. “Keep trying. I will investigate further on the matter and see what we can do about this issue.”
Two weeks later they were back at Taicang Mountain, trying to make the phenomenon of his youth happen again, to no avail.
“It isn’t working!” Feng Xin growled, hours and hours of meditation in.
He Xuan watched him closely. “Let’s try something else.”
He sat back in Taicang Mountain. After a few moments, he heard something rustling.
A lot of rustling.
“What’s—“
“Focus.” He Xuan chided. So he did.
He wasn’t alone anymore, he was sure of that. It threw him off for a moment. He had to trust He Xuan’s judgment. If everything, he had been really trying to help Feng Xin in as many ways as he knew, getting creative with location, technique, researching things for him… it was a lot. It was a lot for the price of two crowns. He had to be thankful.
He tried to try meditating, but it really wasn’t working. He could imagine that Xie Lian was beside him and all of those people were his cultivation peers, and it was autumn, but there was something—
He fell himself falling into the easy rhythm. Breath in, breath out, the crown of his head opening to the spiritual energy around him. Slowly, very slowly, he felt the heavy bag of resentment that he had been carrying start to drip through his core, turning from cloudy energy to calmer, neutral energy, all the way to the golden warm sunny dust that made spiritual energy.
“It’s not enough.” He sighed at the end, thanking He Xuan anyway. He lost count of the amount of days they had been trying.
“The technique works.” He Xuan observed, looking almost as frustrated as Feng Xin with the failure. “It’s just too slow to accompany the growth of the resentful energy you carry.”
“It’s better than nothing.” He acknowledged. “Thank you for trying.”
He Xuan pursed his lips. “I’m not giving up.” He declared. “I will find the missing link.”
Feng Xin repressed the urge to sigh. “Thank you.”
A few weeks later, his meditation session was rudely interrupted.
BANG. The doors opened, revealing a furious looking Mu Qing and a troubled Xie Lian.
“We’re sorry,” Xie Lian looked sheepish, eying him.
Feng Xin’s eyes followed Mu Qing, who made a beeline to the dressing rooms.
“What is he doing?” Feng Xin asked, at loss.
“Hm.” Xie Lian looked from Feng Xin to the open door. “I think he should tell you himself.”
But Mu Qing told him nothing. He just pushed Xie Lian to the dressing rooms, presumably forcing him into one of Feng Xin’s spare training garb, and then dragged him to the center of the square where Feng Xin had been trying to meditate.
Mu Qing pulled Xie Lian to one of Feng Xin’s sides, positioning him so his knees were at an angle, and sat down himself with a huff, until they were all forming a triangle on the floor.
“Mu Qing?” He asked, very confused.
“Take your shirt off.”
Feng Xin could feel the flush rising from his neck. “What?”
“Shirt off!” Mu Qing had something wild on his eyes, his cheeks a beautiful shade of peony pink. “Now!”
Xie Lian scratched his cheek, embarrassed.
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter why!” Mu Qing growled and advanced over him, making him tumble to the ground. “Just take it off!”
“Dianxia?” Feng Xin was trying to fight Mu Qing off, holding his wrists so his hands couldn’t get to his clothes.
“We were trying to meditate.” Xie Lian explained in a meek voice. “But Mu Qing has been having a hard time concentrating. He thought counting your freckles could help.”
“Oh.” His eyes found Mu Qing’s face, words flashing through his mind.
The state preceptor told us that as long as our focus was on a single thing, we’d be able to cultivate just fine.
If you keep on doing that, we might not have to kill you after all.
“Okay.” He agreed, nodding. “I’ll take my shirt off. No problem.”
Mu Qing’s flush creeped higher, filling both his ears. It was adorable.
The situation was weird, but Feng Xin wasn’t usually shy. Once Mu Qing was off of him, he untied his sash and left it to his side, doing the same with the robes.
He took one look at Dianxia, who smiled at him, and one at Mu Qing, who was actively avoiding looking at him, like a weirdo.
Then, he took a deep breath in, a long breath out, and shut his eyes.
The energy vibrated and made a strange sound, sort of like the twinkling of very small bells. Perhaps it was the closeness to stable energies such as Xie Lian’s and Mu Qing’s, but he found it easier to tap into the resentful energy. He felt safe enough to manipulate it better. Maybe the wall he had before was fear? He wasn’t sure. Regardless, it worked. It felt easy, almost natural, to let it trickle through him, washing away like a stream, filtering through his golden core until it was spiritual energy again.
It felt, weirdly, like the resentment was trying to talk to him. Like it just wanted his attention, for him to sit with it, before it mellowed away as something else. Kind of like hanging out with Mu Qing when he was angry — you’d ignore the jabs, be careful and open, and he’d bloom back into his milder, still snarky, but affectionate self.
Thinking about that made him draw another deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of lychee and goat milk. It settled onto his chest like a good pillow, just fluffy enough for him to sink into and leave his every worry behind. Across from him, he heard another's inhale and exhale mirroring his own, falling into sync. The person’s energy was sharper and fresher than his own, like peppermint or a dip in a river on a hot day. It felt good, softly soothing his own occasional excess of warmth, chasing away any soreness, discomfort or clogging in his own energy, while his own chased away spots that were too dark or too cold on the other’s, melting them away into comfortable freshness.
He lost track of time, but it had probably been hours
“Oh.” He heard Xie Lian stand up. “Oh. Oh. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be here.” His feet started scraping the floor.
“What?” He heard Mu Qing said and opened his eyes, equally confused.
“I didn’t mean to peek!” Xie Lian was so, so red. What the fuck. “I felt something weird and then I realized it was you and I’m so sorry!”
“Dianxia—“ Feng Xin frowned, trying to stop the rambling for long enough that they could ask what the fuck Xie Lian was talking about.
“I didn’t mean to see anything! I’m sorry!” Xie Lian disappeared through the doors, leaving the other two behind, very confused.
The sky was tinged pink and orange, slowly morphing to the light blue that preceded the dark night sky. Feng Xin got up, feeling, for all intends and purposes, awesome in his own energy and body. He offered a hand to help Mu Qing up, feeling a little surprised when it was accepted.
“Do you have any idea what that was about?” Feng Xin tried.
Mu Qing shook his head. “None. But I’ll badger it out of him through the communication array eventually, don’t worry.”
“Keep me posted.” He asked and stretched, amazed that nothing was aching after that long holding a single position.
Mu Qing watched him. “We should do this again.” He declared. “This was productive.”
Feng Xin nodded. “I agree. We can set up a schedule, I know you’re busy.” Just meditating wouldn’t set Pei Ming off, would it? Especially if Xie Lian was around.
“See you around?” Mu Qing’s eyes looked even darker underneath the brightness of the sky. The pink hue of the light gave his skin an ethereal look, like he was made from the stuff that made the stars.
Feng Xin nodded. “See you around.”
“You dual cultivated.” He Xuan announced plainly.
Feng Xin sputtered. “We what?”
“It’s all over you.” Shi Qingxuan agreed, serving more tea.
Shit. So that was the reason behind all the weird looks he was receiving that morning on the Martial Hall.
“I thought dual cultivation required—“
“Sex?” The word felt wrong coming from He Xuan’s mouth. Feng Xin scrunched his nose. “It does.”
“Then how?” Feng Xin was at loss. “Xie Lian was right there, he can guarantee we did nothing of the sort. We just breathed and meditated, like you said I should!”
“It’s not usual.” He Xuan agreed. “Your connection would have to be very strong.”
Shi Qingxuan nodded along, agreeing.
Feng Xin let his head down, forehead touching the table. “Pei Ming is going to kill me.”
“Why?” The couple in front of him looked confused.
“Promise me you’ll keep it a secret?” He looked from one to the other.
He Xuan was the first to now, Shi Qingxuan followed along. “Of course.” He smiled genially. “We’re friends.”
He sighed deeply. “I snuck around into the Xuan Zhen palace a while ago in disguise.” He confessed, huffing. “I don’t have spies, and I don’t believe in gossip, so I had to go see for myself. Problem is, I wasn’t the only one sneaking around there.”
“Oh?”
“Pei Ming was there.” Feng Xin couldn’t help the sigh leaving his lungs. “He was also sneaking around. But apparently, the deputies knew about it. He was going straight for Mu Qing’s bedroom, late at night.”
Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan exchanged a look. “Are you sure?”
Feng Xin nodded. “Yes. Saw it with my own two eyes. And then I went to Mu Qing’s office and found scrolls on dual cultivation.”
“Did you ask Mu Qing about this?”
“He admitted he has been cultivating with Pei Ming.” Feng Xin shrugged. “And Pei Ming punched me when me and Mu Qing were wearing matching ribbons after leaving Rain Master’s domain. He was ready to declare war on the Southwest for that.” Humorless laughter followed the declaration. “Also, Ban Yue told me that Mu Qing and Xie Lian changed cultivation path together after Xie Lian married Crimson Rain.”
He Xuan stood up, eyes narrowed. “You are an idiot.”
Feng Xin frowned. “Excuse me?”
“He Xuan.” Shi Qingxuan urged, and then looked at Feng Xin. “He just thinks that your interpretation of these events may be a little skewed, Nan Yang.”
He shook his head. “I was there, I saw it all. And now Pei Ming is going to kill me because I accidentally dual cultivated his partner.” His voice was muffled by the wood of the table. “I should start preparing for war with the North.”
“Don’t worry!” Shi Qingxuan’s hand landed on Feng Xin’s back, comforting him. “I’ll talk to him, OK? Explain that it was just an accident.”
“You would do that?” Feng Xin’s eyes brightened considerably.
“Of course.” Wind Master kept on nodding. “You’re my friend. Pei Ming will understand.”
“I hope so.” His head turned until it wasn’t his forehead, but his cheek pressed against the wood. “Mu Qing seems happy. I don’t wanna accidentally ruin it.”
Shi Qingxuan’s smile was gentle. “Leave it all to me. I’ll take care of it.
And that was, of course, how he ended up punching the living daylights out of Pei Ming in the main park of the Heavenly City.
“What the fuck,” Feng Xin felt the crackling coming off of his eyes, undeniable, unforgivable. “Did you just say?”
Pei Ming’s face blanched. “Shit. Feng Xin, I was joking around, you can’t take me seriously, come on—“ He raised both hands in front of his chest, trying to appease him.
It was the wrong thing to do. Thunder rolled over them. “You really should thing better before making little of the gods of the south.”
“Come on, it was a joke! You could always take a joke, Feng Xin, Mu Qing’s the one who’d punch me for stuff like this, come on!”
Feng Xin was angry, but he wasn’t one to harm another god because of something like a teasing line. Well, maybe if it was someone else, but not Pei Ming, who was a pain in the ass and had misguided morals but wasn’t actually a bad guy. When it mattered, he did do the right thing, mostly.
That being said, having Mu Qing’s name leaving the fucker’s moth after the words sweet and ass had Feng Xin reeling. That, combined with his newly honed meditation practice and settled resentment, he would ponder later, were probably the reason what followed that.
“Take his name out of your filthy mouth, you asshole!” He yelled while throwing a punch. His fists crackled with newfound energy as it connected with Pei Ming’s face.
Pei Ming was thrown far, far away, back hitting the side of someone’s palace — Quan Yizhen’s, probably. But that wasn’t what caught the attention of the heavenly officials around them, since scuffles like that were pretty common around Feng Xin.
No, what caught their attention was the bolt of lightning that followed his punch, straight into Pei Ming’s chest.
Feng Xin stopped, watching his hand with surprise. Pei Ming looked the same, lifting himself from the rubble, his hair poking out in the weirdest places, standing up a little burned from the static.
“What the fuck?” He cursed. Feng Xin echoed the feeling.
“I think,” A stern voice popped behind him. “That you should go back to see the healers.”
If it were anyone else, Feng Xin would have probably dismissed it, but Ling Wen had shadows underneath her eyes for miles and a dark look that could make the strongest martial god cower, especially because she was the one to hand out both missions and paperwork. Pei Ming and him sure were ducking their heads, at least.
He turned to walk towards the Healer’s Hall, hearing footsteps behind him. “What now?”
Pei Ming ducked his head again. “She told me to come too. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
They walked in silence for a bit.
“Is that new?” He asked, curious. Feng Xin tilted his head, confused. “The lightning.”
He nodded. “Meditating helped. He Xuan says Crimson Rain won’t try to kill me anymore if I keep doing that.”
“That’s good.” Pei Ming agreed. “You’re mastering your powers.” And then, he looked almost sheepish. It was such a weird look on Pei Ming that Feng Xin couldn’t stop staring. “Look. They told me you were reacting badly to my name when you ascended.” He paused, searching Feng Xin’s face. “Did I do anything? I know I joke around, but I like you, Nan Yang. I don’t want us to be on bad terms.”
It squeezed on Feng Xin’s heart, to remember. He was getting better at it, though, because imagining Pei Ming and Mu Qing together did hurt, but not as much as before. Maybe he was dealing better with the grieving of a possibility he wished for so much. Pei Ming was, as established, an asshole, but he could see how it would work. How Pei Ming would ignore and laugh at Mu Qing’s petty anger, how he would encourage him to enjoy the now instead of worrying about the future, how he did care about Mu Qing.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Feng Xin gave him the same answer that he gave Mu Qing when he first asked. “I was stupid. But now it’s all good, no need to worry about it.”
The older man watched his face, and then clapped his back. “If you say so. Warn me if that changes.”
They parted ways once the healers saw them and rushed them in for the repertoire of questions. He and Pei Ming traded a look before being guided into different rooms, looks that said the same thing.
They were okay.
The healers took his shackles away with Xie Lian, but he was left there for observation for just a few more days. It was boring, and annoying, and he wanted to kill someone, but they told him that since he managed to control his powers and hadn't had any problems with his qi as of late, they could see how he did without them. That it was okay.
What was not okay was waking up once again at the healer’s quarters with someone staring at him.
“What the fuck?”
He thought he recognized her. A minor civil god, just ascended. Feng Xin frowned deeply, lifting himself on the bed.
“I’m just finishing! Stay still!” Her voice was a mixture between an order and a desperate plead.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Counting your freckles, of course.” She pushed a strand of her hair back.
“Why?” Feng Xin couldn’t understand.
“Because I need the merits!” The woman complained. “I just ascended, do you remember how that is? It’s hard to get merits! I need merits, I ascended as a goddess of calligraphy and teaching, I need supplies! I need ink, and scrolls, gold foil, pigments, so many—”
Well, she was bold. “Back up, hold on,” He raised both hands. “Do you mean to say that someone offered merits to whoever got the number right?”
She nodded, eyes widening. “You didn’t know?”
“How do you know about this?”
“Deputies from Xuan Zhen told me. I have a couple of friends there, they said it’s an active wager going on in Heavens for months now. No one got the number right, though.”
Of course not. Mu Qing would never participate in such stupid things, and other than him, no one knew the exact number. The thought made him feel warm in ways he didn’t want to examine.
They were back at it. People staring at his face during council meetings, people offering him tea of coffee in their palaces, or walking beside him while “accidentally” edging towards a random body of water, doubtlessly a ruse to get him out of his robes.
“This has gone far enough.” Feng Xin stood up wrapped around his sheets, moving behind the screen to put his robes back on.
“What?” She seemed confused. “Won’t you let me count them? I really need it! Please have mercy on a newbie!”
Feng Xin rolled his eyes. “Send an invoice of how much you need to the Nan Yang palace. My deputies will go through it to see if everything fits, and then you’ll have your merits.”
Her eyes widened. “Thank you! But—“ She cocked her head. “What are you going to do?”
He narrowed his eyes, coming from behind the screen fully dressed. “I’m going to finish it.”
He entered the Communication Array, and the way his voice boomed in preceptor mode made almost all shut up to listen.
Who the fuck— He interrupted the last Civil god fucker who was claiming to be the best poet for the hundredth time even though he had only ascended for like, five years now, he was sure He Xuan was better than that slimy sack of shit, asshole— —told you to fucking count my fucking freckles?
Complete silence followed his demand.
No one?
Feng Xin. Dianxia’s voice cut in. Oh, goodie. Just who he wanted to talk to. Is everything okay?
Dianxia. He sighed. Come to the Martial Hall. He said, stomping out of the training grounds, not bothering to hide that yes, he was stomping like a toddler. Let’s settle this for once.
The official place seems to be the best place, where people could ogle like the stupid fuckers they were.
Once Xie Lian was there, only a step away from Ling Wen, Feng Xin turned his back and got rid of the top part of his robes, sitting down.
“Count them.”
He didn’t need to look to know they were exchanging looks. But Ling Wen sat behind his back, and Xie Lian in front of him, so he could only assume they were going to try.
It took some time. A lot of time, even. The Martial Hall kept filling up not only with Martial Gods, but also with curious Civil Gods and, of course, the ever curious Elemental Gods. He could pinpoint Yin Yu in the crowd, holding Quan Yizhen’s hand; later, He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan arrive dressed to the nines, looking like they just came back for a date.
He hated being like this, the center of attention, but it was necessary. As long as the incessant counting stopped.
When they finished, Xie Lian smiled encouragingly, turning back to talk to Ling Wen.
“I found four thousand, two hundred and twenty eight on the back.” She declared, all business.
“I got three thousand, six hundred and seven on the front.” Xie Lian bent his head towards the scroll where she was scribbling.
Feng Xin took a moment, but then shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
Xie Lian frowned, Ling Wen pursed her lips. “I am sure of what I have counted, General.”
“Yeah, Feng Xin. We went over it a couple times together. Total is seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty five freckles.”
He shook his head more evidently, standing up. “You’re wrong. You’re missing one.”
“Do you have freckles on your legs?” Xie Lian tried.
Feng Xin denied again. “No, just torso and face.”
“Then we are right.” Ling Wen repeated, fuming.
“Why do you think we’re wrong, Feng Xin?” Dianxia had a soft, confused look on his face.
“M—“ He stopped, flushing. “I had someone count them. Way back.”
“And you’re confident on this person’s count.” Xie Lian looked even more confused. “More than in Ling Wen and me.”
He nodded firmly. “I’m sure they’re right.”
“Well.” Ling Wen shut the folder she had been holding. “Then reveal to us who is that exceptional god who can count better than me.”
In any other situation, he would have cowered. In this, his mouth flattened into a stubborn line. “Only if you tell me who offered everyone credits to count my freckles.”
Xie Lian and Ling Wen traded a glance again. “You really don’t know?”
“Of course not! I just learned that it was a wager today, why do you think I’d know—“
Steps towards him, whispers around. He looked over his shoulder, seeing a dark figure approaching him.
“You are an idiot.”
His eyes widened. “What am I an idiot about now?”
“First of all, getting naked in the Martial Hall.” His hands were behind his back as he casually strode in. He was beautiful. Feng Xin would never not be struck by how beautiful Mu Qing was.
He sputtered indignantly, pulling his robes back up. “I’m not naked!”
“I heard the scandal you did in the Communication Array.” The scolding continued, holy fuck. “Are they counting your freckles?”
“Yes.”
Mu Qing hummed, eyes dark. His expression had a tad of disgust onto it that Feng Xin couldn’t pinpoint, but it made him feel exposed, vulnerable. He ducked his head and avoided the obsidian eyes.
“Why?”
Feng Xin fumed. “Because I’m tired of people trying to sneak up on me to count them!”
Mu Qing’s disgust turned even sourer as he turned to the gods present. “The wager was about guessing the number, not counting them. This is against the rules.”
The truth dawned on him all at once. He gasped. “It was you!”
A tsk. “Of course it was me. Who else knows the answer to confirm the number?”
“But—“ There was no plausible explanation, no reason for— “But you—“
“I won so many merits with wrong guesses, you would not believe.” A deviant smile bloomed on his lips. “I could put up a lavish banquet in your name and would still be rich.”
“Mu Qing, excuse me,” Xie Lian interrupted, his ever calm energy soothing Feng Xin, just a little, from where he had been rattled by the revelation. “We still have the matter at hand. Me and Ling Wen counted, as per Feng Xin’s request, and apparently, our number is wrong.”
Mu Qing’s smile grows. “I know.”
“You know?” Ling Wen looked personally offended. “Pray tell, Xuan Zhen, where did I did something so simple as count in an incorrect manner after helping all of you idiots with the most basic tasks for centuries—“
Feng Xin’s watched Mu Qing reach for his own temple with his fingers, and was suddenly pulled into a private conversation.
First, I need to know if you two are sure you want to know the answer. Mu Qing’s voice said in their heads. It might be unsavory, or embarrassing. Also, I need to know if Feng Xin is okay with you knowing the answer. Same thing.
Feng Xin pondered. If it’s just Dianxia and Ling Wen, I think that’s okay. They are not gossips.
I need to know. Ling Wen’s voice was firm.
Tell us, Mu Qing. In person, Dianxia smiled. I am too curious to back down now.
Mu Qing seemed to brace himself. He has a freckle on his dick.
Surprise flickered through all of their faces. Feng Xin started to blush. Ling Wen pinched the skin between her eyes.
Of course he does.
Huh. Excuse me, but … how?
How do I know? Both Xie Lian’s and Ling Wen’s heads nodded in front of Mu Qing. He used to go skinny dipping when we were young. He didn’t know, but the lake was near my mother’s house. A pause. Do you really think I would make a public wager that I didn’t know fore sure that I would win?
Feng Xin was on the verge of hyperventilating. What the fuck?
I can’t believe you looked at my— He blushed up a storm, still incredulous.
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. Of course I looked, you idiot.
What do you mean of course? Feng Xin sputtered. Nothing about this is obvious. Why would you of all people pay attention to my dick?
Because I ’ve wanted to put my mouth on it since I was fifteen.
Xie Lian covered his mouth with his sleeve, Ling Wen looked startled.
Feng Xin’s heart beat wildly inside his chest. He stood up from the ground, finally looking eye-to-eye with the other gods in the Martial Hall.
Nothing made sense. It didn’t make sense. “What about Pei Ming?”
“What about him?” Mu Qing once again looked affronted and confused.
“You were cultivating with him, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” He admitted easily. “But what does it have to do with anything?”
“Mu Qing,” He let his hand through his hair, almost pulling it out of the bun. “Mu Qing. I can’t—“
“Oh.” Xie Lian’s eyes widened. “Oh. I see.”
“You see what?” Mu Qing snapped. Both him and Xie Lian could see through it, now. It wasn’t aggression. It was fear.
“You knew that Mu Qing changed cultivation paths from Ban Yue, didn’t you? When you were helping out at Puqi Shrine.” Xie Lian took a step towards them. “She told me about it. She probably told you it was because of me marrying San Lang, right?”
Feng Xin nodded to both things. “Yes, that’s it.”
“Did you think we changed paths to dual cultivation?” He tried.
“Ahm.” Feng Xin stuttered, looking from Xie Lian to Mu Qing, coldness drenching his spine. “Yes?”
“What the fuck?” Mu Qing looked like he was about to deck him.
With his heart on his throat, Feng Xin started talking. “I learned that you changed paths, then I wanted to know more, so I disguised myself and went in your palace to hear the gossip from your deputies—“
“You did what?” Mu Qing snapped for real, this time. “Why don’t you have spies, like normal people?”
“I just don’t, okay!” He raised both hands in the air. “So I was there, and it was late at night, and I was on door duty, and then I saw Pei Ming sneaking around—“ Mu Qing’s face grew alarmed at that. “—and he went straight to your bedroom, so I went to look in your office and there were scrolls there about dual cultivation—“ Mu Qing blushed at that.
“I wasn’t doing that with Pei Ming!” He sounded so angry. “Do you think I’m that stupid that I’d let trash touch me?”
“Oy!” They heard from the back. “I’m right here, no need to be rude.”
“Shut up!” Mu Qing spat. “This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” Pei Ming approached them. Feng Xin closed his fists in reaction. “What do I have to do with any of this?”
“He thinks we were—“ Mu Qing stopped, his anger turning into the prettiest flush right in the middle of his cheeks.
Pei Ming took a minute, looking from him to Feng Xin. Fuck, he was so confused, but Pei Ming clearly wasn’t, because he started laughing his ass off. Fucker.
“That’s why you punched me?” He asked Feng Xin. “Oh my. This is too good. I mean, not saying I wouldn’t if I could—“ His eyes traced Mu Qing’s figure, but then stopped at the lightning crackling on Feng Xin’s fists. “But no. Me and General Xuan Zhen never… how did you put it… dual cultivated together. We were just cultivating martially, sparring.”
Nothing made sense. “Then why were you sneaking around Xuan Zhen palace late at night?”
“I was learning something else.” Pei Ming’s smile withered into an uncomfortable expression.
“Why are you embarrassed, you idiot?” Mu Qing hit him on the chest. “There’s nothing shameful about learning how to sew.”
Sew?
Sew?
“That was my idea.” Ling Wen piped in. “I wanted to be free of general Ming Guang’s drama for a while—“
“Hey!” Pei Ming frowned. “Great friend that you are.”
“—and he wanted to give a… special gift to someone. I knew Xuan Zhen helped His Highness to sew and embroider a belt for Crimson Rain. I made the sewing lessons to Pei Ming my price for not interfering in Shi Qingxuan’s training.”
Sew? He was… but then…
“Then why did you punch me because of a ribbon?” Feng Xin was about to rip his hair off.
Pei Ming properly blushed this time, ducking his head down.
Ling Wen’s voice snapped Feng Xin out of it. “Think, Nan Yang.” She urged him. “Who did that ribbon belong to?”
“Lord Rain Master gave it to u—“ His eyes widened. Yushi Huang. That made sense. He knew Pei Ming was afraid of her, but he didn’t realize he that fear was born from affection. He was afraid of her like Feng Xin was afraid of Mu Qing.
“Shit.” Not his most eloquence moment, he knew, but. “Shit.”
Reviewing all of their conversations under the light of Mu Qing is not fucking Pei Ming was a huge rush to his system. He felt like lightning would come off of his eyeballs at any given moment now.
“I can’t believe you thought I’d ever let Pei Ming, of all people, put his hands on me.” Mu Qing looked thoroughly offended, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a buffoon.”
Feng Xin’s thoughts caught up with him. “Then why were you researching dual cultivation?”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Do I have to spell it out everything for you?”
“Yes.” Feng Xin’s fingers spasmed on his sides. He needed to hear it. He needed to hear it.
“Because I wanted to break my cultivation vows.” Mu Qing’s cheeks slowly took up the adorable shade of pink again.
“Just break them?” Pei Ming teased. “Randomly? I could have helped with that.”
Feng Xin would have been pissed if he didn’t see that he was trying to help. How hadn’t he seen it before?
“Fuck you, no.” Mu Qing growled.
“I am the God of Love, you know?” Pei Ming pushed a little more, eyes fleeting to Feng Xin as if to make sure he wasn’t going to be punched again. “I’m good at that stuff. I could make it really good for y—“
Feng Xin didn’t mean it, but Pei Ming was zapped anyway. They both looked at him with wide eyes.
“Don’t talk about him like that.” Feng Xin warned. “I thought you learned that lesson last time.”
Pei Ming’s hand reflexively went to his chest.
“You’ve been talking shit about me?” Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed towards him.
“I was trying to rile Nan Yang up!” He lifted his hands. “I was trying to help.”
“You’re disgusting.” Mu Qing hit Pei Ming’s chest again. “And you are an idiot.” His hand found Feng Xin’s chest.
Xie Lian gasped. That was how he remembered.
“Your freckles!” He approached him. After throwing a look towards Mu Qing, who rolled his eyes, Xie Lian gingerly touched Feng Xin’s shoulder. The only freckles that turned blue were the ones Mu Qing’s touch. Xie Lian’s hand left his skin the same. “That’s why they turn blue?” His eyes were wide, like they had been when he saw his first blue beetle when he was a child, wonder tied to that expression. “It’s only Mu Qing’s touch?”
As if to demonstrate, Mu Qing’s finger swiped around Feng Xin’s chest, writing his own name.
Feng Xin wanted to kiss that smug smile off of his face.
“Oh.” Xie Lian smiled, moisture collecting on his eyes. “Oh. That’s so—“
“Don’t say it.” Mu Qing narrowed his eyes.
Feng Xin kept staring at his chest, the characters for Mu Qing’s name over it. The thing was, he was a sappy idiot, and it felt right. It felt right. He knew Mu Qing did it as a tease, because Feng Xin wouldn’t be able to do anything but wait until it faded from his skin in a few hours, but he didn’t want it do fade. He wanted it to stay.
“You still haven’t answered.” Something in him was burning, crackling.
“Answered what?” Mu Qing’s eyes turned to him, startled. Scared.
“Who were you planning to break your vows with?” Feng Xin didn’t dare. He couldn’t.
“N-no one.” It was a reflex. Like he didn’t just say he was intimately familiar with a particular freckle in a particular part of Feng Xin’s body.
He wouldn’t have that. “Mu Qing.” He pleaded. “Who?” Tell me. Tell me, and I’m yours.
“I—“ Mu Qing hesitated.
Feng Xin wasn’t afraid. Well, that was an incomplete statement. He was afraid, yes, but not of being rejected. What he was afraid of was wasting another eight hundred years loving that man without doing anything about it. He was scared to death of not trying. Of letting Mu Qing escaped between his fingers, like he almost escaped in Tonglu Mountain.
He would never let that happen again.
Feng Xin bent the knee in front of Mu Qing. From his periphery, he watched as the other three gods around him took steps back, but his focus never left Mu Qing’s horrified face.
“What are you doing?” Mu Qing hissed, agitated. “Get up, you’re making a scene.”
He didn’t point out that they had been making a scene for a while now.
“Mu Qing.” He put as much emphasis on his voice as he could. It sounded a bit unnatural for a human voice, like thunder. “Tell me who.” He bit his lip. “Please.”
There it was. That also felt right. To bend the knee and pray on Mu Qing’s altar felt easy as breathing.
Mu Qing gasped, eyes widening as the energy of the prayer filled him. His eyes flashed visibly, and his lower lip trembled.
“You.” Mu Qing whispered brokenly. “It was you, you idiot. We were getting along better since Tonglu Mountain, and I thought maybe—“ He flushed, eyes fleeting to the ground beside Feng Xin’s knees. “I… I hoped.”
He hoped. The words sparked inside of him. Mu Qing hoped. Mu Qing hoped for him. For Feng Xin. For his attention, his affection, his trust. I wanted to be your f-f-friend! Like friend was the only thing he would dare hope for before trying to prove something by almost dying to save him and Dianxia.
His heart felt like a hummingbird trapped in his chest. It felt like his ribs were too small as his heart swelled with waves of amazement, joy, love. He was filled to the brim with love. He took one lychee-and-goat-milk-cream scented hand on his own and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it.
The contact of his lips with Mu Qing’s skin felt electric, especially because his eyes never left the obsidian-colored orbs watching him carefully.
“You don’t need to hope, Mu Qing.” He forced his voice to be loud and clear despite the tightness in his throat. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. I’ll make every loropetalum bush in the world whither and die. I’ll always sleep closest to the door, I’ll do your hair every morning, I’ll sweep the floor of your every temple—”
“I don’t want anything from you!” Mu Qing pulled him up by the hand, embarrassed, angry, adorable. “I can get everything I need on my own!”
Feng Xin smirked. “Does that mean you don’t want another chance to see that freckle on my d—“
“—would you just shut up!” He screamed, and Feng Xin chuckled as he was pulled in for a kiss.
To say that he ascended a third time with the feeling of Mu Qing’s lips on his would be an understatement. He didn’t remember his first ascension all that well — it hadn’t been that important, a fight with a monster that culminated on him seeing a bright light and waking up being greeted by Ling Wen in the Heavenly City — but the second, as God of Thunder, was fresh in his mind. The overwhelming feeling of power, using his own body to conduit the lightning from heaven to hell.
This? This felt bigger, and better, and so much larger than himself. Mu Qing’s hand landed on the back of Feng Xin’s neck, another on his shoulder; Feng Xin cupped Mu Qing’s face like the precious thing that it was.
He wasn’t sure how much they spent there. It felt like an eternity. Eight hundred years of love pouring from his chest to his lips. The first press of them developed into Feng Xin asking for entrance with his tongue and receiving permission with a shudder from Mu Qing. He deepened the wet slide of their lips by diving with an exploratory sweep of his tongue, feeling the velvety warmth of Mu Qing’s own. Feng Xin’s heart was jackhammering inside his chest, and he could feel Mu Qing’s pulse flutter under his fingers, also giving in to the bliss.
When they parted, Feng Xin touched their foreheads, incapable of staying far from him. That was why he almost didn’t notice the shift in Mu Qing’s eye color.
“Oh, shit.” Pei Ming cursed, making them split apart to look at him. “Your followers will be so confused.”
And when Mu Qing looked back at him, his eyes were blue. Freckle-blue.
“It won’t be easy.” Ling Wen agreed, brush frantically sweeping over her scroll.
Feng Xin pressed a kiss to Mu Qing’s forehead, watching as the caress made him a little too dazed to care about it.
“Nothing that is worth anything is ever easy.” Feng Xin smiled, a small thing, a private thing.
That Mu Qing smiled back, unreserved, unannounced, stealing Feng Xin’s heart all over again, meant the world to him.
Outside, the skies smiled.
It turned out that the calligraphy goddess was named Fang Chun, and she had been a wonderful helper.
After paying for her calligraphy supplies — she had asked for second-grade starter things and Feng Xin almost qi-deviated all over again, how could a goddess of calligraphy have anything other than top notch stuff? Ridiculous. — she insisted on paying immediately with every merit that she had. That, however, was the certain way to ruin, because then she would not have enough to buy more supplies, and the endless debt cycle made no sense to Feng Xin.
Which was why he appointed her to help him and Mu Qing with their new mythos, writing beautifully about the story of the two martial gods who fell in love with each other and were brought together by the blessing of a blue lightning bolt that went through both of their hearts, joining them forever in love and devotion.
She and Mu Qing had pondered a whole lot about the plot and the words, crafting a narrative that painted both of them in a good light for weeks before they started spreading it on the mortal realm. As they predicted, the story of the lovelorn romance caught up on their followers like a wildfire, spreading effortlessly, like it was gossip on the Heavenly Communication Array. And when followers tried to leave them for Pei Ming, they would be left without any prayers answered. And when followers tried to leave them for Quan Yizhen, they got beaten up. And when they tried to leave them for Xie Lian, they’d discover that the Head of the Martial Heavenly Council was married to a male ghost himself, and was entirely shameless about it, refusing to be worshiped without his counterpart.
Their powers wavered at first, but they were okay. They would be okay.
“My ashes are on the safest place in the world.” Hua Cheng had told him after his heavenly tribulation called for all of the Elemental Gods’ help. They were all lying down on the ground, panting, after working together to stop a volcano from spilling over one of the towns that worshiped Hua Cheng the most. He couldn’t escape the third ascension, just like Xie Lian, and ended up facing the rage of fire regardless of what he wished for when it came to it.
The fact that Xie Lian wanted him to ascend probably had something to do with it as well.
It was no novelty for anyone that Hua Cheng’s ashes were hanging from Xie Lian’s neck, but to talk about it was a surprising display of trust, not only on Xie Lian, but also on the gods present there.
“They are with the strongest martial god.” Feng Xin pointed out, then, trying to find the logic behind what Crimson Rain was saying.
But the ghost shook his head, his one red eye glinting dangerously. “If its hiding place is destroyed, then there’s no need for me to exist.”
Those words hit him with a pang. He could doubt many things about Crimson Rain, but not his devotion to Xie Lian.
He also understood that deeply in his bones. If Mu Qing ended up unfavored and forgotten as a god because of their relationship, then he, too, had no need to live as a god. None of it made sense without Mu Qing. He loved the south, but if they fell from their believer’s favor, someone else who loved the south just as much would eventually ascend, and everything would be okay. Outliving Mu Qing was such a scary thought, it chilled him to the core.
“For what is worth,” Feng Xin had said, laying his head back down on the wet dirt. They were all wet and muddy and too tired to care. “As long as you’re good to him, there are a lot of people who would die to protect your ashes hiding place.”
Hua Cheng nodded, then. From that moment on, they didn’t exactly have peace exactly — they’d still bicker and tease and be absolutely assholes to each other —, but the war ceased. Making Xie Lian happy was more important.
“Hey, were you listening to me?” Fang Chun asked him, snapping her fingers.
Feng Xin shook his head. “Sorry, I spaced out.” He apologized. “What were you saying?”
She huffed. For a calligraphy goddess, she was quite a mess, with her hair all over the place and red ink on her cheek. But she didn’t care for political games, was honest and energetic, and Feng Xin enjoyed her company all the same.
“I was asking if you know where I took inspiration from to write your Thunder God story.” Fang Chun’s face was a mix of annoyance and smugness.
The fact that she struck a quick friendship with Ling Wen only served to terrify him even further.
“No.”
“Well, you see, as a goddess of calligraphy, I am able to sense, retrieve and read writings from past times, dead languages, that sort of thing.” She shifted in her chair in a way that would make Guoshi qi-deviate. “I found a script about Lei Gong.”
“The former god of thunder?” Feng Xin asked, shifting forward with interest. “What did it say?”
“Well, it’s said that the former God of Thunder took a bite of a lychee fruit that allowed him to take his godly form***.” She explained, brush rustling with precision over the scroll. “The Jade emperor gave him the mission of killing bad people. Lei Gong, however, got mad with a farmer girl who dumped rice into a river because it was too hard for her mother to eat, and Lei Gong threw a lightning at her as punishment, because he thought she was wasting good food.”
“Hm.” Feng Xin narrowed his eyes. Where was she going with this? “Continue.”
“It’s said that the lightning fell, but didn’t hurt her. Instead, it bounced on a mirror she had on her pocket and struck Lei Gong, whose skin turned blue after he absorbed the force of the lightning. The Jade Emperor, having seen all this, made sure she would ascend, and ordered them to marry.”
“Marry the man who tried to kill her?”
Fang Chun shrugged. “He thought it was fair for Lei Gong to take care of her for the rest of her life. Lei Gong wasn’t happy about it at first, but he steadily fell in love with his wife, Dianmu. She wiped the blue from him and started using her mirror to let him know who were the bad people, so he could kill only the right ones. To make that job easier, he split his powers in two and gave her his thunder so she could illuminate the bad people for him. She ate it, and her eyes turned blue.”
Oh, he thought. Could Mu Qing—?
“Whose eyes turned blue?”
“Xuan Zhen!” Fang Chun beamed. “I was just telling Nan Yang about the scroll I found about the Lei Gong and Dianmu.”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes, his blue eyes, a color that lasted as long as Feng Xin’s temporary blue freckles, walking to Feng Xin’s side and sitting on the arm of his chair. Feng Xin immediately grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it, ignoring his constant complaints of I’m staining you, you can’t be smeared in blue all the time, because he didn’t give a shit.
“You’re going to turn him into even more of an insufferable sap, you know that?” Freckle-blue eyes fell on Feng Xin, making him smile and kiss the back of his hand again. Just because he could.
Fang Chun kept beaming. She probably learned from Xie Lian. “I know! I think it’s cute.”
Another roll of eyes. “You’ll have to stop that, or I’ll have to revise the interest of your debt—“
Her smile crumbled. “Ayo! Mean!” And then huffed. “I’m just bored. I love calligraphy, but Ling Wen has been asking me to revise reports and it’s so boring, I need some fun in my afterlife, come on!”
“Well, the time for you to have fun is almost here.” Mu Qing announced. “We’re already descending to Puqi Shrine. Have fun in Ghost City, but be ready for when we call for you.”
Fang Chun bounced on her seat. “I will!”
They descended many days before the actual ceremony, which was right with them. Xie Lian insisted that he was already married, but if he wanted to do it right, then Feng Xin and Mu Qing would make sure he did it right.
So, when Crimson Rain knocked on the door of the shrine, it was with no surprise that they received their crowns back — now bathed in gold —, dragon and phoenix candles, tea leaves, sesame seeds and plum wine in two neat boxes carried by the ghost himself. They made a show of evaluating the gifts, but just because they should. Because no gift was worthy of Xie Lian other than his own happiness, and the willingness to try and please Mu Qing and Feng Xin, as Xie Lian’s family, showed how much he meant it.
“He’s hating it,” He Xuan laughed as he and Shi Qingxuan visited, watching Wind Master and Xie Lian talk about all things wedding. “He realized during our visit at Rain Master’s that if he was to give to Xie Lian the wedding that he always dreamed of, then he’d have to treat you as his family. He was pissed.” Black Water smiled more freely these days, after settling into godhood. “Threw a fit and everything. It was great.”
The wedding date was chosen by Guoshi, who they had to almost strong-arm into doing it. Only many mentions of Xie Lian’s happiness would have him throwing sticks and whatnot, settling the ceremony date twelve days from then.
Fang Chun wrote the invites. Without parents to refer to, she took it upon herself to write Mu Qing and Feng Xin as Xie Lian’s brothers and He Xuan and Yin Yu as Hua Cheng’s, which was hilarious.
Mu Qing was the one who prepared the marriage bed with the red sheets, persimmons and red dates, making sure to ask for their blessings. Shi Qingxuan took over the hair combing ceremony the night before the ceremony, and that was the moment Feng Xin started crumbling.
The room was dark, lit only by a few candles. He Xuan and Yin Yu stood by a red-clad Hua Cheng, facing the inside of the house, smelling of pomelo leaves. Red raper candles, scissors, incense, a ruler, a coral hair comb, red yarn with cypress leaves, all set next to them.
On their side of the room, facing the window, Mu Qing and Feng Xin sat with Xie Lian, waiting.
Shi Qingxuan lit up the incense and a pair of the candles. She picked up Xie Lian’s comb first.
“May the first comb bring you a long-lasting union,” She said, smiling at Xie Lian, gentle as can be while the brush combed his hair from root to end. “May the second comb bring you a harmonious union.”
Feng Xin felt his throat clog. He wasn’t sad, he just. Thought about the Queen, the King, all of the mess they had to get through to be here together as family, giving Xie Lian the wedding of his mother’s dreams, of his dreams, standing in as family. It was so long until Xie Lian could actually find happiness — not only contentment or peace, but actual happiness, and he was happy but also grieving for his friend, his brother. He wanted Xie Lian to be happy so bad, he would do anything for him. Even put up with Hua Cheng for eternity.
Luckily, before his tears spilled from his eyes, a hand touched his, and he saw his own feelings mirrored in Mu Qing’s face. Oh, okay, he thought. I guess it’s okay to be a sap now.
Shi Qingxuan finished the four combs on Xie Lian’s hair, and moved to Hua Cheng’s. Even from across the room he could see the tenseness of Crimson Rain’s shoulders, as if he wasn’t used to gentle touches. He probably wasn’t.
“May the third comb bring you abundance,” Qingxuan recited, a gentle smile on her face. “May the fourth comb bring you longevity.”
The yarn was then clipped to their hair, and Feng Xin could finally hug an already happily crying Xie Lian for all that he was worth.
Feng Xin had demanded to be responsible for the procession. He had been met with an uncertain look from Hua Cheng, who, admittedly, had the best resources around, but Feng Xin insisted, and it was acquiesced, just as Mu Qing’s demand to hand-make Xie Lian’s robes.
There was no need for help to remember anything. He made a surprise for Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, the only other people who knew about it were the two who participated in the first place: Mu Qing and Guoshi.
The moment he saw the mask on Mu Qing’s face, Guoshi, the procession, and the coral earrings, Xie Lian started to cry.
“Shh, hey, this is not the time.” Feng Xin had hugged him. “You have a procession to guide and a husband to catch.”
He and Mu Qing simulated the fight beautifully, just as beautifully as eight hundred years ago. Feng Xin had no need to call for Hua Cheng to watch, although he wasn’t supposed to: he knew the man would be on the balcony of the wedding ceremony’s venue. In his distraction, Hua Cheng didn’t fight He Xuan’s push, falling into the middle of the procession—
— and, before he hit the ground, Xie Lian’s arms caught him.
And all realms watched Crimson Rain fall in love all over again.
“It seemed fitting,” Feng Xin told him afterwards, while the ghost king straightened up and tried to get his bearings back. “To make a new start where we begun.”
“Thank you.” Hua Cheng whispered, almost too low to be heard.
But Feng Xin heard him.
“Wait before you thank me,” He smirked. “You haven’t been tested yet.”
It was, indeed, time for the test. Xie Lian stayed inside his sedan under strict orders not to say anything. Outside, Mu Qing, Feng Xin, Pei Ming, Quan Yizhen, Shi Qingxuan, Lord Rain Master, and many others — every friend that Xie Lian made during his life were there, waiting for Crimson Rain to arrive.
He was asked questions by Qingxuan, offered bitter foods by Rain Master, sweet foods by Quan Yizhen, spicy foods by Pei Ming and sour food by Feng Xin. He winced at them all, but ate dutifully.
“Gege’s is better.” He punctuated simply. The maniac.
When it came time to the pain challenge, however, Mu Qing stepped forward.
“Instead of the pain challenge, though,” Mu Qing smirked. “We have a another challenge for you.”
“Oh?” Hua Cheng perked in interest. “What challenge do you have for me, then?”
It was a little evil, he knew. But also necessary.
“Fang Chun, please, if you may.”
She arrived with the same excited smile as ever, holding a small table, a brush and a scroll. Beside her, an identical set up was placed, completely empty.
“Crimson Rain, meet Fang Chun,” Mu Qing smiled. “The newest Heaven’s Calligraphy Goddess.”
If Hua Cheng could breathe, Feng Xin was sure they’d be witnessing the Ghost King hyperventilating.
“All you have to do,” Mu Qing told him, placing a scroll and a brush in front of him. “Is write Xie Lian’s name in a way that shows all your love for him.”
Hua Cheng looked around, discreetly panicking. Fang Chun smiled.
Her rendition was perfect in her first try, of course — the brush strokes loving, soft, elegant, strong, all of the things that Xie Lian was. His name looked like a blessing when written by her, simple black ink against parchment.
Crimson Rain tried, he really did. It was visible by how he held the brush like Xie Lian taught him, how he had perfect posture, never faltering. The excess of ink was always carefully wiped, pressure drawn to perfection. But no matter how much he tried, the scrabble was always a little too crooked, lines not right. Feng Xin almost felt bad for him.
Mu Qing pretended to check near the table and bump into it, making Hua Cheng’s brush fall from the table. With murder in his eyes, he bent over to pick it up, just to be interrupted by Mu Qing grabbing his arm.
“And what is this?” Mu Qing lifted Hua Cheng’s sleeve from where a few strokes poked, showing the tattoo on his wrist for all to see. Xie Lian, inside his skin. Granted, it was in poor calligraphy, but it was there.
It was to Mu Qing’s benefit that it took a beat for Crimson Rain to understand the ruse, pure white rage in his wake. “You—“
“You will fail.” Mu Qing was smiling slightly, contrasting with his words.
“I will not—“ Anger and despair blended in his voice.
“You will fail.” Mu Qing repeated, absolute. “And that’s fine.”
The ghost king’s chest heaved, a memory from another life. “I will keep trying—“
“Yes.” Mu Qing nodded, almost frantic, because that was the point. Mu Qing was a genius, really. “Yes. You will keep trying.” His hand covered the tattoo, holding it firmly. Xie Lian. A prayer, a promise. “You will keep trying. Because you chose to love him, and you will keep choosing to love him, and that’s what love is.”
He straightened his posture after lowering himself to look Hua Cheng in his eyes, like he had done back in Xianle, because Feng Xin had no idea how to deal with children back then. “You already wrote his name in a way that shows all your love for him. It’s in your skin.” Mu Qing let go of his wrist. “You passed this test before it even started. All you had to do was realize that.”
Crimson Rain looked like the boy that fell into Xie Lian’s arms, like he was discovering something new. His eyes went from Mu Qing to the red sedan. He nodded.
Behind him, he could hear the faint sound of Xie Lian crying. He snuck a hand through the red fabric to hold Xie Lian’s, offering him comfort.
Beside him, Pei Ming awkwardly offered Rain Master a handkerchief, Fang Chun smiled a wet smile, and Shi Qingxuan was absolutely sobbing.
Crimson Rain stood up, a nervous tilt to his shoulders. He offered each of them a pouch of money, as it was customary — but there was no money inside.
“Lychees?” Mu Qing asked him, peeking inside of Feng Xin’s bag.
Feng Xin smiled. “Let’s go. He still has to find the shoe.”
More tears were shed when Hua Cheng finally found the missing shoe — Pei Ming was great at hiding things, Feng Xin didn’t even want to know where that thing was considering the state that Hua Cheng was when he came back from the hole in the ground — and the tea ceremony went down perfectly.
Once again, Shi Qingxuan took over the proceedings, giving teacups to both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, who took their bows. Hua Cheng went first, serving tea to He Xuan and Yin Yu — it was a little awkward, but they both offered encouraging expressions to Hua Cheng, and the nervous tilt of his shoulders disappeared —, and then Xie Lian did the same with Mu Qing and Feng Xin.
The grooms faced each other to drink their tea, their slow sips punctuated by the envelopes handed to them from everyone in the room — gifts, all of them simple, all of them significant. A seed from Rain Master from a plant she refused to name, but had to be important; hand-embroidered handkerchiefs from Pei Ming; an iridescent black pearl from He Xuan, and so on.
When that was over and everyone had their tea, they were guided to a distance-shortening array made by He Xuan to another location: Xie Lian’s parents tomb. In front of it, a red carpet had been spread, and many candles, with three spirit tablets in front of it. Feng Xin made sure to have that, and Mu Qing agreed. Two for the King and Queen of Xianle, one for whoever cared enough for Hua Cheng in the first years of his life to make sure that he was at least alive by the time he met Xie Lian.
They bowed three times: heaven and earth, ancestors, each other.
Feng Xin handed Hua Cheng a ring; He Xuan gave another to Xie Lian — Hua Cheng’s ashes. He could feel the power coming from them, radiating like a small sun.
“Hua Cheng,” Rain Master spoke, a soft river trickling in their ears. “Are you willing to marry Xie Lian as your husband, in sacred marriage together for life? Whether he has sickness or health, poverty or wealth, beauty or is plain, in good times and in bad, you are willing to love him, to comfort him, to respect him, and protect him? And willing to be forever loyal to him?”
They were traditional vows, but they sounded a little ridiculous, given the context. Still, Hua Cheng answered a resounding yes.
“Xie Lian,” She continued, used to officiating weddings back at her territory. “Are you willing to marry Hua Cheng as your husband, in sacred marriage together for life? Whether he has sickness or health, poverty or wealth, beauty or is plain, in good times and in bad, you are willing to love him, to comfort him, to respect him, and protect him? And willing to be forever loyal to him?*****”
Xie Lian sniffed, trying to contain the tears. “Yes.”
She smiled, and recited: “When two people at one
In their inmost hearts
They shatter even the strength of iron
Or of bronze
And when two people understand each other
In their inmost hearts
Their words are sweet and strong
Like the fragrance of orchids.*****”
Hua Cheng’s and Xie Lian’s hands both trembled as they traded rings, and then, too, as they drank the wine from the cups bound by red string.
Finally, it was over, and time for the banquet.
Feng Xin, at the outskirts of the gigantic banquet offered to all of Ghost City, drank alone.
“Are you okay?” A hand found his shoulder. Feng Xin leaned against it.
“Yeah.” He nodded, taking another sip of wine.
Mu Qing only needed a look to bump his shoulder into Feng Xin’s. “You’re not. Talk to me.”
Feng Xin sighed. “I’m happy for Xie Lian. I mean, he could do better, but I’m happy he’s happy.”
“But?”
“But we just got him back.” He bit his lip and lowered his eyes to his cup. “And now Hua Cheng is taking him away again.”
“Nobody is ever taking Xie Lian away again.” Mu Qing said firmly, holding Feng Xin’s arm. “We’re family. We just organized his wedding. We got betrothal family gifts.”
“Yeah.” Feng Xin agreed. “But now he’s in another household. You know? Like he would be anyway, no matter who he married.”
Mu Qing chuckled and kissed his temple. “You’re such an idiot. Xie Lian didn’t join Hua Cheng’s household, Feng Xin. It’s the opposite.”
Feng Xin tilted his head. “What?”
“Think about it.” He urged him. “You made the whole parade to please him, don’t lie to me, you did. And I made the challenge so he would understand Xie Lian already loves him, there’s nothing to prove.” He kissed Feng Xin’s cheek now. “Xie Lian is the household, for all of us. This whole thing was just to officially welcome Hua Cheng into it.”
It… made a surprising amount of sense. “Have I told you before that you’re a genius?” He smiled to Mu Qing, receiving an eye roll and a smile in return. “Because you are.”
Mu Qing huffed, stealing his cup of wine. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m serious!” His smile grew, face nearing Mu Qing’s until he nosed his soft cheek, taking in the scent of lychee and milk cream. “I love you.”
“Stop being mushy,” Mu Qing sounded a little unstable. “The sky does weird things when you’re mushy, and it’s Xie Lian’s wedding, we can’t have rain now.”
The thing is, Mu Qing never said that he loved him back. Not that Feng Xin cared. He had enough love inside him for them both, and then some. There was no need to rush anything, was there? It wasn’t like he said it to pressure Mu Qing into saying it back. He just said it because it was the truth; a fundamental truth to who he was.
Heavens help him, but he was starting to sound like Hua Cheng.
“Feng Xin! Mu Qing!” It was Quan Yizhen running towards them. “His Highness is calling for you!”
It turned out it was time for the first dance. He and Mu Qing watched, confused, as Hua Cheng and Xie Lian did something beautiful, yes, but entirely different from what they taught them.
“I thought it was for the best.” Hua Cheng told them later. “Me and Gege deserve to have our own dance.” And you should keep yours was unsaid. Feng Xin felt a little grateful that the dance was preserved as his and Mu Qing’s.
“It’s time to throw the talismans!” Qingxuan called Xie Lian, who went running.
“Come, San Lang!”
Hua Cheng nodded. “I’ll be right there, gege.” His eyes narrowed towards Feng Xin. Mu Qing was elsewhere, doing something else, and having all of Hua Cheng’s attention was a little overwhelming. “I do not respect many things,” He spoke, all cryptic. If Mu Qing was there, he would probably understand it. “But I do respect long-lasting love.”
“Ahm.” What could he say? “That’s good. If you take care of Xie Lian, we won’t have to break your face.” It seemed appropriate.
His look got even more intense, if that was even possible. “You have a—“ And, instead of telling him, he just reached out his hand and took a red petal from Feng Xin’s hair.
“Ahm.” Feng Xin didn’t know what to say. “Thanks?”
Crimson Rain’s eyes narrowed. “Good luck.”
The double Happiness talismans from Xie Lian’s sedan were carefully removed and placed on the couple’s hands. Xie Lian beamed and Hua Cheng smiled at him, besotted, when they threw both papers up in the sky, over their heads.
The crowd watched anxiously as the two papers fell slowly, oh so slowly. The two leaves of paper spread apart for a moment, looking like they would fly away from each other, only to flip over and twirl and—
—fall on Feng Xin’s head.
He took both pieces of paper on his hands under the crowd’s cheering of “this means marriage!” and “so auspicious!” and stared at them. When he lifted his eyes, Crimson Rain tilted his head in a way that said he was not innocent, but not guilty, either.
When they raised their glasses to make a toast to the longevity of the couple, Feng Xin did so with Happiness talismans squeezed between his fingers.
He was at one of Mu Qing’s temples. It was autumn, and the frigid breeze kept blowing orange leaves inside, making him have to double his efforts to keep the floors clean.
Not that he minded. It was amazing meditation practice, as they eventually figured out. Feng Xin did it every time he could, to all seven thousand of Mu Qing’s temples, just to watch other gods sputter and gape that he, the son of a noble, would sweep floors of a commoner-turned-god’s temples.
He would do so with pride until the day he died.
“General Nan Yang?” A voice blew him out of his thoughts.
“Rain Master?” His eyes found her, confused. Feng Xin bowed, watching her approach. “What brings you here?”
“I need help with something. A small thing, if you will.” Yushi Huang smiled breezily.
“Anything.”
“Will you do my hair?”
Feng Xin had never been so confused in his life.
They ended up in the chambers at the back of the temple, Rain Master sitting in front of him, he half-kneeling as he did her hair, Xianle style.
“I thought the updo was very beautiful when I saw it in Xie Lian’s and Shi Qingxuan’s hair back when you visited me.” She spoke, but Feng Xin knew it wasn’t the whole truth.
He also knew she wasn’t there purely to get her hair done. There was something more to the impromptu visit, something that she was probably wishing he would ask about.
So, he asked.
“And why are we beautifying ourselves today?” It sounded ridiculous, but it didn’t need to be good. It just needed to be: an offering, an extended hand.
She took it. “Pei Ming asked me on a date.”
It was on He Xuan’s ability to teach Feng Xin to meditate that the general didn’t accidentally pull on her hair in his surprise. “He did?”
She nodded. He noticed how her hands fidgeted in front of her.
“I see.” He continued. “And what did you say to him?”
“I said yes.”
That surprised him as well. Feng Xin waited for the autumn wind to stop scattering the strands of her hair around before resuming the updo. “Why?”
It took her a whole braid’s time for her to articulate her answer. “In my life, I did not have many opportunities to just be.” Her voice was so calm. She was in peace with it, difficult as it was. “I did not have the chance to be carefree, or young, or any of those things. Being near Shi Qingxuan, Xie Lian, Quan Yizhen, you,” Her hands stopped fidgeting, closing in fists. “Made me experience some of that. And I like it.”
Feng Xin nodded. “I’m glad. But is Pei Ming really the person you want to have more experiences with?”
She hesitated. “I know of his past and his reputation. I am not fooled.” The one speaking, he understood, was Yushi Huasang, not Rain Master. The woman, not the goddess.
“He hasn’t been trying to fool you, though.” Feng Xin commented. “I saw it too. Pei Ming isn’t stable in his affections, but he is sincere about you.”
Rain Master nodded. “He feels guilty, I think, for stealing so much of my life. I would argue there is no reason for that, but I don’t think it would matter to him.”
“You think he likes you out of guilt?” Up, down, left and right.
She shook her head. “No, he is, as you said, genuine in his affections, although the longevity of those are unreliable. But I do feel like that guilt does factor in.”
“Also his insecurity.” He chuckled. “You saved his ass what, two, three times?”
He could see the curl of her smile from where he stood behind her. “I only did what was necessary.”
Feng Xin’s laughter faded slowly. “And now?” He asked, taking the hair pin from her hands to thread it around her hair.
“Now…” She sounded uncertain. “Now I wish to experience different things. The things I missed out as a young woman. And his offer is sincere.” Her face tilted slightly towards him. “Do you think me foolish?”
It ’s not for you to decide what other people deserve or don’t deserve.
He took a deep breath. “I think your life was a difficult one, and you did amazing, same you do your heavenly duties. But, like you said, you deserve to experience whatever you want to experience.” Twist, turn, right, almost unexpected, like the web of life. “And if it’s Pei Ming that you want, and he’s offering, then you should have him.”
She shook her head minimally. “I don’t know if I want him. But I want to experience the unraveling of figuring that out. I do not know if I will go on a single or a thousand dates with him. Or with anyone. I do not know if I will like it, or if I will enjoy going to the beach with Shi Qingxuan, or if I will have fun having a meal with Xie Lian at Ghost City.” The princess-turned-goddess explained slowly. “But I wish to find out. I do not know if I will like Pei Ming, but does that matter?”
Feng Xin smiled. “I guess not. As long as you’re having fun.”
She smiled back, seemingly reassured.
“But if he messes up, will you let me punch him for you?” The words wrangle a laughter out of her. “Pretty please?”
“Sure.” Yushi Huasang chuckled. “You can punch Pei Ming if you wish to.”
He finished her hair in a few more minutes, letting her look at her reflection on the mirror. They were both startled by Xie Lian’s reflection behind them, a teary smile on his face.
“Dianxia?” Feng Xin turned to him, alarmed. “Dianxia, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Feng Xin.” Xie Lian’s smile couldn’t be bigger. “There’s nothing wrong. Everything is right, actually.”
An idea passed through Feng Xin’s head. A horrible idea. Was he…? His eyes fleeted to Dianxia’s belly, searching for a bump. Surely that was impossible… right?
Absorbed that he was with his own wanderings, he almost didn’t notice what Xie Lian was holding against his chest until the man extended it to him.
A box. A blue box, beautiful, freckle-blue.
Under Xie Lian’s and Yushi Huasang’s encouraging smiles, he lifted a trembling hand and opened it.
Gold jewelry. Dragon candles. Tea leaves. Seeds. Brandy.
“Betrothal gifts?” His throat clogged, squeezed with emotion. “Dianxia?”
“Look closer.” Xie Lian insisted.
At the bottom of the box, two Happiness talismans, lychees, goat milk cream, and a lock of night sky hair.
Air left Feng Xin all at once. Thunder rolled happily closer to them, announcing prosperous rains. “Mu Qing?” His voice was weak, so weak, just as weak as he was for his love.
Xie Lian nodded far more times than needed, beaming like a madman. “He came to Puqi shrine this morning to ask for your hand in marriage.”
“I hope you’ll stop sweeping my temples after you become my husband.” Hearing that voice, Feng Xin’s head whipped towards the entrance of the temple so quickly it gave him a whiplash.
Heavens above, Mu Qing was beautiful. He was so beautiful, breath left Feng Xin’s lungs every time.
Feng Xin ran to him, who stood tall and mighty as his statues, both hands on his waist. He used two hands to sweep Mu Qing off of his feet, joining their lips in a kiss that allowed all of his love to pour from him to Mu Qing, turning his eyes blue.
“Never.” He bit Mu Qing’s lower lip, earning himself a huff, an eye-roll, and a smile. “I will swipe the floor of every single temple you have for as long as I live.”
“Are you fighting Hua Cheng for the position of most devoted believer, A-Xin?” Mu Qing laughed at the scrunch of Feng Xin’s face. His expression turned softer, a finger tracing the curve of Feng Xin’s cheek. “You don’t need to do this, xīn'ài.”
Xīn'ài. Beloved.
Feng Xin could burst with how much he was feeling. He could fly, he could take over the whole world, he could—
They settled for another kiss, one as warm as the colors of the autumn trees.
And Feng Xin didn’t need to look, he didn’t need to see to know.
You will keep trying. Because you chose to love him, and you will keep choosing to love him, and that’s what love is.
Feng Xin knew in his soul that the sky outside the temple, shining brightly over their heads in an everlasting blessing, was blue.
Freckle-blue.
FIN.
NOTES:
*Inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMUpLp8qaA8&ab_channel=DancingChina . If you don’t like it or don’t think it’s beautiful, I urge you to imagine this dance however you like. I don’t imagine it exactly the same, but similar enough.
** Inspiration: iridescent clouds. Take a look on google, it’s a beautiful phenomenon.
*** Information taken from Wikipedia and Encyclopedia Britannica’s pages, and were adapted to fit this story.
**** All information about Chinese time measurements were also taken from wikipedia, but I do think I was not very good at understanding what it meant. I have been having trouble with my ADHD lately and it was really difficult to focus on reading and understanding that information, like it was with electric physics on my last year of school, so I’ll ask for your forgiveness if I messed up. I was just trying to use other time measurements than shishen and incense time because I read that they existed.
***** The wedding tradition information, vows and poems were found in these websites: https://eastmeetsdress.com/blogs/blog/traditional-and-cultural-wedding-vows, https://www.documentsanddesigns.com/verse/Chinese_wedding_vows.htm, https://www.minted.com/wedding-ideas/chinese-wedding-traditions#:~:text=The exchange of vows is,connected with a red string., https://www.brides.com/chinese-wedding-traditions-5077983 . I took the first dance from western tradition, because I like it, and it fit the story. I made up the talisman throwing too.
****** For reference, the braids Mu Qing wore to training grounds: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=http://m.china-cart.com/d.asp?a=Chinese+Ancient+Swordsmen+Male+Hairstyle+Long+Black+Wigs&d=174807&psig=AOvVaw3ZlxTk2SX2ZS70n3WL9dbu&ust=1706760118713000&source=images&cd=vfe&opi=89978449&ved=0CBIQjRxqFwoTCOiR_9nehoQDFQAAAAAdAAAAABAD
EDIT: I forgot to put some references, so here we go:
"My ashes are in the safest place because if the hiding place is destroyed there is no need for me to exist" (maybe not verbatim, but you get the gist) is, if I'm not mistaken, a line from the book (TGCF). Sorry, I thought it was so obvious that I didn't need to reference it (like the f-f-friend thing) but thinking back it was a poor choice on my part. I saw some confusion in the comments and thought I'd clear that out.
Title of the fic comes from "Wondrous Love" by Karmina.