Chapter Text
Mu Qing wakes up to the 12 missed calls and 50+ text notifications.
His phone is still buzzing on the night stand when he reaches over sluggishly to turn it off. He sees it’s a missed call. A twelfth missed call.
His head pounds as he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s ridiculously hungover.
Mu Qing feels like he’s forgetting something, as he unlocks his phone. His eyes are foggy and unfocused as he scrolls up through the group chat messages until he reaches the last message he sent.
It’s a video.
Squinting at it suspiciously, he taps to play it. It’s a four second video of him and…Feng Xin?
“Hey FUCKERS!” Feng Xin yells in the video, Mu Qing winces and quickly turns down the volume. A drunken red blush is smeared across Feng Xin’s cheeks and nose, his eyes are sparkling with intoxicated intensity. “We’re MARRIED!” he shouts.
In the video, Mu Qing’s entire goddamn face is an incandescent, pink flush. He’s holding up the phone shakily with one hand and the other hand shows off a tacky silver ring. Next to him, Feng Xin wears an identical tacky, silver ring, both imprinted with the words:
Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan Forever <3
Mu Qing almost drops his phone in horror.
Besides his pounding headache, he feels an ice water chill spread from his shoulders to his toes. His mouth dries and his eyes widen, and Mu Qing blankly scrolls through the group chat, barely reading the messages:
Shi Qingxuan: WHAT????? You guys got married??? WHAT????? At my engagement party???
He Xuan: Congratulations.
Pei Ming: Hoho
Xie Lian: Is this real? Are you guys ok? What happened with you two?
Hua Cheng: Gege, don’t bother with them.
Ling Wen: Thumbs up
There are pages and pages of back and forth and Mu Qing wants death.
This is— This is insane. This is can’t be happening. He tries not to panic, his system in shock.
He— did he? How did he get married? To—? To Feng Xin? He—He’s supposed to live like this? He’s supposed to show his face? In public? His headache returns and he closes his eyes once more and clenches his jaw. He…
He’s not dealing with this.
Mu Qing puts his phone on Do Not Disturb, drops it back on the bedside table, and is about to yank the blankets over his head, when he realizes there’s someone else in the bed next to him. The headache behind his eyes pulses and a feeling of dread spreads to his fingertips.
No… Please, no…
Looking over his shoulder, Mu Qing sees Feng Xin is lying on his side, his back turned towards him. Feng Xin’s broad shoulders jut up like mountains and he is, for all appearances, asleep and dead to the world. They’re both still in their slacks and button-ups from the night before.
Shit.
If Mu Qing thinks very, very hard, he thinks he can remember going shot-for-shot with Feng Xin last night as if they were twenty; and agreeing: yes, the ring party favors were very stupid and obnoxious; yes, it was nice to see everybody together again; and yes: it was very sad that all their friends were getting married and they were both thirty and still endlessly single with no end in sight.
Mu Qing puts his face in his hands and groans.
That was probably the most he’s ever agreed with Feng Xin about anything in their entire lives and this is what happens after? Deciding to just ignore him, Mu Qing is about to go back to sleep and try waking up again when Feng Xin shuffles behind him, wrapping the blanket more securely around himself.
Mu Qing grabs at it before Feng Xin can pull anymore and hisses, “Stop hogging the covers!”
Feng Xin stops moving, then speaks. Mu Qing wishes he wouldn’t. “Hey, Mu Qing…since you’re awake…” He starts, and his voice is terrifyingly clear and Mu Qing feels his headache pound harder, “What happened last night?” he asks slowly.
He …doesn’t sound like someone who just woke up. He sounds like someone who has, probably, been lying there for hours, trying to connect last night to this morning, with only a dim smattering of success.
He probably heard Mu Qing play that video too.
“How the fuck should I know?” Mu Qing snaps, “Don’t talk to me. I’m going back to sleep!”
He is not going to deal with this. He refuses. And, most importantly, he has a headache to end all hangovers, his eyes keep dropping shut, he feels like he’s going to throw up, and he’s never drinking again. He’s going to go to sleep and deal with this later. If he’s lucky, maybe one of them will be dead when he wakes up.
Mu Qing closes his eyes, forces himself to breathe deeply, and drifts back to sleep with Feng Xin’s warm weight at his back.
~ Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan Forever <3 ~
Feng Xin is, unfortunately, still alive when Mu Qing wakes up. Even worse, they’re now lying face to face and Feng Xin has his head propped on his hand and is looking at Mu Qing with a complicated expression.
“What?” Mu Qing asks drowsily. His head is now significantly clearer, and his headache has settled from a throb to a pulse, but he’s still grumpy, “Why are you still here?” It’s lighter outside now than it was when he woke up earlier, probably close to noon.
Feng Xin squints at him, “This is my apartment, asshole. Why are you still here?”
It was true. In his hungover state, Mu Qing hadn’t noticed that his comforter was thinner than usual and was a lime green instead of its usual grey or that the table lamp was incredibly functional and somewhat ugly. Or even that, as he glances around fuzzily, there are clothes thrown haphazardly over a chair that would never be so out of place in his own home.
Mu Qing sits up slowly and rubs his temples, then the bridge of his nose, “Oh, shit, uh, sorry, I—,” he looks behind him at his phone and feels sick.
“I feel sick,” Mu Qing mumbles.
He stumbles out of bed, steps into the adjacent bathroom, and collapses in front of the toilet. His hair, messy and unbound, fall in his face and he starts dry heaving. Vaguely, Mu Qing feels Feng Xin rush over and squat down next to him, gathering up Mu Qing’s hair in one hand and rubbing circles around his shoulders with the other.
“Holy fuck, Mu Qing, are you ok? Hang in there, Jesus Christ.” Feng Xin says, alarmed.
“I’m throwing up into your toilet! Do I look ok to you?” Mu Qing demands and spits a mouthful of saliva into the toilet. Feng Xin says nothing, for once, and keeps rubbing circles around Mu Qing’s back. Mu Qing coughs a few more times and retches, but nothing comes up. He shakily flushes the toilet and sways to his feet as Feng Xin moves to steady him with one hand on Mu Qing’s waist and the other on his arm.
“Hey! Don’t stand up so fast!” Feng Xin scolds, “Do you want some water?”
“I’m fine.” Mu Qing snaps. He’s not fine. He’s sick and he’s hungover and he’s m-ma-married? Shit. Mu Qing leans against Feng Xin’s chest, heavy and purposefully damsel-like, just to be annoying. “I’m hungry,” he mutters.
“Uh, yeah, ok. Just wait a second, ok? Here, let’s—,” Feng Xin starts dragging Mu Qing back towards the bed and deposits him on to it. Mu Qing immediately curls up on top of the blankets and closes his eyes. Distantly, he hears Feng Xin opening a cupboard and the sound of a running faucet. Feng Xin returns with a glass of water.
“Here,” He says and hands the glass to Mu Qing, “Drink up.”
“Thanks,” Mu Qing sits up, takes the glass. The room is silent except for Mu Qing gulping down water. Feng Xin eyes trace the lines of Mu Qing’s throat before catching himself and looking away hastily. Mu Qing doesn’t notice.
“Thanks,” he says again and hands Feng Xin back an empty glass.
“Yeah, no problem.” Feng Xin replies.
They stare at each other. Mu Qing takes in Feng Xin’s worried expression and mussed up hair. His clothes are all wrinkled and Mu Qing’s own will undoubtably need to be washed and ironed after being shamelessly slept in. And Mu Qing knows he looks like a mess right now. Looks like a mess in front of Feng Xin, too. Yikes.
Mu Qing presses his palms against his eyes, “Do you want to go to IHOP?” he asks.
~ Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan Forever <3 ~
They’re sitting across from each other in a booth at an IHOP. Mu Qing is wearing one of Feng Xin’s black hoodies and a pair of his light washed jeans, belted to fit. The grey overcoat he’d worn to Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan’s engagement party is carefully folded in the seat next to him. His hair is in a high ponytail. Feng Xin is wearing a red crewneck he bought from some tourist trap in San Francisco and a pair of black tapered sweatpants; his shoulder-length hair in a bun.
“Feeling better?” Feng Xin asks, watching Mu Qing down his coffee and pancakes.
“Hm,” Mu Qing makes a non-committal sound. He is, actually. But he doesn’t want to let on how much Feng Xin has, possibly, saved his life.
“You’re eating now at least.”
“Sun’s still too bight.” Before they’d left, Feng Xin had wordlessly handed Mu Qing his largest and darkest pair of sunglasses, and Mu Qing is still wearing them inside the IHOP. Normally, he would feel embarrassed to be wearing sunglasses indoors, but the situation being as it was, he thought he deserved them.
“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.” Feng Xin remarks, sounding casual, “I thought you’d be freaking out.”
Mu Qing tsk-s and cuts into another splice of pancake, “I’m going to pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His headache is now at a manageable throb.
“Still, what are we going to do about this—,” Feng Xin ignores him, he waves his hand with the ring on it, “This marriage thing.”
Mu Qing sighs, they’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later, aren’t they?
“…It’s not a big deal. We can just—,” Mu Qing shrugs with forced nonchalance, waves a pancake-filled fork. Feng Xin’s eyes glance to the glint on Mu Qing’s finger.
For some inexplicable reason, they’re both still wearing their Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan Forever <3 rings.
“We can just get an annulment. There’s enough proof in the video that we were…uh,” Mu Qing grimaces, “Drunk. Shouldn’t be a big deal.”
He cuts into another slice of his pancake, continues speaking, “Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t wake up and start—,” Mu Qing shrugs again, too hungover to mince words, “being a bitch about it.”
Mu Qing had thought Feng Xin would be cursing up a storm by now, just being a pain in the ass about the whole thing. But he’s being remarkably tame.
“Well, you were sleeping.” Feng Xin replies, “It would’ve been rude.”
“Rudeness? From you? I could never imagine it.” Mu Qing looks up and blinks at him with false gentility.
Feng Xin scowls at him, “Listen here, asshole—,”
“Anyways,” Mu Qing again, not in the mood to argue, “Let’s go to the courthouse today and figure out what we have to do to get it annulled.” For a minute, Mu Qing continues to eat in uneasy silence as Feng Xin stares at him, omelette barely touched.
“…”
Not hearing the agreement he was waiting for, Mu Qing looks up questioningly, “Feng Xin?”
Feng Xin’s expression changes and looks a little hesitant, “Uh, Mu Qing? About that…Actually, I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?” Mu Qing asks grumpily.
“So, uh, so you know I’m in custody proceedings, right? Uh, with Jian Lan?”
“Yeah?”
Jian Lan was a girlfriend Feng Xin had had years and years ago. He’d loved her intensely and wanted to marry her, but suddenly she’d dumped him then disappeared. Recently, Feng Xin had found out she’d gotten pregnant and had a child, his child. Since then, he had been reaching for a relationship with the kid, now seven years old. But Jian Lan wouldn’t allow it, forcing Feng Xin to seek recourse and remediation through the legal system.
“Do you mind? Maybe? If you hold off on the annulment? It could look better if I have a spouse and Jian Lan might be more comfortable if she thinks there are two people looking after Cuo Cuo.”
Startled, Mu Qing almost drops his fork, immediately completely alert, “You want me? To pretend to be married to you?”
“Technically, we’re already married.” Feng Xin points out.
“Feng Xin, are you crazy?” Mu Qing’s thoughts are already whirling, “Won’t it look worse when they learn you’ve had drunken shotgun wedding with a friend?” He’s incredulous. Feng Xin is not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, but this was new. “Also, Jian Lan hates me,” he tacks that on too, for good measure.
“She doesn’t hate you!” Feng Xin defends automatically, “That was a long time ago and you know better than anyone how prickly you were back then.” He deliberately does not address the “drunken shotgun wedding with a friend” comment.
Mu Qin scowls, but doesn’t respond. He pokes at his pancakes a few times with a fork. His appetite suddenly soured. He stubbornly takes a few more bites of his pancakes anyways before looking back at Feng Xin.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Mu Qing asks. After all, this actually has nothing to do with him. It’s not his kid. And, really, Feng Xin had taken care of him that morning, let him sleep over, and driven them to IHOP; and if he couldn’t do a favor like holding off a goddamn annulment for an old friend then what good was he?
“Yeah, I’m— I’m sure.”
“You sound like you’re hesitating,” Mu Qing squints at him.
“I’m not. If you don’t want to do it, then just say you don’t want to!” Feng Xin huffs and crosses his arms.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, I’m just checking if you’re sure!”
“I am sure!”
“Are you really sure?”
“I just said that I was sure, Mu Qing, you ass—,”
“Shut up. All right!” He pauses and gives himself another second to commit to his decision. His head pulses and he closes his eyes, “We can hold off the annulment,” he takes a breath, can’t believe he’s doing this, “Until you get your custody thing sorted out.”
Feng Xin lets out a breath, “Thank you,” then starts eating his omelette.
“That’s why you weren’t eating?” Mu Qing scoffs, “I thought you’d gotten tired of IHOP.”
“I don’t know who’d get tired of IHOP.” Feng Xin replies plainly, “Also, we’re here all the time.”
The three of them, now two of them, had been getting ritual morning IHOP since they were teenagers. Before, that was, Xie Lian had decided to ditch them for his no-good-rotten-two-faced-bastard of a husband, Hua Cheng.
Still petulantly moody and impatient to move on from annulments and custody arrangements, Mu Qing demands, “Why didn’t you get as sick as me? I thought I was going to die this morning.”
“I thought you were going to die too.” Feng Xin says cheerfully, “You’ve always been a lightweight.”
“Is this what happens?” Mu Qing asks darkly, ignoring Feng Xin, “Is this what happens when you turn thirty?” he says bitterly.
Technically, neither of them had turned thirty yet. But Feng Xin’s birthday was two months away and Mu Qing’s was the month after so Mu Qing couldn’t help but feel he was looking down the barrel of his 30s with no love life or companionship to speak of.
Maybe that’s why he’d let himself be compelled by the drunk demons who possessed him last night to go to a chapel with big dick, big hearted, broad shouldered Feng Xin, of all people, and get married.
Just thinking about this made his hangover worse and he pushes the sunglasses more firmly on his face. Despite his false nonchalance, Mu Qing thought he really could cry real tears of frustration at the situation. It was just so…embarrassing. And now he’s holding off on the annulment too… Mu Qing stares at Feng Xin.
“Feng Xin?”
“Hm?”
“How are you so calm about this?” Mu Qing muttered, dropping his pretense, “Everyone saw that video, everyone.” He slumps in his chair and closes his eyes.
“We’re friends with Pei Ming.” Feng Xin snorts, “No one can judge us.”
That is…a valid point. And Mu Qing had already spent the morning dry heaving into Feng Xin’s toilet so at this point, there really wasn’t a lot of face left to save. He stopped talking and finished his breakfast.
~ Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan Forever <3 ~
So, the rings are…inadequate. Over-bright and chunky, and in the day-after afternoon sun, they look even uglier and tackier than they had the night before.
Feng Xin, surprisingly, had the idea to go out and get real ones after breakfast, to keep up appearances for family court. But because both of them had decided to leave their phones at Feng Xin’s apartment, they’re stuck wandering around downtown, looking for a jewelry store, instead of using Google Maps like they should be in the twenty-first fucking century.
Mu Qing still had a minor headache and Feng Xin was feeling indebted to him for agreeing to hold off the annulment, so neither of them felt like complaining. Instead, they walked silently side-by-side, occasionally pointing out places that could sell rings.
“There’s a thrift shop.” Mu Qing says, pointing to a bricked building, “They’ll probably have rings.”
“Nah…” Feng Xin says, continuing to glance around, “I want matching rings.”
“You want matching rings?” Behind Feng Xin’s sunglasses, Mu Qing rolled his eyes, “What for?”
“To look like we’re married. What do you think?” Feng Xin retorts, “Don’t couples usually have matching rings?”
“We don’t need to actually get matching rings though, any rings would be fine? Other than these.” Mu Qing holds out his hand to look at Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan Forever <3 and grimaces. They really are unbearably ugly.
“Yeah well, I think they would be nice to have. You know, like a souvenir.”
“You want a souvenir? A souvenir of a time we got so drunk, we got married?” Mu Qing asks, feeling more bewildered by the second.
“Yeah? Why not? Husband?” Feng Xin shoots back.
Mu Qing rolls his eyes again, this man, really, “Because it’s waste of money, darling. If we’re just getting props, there’s no reason to spend so much on something we’re going to throw away.”
“You would throw away our wedding rings? Our memories of our vows?”
“What vows? Did you see that video? We couldn’t string together a single thought between us!”
Smirking, Feng Xin nudges his shoulder against Mu Qing, “Are you embarrassed, darling? Do you regret marrying me?”
Mu Qing elbows him in the arm, “Yes,” He says forcefully, “I’m embarrassed for both of us.” Really, he was. Who else did they know, who was almost thirty, and still managing to get themselves in these impossible situations?
Feng Xin snickers, “Don’t worry about the rings. I’ll get them for you. I’m the one who wants them anyways.”
“That’s not the point,” Mu Qing says, to be honest, he doesn’t know why he’s being so stubborn about this. They’re just rings.
“What is the point then?” Feng Xin asks and follows up with: “You sound like you want to back out of this marriage!” he accuses.
One of the upsetting things about knowing someone for so long, was knowing which buttons to press and this one was Mu Qing’s inability to back down from perceived challenges no matter how petty or insignificant, or flat-out stupid.
Mu Qing glares at him, “Never, husband.” He grabs Feng Xin’s hand and walks a little quicker, pulling him down the street, “Lets go look for your stupid matching rings.”
Feng Xin interlaces their fingers and Mu Qing doesn’t let go. Their hands warm and steady, holding the casual comfort of close friends. Eventually, they come across a small jewelry store with a large window with bright yellow trim, looking cheerful and inviting.
“Welcome!” says the saleslady when they walk in, “How can I help you?”
Feng Xin takes the lead as Mu Qing pushes up the sunglasses and wanders off to look at a nearby display case, “Hi!” Feng Xin says, “We’re looking for a pair of wedding bands.” He smiles at the saleslady.
“Oh! Of course, just a second!” She hurries off into a back room. Mu Qing looks at Feng Xin oddly.
“Since when can you talk to women?” He asks, startled.
“Can you shut up and let that go?” Feng Xin replies.
Mu Qing snickers.
The saleslady returns with a tray, “Here we are! Please take a look!”
Feng Xin bends slightly to look at the rings, “Darling, come over here, what do you think?”
Mu Qing splutters internally. W-Why were they pretending to be married? For the saleslady??
He walks over coolly and wraps himself around Feng Xin’s arm, just to be a bitch. “I like these,” He says, pointing to a pair of simple pale gold bands, “What do you think?” He smiles at Feng Xin as insincerely as he can, “Darling?”
The smile is wasted though. Feng Xin isn’t looking at him, instead staring intently at the bands, “Uh, yeah, those are f-fine.” He stutters slightly, “They’re nice…”
Ha! Mu Qing thinks gleefully, Guess Feng Xin isn’t over his fear of women after all. For some reason, Mu Qing feels like he’s won something, and he’s still pressing himself against Feng Xin’s side, when the saleslady asks for their ring sizes. He answers brightly and Feng Xin mumbles. The saleslady beams at them before disappearing once again into the back room.
“Still nervous around women, huh.” Mu Qing says, amused and moves away. He pats Feng Xin’s arm mockingly, “You’ll grow out of it.”
“You, shut up.” Feng Xin hisses.
The saleslady returns with rings in their size, “Here, please try these on!”
Relieved Mu Qing, removes his ugly ring and slips it into his coat pocket before trying on the wedding band. It glints a pale, plain gold, not too flashy, but still noticeable, thin and elegant. He closes his hand and opens it again. These are…acceptable. They should be, after all Mu Qing picked them himself.
He studies Feng Xin, who is also opening and closing his hand, twisting his hand to watch the light glint off the ring.
“What do you think?” Mu Qing prods.
“They’re fine.” Feng Xin answers, still looking at the ring on his finger.
“Well, do you like them or not?” Mu Qing frowns, “We can get another pair if you don’t like them.”
“I said I like them, ok? Don’t overthink so much.” Feng Xin rolls his eyes and Mu Qing almost rolls his too, at the habit.
The saleslady is so pleased for them and wraps up the rings in sturdy little boxes and places both of them in a small gift bag.
“Thank you! Come again!” She waves at them cheerfully as they leave.
Outside the jewelry store, Mu Qing feels better enough that he doesn’t wince when he sees the sun. He takes the sunglasses off his head and hands them back to Feng Xin.
“Here,” He says, “Thanks.” Feng Xin nods and hangs the sunglasses from his crewneck.
Mu Qing starts to head back when Feng Xin says, “Ah, wait. Hang on.” He fumbles with the gift bag, “Here,” He takes out Mu Qing’s ring box, “This is yours.” When Mu Qing doesn’t immediately take it, Feng Xin opens the box and takes out the ring. He drops the ring box back into the gift bag dangling from his wrist.
Feng Xin takes Mu Qing’s hand and lifts it, slipping the ring onto Mu Qing’s left ring finger.
What the fuck? Mu Qing thinks.
Feng Xin holds it there for a second, feeling the dry press of Mu Qing’s skin and warmth and weight of his hand. It’s comforting, familiar. He lets go.
“And what about you?” Mu Qing demands, “I have to wear a ring and you don’t?”
Feng Xin opens his mouth respond when Mu Qing grabs Feng Xin’s hand for a second before dropping it, flustered. He reaches into the little gift bag and fishes out Feng Xin’s ring box, taking the ring out and dropping the box back into the little bag.
“Here,” Mu Qing says, agitated. He takes Feng Xin’s hand again and carefully slips the ring onto Feng Xin’s finger.
“There,” Mu Qing says breathlessly, “now, we match.”
Feng Xin smiles, a little panicky, “Thanks.”
They’re standing in front of the little jewelry store. Mu Qing is still holding Feng Xin’s hand and they look at each other. Both a little caught off-guard. Mu Qing drops Feng Xin’s hand abruptly.
“Come on,” he says, “Let’s go back.”
Feng Xin reaches forward and catches Mu Qing’s hang, holds it for a second longer. Mu Qing looks at him questioningly and Feng Xin opens his mouth then closes it.
“Let’s go,” Feng Xin says finally and pulls Mu Qing along back towards his car.
Their hands, intertwined; their matching rings glinting in the sunlight.
~~ :o:o: ~~
When they get to Feng Xin’s apartment, Mu Qing saunters in as soon as the door is opened, tugs off his shoes, and makes his way into his bedroom. Feng Xin is still undoing his laces when Mu Qing comes out with his phone in one hand and his clothes from last night thrown over his arm.
“Let me get you a bag for that.” Feng Xin says and takes off his shoes and walks into the kitchen. He pulls out a plastic grocery bag, filled with other plastic grocery bags, from one of the cabinets and hands one to Mu Qing, “Here.”
“Hm, thanks,” Mu Qing hums as he takes the bag, looking distractedly at his phone. Feng Xin watches as Mu Qing quickly scrolls through his notifications, “I don’t know what to say to them,” Mu Qing mutters, “Shi Qingxuan is throwing a fit.”
Feng Xin snorts, “Like I said, we don’t have to explain shit to them.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head forward in a half-nod, “But if you want, you can just tell them we’re getting an annulment. No big deal.”
“…Right,” Mu Qing says, “Annulment.” He shakes his head as if to clear it, locks his phone, and slips it into his pocket. “Thanks for…all this,” he says, gesturing to Feng Xin’s clothes, “I’ll wash and return them.”
“No problem,” says Feng Xin and he thinks about telling Mu Qing to just keep them since he looks better in them anyways.
“I’m heading out,” Mu Qing says, “thanks for letting me stay over last night.” He rolls his clothes into a ball and shoves them in the bag.
Mu Qing is normally pretty neat and tidy, but Feng Xin guesses there’s no point in trying to save those clothes any further wrinkling after they’ve already been slept in.
Feng Xin huffs, “I doubt you could’ve made it back to your apartment anyways, in the state you were in.”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes and moves past him towards the doorway.
“Any plans for tonight?” Feng Xin asks, following after him.
Mu Qing shrugs, “Shower, eat,” he bends down to tug his boots back on, “Maybe I’ll do a hair mask.” He straightens up, “You?”
“Same,” Feng Xin leans against the wall, watching Mu Qing, “Shower, eat.” He pauses, “Probably won’t do a hair mask.”
“You should consider it,” Mu Qing mocks, “Especially with your hair like that.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Feng Xin reaches up to run his hand through his hair. Mu Qing’s eyes flit to follow his bicep. Feng Xin doesn’t notice.
“Nothing,” They both stand there, looking at each other for a second longer and Mu Qing turns to the door, “See you around.”
Feng Xin wiggles his fingers at him, making sure the light catches his ring, “Bye, husband,” he says mockingly exaggerated.
Mu Qing rolls his eyes and returns the gesture, waving his hand, “Bye, husband.” He opens the door and leaves.
Feng Xin stays leaning against the wall for a few minutes before moving forward to lock the door.