Work Text:
If you were to look at the Heavenly Capital today, you would never guess it had fallen only a few years before. Rebuilt structures stand proudly, the streets are bustling with life, the city revels in a newfound sense of peace—
BANG BANG!
“MU QING!”
BANG BANG!
“LET ME IN, YOU BASTARD!”
…Ah, well, peace is boring anyway, isn’t it?
Feng Xin is not having a good time, and, as usual, it’s all Mu Qing’s fault. If someone were to ask what Mu Qing did this time, he wouldn’t have a good answer. Because Mu Qing hadn’t actually done anything! And that’s the whole point, isn’t it?
It has been over a week (a whole fucking week!) since Feng Xin heard from him. Other than a few lengthier missions, the last time he went this long without so much as catching a glimpse of Mu Qing was several hundred years ago. And he knows for a fact that Mu Qing isn’t off on some mission.
No, he’s just holed up in his palace, and Feng Xin wants to know why.
Just as he’s about to kick the doors off their hinges, one of them cracks open. A deputy official sticks his head out and eyes Feng Xin distastefully. “Our general requests that General Nan Yang leave immediately,” he says with a frown before slamming the door right in Feng Xin’s face.
Feng Xin stares at the door, gobsmacked. Any other day, he would be impressed—this junior official didn’t cower even once! But right now he’s just annoyed.
BANG BANG!
“HEY! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” he shouts with renewed vigor. “DON’T FUCKING IGNORE ME, YOU ASSHOLE!”
The same official throws the door open, probably to tell him off again, but this time Feng Xin is ready, barging in before the poor man can get a single word out. A few other junior officials near the entrance watch him with wide eyes and scatter when he gets closer. He can’t be bothered to pay them any attention, stalking straight past them with a single-minded focus in the direction of Mu Qing’s private chambers.
One of the junior officials must have warned their general that Feng Xin was heading his way because just as he reaches the bedroom, the door flings open to reveal a severely pissed-off Mu Qing, his hands balled into fists at his sides. It’s a good look on him, but that’s not anything new.
“Get. Out,” Mu Qing hisses, eyes blazing.
Feng Xin eyes the entryway behind him. He could probably make it.
Mu Qing realizes a second too late what he intends to do, and by then Feng Xin has already lunged forward, tackling Mu Qing to the ground.
They end up sprawled in a heap on the bedroom floor (yes, Feng Xin made it into the room, he’s just that good).
Before Mu Qing has a chance to recover, Feng Xin rolls on top of him, pinning his wrists on either side of his head.
“Get off me, you brute,” Mu Qing growls, struggling against his hold. A distant part of Feng Xin’s brain reminds him Mu Qing is perfectly capable of throwing him off if he really wants to escape. Still, he’s not going to be able to focus with Mu Qing squirming beneath him like this. But only because then it would take more effort to keep him still!
“No.” Feng Xin pushes himself up until he’s comfortably straddling Mu Qing’s hips. A much better position to restrain someone.
Mu Qing sputters, face flushing (a distractingly attractive) pink, but at least he stops moving. “How dare—”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on with you.”
Mu Qing opens his mouth and then closes it. Feng Xin waits. He can almost see the gears turning in that pretty head of his.
Eventually, Mu Qing carefully asks, “Why would there be something going on?”
Ah, the classic non-answer. It’s almost enough to make Feng Xin roll his eyes, but between the two of them, that’s not his thing.
Instead, he shoots back, “No one’s seen or heard from you in a week!”
“So?” Mu Qing retorts. “What, I must be plotting something then? Is that what you think?”
“No!” Feng Xin practically yells. He maybe wants to shake him, just a little. “I was worried about you!”
Mu Qing freezes and then goes completely limp beneath him, all the fight draining from his body as he stares up at Feng Xin in shock. His hand twitches, and Feng Xin reflexively tightens his hold on his wrists. Mu Qing glances down at…something—does Feng Xin have something on his chest?—and looks away just as quickly, swallowing hard.
Maybe that was too sincere. But it’s true. In any case, he should’ve known Mu Qing would act weird about a statement like that. In his defense, he hadn’t meant to blurt that out!
“I mean—” Mu Qing’s eyes snap back to him. “I mean, Dianxia was worried.” Wait, no. That makes it sound like he’s taking back what he said about him being worried. But he can still save this! “Not that I wasn’t. I just mean me and Dianxia. We were both worried. About you,” he adds lamely.
Mu Qing’s expression becomes complicated. That’s the only way Feng Xin can describe it. And it’s not an unfamiliar expression. In fact, it’s a look Feng Xin recognizes from all the way back before the fall of Xianle.
“How sweet,” Mu Qing responds dully after a long moment.
Feng Xin almost sighs in relief. “So, will you tell me what’s wrong now?”
“Nothing’s wro—” Mu Qing stops and clenches his jaw. He takes a deep breath. “I’m not physically hurt.” It comes out stilted.
Well, that definitely doesn’t sound suspicious. Feng Xin narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mu Qing sighs. “Just what was so confusing about that?” Feng Xin has a feeling that if he weren’t currently pinning his hands down, Mu Qing would’ve thrown them up in the air in exasperation.
“You’re not physically hurt,” he recites back, “but there’s something else, isn’t there?”
Mu Qing doesn’t answer, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Just let me help.”
“I don’t need h—” Mu Qing stops again, visibly more frustrated. “I don’t want—” he tries but can’t seem to finish that thought either. He briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself. He’s clearly struggling with something, and Feng Xin doesn’t know what to do.
“I don’t want to accept your help,” he finally manages through gritted teeth.
Feng Xin blinks as he processes that. “But you do need help,” he says slowly.
Mu Qing gives him a curt nod.
“Okay, then.” He releases Mu Qing, and they both stand. “Now tell me what happened.”
He hadn’t even been doing anything noteworthy, just walking back to his palace with some scrolls Ling Wen had dumped on him earlier. Then out of nowhere, a lower-level official collided with him, making him drop all the scrolls. The official hastily made a big show of scrambling to pick up the scrolls, all the while apologizing and begging for General Xuan Zhen’s mercy and all that kind of crap. Mu Qing snapped and told him to get lost. He’d been so annoyed by the rambling he didn’t notice the official had surreptitiously placed a curse on one of the scrolls until he’d already gathered them in his arms and the official was long gone.
Feng Xin frowns as Mu Qing finishes narrating the encounter. “So what kind of curse is it?”
Mu Qing sighs and sits down heavily on the edge of the bed. “It’s some kind of truth curse.”
“A truth curse?” he repeats uncertainly. He’s never heard of anything like that before.
“Mn. I can’t say anything that’s not the absolute truth, but I can control what I say for the most part. For now.”
Feng Xin considers this. “It could be worse.”
Mu Qing’s head snaps up, and he fixes him with a glare. “It could be better. I could be not cursed at all.”
Well. Feng Xin can’t argue with that. “Maybe,” he concedes, “but that doesn’t explain why you’re hiding from everyone.”
“If word gets out that I’m cursed to only speak the truth…” Mu Qing doesn’t finish the thought, but it’s not difficult for Feng Xin to imagine how others might take advantage. And for someone like Mu Qing who highly values privacy and control, he can understand why avoiding people might seem like the only option.
Now he just needs to convince him that hiding is not the only option.
“Okay, then just don’t let word get out.”
Mu Qing looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Thanks for stating the obvious. Idiot.”
“For the love of—I’m trying to say you can leave your palace! Just don’t talk to anyone."
"That's a shit plan. Exactly how am I supposed to avoid talking to anyone without raising suspicion?"
"Oh." Feng Xin didn't think about that. "Does the curse affect what you say in the communication array?"
"I don't know. I didn't really want to test it out."
"Well, try it now. Tell me...Pei Ming is your favorite person in the world," he suggests with a grin.
"Fuck you," Mu Qing says but places his fingers against his temple anyway.
Pei Ming is...a sex fiend.
Feng Xin nearly chokes. I can't believe you just said that, he says back. Try again.
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. Pei Ming is not my favorite person in the world. Then out loud he says, "The curse definitely still applies. I can't...I don't want to talk to people like this."
So so difficult. Feng Xin tries a different tactic. "At least come visit Dianxia with me. He’ll want to know you’re safe, and he might be able to help with breaking the curse.”
“No. No way.”
“Feng Xin! Mu Qing!” Xie Lian rushes out to meet them.
“Dianxia,” Feng Xin greets.
Mu Qing inclines his head ever so slightly but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him.
If it weren’t for the current circumstances, Feng Xin would kick him for being so rude. Especially to Xie Lian. As it is, the fact that he’s here at all is more than Feng Xin could’ve hoped for. He’s still not sure how he managed to coax Mu Qing out of his palace, but he’s not going to question it.
The point is Mu Qing agreed. So before he could change his mind, Feng Xin told Ling Wen in the communication array that they were going down to the mortal realm to take care of some business with Xie Lian (he might’ve also name-dropped Hua Cheng but he would never admit to that out loud) and that no one was to contact them unless absolutely necessary and ordered Mu Qing to do the same with his deputy officials. Mu Qing had given him an unimpressed look and said flatly, "Did you forget I can't lie?" So then Feng Xin did it for him.
And now they’re here.
Xie Lian smiles, turning to Mu Qing. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright.”
“Thank you,” Mu Qing says…and nothing else.
They stand in awkward silence, Xie Lian patiently awaiting some kind of explanation. Feng Xin nudges Mu Qing’s shoulder, but all that gets him is a sharp look and an elbow to the ribs.
Fine, so that’s how it’s going to be.
“Mu Qing is cursed,” he announces.
“Cursed?” Xie Lian’s easy expression falls into something more serious. “What kind of curse?”
They both look at Mu Qing.
JUST FUCKING TELL HIM, he yells in Mu Qing’s private communication array.
FUCK OFF AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD, Mu Qing shouts back.
But despite the annoyed look he shoots Feng Xin, he caves rather quickly. He sighs, “It’s a truth curse.”
Xie Lian’s eyes widen as Mu Qing proceeds to describe the observations he shared with Feng Xin earlier.
“Interesting,” Xie Lian murmurs. “I can’t say I’ve directly encountered something like this before, but I’ve heard of curses like this in passing. I’ll have to ask San Lang if he knows anything.”
Feng Xin grimaces at the mention of Hua Cheng, but he knows the ghost king is likely to have more knowledge of curses and a better network for finding information about this particular one. He glances over at Mu Qing who seems to have reached the same conclusion and similarly resigned himself to Crimson Rain’s involvement.
“I…appreciate your help,” Mu Qing says stiffly. It sounds like it pains him to admit it.
Xie Lian softens, his smile returning to grace his features. “Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
“You mean f-f-friends,” Feng Xin mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Mu Qing to hear. And maybe he deserves the kick aimed at his shins for that one.
At Xie Lian’s insistence, they spend the rest of the day relaxing at a nearby stream. “It’ll be good to get your mind off things,” he’d said, and Feng Xin and Mu Qing were helpless to do anything but go along with it.
Xie Lian promises to ask Hua Cheng about the curse when he returns from whatever business he’s taking care of in Ghost City. Feng Xin isn’t sure why Xie Lian couldn’t just ask in whatever private communication array they have, but there are just some things he’d rather not know the real answer to.
They bring a basket of apples to munch on (it was the only edible food in Puqi Shrine that Feng Xin and Mu Qing approved), and all in all, it is a very pleasant day. If Feng Xin ignores Xie Lian’s plain white robes, his and Mu Qing’s much finer ones, and the centuries of misunderstandings between them, he could believe he is back in Xianle, just a teenager spending time with his two closest friends, innocent and ignorant of worldly things.
He watches Xie Lian bite into a crisp red apple, eyes crinkling at the snide remark Mu Qing makes at Feng Xin’s expense. It’s the most relaxed Feng Xin has seen him in centuries. Maybe ever.
Perhaps that’s why it’s only now that he’s realizing how much the last 800 years have weighed on Mu Qing. Gone is the usual tension he carries in his shoulders, his face…Gone is the aura of coldness and untouchability that he wears in front of…well, almost everyone. Something warm settles in Feng Xin’s chest at knowing he’s one of the special few who get to see Mu Qing like this, light and carefree. Or as light and carefree as Mu Qing can get, anyway.
And really, isn’t Feng Xin the same? Here he can be just Feng Xin, not the martial god of the Southeast, General Nan Yang (and not Ju Yang, for that matter). Strangely, he finds comfort in knowing he’s always had Mu Qing right there to see past the expensive robes and the titles and the reputation and everything else that came with godhood and just see him. Even if it was annoying at times.
“What are you looking at?” Mu Qing demands, but it lacks bite.
Feng Xin blinks. He wasn’t aware he’d been looking.
As if reading his thoughts, Mu Qing scowls and explains, “You were looking at me weird.”
Oh. That. “You look happy,” he says, taking a bite of his own apple.
As he expects, Mu Qing’s expression grows murderous. “I am happy,” he snaps, which is very much not what Feng Xin expects him to say.
Feng Xin chokes on the mouthful of apple, and Mu Qing glowers even harder but smacks him on the back a couple of times anyway. Maybe he hits a little harder than necessary, but it’s still cute that he cares. Feng Xin’s face colors when the thought catches up to him.
He glances over at Xie Lian who’s observing them with a fond smile.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” Mu Qing mutters once he’s satisfied Feng Xin isn’t about to die on him.
“Yeah, no shit,” Feng Xin snorts.
Mu Qing shoots him an affronted look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing! Just…you don’t usually say stuff like that.”
“It’s not like you do either.”
Feng Xin shrugs. Fair enough.
Suddenly Xie Lian’s fingers fly to his temple, his grin turning a little sappy, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. There’s only one person who could put that particular expression on his face. Feng Xin catches Mu Qing’s eye and they share a look of disgust. At least someone understands his pain.
“Ah, that was San Lang.”
No fucking shit. Mu Qing must be thinking the same thing since he rolls his eyes extra dramatically. It’s almost endearing when not directed at him. Feng Xin mentally shakes himself and forces himself to turn his attention to Xie Lian, asking, “What did he say?”
“San Lang thinks he knows how to get rid of the curse.”
“This curse is not a commonly known one. Lucky for you, I know how to break it,” Hua Cheng drawls with an air of superiority. Feng Xin wants to punch him, but he’s their only real lead. Unfortunately. “It’s a simple antidote, but it could take a while to track down all the ingredients.”
A small crease appears between Xie Lian’s brows. “How long do you think it will take?”
“At least a few weeks,” Hua Cheng smiles sheepishly at Xie Lian. “Sorry, gege.”
Is His Highness really buying this act?
Feng Xin’s frown deepens, and he steps forward. “Hey, what are you apologizing to Dianxia for? He’s not the one who’s cursed,” he barks.
“Stop.” Mu Qing lays a firm but placating hand on his arm. “It’s not worth it. Trying to make him care about anything other than Xie Lian is useless,” he sneers in Hua Cheng’s direction. Hua Cheng, in typical fashion, seems supremely unbothered by the accusation.
Xie Lian is wearing that one smile that immediately gives away how uncomfortable he is with the tension in the room. Feng Xin scowls but drops the issue because, if not to appease Xie Lian, he knows what Mu Qing said is true. There’s no need for a truth curse to confirm that, at least. He still wants to punch Crimson Rain though.
The hand on his arm falls away once Feng Xin backs down, and he finds himself wanting to reach back out for him, to have Mu Qing touch him again. Maybe Feng Xin has been cursed with something too. It’s either that or he somehow missed when Mu Qing became such a comforting, steadying presence at his side.
“Ah, haha,” Xie Lian laughs nervously, glancing back and forth between the three of them like he’s still expecting them to lunge at each other any minute. “Sorry, Mu Qing. It looks like you’ll be stuck like this for a while.”
“Whatever. I don’t ca—” Mu Qing looks away, mouth set in a tight line. “I’ll live,” he says shortly.
Maybe at one point, Feng Xin would’ve reveled in seeing Mu Qing struggling like this. But right now, all he feels is a pang in his chest. He hates this for Mu Qing.
Mu Qing must hate it even more. After all, it’s his vulnerability that’s on display for everyone. Feng Xin wonders if he crossed a line by essentially forcing Mu Qing’s hand. He’s probably the last person Mu Qing would want to be around in this state. Aside from Hua Cheng, maybe.
But he doesn’t want Mu Qing to be alone either, so for now he’ll stay. He hopes Mu Qing doesn’t hate him too much after all this is over.
A little guiltily, he glances over at Mu Qing. The tension that was absent earlier has returned twofold—the line of his shoulders taut, his hands fisted at his sides, jaw clenched. He looks about three seconds from either running away or attacking someone.
Feng Xin bows to Xie Lian. “Thank you, Dianxia. We’ll be going now. Please inform us of any new developments.”
Mu Qing doesn’t even protest against Feng Xin making the decision for him, which is how Feng Xin knows he made the right call.
“Oh.” Xie Lian blinks at the abruptness of his announcement. “Yes, I’ll make sure to keep you updated. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
“Of course, Dianxia.”
Mu Qing bows stiffly and follows Feng Xin out the door.
They leave swiftly but not before catching Hua Cheng whine, “Gege, why do we have to help them? It’s probably their own fault they’re in this mess…”
By the time Xie Lian responds, they’re too far away to hear it.
Wordlessly, Feng Xin leads them a good distance away from Puqi Shrine and the nearby town. The fewer people around the better.
They walk in silence for several minutes, so Feng Xin is not expecting it when Mu Qing says quietly, “He’s not wrong, you know.”
Feng Xin does not jump. “Who’s not wrong?”
“Crimson Rain.”
That has Feng Xin whirling around so suddenly that Mu Qing stumbles. Feng Xin grabs him by the shoulders to steady him. “I thought you couldn’t lie. Why are you saying something that’s clearly not true?”
The corners of Mu Qing’s mouth are downturned. “Because it is true.”
A thought occurs to him. “No, you just believe it’s true, enough that the curse lets you say it,” Feng Xin counters.
“I was hit with a truth curse. By someone in the Heavenly Realm. You think that’s a coincidence ?” Mu Qing growls, each word laced with venom. “I know what people up there think of me, that I’m uncaring and selfish and a liar .”
Feng Xin stares hard at him for a long moment. “That doesn’t mean this is your fault, and it definitely doesn’t mean they’re right.”
Mu Qing scoffs. “You’re telling me you don’t think that?”
“Not anymore. I thought you knew that.”
Mu Qing falters. Anger morphs into surprise then suspicion then confusion. Watching the myriad of emotions flash across Mu Qing’s face, Feng Xin wonders how anyone could possibly think the man in front of him is unfeeling.
If only he could go back in time and punch his younger self for the role he undoubtedly had in making Mu Qing believe those things.
Ah, what the hell. Mu Qing is forced to tell the truth. It’s only fair if Feng Xin opens up in return.
Feng Xin groans. This is the worst. “Fine. We’re going to talk about this now because I’m tired of all the misunderstandings between us.” He crosses his arms and looks squarely at Mu Qing as if that will make him understand. “If you’re so uncaring and selfish, then what the fuck do you call carrying me out of the Heavenly Capital?”
“I—”
“And what about the bridge?”
“That was—”
“You refused to help Jun Wu.”
“Stop—”
But Feng Xin barrels on. “I’m not done. That was all just in the last few years. There’s probably a bunch of other stuff I don’t even know about, right?”
The answering silence is enough.
“And if I don’t know about it, then no one else does either,” Feng Xin concludes. “Why keep that stuff a secret if you were just trying to make yourself look good? Everything I’ve said so far points to all those things people say about you being false. You—fuck—you’re a good person, okay?" The words feel wrong after so many centuries of animosity, but Feng Xin really does mean it! And he’ll keep saying it until Mu Qing believes it. Even though he’d much rather not have to.
Mu Qing looks stricken, his cheeks tinged with a rosy flush. It's obvious he's at a loss for words. He opens his mouth and then closes it. His eyes dart to the side like he’s worried someone is listening. “It’s not that simple,” he eventually says through gritted teeth.
Of course, he has to be difficult because why would anything ever be easy with Mu Qing? Feng Xin crosses his arms and scowls. “And why the hell not?”
“Because it’s not,” Mu Qing snarls as if that should explain everything. He pokes Feng Xin in the chest. “You’re so st—are you really this stupid?”
Feng Xin bristles almost as an automatic response, stepping closer until their noses are practically touching. “Are you?” he counters, which he admits is not the best response he’s ever had.
Then Mu Qing’s words replay in his mind. Mu Qing was about to flat out call him stupid, but he stopped himself. Or rather, the curse stopped him…
He files this information away for later. If he brings it up now, there’s a 100% chance Mu Qing will kick his ass.
Then Feng Xin’s being shoved away with enough force that he staggers.
“You drive me insane,” Mu Qing hisses, bright red, before stomping farther down the path.
Feng Xin allows himself a brief moment to glare at his retreating back then jogs after him to catch up. Mu Qing doesn’t acknowledge Feng Xin when he falls into step beside him, expression stormy as he stares straight ahead.
But he hasn’t told Feng Xin to leave him alone, so he couldn’t be all that mad. Feng Xin is almost certain of this. But he’s not willing to test that theory out, so he stays quiet. At first, anyway.
“It’s getting dark,” he comments mildly like they didn’t just have an argument. “We should find somewhere to stay.”
Mu Qing still doesn’t look at him, but he nods. “There’s a temple nearby.”
“One of yours?”
“No. One of yours.”
Feng Xin stops. Has he really been so distracted he didn’t notice how close they were to one of his own temples? And how does Mu Qing know about it?
Mu Qing doesn’t notice Feng Xin has stopped until he’s a few paces away. He looks back, and for a few moments, they just stand there staring at each other.
“Well?” asks Mu Qing eventually, watching him closely. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” Feng Xin lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Mu Qing studies him for a second longer then turns around and continues down the path, clearly assuming Feng Xin will follow.
And Feng Xin, just as he’s done his whole life and probably will for the rest of it, does.
A mostly uneventful week later, Xie Lian contacts them one morning with the news that Hua Cheng and Yin Yu have been able to track down most of the ingredients. Unfortunately, the remaining few they need will be much harder to find.
Feng Xin notices the way Mu Qing’s face falls at this, and something in his chest tightens. They knew there was a good chance getting rid of the curse would take a couple of weeks, but having it confirmed must still be disappointing. Feng Xin would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed either. But he knows Xie Lian is doing everything he can.
It doesn’t make the situation any easier.
Earlier in the week, they noticed the effects of the curse have grown stronger. Mu Qing has begun to let slip thoughts that Feng Xin knows he doesn’t mean to voice. None of those thoughts have been anything notable, just small comments here and there—some of them startlingly funny, if he’s being honest—but Feng Xin can see the toll it’s taking. After the first few times of bursting into laughter and then having to chase after Mu Qing when he inevitably stormed off, he started pretending he didn’t hear anything when it happened.
Initially, it was for Mu Qing’s sake, but then during the last few days, it was more because Feng Xin didn’t know what to say when the comments became a little more honest. Well, they were always honest. Obviously. But they were honest in a way that was more...revealing.
Like what was Feng Xin supposed to do with “I like your hair down” and “you have nice skin” and “I miss my mother” and “I wish we didn’t fight so much”? And even if he did know what to say to that kind of stuff, one look at Mu Qing’s face would be enough to shut him up.
So, yeah. He did his best to ignore the comments.
It was hard not to think about them for hours on end when he was trying to fall asleep, though, but Mu Qing didn’t need to know that.
“—much more time?” Mu Qing is asking with a pinched brow when Feng Xin finally tunes back into the conversation.
Xie Lian looks over at Hua Cheng. “Another week?”
“No longer than a week if nothing goes wrong,” Hua Cheng nods. “It could just be a few days if we’re really lucky.”
“Well, San Lang does have the best luck,” Xie Lian smiles.
Feng Xin can practically see the heart eyes they’re making at each other. He wants to gag. Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “Once we have everything, how long will it take to make it?”
Hua Cheng shrugs. “It’ll take me an hour at most.”
“I am not drinking anything you make,” Mu Qing growls at Hua Cheng.
“Ouch,” Hua Cheng says drily, placing a hand over his…heart? Does he have a heart? Whatever, it’s over where his heart would be. “I’m wounded, really.”
“I could make it!” Xie Lian offers excitedly.
“NO!” Mu Qing and Feng Xin immediately holler in unison. Feng Xin wouldn’t put it past Hua Cheng to poison Mu Qing on purpose, but he has absolutely no doubt that Xie Lian would end up poisoning Mu Qing by accident.
“Mu Qing can do it just fine on his own,” Feng Xin insists before Xie Lian or Hua Cheng can make any other stupid suggestions.
Mu Qing’s head whips around. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands.
“Calm down,” Feng Xin snaps. “It’s not personal, you fuck. They’re not going to do it, and you don’t like me so I’m not going to—”
Suddenly, Mu Qing claps a hand over his mouth, and everyone’s heads turn to him.
“Are you okay?” Xie Lian ventures slowly.
Mu Qing waves a hand dismissively. An unintelligible sound escapes his mouth and he slaps his free hand over the other one. It’s impossible to miss the panic in his eyes.
Feng Xin takes a cautious step toward him. “Mu Qing?”
And then Mu Qing is doubling over, knees buckling so suddenly that he has to reach a hand out to brace himself on the floor.
Feng Xin’s moving before he knows it. All he can think is get to Mu Qing, get to Mu Qing. He crouches down beside him, but the second he touches Mu Qing’s shoulder, Mu Qing recoils so violently that Feng Xin immediately retracts his hand. Fuck, did he hurt him?
Mu Qing stares at Feng Xin with wide eyes before he hunches in on himself again, eyes squeezed shut like he’s in pain.
What is he supposed to do? Mu Qing has never shied away from him like that. Ever! Even when they were at their worst. Feng Xin feels a little hurt if he’s being honest. And then he feels guilty for even feeling that way in the first place.
He’s so preoccupied with Mu Qing that he doesn’t notice Xie Lian has joined them on the ground until he’s tentatively placing a hand on Mu Qing’s back. Mu Qing flinches but doesn’t pull away. Feng Xin hates the way his stomach twists as the realization dawns on him that Mu Qing so obviously prefers Xie Lian over him. But then again, Feng Xin can hardly blame him.
Feng Xin stands and watches helplessly as Xie Lian rubs soothing circles on Mu Qing’s back. Their heads are bent close together, Xie Lian murmuring in a soft voice something Feng Xin can’t hear. Mu Qing makes a low noise of distress and melts into Xie Lian’s side, seemingly involuntarily.
“He needs to stop fighting the curse.”
Feng Xin glances up at Hua Cheng who’s leaning against the table with his arms crossed, wearing an expression that shows he’s about as pleased as Feng Xin about the scene in front of them.
Hua Cheng pushes off the table and makes his way closer to the other three. “Whatever the curse is trying to make him say, he needs to say it, or the pain will just get worse.”
Xie Lian pulls back just far enough to address Mu Qing in a low tone, “Whatever you need to say, say it. Please don’t keep hurting yourself.”
Mu Qing watches Feng Xin with trepidation. Feng Xin feels his heart sink.
“You don’t want to say it...in front of me,” he guesses, his voice hollow. Mu Qing casts his eyes to the floor, and that’s all Feng Xin needs to know for sure that he’s right.
Fuck you, Mu Qing, he wants to yell. He wants to force Mu Qing to look him in the eye. He wants to shake him, to demand to know what his problem is. Everything inside Feng Xin is screaming at him to argue, to fight. But Mu Qing is hurting. Because of him. So he exhales sharply and does none of those things.
“Fine,” Feng Xin says tightly. “That’s fine. I'll leave.”
Even though he can feel heavy gazes following him as he stalks out the door, he pointedly does not look at anyone. It's easier that way.
Feng Xin doesn’t see Mu Qing for the next two days. And for the record, it has nothing to do with what happened at Puqi Shrine. He's over that!
He ascends to take care of some business in his palace and asks after the affairs of the Palace of Xuan Zhen to make sure everything is still running smoothly in Mu Qing’s absence. He’s surprised they let him near the palace and even more surprised when they give him a brief report of the last week. He briefly wonders if Mu Qing had anything to do with that, but that thought just raises more questions than answers so he quickly banishes it.
There’s a minor nuisance of a ghost plaguing the Southeast that Feng Xin doesn’t need to deal with—his deputy officials could handle it just fine on their own—but does anyway just for the distraction. It’s a quick fight, hardly one at all, so he spends the rest of the day wandering around one of the nearby villages. In disguise, of course.
The townspeople are all eager to entertain a visitor. Evidently, not many passersby come through that area. Feng Xin is in no rush, so he lets himself be dragged from stall to stall by some of the local children who seem to take a liking to him for reasons he can’t fathom.
If they like Feng Xin, they would absolutely love Mu Qing. Kids just flock to him, they always have. When they were teenagers, Feng Xin didn’t understand it. Why Mu Qing? Sure he was easy on the eyes, but once he started talking…But for all that Mu Qing was not a people person, he was good with kids. Now, eight centuries later, Feng Xin can admit that.
One of the children squeals in delight, drawing Feng Xin back into the present. All the kids go chasing after something. Feng Xin squints to see and realizes it’s a few familiar-looking butterflies. “Fucking Crimson Rain,” he mutters under his breath. He groans internally, but he should’ve expected this. Hua Cheng is a nosy little bitch for sure.
“What was that, young man?”
Feng Xin’s focus snaps to the old woman minding the stall. Her tone isn’t reproachful nor is her expression disapproving, so she must not have heard him. Thank goodness. He may be in disguise, but he still wants to maintain at least some propriety.
“Ah, nothing, Auntie,” he grins sheepishly. “I was just thinking out loud.”
The woman sizes him up, but her gaze is more curious than suspicious. Feng Xin straightens his back anyway. “Something is troubling you,” she says. It’s not a question.
Feng Xin dips his head. “Auntie is very perceptive,” he agrees.
“I have just the fix. Down the street, the first restaurant on the right. They have excellent banmian. Good for the soul. The owner is my younger sister. Tell her I sent you for a discount.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Feng Xin isn’t hungry, but he can appreciate the sentiment. Maybe he'll visit some other time.
“And a word of advice?” The woman leans in. “Avoiding the problem won’t lessen its weight. This person you’re in love with—" Feng Xin jolts at that. "It’s best to be honest with them and yourself. Don’t wait and live to regret not saying anything.” The look she fixes him with is knowing and sympathetic.
Feng Xin blinks, still trying to process. “Wait, I don’t—”
But the woman is already moving away to haggle with another customer, leaving him to his thoughts.
This person you’re in love with, she had said. Unwittingly, the image of Mu Qing appears in his mind.
He shakes his head. No. That’s impossible. Sure, Mu Qing is breathtakingly handsome and fierce and intelligent and Feng Xin’s favorite person to be around, but that doesn’t mean he’s in love with him. It just means he has eyes! He can appreciate admirable qualities! They’re friends now! Of course, Mu Qing is his favorite person! They lived out of each other’s pockets for hundreds and hundreds of years (if fighting for most of those hundreds and hundreds of years counts as living out of each other's pockets anyway). No one else even comes close! It’s only logical his favorite person would be Mu Qing.
Feng Xin shakes his head again. The stall owner's concern is well-meaning, but he is going to have to respectfully disagree with her on this one.
Yeah, so maybe the old woman was onto something.
Feng Xin can’t help but think this to himself when he catches sight of Mu Qing—or Fu Yao, rather—gracefully weaving his way through the crowded street. In reality, he looks more like he’s on a warpath, wearing a vicious scowl and striding directly toward Feng Xin.
Oh, yeah. Mu Qing is furious with him.
Feng Xin is so so so glad to see him. He’s hit with the sudden force of how much he’s missed him, a feeling so strong and overwhelming that he immediately wonders if he’s crazy for it. It’s only been a couple of days after all. (Yes, it’s his own fault they hadn’t seen each other those couple of days, but it’s not like he makes decisions that make him happy .)
Mu Qing’s steps don’t slow as he gets closer. He doesn’t so much as pause to grab Feng Xin harshly by the collar and drag him away from the main street down an alley.
“Hey, what are you—” Feng Xin barely manages to protest before he is slammed against a wall, grunting at the impact.
Mu Qing getting all up in Feng Xin’s personal space isn’t anything new. Neither is the resulting heat thrumming through Feng Xin’s veins, but now there are feelings attached which makes it entirely new. For one, he’s practically nose to nose with Mu Qing and instead of an insistent impulse to punch him in the face which he would usually indulge without hesitation, it’s taking everything in him to not let his gaze drift down to Mu Qing’s lips. All he can think about is leaning in and closing the last little bit of distance between them and—
“Where the hell have you been?” Mu Qing seethes, forcing Feng Xin out of his thoughts (probably for the best).
“Uh,” Feng Xin wracks his brain for something that isn’t I want to kiss you or I think I’m in love with you. “I’ve been...here.”
Turns out that's not the right answer.
Mu Qing’s already thunderous expression turns downright murderous. It shouldn’t be attractive, yet somehow he looks downright sinful. It really should be illegal. For Feng Xin’s health.
“You disappear without a word and that’s all you have to say?” he snarls. "You've been 'here'?"
Feng Xin is abruptly reminded of why exactly he left in the first place. His own expression darkens. “Well, someone made it very clear they didn’t want me around.”
“For like two seconds! I didn’t want you to fucking leave me!” Mu Qing’s voice rings out in the deserted alleyway.
Feng Xin tries not to think too much about Mu Qing’s exact wording. “What was I supposed to do?” he demands. “Go wait outside while you spill your guts to Dianxia and fucking Crimson Rain? Yeah, no thanks.”
He shoves Mu Qing away and goes to get the fuck out of there because he really can’t be having this conversation right now. But Mu Qing is too fast. A hand wraps around his wrist with an ironclad grip, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Feng Xin could yank his arm away. He doesn’t. Instead, he whirls around to face Mu Qing again. “Dianxia I understand. But why Crimson Rain?” Why Crimson Rain and not me, he doesn’t ask. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to know. I don’t care.”
Mu Qing scoffs. “Obviously, you do care.”
“I thought we were friends!” he almost shouts. “And then I find out you really hate me so much that you’d rather—”
“I DON’T HATE YOU!” Mu Qing actually does shout.
That gets Feng Xin to stop. Mu Qing currently can’t lie which means he really doesn’t hate him. Deep down, Feng Xin already knew that, but it’s still nice to hear.
“Oh. That’s good to know.” After a beat, he adds, “I don’t hate you either.”
“Thanks,” Mu Qing says snidely. “That means so much coming from you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he freezes.
Any other time, Feng Xin would think he’s just being sarcastic. But unfortunately for Mu Qing, he can’t play it off as anything less than the truth, a fact which he’s clearly aware of if his reaction is anything to go by.
Feng Xin is pretty sure the flush on Mu Qing’s face isn’t just from anger anymore. He blinks. “Um…”
Mu Qing quickly lets go of his wrist like he’s been burned. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”
So Feng Xin doesn’t. They stand in silence, a tense silence to say the least. Feng Xin is content to drink in Mu Qing’s presence. His staring doesn’t go unnoticed (how could it?) and Mu Qing crosses his arms and looks away, glaring at the wall as though it personally offended him.
“We should go—”
“Any updates on the ingredients—”
They both pause.
“There’s only one more to find,” Mu Qing finally answers when Feng Xin doesn’t say anything else.
“That’s good.”
Mu Qing nods once, and they’re both quiet again.
“Are you,” Mu Qing begins hesitantly, shifting on his feet somewhat awkwardly. “Are you not going to ask about…what I was going to say that day?”
Feng Xin looks at him sharply. “I’m not going to ask about something you obviously didn’t want me to hear.”
Mu Qing raises one perfectly arched brow. “Really? You’re not curious at all?” he asks skeptically.
“Of course I’m curious!” Feng Xin exclaims. “But you’re cursed! I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.” He sighs and adds begrudgingly, “It’s none of my business anyway. You’re not obligated to tell me everything.”
“No, I’m not,” Mu Qing agrees, relaxing minutely.
“Then why are still talking about this?”
“I…” Mu Qing struggles to come up with an answer, and Feng Xin can’t tell if he doesn’t have one or if he’s trying to hold something back.
He decides to take pity on him. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Let’s g—”
“Gege!”
Their heads snap to the entrance to the alley. Feng Xin recognizes the tiny figure waving excitedly at them as one of the younger kids from earlier. He waves back and starts walking toward him, and the boy lights up even more. “I found him!” he shouts off to the side before darting forward and attaching himself to Feng Xin’s leg, grinning up at him toothily. The rest of the kids surround him in a matter of seconds and start chattering about what they’ve been up to in the few hours since he’s seen them. Feng Xin crouches down and nods like he understands what they’re saying, but it’s hard to tell since they’re all talking over each other.
“Who is that?” one of them suddenly says, staring past Feng Xin. The rest of the group stops and looks too as if only now realizing someone else is there.
Feng Xin follows their gazes to Mu Qing who’s now standing right behind him then turns back to them. “That’s my friend.”
“He’s pretty.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Feng Xin agrees without thinking, earning him a punch on the shoulder. “Hey! What the f—fine, he’s very ugly actually. Is that better?” he narrows his eyes at Mu Qing who just shoots him a withering glare which does nothing to hide that he’s embarrassed. Again.
“Are you guys married?” a little girl pipes up.
Feng Xin doesn’t think he’s ever experienced such bad whiplash in his life with how rapidly he whips his head around.
“NO!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing shout together.
It’s almost comical the way the kids droop simultaneously in disappointment.
Then the little girl perks back up. “Are you going to get married?”
Feng Xin sputters. “We…I…where’d you get that idea?”
He glances back helplessly. Mu Qing has his eyes closed and is breathing deeply. Feng Xin would bet money that he’s reciting sutras in his head to keep himself from throwing hands with a literal child.
The boy who attached himself to Feng Xin’s leg earlier blinks up at him with wide eyes and says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Because you’re in love.”
Feng Xin nearly combusts on the spot. From somewhere behind him, Mu Qing makes a sound like a tea kettle which would be hilarious and definitely worth teasing him over if Feng Xin weren’t also in the middle of being mortified by tiny little menaces.
“WHAT?” Feng Xin yelps. “What makes you think THAT?” He isn’t sure he wants to hear the answer.
The boy shrugs. “You just are.” The other kids begin to nod wildly, murmuring amongst themselves.
Mob mentality. That’s what this is. There’s no other explanation for it.
“You haven’t said we’re wrong,” one of the older boys comments with a far too gleeful look on his face. Maybe Feng Xin was going to be the one to end up throwing hands with a child.
“Yeah? Well…” Feng Xin searches for the right words but can’t find any. He doesn’t like lying, but he’s not about to admit they’re right—well, they’re right only on his end—with Mu Qing right there.
(If Feng Xin weren’t so distracted, perhaps he would notice that Mu Qing hasn’t said a word despite usually being quick to shut down this kind of thing. Perhaps he would realize that with the curse, Mu Qing can’t deny it.)
“Well, what do you know about being in love anyway? You think you’re such an expert, so maybe…maybe you’re in love with someone,” Feng Xin finishes triumphantly.
“What?” the older boy squeaks. “No way! That’s gross.”
“You’re in looooove,” one of the other girls sings.
The rest of the children’s teasing drowns out the boy’s protests. Feng Xin can’t help but smile.
He rises back onto his feet. “Okay, okay, I think it’s time to get going now,” he announces before they can return to the topic of his and Mu Qing’s not-relationship. The group whines loudly about wanting to spend more time with their new gege as he slowly herds them back out onto the main street.
“Yes, yes, I’ll miss you all too, but I’ll come back and visit again,” Feng Xin laughs. “Now run along.”
The kids grumble a bit more, but they seem mostly appeased. They’re back to their lively selves within seconds, shouting their goodbyes as they take off down the street.
Feng Xin waves as they disappear into the crowd, shaking his head in amusement when they’re out of sight. He’d forgotten how fun kids could be. The thought reminds him of Cuocuo and Jian Lan, and he briefly wonders how they’re doing.
Someone clears their throat behind him. He knows it’s Mu Qing without having to look. He always knows when it’s Mu Qing. Always. And maybe it was always going to end up like this, with Feng Xin falling for him.
“Have you ever thought about having kids?” he asks absentmindedly, still staring out at the people milling about. As soon as he says it, he wants to take it back.
“No.” To Feng Xin’s surprise, there’s no judgment in his tone. He turns his head and is immediately struck by the sight that greets him. Mu Qing stands tall by his side, the setting sun casting a warm glow that softens his sharp features. He is as beautiful as ever. His eyes are distant but hold none of their usual coldness—almost wistful, like his mind is lost in a place and time that no longer exist. “There was always something more important to focus on. My cultivation, taking care of my mother, fighting a war, helping Xie Lian, surviving.” Mu Qing pauses. “You.”
“Me?” Feng Xin repeats quietly. Mu Qing can’t lie. Feng Xin knows this. But he’s listening and watching closely, and none of what Mu Qing is saying right now sounds like it’s the curse forcing him.
The sounds of the bustling street have long since faded into the background. Here, in this moment, it’s just the two of them.
Mu Qing sighs tiredly and lets his eyes fall shut. “Always you.”
He doesn’t dare to breathe.
“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing finally looks at him, the melancholy in his eyes replaced by fierce determination, “you’ve always been important to me. More important than you could ever know. So don’t you dare doubt that I trust you or like you or whatever it is you’ve been thinking. Got it?”
“Yeah,” he manages hoarsely. “Got it.”
Mu Qing barrels on like he doesn’t hear him. “Because if you do, I’ll have to beat you up. You mean so much to me. It’s ridiculous. But it’s even more ridiculous that you don’t seem to know that.” He glares at Feng Xin like it’s his fault. “Feng Xin, I lo—”
“Stop!” he cries out, slapping a hand over Mu Qing’s mouth. He shouldn’t be hearing this. Not while Mu Qing is cursed.
Mu Qing falters, his expression open and vulnerable.
Feng Xin hurriedly backtracks. “No, I just mean—not like this.” Mu Qing’s brows furrow, but at least now he looks more confused than hurt. Feng Xin slowly lowers his hand. “I want to hear you say it, but not when you don’t have a choice. Tell me again when you’re not cursed. And I’ll say it back.”
Mu Qing’s eyes widen. “You can’t just say things like that!”
“You were about to! And technically I didn’t say anything,” Feng Xin points out.
“Ugh, I hate y—” Mu Qing huffs. “Nevermind.”
“You definitely don’t hate me,” Feng Xin says with a smug grin.
“I…didn’t say I did.”
“Yeah, because the curse wouldn’t let you.”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Further proof he doesn’t hate Feng Xin. And the tiny smile that he tries to hide? Also proof. Feng Xin’s getting pretty good at this whole ‘being observant’ thing, but it’s easy when it’s Mu Qing.
“It’s getting late,” Mu Qing says after a moment, snapping him out of his unabashed staring. “We should go.”
Feng Xin allows himself one last look out over the sea of people. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”
“How are you feeling?” Xie Lian asks a couple of days later. “Did it work?”
Mu Qing grimaces at the taste left behind by the antidote. “I think so.”
“Try lying,” Feng Xin suggests. “Say ‘Pei Ming is my favorite person in the world.’”
“For all you know, he could be,” Mu Qing retorts.
Feng Xin raises an eyebrow. “Is he?” If Pei Ming is Mu Qing’s favorite person, then Hua Cheng is Feng Xin’s.
Predictably, Mu Qing makes a face.
Yeah, that’s what he thought.
“I think we all know who your favorite person is,” Hua Cheng calls out.
“Fuck off!” Mu Qing yells back.
Xie Lian shakes his head and chuckles. “Okay, okay. Behave, you two.”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest. He sighs deeply and, in the most monotone voice Feng Xin has ever heard, recites, “Pei Ming is my favorite person in the whole world.”
It takes everything in Feng Xin to not burst out laughing at the look of disgust on Mu Qing’s face once he finishes. Though given Mu Qing’s sharp look, he must not do the best job of concealing his mirth.
“Never make me say that again,” Mu Qing orders, eyes flashing in a warning.
Feng Xin can’t help but snort. “Yeah, like anyone could ever make you do anything.”
“Really? I do recall our dear General Xuan Zhen used to be—”
“I swear, if you finish that sentence,” Mu Qing growls.
“...a servant.” Hua Cheng looks over with an unapologetic smirk.
Before Mu Qing can even take a step toward the Ghost King, Feng Xin is already dragging him to the door. “Dianxia, thank you for helping with the antidote. We will be taking our leave now.”
“Goodbye!” Xie Lian says cheerfully. “Come visit again!”
“Of course, Dianxia.”
As soon as they’re outside, Mu Qing grumbles, “One of these days I’m going to stab him.”
“Not if I stab him first.”
Mu Qing shoots him an amused glance and huffs.
They walk in companionable silence. Then Feng Xin remembers. “Hey,” he ventures as casually as possible, “didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?”
He’s entranced by the light dusting of pink that appears on Mu Qing’s cheeks.
“Ah, that?” Mu Qing’s eyes dart to the side.
“If it helps, I can say it first,” Feng Xin offers, stopping in the middle of the road to face Mu Qing directly. The other god makes a confused noise but stops as well. “Mu Qing,” he says seriously, “I love you.”
The pink of Mu Qing’s cheeks quickly darkens. He groans and hides his face. “That didn’t help. I think it made it worse,” he mutters. “I can’t look at you right now.”
Feng Xin gently pries off the hands covering Mu Qing’s face. “You know you don’t actually have to say anything, right? Or do anything. If you don’t want to. I can wait.” He shrugs. “And if you’re never ready, that’s okay too.”
Mu Qing stares. “How are you real?”
“Um…” Feng Xin scratches the back of his neck. Is there a correct response?
“You’re unbelievable. I love you so much. Dumbass.” Mu Qing crosses his arms and continues down the path like he’s trying to avoid facing the consequences of his confession.
Feng Xin makes a strangled sound, nearly tripping over his feet as he hurries to fall in step beside him, and stupidly asks, “Am I the dumbass or you?”
“You, obviously.” Then Mu Qing adds, almost as an afterthought, “Maybe I am too. After all, I like you.”
“Love,” Feng Xin corrects gleefully, taking Mu Qing’s hand in his. “You love me.”
Mu Qing mutters something incomprehensible under his breath. “I think I’ve made a mistake. I take it back.”
He doesn’t pull away though, and Feng Xin just laughs.
And if they walk closer together than usual, hands intertwined between them, what else is there to say other than finally?