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Pei Ming, despite what his reputation would say about it, was a staunch advocate of pure love, in whatever that meant to a person and who they were with.
(At least, when it was healthy. There were too many facets, too many problems that could exist in love, tainting it to something that was decidedly not love. Pei Ming usually never let his relationships get to that point, making it clear what his expectations and goals were.
Most people understood. Others...well, Xuan Ji was a peculiar case, and her death... he didn’t like thinking about it. He wished, after so many years, he could stop thinking about it. But, like all his mistakes, it was never far from his mind.)
“General Ming Guang, if I could have a moment,” Xuan Zhen said airily, after Nan Yang had stormed off and the meeting in the communication array ended.
“Of course, General Xuan Zhen,” Pei Ming smiled his most charming smile, attempting to at least appease the other god after such a disastrous incident, but Xuan Zhen only sneered.
“That’s unnecessary,” he waved it off.
Pei Ming could see the other man wanted to say more, probably something denigrating but, for once, Xuan Zhen didn’t.
He couldn’t help the worry; what could have possibly afforded him such kindness from a man so unkind?
“Xuan Ji is likely mentally ill,” Mu Qing said instead.
Pei Ming froze, just for a moment, wishing suddenly to have a spiritual weapon to draw. “You—“
“It can’t be helped, not yet at least.” He rolled his eyes, seemingly annoyed about that. “Some people become unhealthily attached and it sends them into a rage when that attachment is threatened.”
The martial god of love took careful note of the general’s demeanor, and realized—
(With great shock, mind you. Xuan Zhen was usually sarcastic, cutting in nature— the type that, if Mu Qing was a woman, Pei Ming wouldn’t have ever wanted to court him. Actually, wait. No, he wasn’t so fond of Xuan Zhen as a man or friend either. Never mind.)
—that the other man was being sincere.
“You mean that,” Pei Ming frowned slightly.
Xuan Zhen scoffed, rolling his eyes again. “Would I waste my time here to say something I don’t mean?”
Pei Ming sighed, already having grown tired from the conversation. “Fair, I suppose. Why are you telling me that?”
Red, like that of a crisp apple, flooded Xuan Zhen’s face. He snapped, “Why must I have a motive?”
The god cringed. “I do not mean to imply—“
“Whatever. Blame yourself for all I care!” Xuan Zhen snapped, turning sharply on his heel and storming away.
Blame himself?
Pei Ming watched the flap of Xuan Zhen’s robes as the other god disappeared out the door curiously. Huh, to think Xuan Zhen had noticed…Pei Ming had thought, not unkindly, that the other man was perhaps too absorbed with himself and his palace’s affairs to think of anyone else’s. He wasn’t sure how to feel that perhaps Xuan Zhen saw much more than he said, hiding astute observations behind a sharp tongue.
It was unsettling.
————————
The next time their paths crossed, it was surprisingly unrelated to Xie Lian’s missions, as much as those were wreaking havoc in Heaven’s long-held balance.
It was all because, as usual, a beautiful earthly woman.
He’d simply been minding his own business, disguised and tending to his affairs in the northern territories when he came across a small temple. A temple that wasn’t dedicated to him. He tried not to feel offended.
Walking closer, he saw an ever-perfect painting of Xuan Zhen staring at him, features cold, and not a brushstroke out of place.
How rude. Xuan Zhen had never even mentioned having worshippers in Pei Ming’s territories.
(For a moment, he entertained the thought that Xuan Zhen was trying to steal his followers. As ignoble as his birth, it would not be uncommon for Xuan Zhen to stretch his hand for what he doesn’t have. Such was the way of the poor. Such was the way he had once been thought to be.)
The young woman, dressed modestly though the cloth was shabby and patched, was kneeling before the shrine, a sickly older man beside her.
“Please, my lord, offer us your protection,” the man murmured. “Spare us the shame and injury befalling our personhood, our livelihood, for our faults.”
“We have nothing to offer, no riches or food, but please, my lord, accept our devotion,” the woman’s voice wobbled.
Pei Ming winced. Such an insult. To expect blessings and give nothing first. He knew Shi Wudu would be horribly displeased— he feared for the mortals. Xuan Zhen would likely be even more upset to receive such humiliation, considering the violence with which he reacted whenever someone mentioned his poor beginnings. Truly, his worshippers should know better.
Now that Pei Ming thought about it, there was very little offered at the shrine. A few sticks of incense, some flowers, but not even a single offering of food, let alone riches.
No wonder Xuan Zhen didn’t mention this temple. He was probably ashamed it even existed.
“Perhaps I can offer in your stead?” Pei Ming stepped closer, voice soft so as to not startle them. He felt at his waist where he kept his money pouch and wondered what amount would be acceptable. “It would be no trouble.”
The woman (and oh how her clothes were doing her a disservice! Making her look homely instead of accentuating her obvious beauty) looked at him with a slight frown. “Forgive this one’s rudeness but that would not be necessary, young lord.”
She showed him her hands. “We brought flowers.”
Pei Ming internally cringed. The flowers were beautiful, clearly fresh-picked and held with care but that was hardly an offering worth a god of Xuan Zhen’s merits. “Ah but some gods may take offense.”
“General Xuan Zhen would not.” She sounded so sure, as she was the one to have met the man and not Pei Ming.
Not that she knew that, of course.
“Ah, what a noble and kind god,” he said instead. “I had not known.”
The old man smiled then. “That is no surprise, young lord. General Xuan Zhen is not often prayed to here. If we may finish our prayers…?”
“Oh yes, of course! I apologize for my interruption,” he smiled at them placatingly.
With a mere nod, they turned back, gently depositing the flowers at the feet of the painting.
Then, almost in synchronicity, the worshippers bowed thrice and stood, the woman helping the older man up.
The woman looked at him again. “If you wish to please General Xuan Zhen, you might wish to give your offerings to someone who needs them.”
Pei Ming arched his brow, unable to help himself.
The woman bristled, visibly offended. “Do you not believe me?”
“It is true, young lord,” the old man said. “This Zhou Tao has prayed to Xuan Zhen his entire life and has only ever afforded to offer flowers.”
“...Were your prayers answered?” Pei Ming asked before he could stop his mouth.
But the old man only nodded sagely. “Many times. My Zhou Ping’an would know.”
The woman, Zhou Ping’an nodded. “Yes, I know firsthand that General Xuan Zhen answers if one is devoted, if one is in need and he can help.”
There was a story there, one that Pei Ming knew he couldn’t ask for. But he could ask the one thing needling at him since he saw the temple.
“Have you not tried to pray to General Ming Guang?”
It was his territory, after all, and he’d been dutiful in answering his followers’ prayers. So why, in all three realms, would they build a temple for Xuan Zhen in Pei Ming's territory?
“I would if perhaps I wanted a suitor—“ Zhou Ping’an giggled lightly. “I have no need for such a thing.”
“Oh, does a woman so beautiful not wish to marry?” He asked, surprised. Wasn’t that a common desire?
“One must be found attractive as a wife to wish for marriage,” Zhou Tao sighed, aggrieved.
“Has no one ever told Zhou Ping’an that she was beautiful?” Pei Ming said, dramatically aghast, dropping a hint of flirtation into his tone. “Because, forgive this one’s shamelessness, but I’ve yet to see a comparable beauty in this land.”
Zhou Ping’an blinked, openly confused. “I’ve been told. Many times, if it is not too arrogant to be honest. Did this young lord find me so unsightly to think he was the first?”
“But then…” Pei Ming watched as the Zhou Tao grew more despondent, sighing with every sentence out of his daughter’s mouth, as though resigned by his fate but still unhappy with it.
“I am not particularly skilled in housekeeping. Apparently some men don’t like that in a woman,” she snorted. “I say they should try learning it themselves before speaking.”
Pei Ming balked. What was his luck becoming? So many beautiful women, all so strong-willed. The world was changing and not in his favor. He nearly sobbed. How could he be so unfortunate?
“A-Ping…” Zhou Tao sighed again.
“They speak too soon, baba, you know that. Men always seem to assume cleaning and cooking is easy,” she pouted. But then her eyes lit mischievously, speaking even more boldly. “Or perhaps they know it’s difficult and are too unwilling and unskilled to do it themselves.”
Was that what women were starting to think of him? Heavens above—
He smiled tightly. “Ah, I should keep that in mind.”
She smirked at him. “If this young lord thinks it would do him some good. Shall we go, baba?”
With a slight bow, the two worshippers left, leaving Pei Ming to mourn his missed chance.
“Ming Guang,” a voice drawled. “Are you harassing my followers?”
Xuan Zhen stood beside his shrine, peeking up at Pei Ming from under his long lashes and idly twirling a flower between his elegant fingers, looking the picture of an effortless tease.
(And yes, for all that Pei Ming had no attraction to men, he wasn’t blind to their particular brand of beauty. For all that Xuan Zhen was not anything close to a reprieve in conversation, he was quite the sight to look upon. One of heaven’s greater beauties, if Pei Ming were honest.
Another loss to mourn was Xuan Zhen’s unapproachable nature or Pei Ming might’ve reconsidered his preferences towards just mortal women centuries ago.)
“Xuan Zhen, it is a surprise to find your worshippers here…” Pei Ming returned, somewhat stiffly.
The Southwest general raised a brow. “Do you expect me to tell my worshippers where they should and shouldn’t worship me?”
“Not at all—“
“Then what is the problem? You’re obviously displeased.”
“I am a little concerned, surely you understand. They believe you’ll answer their prayers even if they offer you nothing—“
“I would,” Xuan Zhen interrupted. His eyes were cold, sharp, as though readying for a fight.
“...pardon?” Pei Ming must’ve misheard. Or Xuan Zhen was just being contraire.
“Should only the rich and fortunate be spiritually blessed as well, Ming Guang?” He asked, tucking the flower into his sleeves.
“Of course not! But—“ he protested. He wasn’t so heartless to show favor only for merits.
“Then maybe General Ming Guang should reconsider his own worshippers’ beliefs towards him if he doesn’t want them chased away by their perceptions of his greed.”
With that, Xuan Zhen stepped in front of his shrine, disappearing through a distance-shortening array Pei Ming overlooked, hidden, he now realized, in the dark colors of Xuan Zhen’s robes in the painting.
“Ling Wen,” Pei Ming called into his communication array. He sighed, preparing himself to be ridiculed. “Do you...are you aware of how the mortals think I should be worshipped?”
As expected, a laugh rang through. “Of course, Old Pei. Would you like a scroll prepared for when you return?”
He sighed again. “Please, if it’s no trouble.”
To lose followers to Xuan Zhen of all gods...he shook his head. He’d truly be unfortunate.
———————
Their interactions only became more mind-boggling after that.
The next time they crossed each other, a few little children, none older than seven had bumbled their way into a Ming Guang temple, a new one that was interestingly located in the southern territories. Not Xuan Zhen’s territory exactly but somewhere along the border between Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen’s territories. Pei Ming had few followers there, a mere handful, but they were equally fervent in their belief as the ones in the north.
So when one of the little girls stuck her hands in the offerings to him, taking some grapes and plopping them into her mouth, they were understandably furious.
Pei Ming had heard his worshippers’ prayers and, intrigued at their rather interesting wishes and desires, he’d come down disguised as a priest to hear them in person.
(Never had he heard one man ask for so many wives, each with different traits. Unless he meant one woman with so many traits, not that he phrased it in such a manner. He was out of luck anyhow. Even goddesses would not be able to reach such ridiculous standards, not that they or anyone should have to. Pei Ming himself would’ve never been loved by anyone if the women he loved held such requirements.)
He’d just been about to step in before one of the adults could strike the child, but another person was closer, quicker.
A silver-haired young woman caught the adult’s hand. “Surely a follower of Ming Guang would not disrespect their god by fighting in his temple?”
“This child—!”
“Meant no harm,” Pei Ming said easily, with a lazy grin. “Ming Guang would understand.”
The worshipper scowled. “You a friend of Meng Fei, daozhang?”
Pei Ming blinked. “Who?”
“Never mind,” they snapped, turning to bow to Pei Ming’s statue before heading out. They paused once at the door to snarl, “And keep your filthy hands off General Ming Guang’s offerings!”
“I didn’t mean to, Fei-jiejie,” the little girl whimpered, teary eyed. “I th-thought— he looks like Xuan Zhen!”
Meng Fei, presumably, rolled her eyes fondly (in an almost oddly familiar manner— but surely he’d remember a woman of such beauty if he’d ever come across her?). Her lips quirked in a fond smile. “Xuan Zhen wears his hair up, meimei.”
The girl looked at Pei Ming’s painting again. Closer. “Oh.”
“Come now, go back to the orphanage now. Liu taitai is likely waiting for you.”
“But…” another child piped up, before falling silent.
“What is it, didi?” Meng Fei crouched down.
“I’m hungry, too,” the kid muttered, scuffing his foot on the ground. “And taitai is sick so…”
Meng Fei glanced at Pei Ming. “I have a feeling, now that the worshippers are gone, that General Ming Guang would be delighted to share some of his offerings, isn’t that right, daozhang?”
Pei Ming, even without the slight simper in that unusual woman’s voice, would gladly have given his offerings to the children. He’d had so many of his own and, if there was one thing he made certain of, they’d never lack anything. Not money, not clothes, not opportunity, and certainly not food.
Also, it didn’t hurt that the woman was so gorgeous. A wise man always knew to be his most impressive and most kind then.
“Of course! General Ming Guang would be pleased to help.”
With just that, the children brightened, bowing in thanks before descending on the food. They were more restrained than Pei Ming thought they’d be, eating with a trained reservation, though he did see some of them sneak buns and other treats into their sleeves. Pei Ming turned a blind eye, focusing instead on Meng Fei.
A flute was strapped to her side and her hair was partially tied in a bun, the left side of her hair parting hanging down and open like bangs. Her lilac robes, accented with darker purples and silvers, were elegant but not richly so, decent enough to show she had some wealth but not conspicuously. They fit her well, subtly accentuating her shapely curves and Pei Ming wanted nothing more in that moment to not have disguised himself as a priest.
His luck was really going these days.
But, perhaps, if he knew some more about this Meng Fei…he could “stumble” upon her undisguised on some later day. Resolve strengthened, he caught her eye and smiled, charm turned down appropriately.
“I haven’t seen you around before—“
“Yes, you have,” Meng Fei rolled her eyes. Pei Ming blinked at her in question but she didn’t say anything else, just ushered the children out once they were full, promising to visit again sometime soon.
“General Ming Guang,” Meng Fei sniffed, pushing the door shut. Her silver hair and flute disappeared, purple robes melting into black and embellished with silver. “Surely you do not flirt with all the women who you stumble upon?”
General Xuan Zhen was staring at him. General Xuan Zhen— Pei Ming didn’t even know he had a female form! And such an unfairly pretty one at that!
Life was truly becoming unfair.
“I—of course not! You misunderstand—“
A shapely brow raised, unimpressed. “Certainly. I must’ve been mistaken as to what such lustful stares mean.”
Pei Ming cringed internally. He was positive he had not been so obvious.
Xuan Zhen scoffed in distaste. “I’ll be leaving first, if Ming Guang does not mind.”
And, just like before, he slipped away without another word. As he did with the next meeting they unexpectedly had at the mental health facility (Pei Ming really rather not get into the details but he’d really hoped to find some human willing to treat a ghost).
Then came the game of xiangqi. Against Shi Wudu. Xuan Zhen agreed to gamble in a game of xiangqi against Shi Wudu.
Pei Ming wasn’t sure who was more surprised.
One moment he and Shi Wudu were playing in the latter’s palace and the next, Shi Wudu’s servants were rushing in announcing Xuan Zhen’s demands to be seen. Ge looked at Pei Ming but all he could do was shrug. No one ever knew Xuan Zhen’s intentions until he announced them and, even then, it was dubious whether or not they were true.
“Lord Water Master,” Xuan Zhen greeted stiffly upon entering the room.
“General Xuan Zhen,” Shi Wudu returned. “Did you need something from me?”
A smirk nestled in the corner of Shi Wudu’s placid smile. Pei Ming swallowed. That meant ge knew what this was about then.
“There will be a boat sailing off the coast of my territories—“
“Into my territory then,” ge interrupted. “Is this another one of your pleas for your poor worshippers to get away with not offering me anything? I’m surprised you haven’t resorted to paying for them yourself.”
Pei Ming recoiled. He never agreed with Shi Wudu’s idea of worship. Never liked the hypocrisy in not being able to give worshippers your personal aid through the merits and riches one had in heaven but easily able to wreak havoc on innocent lives and distribute punishment for slights.
Xuan Zhen grit his teeth but seemingly fought at retaining a modicum of politeness. “They do not have riches, Lord Water Master—“
“Then perhaps they should stay away from the waters.”
The edge of warning in Shi Wudu’s voice spelt only trouble though Xuan Zhen’s thunderous expression boded misfortune of equal or worse measure. If Xuan Zhen got involved, Nan Yang got involved. It was how they were. No matter their disputes, one did not leave the other to fend for themselves unless in a fight against each other.
The god of love forced himself to laugh suddenly. He knew how to appease his friend. Maybe even spare Xuan Zhen’s worshippers.
“How about we make this interesting?” He grinned, already tasting bitterness on his tongue. To play with lives in such a manner was dishonorable in a way he rarely ever allowed himself to be. “A game of xiangqi. Xuan Zhen wins and ge considers it payment for the worshippers. Ge wins and Xuan Zhen leaves this matter alone. What do you say?”
He didn’t want Xuan Zhen to let the matter be but Shi Wudu would only take so much before he resorted to wicked means to get the general to back off. His purposes never knew boundaries in their pursuits. Pei Ming prayed to Xuan Zhen, the only way to make the man understand—
“Fine,” ge smirked openly now. Pei Ming knew how high of esteem Shi Wudu held his intelligence. And his ability to plan for the long-term (Pei Ming tried hard not to think of the man whose life they’d ruined, tried not to think of how many more lives they may ruin should this go wrong). “That’s agreeable to me.”
But Xuan Zhen was no fool. He seemed to mull over it, glancing at the board in consideration.
“If Xuan Zhen refuses, I’d like the right to refuse hearing his opinion on this manner going forward,” Shi Wudu drawled, eager to add pressure to the general’s weak points.
“Would this be payment for just this boat or all future boats of my worshippers?” Xuan Zhen asked instead.
Shi Wudu’s lips turned down, expression growing ugly. “What? To ask for so much—“
“The situation would not change, my worshippers will not miraculously stumble on wealth,” Mu Qing explained. “I ask if we will need to repeat this game each time my worshippers travel into your territory.”
“You say that as though you think you will win,” ge said dangerously. “Because your loss will mean you will leave me in peace.”
“I don’t want to presume anything,” was the airy reply. “If Lord Water Master could answer my question—“
“Fine!” Shi Wudu snapped, sneering. “If you win, you can try for the lives of your other worshippers.”
“This one is grateful for such an opportunity,” Xuan Zhen said softly. “But I’d like an explanation of the game from Lord Water Master, if he may, and for Ling Wen to oversee it.”
Shi Wudu openly laughed now, equal parts derisive and incredulous. “Bold, general, you do not know how to play? Never mind then, I will explain. Pei, call Ling Wen, will you? Come, sit, Xuan Zhen.”
Ge had finished going over the rules just as Ling Wen entered and was briefed of the agreement.
“Can this agreement be recorded, please, Ling Wen?” Xuan Zhen asked, still speaking softly as he accessed the pieces. Once written and signed by the two gods, the game quickly began.
Effective. That was the only word Pei Ming could think of while watching them play.
Xuan Zhen played passively at first, placing pieces across the board with a hesitance uncharacteristic of a decorated general. But it made sense later when Shi Wudu was stuck on a constant defense, unable to protect his pieces as Xuan Zhen attacked at multiple points, leaving ge utterly defenseless before capturing the king.
Ge scowled. “I thought Xuan Zhen didn’t know how to play.”
“I didn’t,” he murmured. “But games do not require experience to be won, just an understanding of the rules and your opponent.” He stood then, bowing slightly. “Thank you for honoring my request, Lord Water Master.”
Pei Ming grinned then, ignoring the disgruntled look on ge’s face and clapping a hand to Xuan Zhen’s shoulder.
That’s when he saw it. Xuan Zhen’s horribly tangled and stretched red string of fate, two strings heading relatively the same direction from where it was tied to his ankle. He hadn’t seen it before, having willed it so that, unless he wanted to, he wouldn’t see a person’s red string of fate without touching them. And this was the first time he ever touched Xuan Zhen.
But why was it marred with so much conflict? Surely even Xuan Zhen couldn’t be so disconnected to his soulmates?
He followed the string with his eyes, searching, searching, there—
Right to His Highness and Crimson Rain.
Oh.
“General Ming Guang?” Xuan Zhen was looking at him, mouth twisted slightly in concern. Pei Ming’s hand was still on him.
He removed it smoothly. “Excellent game, Xuan Zhen! Truly remarkable! I didn’t catch your strategy until the end!”
A red, as delicate and bright as a hibiscus, colored Xuan Zhen’s face. He looked away from Pei Ming quickly. “I...t-thank you, Ming Guang. If that is all…”
Pei Ming watched somberly as Xuan Zhen left, brisk and sharp steps hiding how flustered he’d been made under casual, offhanded praise. So much conflict. He could only hope it would resolve before it was too late.
——————————
The marriage between Crimson Rain and His Highness was no surprise to anyone, despite the way Pei Ming could clearly see how deeply Xie Lian cared for Mu Qing, too, eyes surreptitiously glancing to his now-friend.
They’d gotten close in the year Crimson Rain was gone and Pei Ming had thought they were finally untangling their fates to come together as one, but it never happened.
Now he watched as Mu Qing (they were on a name basis now— funny how war against your once-leader could make friends out of rivals) simply enjoyed the wedding, playing the role of a mere guest so genuinely, Pei Ming realized he’d probably never felt the tug of his red string drawing him to the two men entwined with one another. Probably ignored it, even, knowing him as Pei Ming now did.
A shattered self-worth would ruin even the most beautiful things.
He had to fix this. It was his duty. As the god of love but also as a friend. For all that His Highness and Crimson Rain felt complete together now, he knew they’d soon feel the missing piece. Would soon despair of the imbalance plaguing their otherworldly love.
And Mu Qing...he deserved to be loved.
But first, he’d really have to teach Xuan Zhen what it means to be loved. He shook his head, watching Mu Qing congratulate the couple, awkwardly though more heartfelt towards Xie Lian, but still woefully oblivious to the adoration at which the once-Crown Prince gazed at him with.
This would take a long time.
Mu Qing left to converse with others, completely unaware of the longing gaze resting on his back.
A very long time, Pei Ming amended mentally.