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Feng Xin was drenched in gore when he decided to call Mu Qing through the communication array simply because he missed his voice.

Since seeing Mu Qing only a few hours prior, Feng Xin had become embroiled in eradicating a nest of Severe ghosts clustered in a southeastern forest. Although Feng Xin had begun investigating ghosts before forcefully detaining or dissipating them, the Severes had become arrogant, mistaking Feng Xin's experimental grace with complacency.

Feng Xin enjoyed correcting their misunderstanding. But, as the thrill of the fight subsided, he became uncomfortably conscious of his tattered, viscera-spackled clothes, quivering arms, and sharply aching back.

Mu Qing would mock him for tackling so many Severes on his own. He'd chide Feng Xin for not asking Mu Qing for help. He'd  tsk  over Feng Xin's ruined robes, and maybe Feng Xin could finally ask Mu Qing where he procured  his  excessively fancy clothes.

Feng Xin had wanted to ask Mu Qing to dress Feng Xin for a while but couldn't figure out how without losing face. Mu Qing's style was pretentious, flowing, and elegant compared to Feng Xin's. Still, Feng Xin couldn't deny how nice Mu Qing's robes felt when they dragged against Feng Xin's skin during their rendezvous.

But, if Mu Qing saw his current state, Feng Xin had no doubt he could coerce Mu Qing into picking out new robes for Feng Xin of his own accord.

Feng Xin placed two fingers against his temple, grimacing at the gritty texture of the grime drying against his skin. He murmured Mu Qing's private spiritual array passphrase and waited eagerly for Mu Qing's attention.

But, instead of Mu Qing's mellow, decorous voice, Feng Xin received Ling Wen's crisper, sharper tone announcing:  Xuan Zhen is unavailable. If this is an emergency, please contact the Palace of Xuan Zhen for assistance. 

Ling Wen?  Feng Xin chanced.

Xuan Zhen is unavailable. If this is an emergency, please contact the Palace of Xuan Zhen for assistance.

Feng Xin scowled and dropped his hand. Mu Qing had instituted Ling Wen's recorded 'do not disturb' message, a feature she offered to any officials willing to shell out merits for the privilege of blocking incoming communication.

Mu Qing hadn't told Feng Xin he'd be unreachable. It wasn't as if Mu Qing  needed  to run his schedule by Feng Xin, they'd never bothered sharing that information before, but the impartial rejection stung. Especially since it wasn't as if Feng Xin could go to Mu Qing directly: Mu Qing still insisted on coordinating their meetings to ensure privacy. He refused to see Feng Xin in the Heavenly Capital unless they discussed it ahead of time. He'd only meet Feng Xin in their palaces under false pretenses while their deputy officials were distracted or dispersed.

Feng Xin didn't love the arrangement. Feng Xin hadn't minded when they were keeping their assignations secret, but they'd already been exposed through the collective efforts of Ling Wen, Pei Ming, and Hua Cheng. There wasn't any hiding it now, and most officials had already grown bored with such stale gossip. 

The more Feng Xin considered the absurdity of their surreptitious charade, the sourer he became over being unable to access Mu Qing's private array. Feng Xin felt… shelved. As if Mu Qing wanted him only at Mu Qing's convenience.

Some small, smitten piece of Feng Xin insisted he wasn't being fair to Mu Qing. After all, Mu Qing questioned the boundaries of his cultivation for Feng Xin. Mu Qing made room for Feng Xin in his meticulously curated godhood. Mu Qing kissed Feng Xin just as fervently as Feng Xin kissed him. But more and more, Feng Xin worried that this cautious, cherry-picked courtship wasn't enough.

That thought made Feng Xin feel  awful . Who was he to levy demands?

Then again, who was Mu Qing to deny him?

Thoroughly agitated, Feng Xin tapped his temple again, muttering another passphrase.

Palace of Xuan Zhen!  a perky deputy official greeted.

Where the fuck is Mu Qing?  Feng Xin demanded, his tone gruffer than intended.  Sorry , he amended sheepishly.  Where the fuck is Xuan Zhen? 

Honorable Nan Yang Zhen Jun,  the deputy official enunciated carefully as if reciting a script. This could have been the case; Mu Qing preferred to maintain cool professionalism with most of the heavenly realm. Feng Xin had long assumed Xuan Zhen officials received instructions to follow when interacting with the Upper Court.  Xuan Zhen Jiangjun is unavailable. May I take a message? 

I know he's unavailable, but where is he?  Feng Xin insisted. He'd originally only wanted to hear Mu Qing's voice. But now, he wanted to make a  scene .

Nan Yang Zhen Jun,  the deputy official chewed each word,  Xuan Zhen Jiangjun asked that the Palace handle his affairs for another half a shichen unless there arises an emergency. Is this a matter with which we can assist? 

No,  Feng Xin groused.  It isn't. 

This one cannot disturb Xuan Zhen Jiangjun unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?  The deputy official prodded, not unkindly.  

Feng Xin couldn't command a deputy official that wasn't his own, and he couldn't ask her to violate her General's orders either. It wasn't his place.

Feng Xin removed a pouch from his side, took a pinch of cloves from it, and popped them in his mouth, chewing furiously. This many burned his tongue, but they also cleared his head.

No, there isn't an emergency,  Feng Xin conceded.  Never mind, then. 

Thank you for your understanding, Nan Yang Zhen Jun,  the deputy official said, audibly relieved. And then, just before Feng Xin disconnected from the array, she added,  Nan Yang Zhen Jun?

Yes?  Feng Xin furrowed his brows.

The Honorable General has been in the human realm since this morning, correct?  the deputy official asked, her tone losing its formality to adopt a more conspiratorial inflection.  Is the General aware that the earth gods are welcoming visitors to the newly completed hot springs? 

Feng Xin blinked. He'd nearly forgotten; once the last of the palaces for the Upper Court finished construction, the heavenly realm had gold leftover from Crimson Rain's loan. The surplus resulted in months-long deliberation about whether the heavenly realm should return the surplus to Crimson Rain to lessen their debt or use it to expand the Heavenly Capital's communal amenities.

Ling Wen and the civil gods she'd taken under her mentorship had adamantly advocated for returning the excess funds to Crimson Rain. Pei Ming agreed. But Mu Qing insisted that rejecting liquid credit would be wasteful. He doubted Hua Cheng sincerely intended to collect on the debt so long as Xie Lian was indebted by association. At first, most of the gods trusted Ling Wen's wisdom, especially given she had instituted the internal structures necessary to manage the Capital's finances. But then Mu Qing turned the tide of public opinion by proposing an artificial hot spring in the center of the Heavenly Capital.

He spoke elegantly of the benefits of hot springs: they would promote community, encourage cultivation, and soothe exhaustion. But most didn't need his rhetoric; ascension brought enlightenment and privilege, unlike anything the human realm could offer. However, even the oldest gods craved luxuries like sleep and hot soaks. 

And so, despite Ling Wen and Pei Ming's best efforts, the heavenly realm agreed to use what remained of Crimson Rain's loan to construct elaborate hot springs to be shared by the Upper and Middle Courts. Deliberation had taken months, but construction had exceeded a year.

Feng Xin hadn't realized the hot springs were complete, much less opened for use. Although he felt too wronged by Mu Qing to go socialize in a public bath, this news was certainly good for some other time.

I hadn't heard, thank you for informing me,  Feng Xin said sincerely.  I'll take advantage of the earth gods' craftsmanship later. 

Ah— of course, Nan Yang Zhen Jun. But many officials have already excused themselves to the hot springs to celebrate. There's no reason you shouldn't do the same. 

Well-taken, thank you,  Feng Xin offered politely, without understanding why she'd care if he bathed or not.

Some have even chosen to declare themselves unavailable while there,  she urged more forcefully.  So that they may enjoy the springs uninterrupted.

Why would I—Oh!  Feng Xin's eyes widened as realization struck. Bashfully, he added,  I see. Yes, you're right, maybe I should go and see for myself. You've been very helpful. 

Of course, General,  she said, her voice falling back into its prior formality.  By heaven official's blessing, no paths are bound. 

Feng Xin dropped his hand, disconnecting from the array. He swallowed the cloves numbing his mouth, their sharp flavor doing little to dull his simmering irritation.

That Mu Qing's deputy official would be so accommodating wasn't a comfort, not so long as she did so in defiance of Mu Qing's directive. If anything, it illustrated the root of Feng Xin's frustration: Mu Qing was the only one in all three realms who gave a fuck about their relationship. 

Feng Xin finished collecting the rest of the arrows that had pinned his since-dispersed enemies, slung his bow onto his back, and ascended with a crack of lightning.

Within the Palace of Nan Yang, he shed his leather armor and weapons, tossing them haphazardly in a corner of his private quarters (snidely hopeful that Mu Qing would see them and become agitated the next time he graced Feng Xin with his company).

Feng Xin intended to meet Mu Qing while still filthy, to frustrate Mu Qing into dressing him. But then he caught his reflection in the mirror and hesitated. His outer robe was shredded, his inner robe no longer white. His topknot was askew, and his hair was clotted with grime. His blood-and-dirt smeared face looked like it had been ground into a tree… which it  had  been, more than once. Briefly, an image of Mu Qing's pompous sneer flashed in his mind's eye.

Feng Xin couldn't be seen like this.

He undressed, tossing his soiled robes in the same pile as his armor, scrubbed himself clean in a cold bath, and then brushed out his wet hair. Since he intended to go find Mu Qing in the hot springs, he forwent a hairpin and tied his hair into a tight bun with a plain, red ribbon.

Of course, then he considered whether Mu Qing would be wearing only a ribbon. Feng Xin doubted it; Mu Qing rarely presented himself before the others without a polished veneer. Feng Xin couldn't help but wonder if Mu Qing's reticence was because Feng Xin, himself, was a smear on Mu Qing's shiny surface.

Feng Xin undid his ribbon and pinned his hair in an ornate guan he'd only ever worn when appearing before Jun Wu. Then he sifted through his clean robes. It would look needy if he dressed too nicely, but Mu Qing would notice if he dressed poorly too. And so, he settled for what he hoped was a middle ground: just nice enough to pass muster, but not so nice that Mu Qing would roll his eyes and accuse Feng Xin of caring.

Congratulating himself for his cleverness, Feng Xin departed for the hot springs.

When reconstructing the Heavenly Capital after the last was lost to insurrection and inferno, the gods all agreed their commitment to solidarity and integrity should be woven into the city's very design. Absent an Earth Master, several earth gods of lesser influence came together to draft several potential city designs, all of which were presented to the others for consensus. It took time, but eventually, one was chosen.

Together, the gods did away with the former square grid, which centered the Martial Deity Avenue and exalted the Palace of Jun Wu, in favor of a circular city, one over which no singular god or class of god would reign.

Thus, instead of a palace, there was a verdant bamboo forest in the center of the Capital. When it came time to place the hot springs, it only made sense to construct them within that bamboo forest. 

Feng Xin had just ventured into the bamboo when mist gathered like low fog amid the green stalks. As he drew closer, he heard cascading water and the hum of distant conversation cut with occasional laughter. And then, quite suddenly, the thick forest parted to reveal 33 tiered pools cradled in dark stone and crowned in pillowy clouds of steam.

Water poured from one tier into the next, flowing in steady currents around the gathered gods to ensure the water always ran clean and clear. Several broad, oil paper fans hung suspended above the water, some languidly waving near clusters of gods who manipulated the fans with their own spiritual energy.

Just past the edges of the bamboo entrance, to Feng Xin's right, thoughtfully crafted rock formations formed shelves. The shelves were stacked with discarded robes and spiritual devices.

Feng Xin, admittedly, did not consider that he wouldn't see Mu Qing before entering the water. He felt silly having dressed for Mu Qing, but he still looked around to see if he could catch Mu Qing's eye before shedding his robes. He couldn't find Mu Qing, although he did notice Mu Qing's conspicuously long Zhencheng mounted beside a shelf on which a set of meticulously folded robes rested. Cutting his losses, Feng Xin stripped and shoved his robes beside Mu Qing's.

As Feng Xin stepped into the water, he felt the shivering of a purifying spell array. Beneath the current, the water simmered in a rolling boil. Gods were scarcely touched by heat or cold; to reap the benefits of a hot soak, the water maintained a temperature that would cook mortal flesh. Feng Xin groaned in pleasure as he sunk his aching back into the steaming heat.

Indeed, no detail had been spared.

Feng Xin glanced about for a glint of Mu Qing's silver guan but still couldn't find him. With 33 pools, shrouding mist, and milling crowds, Feng Xin rationalized Mu Qing likely found someplace quiet to tuck himself into, where he wouldn't be disturbed.

Feng Xin ventured deeper into the lowest tier of pools and was spotted by Pei Ming.

"Ju Yang," Pei Ming drawled from where he spread out, his back resting against the rocky rim of the next highest tier. His hair was loose and pouring over his shoulder, and a smirk tugged at his lips. "You're looking well."

Feng Xin scowled. "Don't be fucking gross; we're in a public bath." 

"I'm only teasing. But we  are  in a public bath," Pei Ming said, his gaze flicking to Feng Xin's hair. "So why so dressed up?" Feng Xin touched his guan self-consciously.

"Is it too much?" Feng Xin asked.

Pei Ming cocked his head. And then his smirk widened.

Feng Xin folded his legs to sink into the water until only his head popped from the surface. "Don't make that face," Feng Xin bemoaned. "It's a stupid face."

Pei Ming snorted. "Okay, Nan Yang," he mused, straightening his expression with an exaggerated flourish. "Better?"

Feng Xin narrowed his eyes.

Pei Ming considered him for a moment before pushing away from the rock to crouch beside Feng Xin, mimicking Feng Xin's petulant squat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Pei Ming asked.

Feng Xin hesitated and then nodded curtly.

When Feng Xin didn't offer anything further, Pei Ming smiled good-naturedly. "Okay. I'll start. Why are you wearing your nicest guan in the bath?"

"It's not my  nicest  one," Feng Xin said. "I have nicer hairpins. Probably."

Pei Ming hummed, unconvinced. "Did Mu Qing say something? He's got a nasty tongue sometimes."

Feng Xin splashed Pei Ming, and Pei Ming scrunched his handsome face against the light spray.

"He's not that bad," Feng Xin said. "No, he didn't say anything."

"Well," Pei Ming concluded, "then I don't know what's going on. You'll just have to tell me yourself."  

Feng Xin glanced around. There was a trio of literature gods nearby, but they weren't paying attention to Feng Xin and Pei Ming. They were too busy chatting animatedly with a couple of martial gods, all flushed faces and lazy smiles from where they lounged beside a gently waving fan. 

"He really didn't say anything," Feng Xin finally said, uncurling his legs to stretch out more comfortably. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then blurted, "Since you mentioned him… everyone knows we're… right?"

Pei Ming huffed, amused. "More or less," he said, leaning back. His hair fanned on the water's surface like a cloud of ink. "You didn't think you could sneak around Noble Jie's stacks and keep it a secret, did you? What do you take her for?"

"We didn't do jack shit!" Feng Xin barked. "Whatever she told you, it didn't happen."

"Noble Jie isn't a gossip," Pei Ming promised. "She hasn't embellished anything. But I don't think it's less embarrassing that all you two did was linger like lovesick fools in the most frequented Palace in all the heavenly realm."

Feng Xin rolled his eyes, and Pei Ming laughed.

"If you hadn't made it obvious in the Palace of Ling Wen, it'd be obvious from how you've begun collecting each other's habits like trinkets," Pei Ming mused.

If the steam hadn't already flushed Feng Xin's golden skin, Pei Ming's comment would have set his cheeks ablaze. Feng Xin took great pleasure in the idea that he'd begun wearing Mu Qing's mannerisms, and Mu Qing wore his in turn.

Before Feng Xin could reply, Pei Ming straightened his shoulders, his gaze sliding past Feng Xin. 

"Quan Yizhen's here," Pei Ming said. "I didn't think he could even wake up before evening."

"Leave him alone," Feng Xin warned. "He'll wreck the place if you rile him up, and Crimson Rain sure as fuck won't pay to fix it."

"I don't rile him up," Pei Ming protested. "He instigates."

"Have you ever considered not pissing him off?" Feng Xin asked.

"You're brave for someone naked but for a hair accessory," Pei Ming drawled. "Tell me more about how I shouldn't pick fights."

Then Quan Yizhen noticed Pei Ming and shouted a snarky quip, and Feng Xin excused himself to hunt down Mu Qing as he'd intended all along. 

Feng Xin found Mu Qing, predictably, tucked away at the far edge of one of the smaller, more elevated pools.

Mu Qing's eyes were closed, his pale skin was pink from the heat, and his thin lips were barely parted. Without his signature sneer, his face looked young and delicately handsome. His unadorned hair was in a low braid draped over his shoulder and disappeared beneath the water. Nearby, a bath bean and a small jade bottle perched on a floating lotus leaf.

Feng Xin had only a moment to consider ripping out his guan before Mu Qing's eyes opened into half-lidded slits.

"What are you doing over there?" Mu Qing asked, his voice low and languid. "If you're going to join me, join me."

"Oh," Feng Xin said, his earlier irritation tasting stale. "You won't mind?"

Mu Qing's forehead wrinkled, but just barely. "Of course not. Don't be weird."

Feng Xin drifted over, settling beside Mu Qing. This close, Mu Qing smelled like agarwood and jasmine.

Mu Qing closed his eyes again, sinking back into his meditative silence.

Feng Xin fidgeted.

Soft conversation and splashing filtered over the sound of rushing water, but it all blended into muted white noise.

Feng Xin fidgeted again.

"You're thinking very loudly," Mu Qing said, eyes still closed. Feng Xin stiffened beside him. "How was the human realm?" Mu Qing added.

"Fine, I guess," Feng Xin said. "I killed a nest of Severes."

Mu Qing hummed. "I heard," he said. "Sounded messy."

Feng Xin quirked his eyebrows. "How could you have heard? It only just happened."

Mu Qing grunted, and amusement sparked in Feng Xin's gut.

"Did you check up on me, Xuan Zhen?" Feng Xin teased. Mu Qing opened one eye just to flick a glare at Feng Xin. It didn't have any heat, and then Mu Qing closed his eye again.

"Maybe," Mu Qing snipped. "Maybe I didn't think you could handle it."

Feng Xin grinned dopily.

Mu Qing  kept tabs  on Feng Xin. Mu Qing  worried  about Feng Xin. It was so disgustingly sincere that, at that moment, Feng Xin wouldn't care if Mu Qing put a sack over his head before being seen beside him.

"Why are you wearing such a tacky guan?" Mu Qing asked. "You don't even dress that gaudily for your worshippers. What possibly possessed you to do it here?"

Feng Xin changed his mind. Mu Qing could go fuck himself.

"What the fuck do you care?" Feng Xin retorted. 

Mu Qing's eyes opened, and his lips twisted into a scowl. "Don't get snappy with me just because you're just now realizing you look like an asshole," Mu Qing bit back. "Are you here to bathe or peacock?"

"That's rich coming from you," Feng Xin huffed. "When aren't you peacocking?"

Mu Qing sat up, his shoulders tensing. "I don't  peacock ," he said. "I dress appropriately. Which is why I'm not the one wearing jewelry in a hot spring right now."

"Oh, fuck off. You dress like you've got something to prove," Feng Xin snarled. "Do you even see other people when you're talking to them, or are you too busy trying to look at your reflection in their eyes?"

Mu Qing's expression became thunderous. "Did those Severes knock the last of your sense from your thick skull?" he said, gesturing to his own head so sharply that he flicked water across Feng Xin's face. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"You're the only one who's ever embarrassed," Feng Xin muttered. "You are the only one who gives a fuck."

"What are you going on about?" Mu Qing huffed, exasperated. "What about this conversation do you think I give a fuck about?"

"It's not—fuck, Mu Qing, it's not about the conversation!" Feng Xin snapped. "It's about how you can't stand to be fucking seen with me. It's about how you're so fucking obsessed with posturing, you can't even tell no one else gives a damn!"

Mu Qing's mouth fell open.

"What? Who said I didn't want to be seen with you?" Mu Qing retorted. "We're together all of the fucking time!"

Feng Xin frowned. "Yeah? Why are we still meeting in the human realm? Then why do you insist on sending all your officials away when I'm over? Why won't you stay the night at my Palace?"

Several emotions flashed across Mu Qing's face in quick succession. First, incredulity. Then, indignance. Finally, confusion. "What?" he blurted. "You've never asked me to stay at your Palace… and why would I even if you did? Mine isn't very far away."

"It's not supposed to be about what's practical!" Feng Xin said, throwing up his hands in a spray of water. A few officials from the other end of the pool glanced over curiously, but Mu Qing shot them a caustic glare, and they looked away.

Feng Xin ran a hand over his hair. "I want to be around you most of the time, but you only ever want me when it's convenient. It's starting to feel  really  shitty."

Mu Qing scowled. "I don't know what you want from me," he snapped. "But don't assume stupid shit. I don't want to discuss this here. There are too many people, and I don't care for audiences. Did you come here just to argue with me?"

"No," Feng Xin lied. "Not everything's about you."

"Fine," said Mu Qing. "Then let me bathe in peace. We can talk about this later."

"Fine!" Feng Xin huffed, pointedly wading several paces away. He settled where he hoped Mu Qing could see him not caring whether Mu Qing could see him, and sunk into the water, closing his eyes and leaning back against the rim of the pool.

After several minutes, he glanced at Mu Qing, who had pulled himself from the water to perch at the pool's edge. A towel was draped over his lap, and he was working his braid loose. He brushed it out with his fingers, unraveling the braid and combing out any tangles with his fingers. He plucked the jade bottle from the lotus leaf and poured what appeared to be oil into his palm. He spread the oil between slender fingers and brushed it through his hair.

Feng Xin couldn't smell the oil from where he pouted, but he knew it smelled like jasmine.

Mu Qing finished massaging the oil into his hair and began braiding it again. Sheepishly, Feng Xin wondered if it was too late to ask if he could help. But while grappling with how to frame the request, Mu Qing glanced over and caught Feng Xin's eyes. He jerked his head, beckoning Feng Xin over. Feng Xin waded his way. 

Mu Qing didn't speak; he just turned his back to Feng Xin and lifted the end of his halfway finished braid. Feng Xin obligingly plucked it from Mu Qing's hand. He wove his fingers in Mu Qing's hair, undoing the braid and beginning it again. It smelled like jasmine. Once it was braided, he tied it with the ribbon Mu Qing offered him and brushed his knuckle down Mu Qing's neck to let him know he was finished.

Mu Qing's skin raised, even in the humidity of the hot spring.

But they were mad at each other, and Feng Xin didn't want to overstay his welcome, so he stepped back.

Mu Qing glanced over his shoulder and scowled. "Where are you going?" he asked. "I didn't say I was finished with you."

Feng Xin blinked. "What?"

Mu Qing cocked his chin haughtily. "I'm using you. Isn't that what I do? Use you at my own convenience? Scrub my back." He thrust his bath bean over his shoulder and turned his face forward again.

Feng Xin opened his mouth. He closed it again. He took a deep breath. Finally, with a mumbled, "Fuck it," he took the bath bean from Mu Qing's hands, lathered it between his own, and massaged the suds into Mu Qing's muscular shoulders.

As he felt the tension in Mu Qing's muscles, he ground his fingers in deeper before lightening his touch again to sweep his thumbs up and down Mu Qing's neck. Mu Qing relaxed in pieces, first his shoulders and then his neck. And then he sighed, and Feng Xin moved his fingers down Mu Qing's back. As he touched, he appreciated the planes of jade-like skin, the thick muscle, the mottled scars, and the knobs of Mu Qing's spine.

He'd seen Mu Qing bare before, when they were teenagers in the Royal Palace, during Xie Lian's first banishment, and once or twice after they'd ascended. He'd seen Mu Qing arch beneath his teeth on Mu Qing's throat. He'd watched Mu Qing's expression grow hungry while Mu Qing pulled at his hair. With his hands on Mu Qing's skin, these images ran together like bleeding ink. 

Mu Qing's skin was rosy like plum blossoms in winter's frost. Pinker than Feng Xin had ever seen him, even if Feng Xin saw him turn pink fairly often. Mu Qing was still caught in the novelty of their relationship, and his cheeks burned easily when Feng Xin sucked on his tongue or caressed his side. But Mu Qing was a pillar of jade, refined and poised in all things, and Feng Xin hadn't ever seen him fall apart.

He wanted so badly to see Mu Qing fall apart. He wondered what Mu Qing would like and wouldn't like. He thought about what might make Mu Qing flush this particular shade of pink.

It wasn't a burden to go slowly, to ease Mu Qing into intimacy. Feng Xin wasn't terribly experienced either; he also needed this gentler pace. But acknowledging what they needed didn't stop Feng Xin from wanting Mu Qing fiercely. That Mu Qing might not feel similarly should have blunted Feng Xin's desire, but it didn't. Shame and hunger grappled in the pit of Feng Xin's gut, warming him in the worst ways.

"I'm not embarrassed by you if that's what you're worried about," Mu Qing said quietly, his voice cutting past the roar of Feng Xin's blood in his ears.

Feng Xin grunted with a slight frown. The hurt in him scratched and yowled, and he couldn't help but mutter, "You sure act like you are."

Mu Qing stiffened beneath Feng Xin's hands. Feng Xin ran his palms up Mu Qing's back to grind his fingers into Mu Qing's shoulders until Mu Qing relaxed again.

"I'm not," Mu Qing finally insisted. "Xie Lian once called you jade. I don't disagree."

Feng Xin froze. He felt the jump of muscle as Mu Qing shifted.

" Dianxia ," Feng Xin corrected softly. Mu Qing snorted. And then Feng Xin asked, "So why do you insist on being so secretive? I asked Pei Ming, and he says everyone already knows anyway. What's the point in acting like they don't?"

Mu Qing hummed as if considering his words carefully. Rare, for him. "Because it's not about them. I don't want them involved."

"Why are you even thinking about them at all?" Feng Xin asked.

"They're all nosy, prying gossips," Mu Qing retorted. "This is ours. I want to keep it ours. It's already—it's already become something else to our worshippers. Is it so bad that I want what's left to myself?" His voice grew light enough that Feng Xin had to strain to hear him over the rushing water and distant chatter.

Feng Xin huffed out a breath, affection flowering in his chest. "No, there's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, I just think I want you more than you want me."

Mu Qing jerked his head to glare at Feng Xin over his shoulder. "Fuck you," he snapped. "Just because I'm not—just because I'm still…  ugh ," Mu Qing grunted gutturally. It was so odd-sounding in his typically melodious voice that Feng Xin laughed, which did nothing to soften Mu Qing's indignation. "I don't know how else to prove it. I'm doing what I can."

Feng Xin dipped forward to peck Mu Qing's hair, tasting the perfumed oil on his lips. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I know you're trying. I do see it."

Mu Qing's shoulders slumped forward, and he dipped his head. "Then stop making me say it," he muttered. "It's not fair that I have to explain myself all the time."

"It's a little fair," Feng Xin muttered, suppressing his urge to loop an arm around Mu Qing's waist. "You don't really ever say what you mean. It makes it hard sometimes to tell what's going on in your head."

"Are you finished?" Mu Qing snipped. "Turn around; I didn't see you with a bath bean. You can use mine for today. I'll wash your back too."

Feng Xin grinned. "Yeah, okay," he said, passing the soap to Mu Qing and turning around.

He listened to the splashing water as Mu Qing rinsed himself off. Then, Mu Qing lathered the soap fresh again before massaging it into Feng Xin's back. Feng Xin sunk into the sensation of Mu Qing's fingers digging into his back sparks prickling along his spine. But then those sparks blossomed into heat, and despite the sweetness of Mu Qing's intentions, Feng Xin felt his skin twitch.

He willed himself to strip the sensation from the action, but then Mu Qing's fingers slid to his midback. At that slight pressure, Feng Xin felt a jolt of arousal that struck swifter than heaven's lightning.

"Ah—" Feng Xin choked out. "I just—I just remembered, I need to—" He jerked from Mu Qing and started wading away, his back facing Mu Qing. "Sorry, I need to leave, I have—I have a thing," he blurted without looking back. "What?" Mu Qing stuttered. "Feng Xin, I hardly started… what are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Feng Xin shouted over his shoulder while laboriously crawling into the next adjacent pool without showcasing his shame. "We'll talk, okay?"

He didn't wait for a response as he made his hasty retreat. He felt his heat die just in time to crawl out of the springs and stride towards where he left his clothes. Although he'd calmed down, he was still bursting with shame. So he wasted little time drying off with a brisk sweep of spiritual energy before he snatched his robes from where they were folded on the rocky shelf.

He threw them on with little care, hopping into his trousers and then pulling on the rest as he dove into the surrounding bamboo forest. The cool air of the Heavenly Capital sobered him up and soothed the flush on his face. His robes clung too tightly to his shoulders and around his waist, but he thought little of it; he rarely wore this set anyway, and he was still damp from drying too quickly.

He escaped the cluster of bamboo and reached the nearest street, finally relaxing enough to take a deep breath. Although he'd have to explain his harried departure to Mu Qing later, he'd at least saved himself the much worse trauma of getting caught in such a state.

As he headed towards his Palace, he noticed how soft his robes were against his skin. Much softer than what he usually wore. The sleeves were looser, too, although the fit around his waist was tighter than he preferred. He could ask Mu Qing to alter them later. He otherwise liked how they felt; he should wear them more often. He lifted a sleeve to his face and rubbed it against his skin, inhaling deeply as he came down from his panic from earlier—

And smelled agarwood and jasmine.

Feng Xin froze so suddenly that a Middle Court official with a tall stack of scrolls in her arms ran into his back with an "Ooph!"

The scrolls scattered, and the deputy official bent to pick them up, apologies spilling from her lips.

"I am so sorry, Xuan Zhen Jiangjun! I didn't see you—" the deputy official looked up, and her eyes widened. "Oh, uh. I'm sorry, Nan Yang Zhen Jun. I thought—" her eyes slid down his person. Feng Xin followed her gaze.

His wheat-gold skin turned redder than a maple.

In his haste to leave the hot springs, it turned out he'd grabbed the wrong robes. More relevantly, he'd grabbed  Mu Qing's robes  based on the silver detailing and the clinging scent. 

"Oh," Feng Xin breathed. "Oh no."

"… My deepest apologies, General," the deputy official said, standing, bowing curtly, and scampering away with one last glance over her shoulder.

Feng Xin looked up. Others were milling about, some whose attention got caught when the deputy official dropped her scrolls. They were now looking at Feng Xin with raised eyebrows and knowing smirks, a few whispering to each other.

Feng Xin couldn't dwell on his embarrassment; he knew Mu Qing would be furious when he discovered his clothes had disappeared. But before Feng Xin could turn on his heels to correct his blunder, that awful, decorous voice shouted, "What the fuck, Feng Xin?"

Feng Xin slowly turned to face Mu Qing, only to choke on his own tongue.

Mu Qing was striding towards him, righteous fury etched on every line of his face. But Feng Xin wasn't looking at his face. Feng Xin was looking at the red and black robes with subtle gold threading—Feng Xin's robes— wrapped around Mu Qing's thick arms and tapered waist. Mu Qing rarely wore robes that didn't drape, but Feng Xin preferred more form-fitting attire. The result on Mu Qing was that his usually shrouded figure was on display, drying Feng Xin's mouth and setting off an utterly unfamiliar satisfaction in his gut. 

The red belt around Mu Qing's waist only accentuated the angry flush on his cheeks. Feng Xin wondered if Mu Qing would wear red more often if Feng Xin started gifting it to him.

And then Mu Qing was right in front of him, shoving his shoulder and demanding a reason for Feng Xin's objectively batshit behavior in the hot springs.

"I—" Feng Xin said dumbly. "Um. Sorry."

"Sorry?" Mu Qing huffed. "I don't even know what you're sorry about! What was that?"

They were still in the middle of the street, and they'd drawn a crowd. A few spectators were placing their fingers on their temples to narrate what was going on as it happened.

Upper and Middle Court officials alike paused with bated breath as Mu Qing demanded, "Well?"

"That's odd," a deputy official from the Palace of Ling Wen whispered. "I don't think I've ever seen Xuan Zhen wear those colors before."

"That's because those are Nan Yang's colors," an official from the Palace of Ming Guang chirped. "Maybe they were a gift?"

"If they're a gift," another official said, "they're not tailored properly. You'd think Nan Yang of all people would know Xuan Zhen's measurements..."

"No way, really? I knew they were… friendly, but aren't you being a little brash?"

"Wait—what do you mean friendly? I thought they hated each other! Aren't they about to brawl?" 

"Have you been hiding under a rock? They've been messing around! They haven't had a real fight since—you know."

"Didn't Xuan Zhen cultivate ascetically?"

"No, you're thinking about the Scrap Picking Immortal."

"That can't be right…."

"It's really shameless too. Xuan Zhen even commissioned all these plays and art about them. But he's always been a little conceited."

"I thought Nan Yang commissioned those. Isn't that what coaxed Xuan Zhen to—"

"So, what is this, then? A lover's quarrel?"

"Ah, maybe…"

The whispers might have reached the two men if they weren't locked in a furious battle of wills.

Unwilling to out himself as a sexual deviant who couldn't even enjoy a public bath without prurient thoughts, Feng Xin could only set his mouth into a firm line and glare at Mu Qing. Never mind that Mu Qing was still wearing the braid Feng Xin tied, the change of style confusing Feng Xin's attention and making his face heat up. His silence only served to frustrate Mu Qing further.

"Really," Mu Qing muttered, crossing his arms. Feng Xin could see the outline of his biceps through the fabric. Feng Xin willed a heavenly calamity, but fate did not care for his pleas. "You tell me I never say what I mean, and then you storm out and steal my clothes without any explanation. You're twisted, Feng Xin."

"That—I didn't mean to steal your clothes," Feng Xin muttered, scratching the back of his head. "It was a mistake… I thought I was grabbing mine. They were right next to each other." He quickly added, "By coincidence, by the way. I didn't do that on purpose or anything. This shit happens. It's not weird."

It was very weird. Feng Xin wondered where Earth Master's shovel went and if whoever had it would bludgeon him.

"You expect me to believe you didn't notice they weren't yours?" Mu Qing asked incredulously. "They're a completely different cut! They don't—they don't fit!" Mu Qing glanced at Feng Xin's chest, flushed brighter, and then glanced back to Feng Xin's face. He glanced down twice more in quick succession.

"Yeah, well! I wore robes I don't usually wear out today, so I thought I'd forgotten the fit!" Feng Xin blurted. "I don't think I've worn them even once since I got them. They're basically new. So, this could be worse. Weirder. Whatever."

"Really?" Mu Qing looked down at them. "Well. You should; they're nice." He squinted at Feng Xin. "Why wear them today, then?"

Feng Xin shrugged helplessly. "A change of pace?" he offered, his voice pitching. Mu Qing caught onto the lie and narrowed his eyes.

"Feng Xin," he said. "Don't be insincere with me."

Feng Xin dipped his head, gripping the scruff of his own neck with white knuckles. "Fuck, fine. I didn't want you to think I was sloppy."

Mu Qing blinked incredulously. "Feng Xin, you  are  sloppy," he said, and Feng Xin scowled. "What? I shared a palace with you. I've cleaned up after you. Would you rather I lie?"

Feng Xin muttered, "Maybe, yeah."

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but a whistle cut sharply through the air. Their heads swiveled to catch Lang Qianqiu down the street, waving enthusiastically at them. The child he called a deputy official, Guzi, clung to his back, thin arms looped around Lang Qianqiu's neck.

"That's a choice!" Lang Qianqiu shouted. Feng Xin shot him a rude gesture, but Lang Qianqiu only laughed. "I like it!" he added with a thumbs up. "You two look good! You're not going to fight, are you?"

Mu Qing glared fiercely. "Mind your own business!"

Lang Qianqiu's grin didn't waver. "Sure, sure. Just saying hi since you're doing this, you know. Where everyone can see you. Guzi doesn't get to ascend every day. Let's try and set a good example for him, okay?"

It was only then that Mu Qing looked around and realized they'd collected an audience. He scowled, and the staring officials scampered to life, all suddenly remembering they had elsewhere to be.

Mu Qing curled his lip and made a disgusted noise deep in his throat. "Vultures, all of them." He whipped his gaze back to Feng Xin. "Do you see why I prefer we keep our privacy? The only way to keep them from gossiping is to not give them anything to gossip about."

Feng Xin cracked a sheepish smile. "I see your point."

"Good," Mu Qing sniffed. "Did you file your report with Ling Wen after dissipating the Severes?"

"Ah. No, I didn't." Feng Xin's face fell.

Mu Qing nodded. "Then you should. I'll go with you."

Feng Xin's heart fluttered.

"Also…" Mu Qing glanced down at Feng Xin's torso again. "There are easier ways to try on my clothes."

"Fuck off," Feng Xin scowled.

"No, I'm serious. If you like that material, I can get you something similar—but with a better fit. Those sleeves don't suit you, and it's too tight around your chest…."

"Oh?" Feng Xin glanced down at himself. "Is it?" He self-consciously crossed his arms, which only strained the fabric around his shoulders.

Mu Qing wet his lips. "Yes. It looks stupid. I'll take your measurements when we reach your Palace."

Feng Xin cocked his head. "You'll take my—?"

"Yes," Mu Qing said forcefully. "So that I can order you better robes."

"Oh," Feng Xin grinned dopily. "Okay."

Thus, Feng Xin managed to coerce Mu Qing into choosing robes for him after all.