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Fu Shen had never predicted that in all his life, he would end up visiting the Golden Stage to remove his own portrait.
Of course, there were plenty of things in life that were predictable. To him dying in service had been a given, but having a next of kin to carry his portrait into Qilin hall had not. And to have a next of kin, a husband, still by his side to take it down? It was not something he could have ever imagined only a few years ago.
Yan Xiaohan walked just a pace behind him, unusually silent. Fu Shen pretended not to the concerned gaze on his back as he strode inside with confidence. To him his supposed death was distant, something he had recovered from and pushed to the side. The portrait he approached was something that would eventually end up here anyway.
He paused as he felt the gaze on him changed, as if Yan Xiaohan was trying to burn holes into his back. Fu Shen tilted his head to look at him, eyes narrowing. Yan Xiaohan’s handsome face was marred by downturned lips and a deep sadness that couldn’t be hidden in his dark eyes. It was a look that didn’t suit him at all.
"What are you doing looking at me like that, hm?" Fu Shen couldn't help but reach out and pinch Yan Xiaohan's chin. "I'm not dead yet. There's nothing to be sad about. You knew that when you carried my portrait in here."
Fu Shen turned back to the full sized portrait of him hanging in Qilin hall, letting out a soft sigh. It was a shame to remove something so painstakingly made. Just as he reached forward he was pushed off balance by a sudden weight against his back, arms wrapping around his waist as a handsome face pressed into his neck.
"Jingyuan," Yan Xiaohan breathed out, words caressing Fu Shen's skin. "Don't make me carry you in here again."
"I won't, I won't," Fu Shen hummed placatingly, raising a hand to pat Yan Xiaohan's cheek. He relaxed in the slightly taller man's arms, allowing Yan Xiaohan to engulf him and pull him fully into his embrace. "Don't worry, your husband is strong, he won't die so easily."
Yan Xiaohan let out a huff of laughter into the crook of Fu Shen's neck before turning to press a feather light kiss to his chin. Just like that, the mournful atmosphere dissipated. Life was fickle, and Fu Shen couldn't promise that he wouldn't leave first. But it was much easier to hope without the threat of war constantly looming, here in the capital where he no longer had to fight for his life.
"Let go of that bad memory, hm?" Fu Shen continued eventually, turning his head towards Yan Xiaohan with a grin. "We were married in this place, is that not more important? Are you thinking more about my death than our current life?"
"That wasn't here," Yan Xiaohan retorted, face pressing further into the crook of Fu Shen's neck so his voice was muffled. "The Golden Stage has been rebuilt since."
Fu Shen rolled his eyes. "So fussy."
"Since it's like this," Yan Xiaohan's lips curved into a smile against Fu Shen's skin as he spoke, hands lowering to hold him by the waist. He tilted his head so his words were whispered in Fu Shen's ear. "Why don't we make some new memories here, to remove the bad ones?"
"You- let go of me!" Fu Shen snapped, face flushed and ears bright red. His gaze was ice cold, murderous aura emanating out from him as he slapped Yan Xiaohan's hands and pulled free from his grasp. His embarrassment mixed with anger as he resisted fleeing even further, only taking a few steps away. "Yan Meng'gui, are you asking to be beaten?! Keep your wandering hands to yourself!”
“Isn’t it a wife’s job to comfort their husband?” Yan Xiaohan chuckled, eyes glinting.
Any sympathy Fu Shen had for the other man was entirely crushed. With him messing around like this it was clear Yan Xiaohan had gotten over his upset quickly, even if it still lurked at the corners of his vision. “Just you see if I worry about you again! Really, I relax one moment and you misbehave.”
Fu Shen proceeded to ignore him in favour of taking down the portrait of himself, unceremoniously handing it to Yan Xiaohan and walking away. In a few short steps his temper calmed, almost as quickly as it had heated up. He couldn’t remain angry with Yan Xiaohan for long, even if it flared up everytime he pushed too much. Fu Shen’s heart softened as he thought of the expression Yan Xiaohan had only moments before.
With a soft sigh Fu Shen paused, turning around and holding out a hand to Yan Xiaohan. A smile framed his lips and his gaze turned gentle.
"Let's go home."