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Being in love with Feng Xin is different when he knows he loves him back. Before, it had felt so empty to know that he had fallen for the one person who could never love him back. It's a good thing Feng Xin is as much of a colossal idiot as Mu Qing is, because being loved… How can he describe it? Well, it's like this—
—Feng Xin, grabbing him by the hand instead of the neck to pull him whichever way he wants to go. Feng Xin approaching him to give him an aggressive kiss on the forehead instead of a punch. Feng Xin in his bed at night, playing with Mu Qing's hair and pressing kisses into it while giving him the most shameless fuck me eyes. Feng Xin curling a possessive arm around his waist in front of everyone in the Heavenly Realm who matters, Mu Qing saying, "You're just as bad as Hua Cheng," and an answering, "Believe me, darling, I could be worse," that has Mu Qing flushing all the way down his chest and his toes curling in his boots—
It's fucking wonderful, is what it is. Even if Feng Xin has obnoxiously made it the business of half of the Heavenly Court, he figures he should be somewhat flattered that Feng Xin wants to broadcast it. The things that matter stay private, anyway, like the things Feng Xin whispers into his skin in the early mornings and the way Mu Qing secretly cuddles up to him like an attention-seeking cat whenever he gets the chance.
Feng Xin is as sweet of a lover as Mu Qing always imagined him to be. He could have had this for years, he thinks while Feng Xin quietly bandages his wounds after a particularly rough spar. When Feng Xin jumps to his tip-toes just to be able to kiss the top of his head. When the sun hits his face just so and he knows for sure that his smile is just for him.
A part of Mu Qing is still expecting everything to fall out under his feet. He's been drowning in this state of mind where he's convinced that everyone hates him for so long that it's hard for even someone who seems as unaffected as him to unlearn that behavior.
But that small part of him shouting out doubts grows a little smaller each day. Feng Xin makes sure of that. And—shit. It's fantastic. Phenomenal, even.
But he's always had trouble expressing these things. Fuck, it took being stuck literally skin-to-skin at the bottom of a pit for Mu Qing to confess. And maybe there's a part of him bigger than the doubtful one that's scared that if he can't tell Feng Xin all these things, he'll be gone before Mu Qing even has the chance to get used to another body in his bed.
So he's gonna try his goddamn hardest to let Feng Xin know just how much he loves him, even if it kills him. (And it just might.)
Originally, however, the plan did not involve Mu Qing and an uncharacteristic consumption of alcohol.
Mu Qing has never particularly wanted to drink alcohol. He's seen the way it affects Feng Xin and all those other gods during their annual banquets. No part of him wants to voluntarily make a fool of himself, thank you very much. Even worse is all the times he's seen them staggering off with their hands over their mouths to vomit into the bushes. Mu Qing has this carefully cultivated image, you see, of someone dignified and respectable—alcohol has no place in that picture.
But the thing is, drinking seems to be a thing. Like a Bye Mu Qing I'm Going Out To Drink With The Bros And I Will Definitely Return Very Sloshed But Also Very Happy, kind of thing. And Feng Xin does indeed come back very sloshed but also very happy, content to drape himself all over his lap and pass out.
It seems like such a carefree state to be in. Mu Qing kind of wants to know how it feels.
So maybe Mu Qing doesn't want to admit it, but sometimes he feels a little left out. Just the tiniest bit. Drinking seems like such an excellent bonding experience for Feng Xin. He wants to be able to drink with Feng Xin.
What is love if not making a bunch of silly little sacrifices for someone else? Besides, it's not as if they haven't already compromised Mu Qing's cultivation. He had been all too willing to give it up for Feng Xin—though it hadn't been much to give, not if it's Feng Xin.
And he's not going to say no to the way Feng Xin gives him back some of his spiritual energy. He doesn't just slap him on the shoulder and call it a day; no, that would be too boring for Feng Xin. He lays him down and traps him under his wide, smiling mouth, pouring spiritual energy from his lips and warmth from his fingertips skating all over his face, his collarbone, his hips. And even if they spend too long "exchanging spiritual energy," well—Mu Qing isn't going to complain. He loves him.
All of these things cycle through his head every time he thinks about it. Even though it seems a little (a lot) silly, it's important to him. This is just another step to let him know just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for Feng Xin. And he needs him to know, wants to emphasize it with every bruising kiss and hickey on his neck, wants to imprint it into the other so hard he can feel it in his bones. And that starts with a bottle of wine.
So. Maybe Mu Qing has overthought it a little. But there's already a bottle of wine on his nightstand, and he's always been very motivated to complete the goals he's set out for himself.
He pours the wine into a glass he'd procured from the kitchens and sets the bottle down with a note of finality. It's half-finished and leftover from one of Feng Xin's outings. He'd lauded it as a fine wine amid some very mediocre bottles, and Mu Qing figures the other won't mind if he tries just a little.
It is not until half a glass in that Mu Qing realizes that he is not the type of person to have a naturally high alcohol tolerance.
Feng Xin goes out at fuck o'clock at night because Mu Qing once mentioned offhandedly that he missed the steamed red bean buns that he used to make eight hundred years ago for special occasions back when the last thing they had to worry about was the next inordinately difficult test that Xie Lian's tutor would give next.
"I liked the red bean paste you used to make," Mu Qing says, tearing apart a fried sesame ball to reveal its thick insides. He dips his finger in it and scoops out some of the bean filling. "None of the ones I find taste the same; they're either too sweet or the beans aren't the right consistency. Your bao was good too. It never got stale after a day like those store-bought ones."
Okay. So maybe Mu Qing had been angling for him to make them again. Feng Xin would have dropped everything to make them in a heartbeat if Mu Qing had just asked.
But since he seems to have some issues with saying what he means, Feng Xin goes out at an ungodly (haha) time of night just to buy some red beans because apparently, the kitchens had run out ("I'm so sorry, we just used the last bag to make red bean soup!" says the kitchen hand, visibly trembling. Feng Xin takes pity on him and instead goes out himself to buy groceries because fuck, his boyfriend wanted red bean buns, so he will get red bean buns.)
When he comes back, he is not expecting much. Well, an amendment to that previous statement: he has come to expect something ever since sorting out his relationship with Mu Qing. Most nights, even though he has his own palace, he spends most of his nights at Mu Qing's. He has become intimately acquainted with the other's bed in a way he never imagined before.
Usually, Mu Qing stays up later than he normally would if Feng Xin is out late, although he will vehemently deny it if he ever brings it up. Mu Qing waits up for him. That is incredible in its own right.
Feng Xin will say, "It's getting late," and Mu Qing will tilt his head in that faux contemplative way of his and say, "I guess it is," and then Feng Xin will climb under the covers and tuck Mu Qing close to his chest so he can listen to his heartbeat while he falls asleep. It makes him feel safe, Mu Qing says. Feng Xin finds comfort in the way Mu Qing finds comfort in him.
He's looking forward to it. So what he's not expecting is Mu Qing, drowsy and pink-cheeked, with a bottle of wine sitting next to him.
When he sees him, Mu Qing absolutely lights up, which is more than a little flattering. His hair is messy in a way he would never let it get if he were sober.
"Mu Qing?" He asks, amusement coloring his voice. "I thought you don't like alcohol."
Mu Qing blinks up at him slowly. It's adorable. "Wanted to see what Feng Xin likes about it so much."
"Oh, honey," Feng Xin says, laughing. He kneels down in front of Mu Qing and takes his hands in his. His heart feels so full. "You couldn't have waited until I came back?"
Mu Qing blinks passively at him in response, so he takes it as a sign to get up and gently push him down by the shoulders onto the bed. "Want to go to sleep?"
"Hmmm."
"Right. Okay. Good talk."
Feng Xin leaves him on the bed and starts to take off his outer garments, feeling Mu Qing's eyes trail him as he moves. He smiles to himself, wondering if he should indulge himself and ask Mu Qing a slew of questions he'd never answer if he was of a clear mind or be merciful and let them both sleep.
He seems to be a quiet drunk, thankfully, not loud and rowdy like Feng Xin tends to be when he drinks. When he had come in, Mu Qing was sitting there staring at his hands, and now he seems to be content watching Feng Xin move about the room. It's not that different from their normal day-to-day routine, to be honest, if only for the fact that Mu Qing doesn't let himself stare at Feng Xin so openly.
"Feng Xin," Mu Qing says impulsively. He turns, smiling down at the other man, and walks back over to the bed to sit in front of him.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing. I like your name. Feng Xin."
Feng Xin laughs helplessly. This drunk Mu Qing is so open about what he's thinking. He loves him. He could sit here and listen to him repeat his name for another hundred years if he wanted to.
Mu Qing giggles and the sound of it makes his brain explode. "Feng Xin, you should see your face right now. You look funny."
He reaches forward and cradles Mu Qing's face in his hand, relishing the surprised look that overtakes his expression. "I'm the one who looks funny, hm? Look at you, turned stupid over a glass of wine." The words should be cutting, but the way he says the words is contradictorily gentle. His smile makes its way into his voice. "It's a good thing you're so cute. Wouldn't let any other idiot get away with it."
Mu Qing makes an attempt to look angry at him, but it's lost to the revealing curve of his smile. "Hmph."
Feng Xin scoffs. "Come on, don't act like you don't like it. I know you through and through; you like it when I compliment you, don't you?"
Mu Qing gets embarrassingly honest when he's drunk. And even besides that fact, if the furious blush spreading to his ears and the way he tries to hide his eyes to no avail gives any sign, Mu Qing does like it. "Mu Qing," he says, then somehow turns even redder. Feng Xin can't tell if it's the embarrassment or the alcohol, but either way, he likes the look of it. "Mu Qing likes it," Mu Qing mumbles, then lets out a little whimper.
Feng Xin laughs shakily and falls down on top of Mu Qing. "God, you're so cute. My Mu Qing. My adorable little Mu Qing." He drops tiny kisses all over Mu Qing's warm skin—his nose, the freckles smattering his cheeks, the corners of his mouth.
Mu Qing wails underneath him, but he doesn't make any genuine attempt to push him away. If anything, he seems to enjoy it. "Feng Xin!! That's… that's illegal… stop…"
"It's illegal to be this endearing," says Feng Xin stupidly, finally ceasing to pull away and play with the fine strands of Mu Qing's hair. Mu Qing pouts, and Feng Xin's heart swells.
He gets to work on fulfilling his previous statement, tucking the other's long limbs into bed and fussing with the sheets so he's covered just so. Then he climbs in himself and tucks Mu Qing's back against his chest, wrapping his arms around the other's snug middle. He's never pointedly said it out loud, but Mu Qing likes to be the little spoon, shifting and grumbling until Feng Xin gets fed up and switches their positions to be the one cuddling him.
Drunk Mu Qing doesn't give his opinion either, but he goes limp and relaxed when Feng Xin holds him tight, and a happy sigh escapes from his lips. Feng Xin smiles into the top of Mu Qing's lemongrass-scented hair.
They stay like that for a couple of minutes, and even though he has yet to put out the lantern, he's growing sleepier by the second, lulled to sleep by the soft sound of Mu Qing breathing and his solid weight against his body.
Slowly, Mu Qing turns over so his face is buried in Feng Xin. The sheets rustle under his movement. He blinks down at him, a little bleary.
"Feng Xin," whispers Mu Qing. It's muffled by the alcohol and the way he mumbles his words. It doesn't stop the words from making their way directly to Feng Xin's heart, though.
He grabs at the edges of Feng Xin's shirt, his movements a little harried. "This is real, right?" he murmurs, almost to himself. "You won't leave? Don't leave me, Feng Xin. I'm sorry for leaving the first time. Don't give up on me now, please."
Feng Xin's heartbeat picks up. He gently grasps Mu Qing's slender hands in his and brings them up to his lips. "Believe me, love, I'm here to stay if you'll let me."
It's the alcohol that's glazing his eyes and blurring his mind; that must be the thing forcing those things out of Mu Qing's brain and out his mouth. He looks up, eyes a little teary, and he sniffles once, which is the thing that breaks Feng Xin. Oh god, if Mu Qing had done this even once during those long push-and-pull years before they had gotten together, he would have fallen to his knees and pledged his entire life to him already. He destroys him in the most beautiful way possible. Which—albeit a little dramatic—is the true power that his pretty, pretty Mu Qing lords over him.
"Really?" Mu Qing says, and Feng Xin smiles and tugs him closer and kisses him all at once because he can't help it.
"Always," he promises, and Mu Qing smiles at him, eyes squeezed shut and nose bright pink from the tears he shed. He looks so soft in a way he can't put into eloquent words. He can certainly try, though.
He looks like summer sunshine filtered through the back window on a lazy afternoon. Tastes like ripe strawberries picked off the vine. And every star that blinks in the skies reminds Feng Xin of him.
Sometimes he feels like Mu Qing crafted the world with his hands. He's in the air Feng Xin breathes. He's in everything he does. He feels as if they're so intrinsically entwined at the soul that if they were to separate, it would leave him raw like a festering wound.
He doesn't know how to say all that to Mu Qing, who would get flustered and blush his way through a denial. He tries to say it with his hands instead, and he knows Mu Qing gets it because he never once fails to lean back into his touch. He's okay with the fact that the other can't say what he means with his words. He can always say enough for the two of them.
Mu Qing loops his arms around Feng Xin's neck and plants himself right on his shoulder. "Feng Xin. You can't ever get tired of me, okay? I have to be your favorite." He's definitely pouting now, and even if it seems to be subconscious and not to leverage Feng Xin this time. It makes him feel some type of way. "I just want to be your first choice. I want you to like me best, Feng Xin. Love me even when it's terrible. Love me even when I'm a burden. Love me even while I'm a fucking annoyance." The words are all very dramatic. He looks awfully proud with his proclamation.
Feng Xin laughs outright at that. He rolls the two of them over so he flattens Mu Qing out on the bed and covers him with his body, hiding his face in the other's torso. "I've had a whole lot of experience of you being a fucking annoyance. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't have stuck around for this long. Lucky for you," he leans back, bops Mu Qing's nose, and revels in the way his eyes go cross-eyed, "I've loved you for so long I don't know how else to feel." Suddenly exhausted, he collapses back down onto him. "Yeah. Can we go to sleep now, Mu Qing?"
At the conspicuous silence that meets him, he pops back up to check on the other. "Mu Qing?"
Mu Qing is so obviously fucking delighted he can't hold it in. He bites his lip to keep his smile at bay, but it does nothing despite his efforts. His face pinkens with joy, and Feng Xin can feel himself getting high off of it too. "Hm. Okay, Feng Xin," says Mu Qing sweetly. He is so gentle while drunk. He needs to get him drunk more often. "Goodnight. Love you lots."
Now Feng Xin is the one who can't hold back his smile. "See you tomorrow, Mu Qing." He puts out the lantern and burrows closer to him if that is even possible. It should be possible. Too close is never close enough for him.
Mu Qing's breaths quickly even out, and Feng Xin follows suit soon after.
Mu Qing wakes up early the next morning due to the sunbeams very angrily stabbing through his closed eyelids. His mouth is dry and his head feels stuffy. It's a little disorienting at first because he's never been easily shaken, even when he's injured. He spots the bottle of wine out of the corner of his eye and groans softly. That explains a lot.
There's a small grumble right next to him. Startled, he sharply turns his head just to come face to face with Feng Xin. He always looks so pretty in the mornings, softened by sleep and face smooth…
Wait. Mu Qing doesn't remember Feng Xin stopping by last night. In fact, he doesn't remember last night at all, to his abject horror. He hadn't even drank that much, as evidenced by the small amount of wine still left in his glass. How horrifying that it had taken him out so easily. He even suspects that Feng Xin may have taken advantage of his altered state and made him confess some embarrassing things, though that would partially be his fault for thinking such mortifying things in the first place. Either way, he can't put it past him because he's always been horrible like that.
The likelihood of him saying stupid things is greater than he previously realized, Mu Qing thinks, face burning. He pushes his head into the pillow and wishes he could melt into it. He'd never told anyone, but before he started cultivating, he had tried alcohol once. He doesn't remember it at all because he promptly blacked out, but he was told that he had been caught trying to steal some of the more expensive, ostentatious china dishes from the palace, and once questioned, revealed that he wanted to sell them off and use the money for a greater purpose than sitting on a shelf. (This is plausible, if he's being honest, because how many times had he walked past the hall showcasing the king's wealth and wondered how many meals that plate sitting in the left corner could buy him?)
Drunk Mu Qing has no filter. Drunk Mu Qing doesn't think before he speaks, which creates many, many problems for Newly Sober Mu Qing. Drunk Mu Qing may or may not have spouted some nonsense about the clean scent on Feng Xin's skin when he's just bathed. Oh god. If Feng Xin knew that Mu Qing likes the way he smells, even sweaty and glistening from being under the sun, he would absolutely lord it over him. He already brings up what was said in that fucking pit to intentionally provoke him all the time.
Sometime between his flashback to the first time he got drunk and the crisis he had over Feng Xin's smell, the other starts waking up. Unaware of the way Mu Qing is trying to forcibly make his pillow swallow him, he rolls over and slings an arm over his waist, pulling him even closer.
His heart starts racing. Time should have gotten rid of the butterflies, but it only seems to have made them worse.
"Good morning," Feng Xin mumbles, still half-asleep, and Mu Qing smiles despite himself. How lucky he is to have mornings with Feng Xin.
He gives a little noncommittal hum and snuggles closer, succumbing to the all-consuming warmth that is Feng Xin. It's like a drug he keeps coming back to, even after his best efforts. He's going to take as much of this as he can.
Feng Xin cracks one eye open and just—looks at Mu Qing. He's practically oozing with fondness. Mu Qing feels embarrassed for him.
"I want to spend every morning like this," says Feng Xin as if he can't physically stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "Waking up with you by my side is the best feeling in the world."
Mu Qing feels like he'll explode if he just lets Feng Xin keep going like that, so he frowns, just to be contradictory. Feng Xin cocks an eyebrow and sighs.
"Stop making those faces," he mumbles sleepily. "You're so pretty when you're not pretending to be offended by everything I say."
Mu Qing flushes pink, starting at his cheeks and spreading all the way down his chest, and he can't even pretend he's not as madly in love with the other man as he is. "It was a good morning until you started talking," he says, but he's grinning.
"That's something reminiscent of last night," Feng Xin says cheekily. He squishes Mu Qing's cheek between his fingers. "Look at you, so blushy. Who knew that a martial god could be cut down so easily by a few words?"
"Stop!" He bats away Feng Xin's fingers, lips falling into their customary downturned expression. Panic races like fire up his chest. "Wait. Last night? What happened last night?"
Feng Xin catches his fingers and laces them together, and for his own good, Mu Qing pretends it wasn't nearly as smooth as it actually was. "You don't remember anything?" An evil glint appears in his eye. "I guess you're due for a refresher course, then."
"Feng Xin," Mu Qing warns, "it would do you some good to stop where you are."
"But how could I not cherish my precious Mu Qing?" Feng Xin croons. "You can only imagine how I felt when I walked in to find you, all sweet and docile over half a glass of wine, and all for my sake as well!"
At this point, Mu Qing has to try very hard to not punch him. His mouth twitches, as if he wants to interrupt, and Feng Xin takes it in with an amused expression.
"You were so quiet, it was a little unnerving. You always have something to say." At Mu Qing's rapidly darkening expression, he dares to smile even wider. "You said all these adorable things. How could I not recall them all?"
Feng Xin breaks out of the hold he had on Mu Qing and sits up, only to lean in close and gently tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. The touch of his fingers against his cheek feels like the softest velvet.
"You asked me to never leave you. Come on, you should know by now that I will stay by your side for as long as physically possible. You asked me to love you even through the hardest times. For you to be my first choice. That's practically a marriage proposal, Mu Qing. Aren't you aware that you have to take a guy out to dinner first?"
"We've had dinner many times, actually," Mu Qing grumbles. His face is so hot he feels like he might just explode into flames. He might as well. It would certainly be more bearable than whatever form of psychological torture this may be that Feng Xin has decided to exact upon him.
"Small detail." Feng Xin touches him in this careful, reverential way, and it makes Mu Qing feel so full he could burst. He looks at him like he's a religion and Feng Xin is his most devoted follower. Mu Qing is no god that can bring him blessings and riches. He cannot offer him much besides his sincere love and hope that it could ever be enough. In reality, if there is anyone more deserving of the utmost allegiance, it would be Feng Xin. Mu Qing loves him with every inch of his body. It had only taken one utterance of his name in the other's mouth for him to fall, after all.
"How could you ever think that I wouldn't stay with you through thick and thin? Haven't we survived these long eight hundred years?"
There is so much Mu Qing can respond with, bubbling up like acid at the back of his throat. All the petty remarks and small grievances and the times he felt like his voice was forgotten amongst the crowd. He doesn't want to say it, though, because he knows Feng Xin doesn't deserve it. It wasn't his stubborn constitution that caused that build-up of regret.
"Mu Qing?" Feng Xin looks worried now. He shifts away and props himself up by his hand, and almost immediately, he misses the warmth of his body. "Is there anything that would make you think the opposite?"
Mu Qing shakes his head mutely. It would be better to work through his own problems on his own. He's too afraid that he'll lose everything if he opens his mouth.
"Mu Qing." Fuck, Feng Xin looks upset now. He promised himself to never put that expression on his face again.
He looks away. "It's unimportant now. I should know better."
"Don't you know you can tell me anything?" Feng Xin says, and Mu Qing's face crumples.
"Feng Xin."
"Mu Qing," Feng Xin repeats helplessly. His hands flutter uselessly in front of him as if he's not sure if he's allowed permission to touch him. "I can't stand it when you look at me like that."
Mu Qing squeezes his eyes shut and turns away. "Ah, Feng Xin, isn't it nice like this? Is it worth bringing up the past? I don't want to ruin things, you see, but I do it all so easily, it all crumbles under my fingers—"
Feng Xin takes his hands. "No, no, I'm still here. Look at me. I'll be here for as long as you need me."
Mu Qing laughs around that terrible ache in the back of his throat. He still keeps his eyes closed. "I needed you all those years ago when you were seeing Jian Lan. I didn't even know how desperately I did until you started coming home with hickeys on your neck and this awfully happy expression on your face. It's stupid, I know, to bring this up now—but you almost married her, Feng Xin. And I know you joke about it now, but would you ever really marry me? Wouldn't you grow tired of the way I start arguments over nothing and close myself off?
"And when you first ascended, and you wouldn't even look in my direction, I felt so, I felt so useless, like I wasn't even worth a glance. I wasn't. I know that now. I shouldn't have left. But even as much as I loved you and as much as His Highness needed me, I couldn't bear to turn my back on the person that kept me alive when I was a child."
Those are definitely tears that are leaking through his closed eyelids, despite his best efforts. He takes a shuddering breath and hates the way it sounds. He can't even bear to think about the look on Feng Xin's face by now.
"That whole ordeal, with His Highness and Hua Cheng. All that time we spent together. It was so hard standing by your side when I could only imagine that you hated every second of it. I can't even fault the way you all assumed the worst of me. I would've done the same. I can't be as good of a person as His Highness or as admirable as you or as loyal as Hua Cheng. I really thought you wanted me to die. In that cavern, hanging by the hilt of my saber, I already accepted my death. I almost told you how I felt, but then I thought, 'What good would that do?' So I didn't.
"It was just all so terrible. To deal with so many centuries of regret in such a short span of time. And you… you deserve better than someone who you could ever believe would plot your own death. How unreliable, right? I can't be anything you need."
His voice wastes away to a whisper at the tail-end of his confession. Tears drip unbidden down his face, as fast and as frequent as if he had been caught in the rain without cover. He still refuses to open his eyes, even as Feng Xin's grasp around his fingers stills.
So heavy. He feels so heavy like he's dragging Feng Xin right down with him.
"Mu Qing," Feng Xin whispers, but it's different this time. "Mu Qing." He sounds agonized. There's a moment of silence then, and Feng Xin must have taken that time to slowly lean forward and press his lips against his cheek, kissing away the tears. It startles him so much that his eyes fly open.
Feng Xin's eyes are downcast, his lashes wet and heavy. He must've…
His eyes slowly drag up to meet his, and they're—oh. Oh.
"Feng Xin. Feng Xin, I'm not worth crying over."
Feng Xin smiles at him, weak and watery. "You're worth the entire world. I'm sorry I could never tell you that."
Mu Qing doesn't know what to do with himself. Never had he imagined that Feng Xin would shed a tear over something as trivial as feelings. He could be emotional, yes, but that tended to land on the spectrum of anger rather than remorse.
"Look at all these tears. Oh, love, I feel so stupid now. I feel like I've failed you."
"Never failed me," Mu Qing mutters. "You're my pillar."
Feng Xin shakily presses a kiss to his forehead, slow and gentle. "It's true that I didn't know of your feelings back then. If I did, I would have never—I would never—"
"There was no way for you to know," Mu Qing says softly. "I barely believed it myself. It was terrifying to have fallen so easily. I was scared to call it love, but there was no other way to describe how every single inch of me hurt when I saw you."
"How cruel of me," Feng Xin whispers. "How twisted love can be. But Mu Qing, if you ever thought that I wouldn't marry you in a heartbeat, you would be wrong. It's already been so long; it almost feels like nothing to pledge the rest of my life to you. I would be lucky to call myself your husband."
Mu Qing squeaks. "M-marriage? …Husbands?"
Feng Xin laughs at the look on his face. "Not yet. Just know that I'm open to the idea, no matter what you may be thinking in that pretty mind of yours." He smiles mischievously. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to make you my wife."
All the blood drains from Mu Qing's face. "Wife? Me? You'd sooner find a wife in His Highness with that attitude."
Feng Xin is still beaming at him. It seems like he never stops. "No? I can imagine coveting you and hiding you away from all those predatory men who are drawn in by your looks. Like Hua Cheng, but a little less insane."
"You—No! And what 'men' are you referring to? The only person I can think of that's stupid enough to stick around with me is you."
"Ah, that's okay then. As long as you know there's only me for you. No one else. You can't even think about anyone else. It's not allowed."
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "As if there would be anyone else. You know just how long I spent hanging onto you."
Feng Xin's face has turned all gross and mushy again. He hates him. "I do. I must be the most fortunate man in the world for you to love me."
Mu Qing groans, a long and disjointed sound. He drops his head onto the other's shoulder. "You can't just say things like that."
Feng Xin pinches his flushed cheek. "Why would I do that if I get to see you embarrassed like this every time I do? There's no way you hate it. You would have socked me in the face already if it went too far."
Mu Qing looks back up if only to give him his best death glare, although he's sure it must be offset by tears still in his eyes. He's right; Feng Xin breaks into a smile again and tweaks his nose. He soothes it by kissing him gently on the bridge of his nose, even as he reflexively scrunches it in response.
Slowly, he leans forward, touching their foreheads together with the slightest bit of pressure. It reminds him of the confession, almost. Every soft touch reminds him of the first time Feng Xin put his hands on his cheeks.
"I have an idea so you never feel this way again," says Feng Xin. "I can't change the past, but I certainly can change the future." He sits back fully, his grin taking over his face. Mu Qing squints instinctively. It's like trying to look at the sun head-on, blinding. He's so handsome his heart aches. He's not sure how much more of it he can take.
"I'm going to tell you how much I love you until you get sick of me. I'll never get tired of saying it."
"Uh, Feng Xin," Mu Qing says, eyes wide. Feng Xin doesn't say anything in response, but he brings his head close to his so his mouth is hovering right over the other's forehead.
"I love your skin," he says, words ghosting right over him so lightly he shivers. "I don't know anyone else who is as meticulous about their skin as you are, but I like it."
He moves down a little. "I love your eyebrows. Did you know you're most expressive here? Even when you're trying to keep your emotions at bay, I can tell what you're thinking through them. They twitch a little if you're annoyed."
Feng Xin's lips press a kiss to each of Mu Qing's eyelids as they flutter closed. "You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. Even when you're rolling them. I don't know what it is about them, but they're the most beautiful shade of brown."
Feng Xin chuckles suddenly. "I'm sure you already know how I feel about your lips." Sure enough, he doesn't spend long there, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against them before he skates down to mouth at his jawline.
"I must be the envy of the heavens to have you in my hands like this. Surely you know there is no shortage of people lining up to take my place. It's too bad for them that they'll never see you like this. You're mine." With a hint of possessiveness, he sucks a little harder than necessary against the soft of Mu Qing's throat.
Mu Qing's eyes flutter. Fuck, that's hot. "You're going to leave a mark," he says hoarsely.
Feng Xin bares his teeth. "That's the point." Mu Qing swallows.
His hands move down to hold him at the hips. He draws a slow line up his abdomen, and Mu Qing sucks in a breath between his teeth. "After seeing you, there is no doubt that you are a martial god, not the civil god that your looks may suggest. I know better than anyone that you certainly aren't lacking in stamina."
"Feng Xin, holy shit," Mu Qing says, now completely flushed. "I get it, okay? You l-love me." His eyelashes dip in embarrassment, and Feng Xin smiles brightly, a total change in face.
"Do you really?"
"Yes," Mu Qing grumbles. He slings his arms around Feng Xin's neck and pulls him down with a sigh. "Fucking idiot."
Feng Xin nuzzles into his shoulder, the curve in his mouth still obvious against his skin. "All in a day's work." Mu Qing rolls his eyes, even though the other can't see. It's the principle of the matter anyway.
When he can't take it any longer, he grips Feng Xin's face with his hands and hauls him up so he can kiss him fully. He grunts in surprise at first, hands tense, then he relaxes and slots his body between Mu Qing's.
Despite what the newly-formed hickey may suggest, there is nothing bruising about this kiss. It's gentle. It's more of Mu Qing seeking reassurance in him and Feng Xin giving it to him with his lips. The sound of their soft, if a bit uneven, breathing fills the room and soothes him simultaneously.
Feng Xin is the one to break away first, gasping a little. Mu Qing stares up at him as if he could never stop. He could overflow with this feeling. "I love you," he says, spilling out of him like the sun over the horizon, steadfast in every single daybreak.
Feng Xin grins. His eyes go gooey when they meet his. "I don't know if you knew this already, but I love you."
"That's funny," Mu Qing says. "I could've sworn I heard the same exact thing in your voice just a few moments ago."
"Let it be the only thing you hear," Feng Xin declares, and Mu Qing punches him in the shoulder.
"Don't be sleazy."
"Me? Never." He raps on Mu Qing's forehead lightly with his knuckles. "And seriously, anytime you need to hear it, okay?"
"Hmph." Mu Qing turns away, deliberately avoiding Feng Xin's gaze. "And… you too. Whenever. You need. To hear it. Fuck. You know I'm not good with words."
Feng Xin's eyes are laughing. "Right, right. Yes. Very convincing. But you know you don't need to say it, I can feel it."
"Stop being cheesy for one goddamn second and let me speak, okay? You better listen closely because I'm never gonna say this again." He pauses, and there was once a time when the weight of Feng Xin's gaze purely on him made him anxious, but now, he's already shown so much of himself that he no longer has anything to fear. He should've been scared off long ago, but somehow, he's still with Mu Qing, hand in hand.
"You—you're my world, you know that, right? Every morning reminds me of you because you've slept here so many times that the pillows have started to smell like you. And every time something out of the ordinary happens, no matter how mundane, I find myself wanting to tell you. Even if you wouldn't care. I get excited to go back home because I know I can come back to your arms instead of an empty room. And maybe this is uncharacteristically sentimental and you'll never hear me say it again, but I really do spend all day thinking about you."
He pauses to take a breath, and when his eyes flicker up to meet Feng Xin's, he finds that they're already meeting his. "I needed you to know so you never doubt me."
Feng Xin cradles him close. "You didn't need to say all of that; anyone would be able to tell. You're the most unexpectedly sappy person I know, even if you don't seem like it. Also, who else but a lovestruck fool would patiently wait for me to come back every night instead of going straight to bed?"
Mu Qing scowls. "I do not wait for you, I—"
Feng Xin smothers him with a kiss, and when he pulls back, he nudges his bottom lip lightly with his thumb. "Mhm. If you say so."
Mu Qing makes sure to roll his eyes but lets himself tip his forehead against Feng Xin's chest, secretly delighted that the other can see straight through him, as embarrassing as it may be. It's just another reminder that Feng Xin looks at Mu Qing as much as he looks at him.
They let another half-hour go by in each other's arms before Feng Xin gets up with a sigh. "If we don't leave this room soon, your juniors are going to think we're doing something indecent," he says, a smirk tugging the edges of his mouth.
Mu Qing scoffs. "As if they can't draw their own conclusions from the way you spend nearly every night over here. Also, the fact that you made it public knowledge that we were dating almost as soon as it happened."
"What can I say? I needed everyone to know that you're mine," he says, and Mu Qing slaps him on his shoulder. "Ouch. But seriously, we should get up." He stands up and starts rummaging through the closet, where half of his clothes have mysteriously migrated into. When he's finished and turns around to find Mu Qing still sitting stubbornly in bed, his expression dips into fondness.
"I cleared it with your junior officials and you don't have anything important going on today, so I thought we could go on a date. I made lunch and everything. We're going on a picnic."
Despite himself, Mu Qing starts to light up. "Really?"
"Yes, really. But that requires getting out of bed if you want to go, so…"
Mu Qing pretends to consider the offer when really he made up his mind as soon as Feng Xin let the word "date" slip out. "You make a strong argument. I suppose it wouldn't trouble me too much to go."
Feng Xin rolls his eyes, and Mu Qing almost makes a comment about that being his thing, but he just bites his lip and smiles and watches the way his face dissolves into cheerfulness immediately after. "Come on, come on. Don't take too long."
Mu Qing smiles. "I won't."