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Feng Xin was in a good mood today.
He had finally finished working on the mountains of paperwork that welcomed him as soon as he went back to his palace after spending a day down at Puqi Shrine. With carefree ease, he strode down the lanes of the newly-built Heavenly Capital, quietly humming a tune under his breath.
His steps faltered, watching with smug satisfaction when he saw Pei Ming across the street. The General of the North was making his way back to his own palace, struggling to balance several stacks of scrolls in his arms and cursing when the scrolls on the very top threatened to roll off. Pei Ming noticed Feng Xin’s presence, the annoyed crease between his brows deepening at the sight of the smirk on Feng Xin’s face.
A dark figure dashed by in the corner of Feng Xin’s eyes, and he immediately shifted his attention to the familiar person.
“Hey, Mu Qing,” he called to the black-cladded general.
Mu Qing’s steps slowed when he heard his name, but he didn’t stop. He whipped his head around to glare at Feng Xin, who startled at the unexpected hostility. “I don’t have time to deal with you,” Mu Qing snapped, then turned his head and left.
Feng Xin blinked at the retreating figure. “I guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he mumbled to himself.
“You don’t say,” a voice replied beside him.
He jumped back, cursing out of surprise. “Fuck, Pei Ming. What the fuck are you doing here??”
Pei Ming managed to sneak to Feng Xin’s side during his short exchange with Mu Qing with his scrolls still balanced in his arms. “I thought you two would fight or something, so I stayed to enjoy the show before I went back to deal with these.” He gestured to the stacks with his chin. “Sadly, nothing happened.”
Feng Xin glared at him. “We are not your entertainment.” He paused, before asking, “Do you know what happened to Mu Qing then?”
“I’m guessing it’s because he offered to take on some of the missions that other gods didn’t have time to do, on top of his own work,” Pei Ming responded, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Not sure what’s got into him. But he’s definitely going to be busy.”
Feng Xin hummed in response. Pei Ming carefully observed him and grinned when he saw the other’s golden eyes were swimming with concern.
“Looks like someone is worried,” he said, the obnoxious all-knowing smile crossing his face. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you go check up on him yourself? He would probably be happy to see you.”
“Pei Ming, you know he doesn’t think of me that way so shut up,” Feng Xin growled. “Or I’ll knock that stack of scrolls out of your arms.”
Hearing that, Pei Ming raised an elegant brow in challenge. “You wouldn’t dare. Ling Wen will kill you for it, and I will too.”
Feng Xin snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”
The two stood there bickering back and forth for several minutes, until the wind began to pick up. Pei Ming hurried back to his palace before his scrolls blew away for real. Feng Xin sighed a breath of relief after being freed from the probing of the annoyingly sharp-witted God of Love.
Or not.
“I HEARD HIS NEXT MISSION IS NEAR GHOST CITY,” he hears Pei Ming shout from a distance.
“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP,” Feng Xin roared back.
After a few hours, Feng Xin definitely does not find himself in the vicinity of Ghost City. He also definitely does not try to find his rival in the surrounding forest, who was also the man he found himself falling for.
Definitely not.
Feng Xin sighed, remembering what Pei Ming had said.
“He would probably be happy to see you.”
Yeah, right. As if that would ever happen. Yet here he found himself, scouring a dark forest that was certain to be crawling with monsters. But even though he knew Mu Qing would loathe his presence, Feng Xin couldn’t help himself from caring about the other man.
Feng Xin recalled the moment when Pei Ming helped him recognize his feelings a few months ago, during a celebratory banquet after Jun Wu’s fall. Their experience at Mount Tonglu acted as a catalyst when Feng Xin realised that he didn’t hate Mu Qing at all. In fact, Pei Ming pointed out that Feng Xin has been in love with Mu Qing for 800 years now, eyeing Feng Xin with disappointment when the Southeastern god sat there having a crisis of his life over this revelation.
Then he saw Mu Qing bathed in the soft glow of the lanterns at the banquet, his midnight locks cascading down his back, the graceful and lithe movements, the glimmering grey eyes rolling with heavy sarcasm. Feng Xin spent the entire night not-so-inconspicuously staring at Mu Qing, who looked back at him as if he grew another head. Ever since then, Pei Ming somehow became his unofficial and unwanted wingman, despite Feng Xin’s insistence that Mu Qing certainly does not feel the same way as he does.
He sighed again at that last thought.
A soft rustling sound pulled Feng Xin out of his thoughts, and he quickly readied his bow while scanning the area— though there wasn’t much to see in the darkness. A black-cladded figure emerged from the dense bushes, showered in speckles of moonlight that seeped through the leaves above. A sabre glinted coldly in one hand.
“Feng Xin? What are you doing here?” A rare look of surprise adorned Mu Qing’s face.
Feng Xin stilled at the question.
Shit. He was too busy taking a trip down memory lane to come up with an excuse.
He frowned as the gears turned in his head desperately. “I— um… heard this mission was pretty difficult so I came as backup,” he blurted out. He inwardly slapped himself for the shitty excuse he came up with.
Mu Qing raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think chasing off some malice level ghosts counts as difficult now.”
“Oh, they were just malices?” Now Feng Xin felt even more dumb. Then he frowned. “Wait, why are you cleaning up malices?” A major martial god usually never has to deal with low-level ghosts like malices.
Shrugging, Mu Qing sheathed his sabre. “They were short-handed so I offered to help. Need to get some light exercise anyways after all the paperwork I had to do in one sitting.” He glanced at Feng Xin. “So what is it that’s making this mission so difficult?”
Of course he wouldn’t let that go.
Feng Xin racked his brain to come up with something. “You… could’ve gotten caught up in one of their underhanded tricks.” The paperwork from before must’ve turned the remains of his brain into mush.
Mu Qing sneered and crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you mocking me? Do you really think I would fall for dumb things like that?”
“No— I was just…” Feng Xin mumbled the rest quietly.
“Well? Spit it out,” Mu Qing snapped.
“I said, I was just worried about your health!” Feng Xin shouted, and Mu Qing jumped back at the sudden outburst with wide eyes. He glanced at the confused look on Mu Qing’s face and panicked.
“I’m leaving now,” he said in a hurry. Then he turned and fled back to the Heavens.
Dread haunted Feng Xin the next day, nervously anticipating Mu Qing barging into his palace to demand an explanation for his behaviour that night. He waited, but the Southwestern general never showed up, so Feng Xin decided to stop worrying and went about his day.
A few days had passed and Feng Xin found himself in the Palace of Ming Guang late at night. Pei Ming had asked Feng Xin to help with some of the work, and seeing how haggard the usually energetic general was, Feng Xin agreed. A desk was temporarily set up for Feng Xin in Pei Ming’s study, where they both had a barricade of scrolls sitting around them.
Feng Xin was leaning back in his chair scanning through a report when he glanced out the window to see Mu Qing run by in the empty streets. Then the figure… stumbled? The man regained his footing and dashed out of sight. Feng Xin furrowed his brows at the sight. Even though there may not have been anyone around, it was rare— concerning even, to see Mu Qing, a martial god, to make such a blunder.
“Did you see that?” Feng Xin asked, still staring out the window at the spot where he saw Mu Qing trip.
Pei Ming, who was busy trying to stare holes into the scrolls in front of him with sunken eyes, looked up at him sluggishly. “...What.”
Feng Xin took one look at the other general’s condition and shook his head. “Nevermind.”
The sight weighed on the back of Feng Xin’s mind for the rest of the night.
Dawn broke the sky above the Heavenly Capital, and the lively bustling returned to the streets. Feng Xin was making his way to Ling Wen’s palace to ask for updates on some cases the civil god asked him to look into.
Just as he was about to open the door to the palace, it burst open as a familiar black figure stormed out and down the steps without even looking at Feng Xin. He barely avoided the heavy door smashing his face, a complaint ready on his tongue. However, it died out when Feng Xin squinted at the retreating figure of Mu Qing. Was he still wearing the same set of black clothes as yesterday? Then he had a horrific realisation.
Mu Qing was wearing the same clothes from the night they last spoke. The prissy, picky, general who always fussed over appearances. And while Mu Qing had several similar outfits, Feng Xin could clearly tell them apart from the material, thread, and embroidery. Which definitely doesn’t mean he spent time memorising the details of each of Mu Qing’s robes.
Pursing his lips, he made his way into the palace. As per usual, civil gods were buried among scrolls and scrolls, each one with eyebags worse than the other. Feng Xin grimaced at the sight and continued forwards to where he assumed Ling Wen would be sitting.
“Ling Wen.”
Feng Xin stopped a short distance from her desk seeing that the civil god was in her female form today.
The blue-haired god lifted her head from where it was held up by one of her hands. She gazed at Feng Xin with the trademark eyebags hanging under her eyes.
“General Nan Yang,” she greeted. “I presume you are here for updates on the cases?”
Feng Xin nodded.
Ling Wen sighed. “Apologies, General. We are short-handed at the moment so it will take a few days for us to collect more information. I will send a messenger to you once we have any updates.”
“Oh. That’s fine.” Feng Xin recalled Mu Qing mentioning that they were short-handed, but he didn’t think it was that bad. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back before clearing his throat. “Do you know what missions General Xuan Zhen has been assigned to?”
Slender eyebrows flew up in surprise at the question but she quickly recovered. “General Xuan Zhen? If I recall, he has quite a bit of missions he asked to take on— mostly in the vicinity of Puqi Village and Ghost City. Do you want me to list them all?”
Hm. Feng Xin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No, that’s fine. Thank you, Ling Wen,” he replied, giving her a curt nod as farewell to which the civil god returned before returning her gaze down with a sigh.
For the next few hours, Feng Xin spent his time trying to hunt down the midnight-haired general. He started his search in the Heavens, including the Palace of Xuan Zhen, where the exhausted junior officials had no clue where their general was either. Finally concluding that Mu Qing was probably in the mortal realm, Feng Xin jumped down to Ghost City. He did a quick tour around the place and decided Mu Qing wasn’t here either. Then an idea came to mind. Perhaps Xie Lian would know where he was.
When Feng Xin arrived at the small, dilapidated shrine, he spotted a figure in white sweeping the yard. Xie Lian was humming merrily, the gentle swishing of the broom accompanying his tune in time. He looked up when he felt a presence nearby, his face brightening when he saw Feng Xin. Setting the broom against a nearby tree, Xie Lian dashed over to meet his guest.
“Feng Xin! What brings you here?” he chirped, a flutter of white robes and brown hair followed behind him. Feng Xin returned the smile, reaching a hand forward to pluck a dried leaf out of his hair. Xie Lian flashed him a grateful smile.
“Just dropping by to ask you something.” He flicked the leaf away and scratched the back of his neck. “By any chance, have you seen Mu Qing recently?”
“Hmm,” Xie Lian tilted his head. “Well he hasn’t passed by and I haven’t gone back to the Heavens, so no.” His smile fell. “Did something happen?”
Feng Xin shook his head. “Not exactly. Just that Mu Qing’s been running around helping with missions lately and…” He trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.
Xie Lian’s eyebrows rose, the same knowing grin as Pei Ming’s appearing on his face. “You’re worried about him, hm?”
A red blush dusted Feng Xin’s cheeks. Even though he knew Xie Lian was well aware of his feelings towards Mu Qing, he couldn’t help it. “Well, who else am I going to spar if Mu Qing ups and dies.” Though he was pretty sure a martial god like Mu Qing wouldn’t die from overworking.
Clearly Xie Lian was also on the same page as him. “Feng Xin, I don’t think Mu Qing would die from that but I’m sure he would appreciate your concern for his well-being.” Teasing aside, his expression turned thoughtful. “I would ask San Lang but—”
“Do not. Involve. That guy,” Feng Xin interrupted, narrowing his eyes. He glanced towards the small shrine, expecting to see red and the glint of silver appear at the sound of his name.
“... San Lang is visiting Black Water anyways so I can’t reach him as of now.” Xie Lian chuckled when he saw the immense relief on Feng Xin’s face. He always found it delightful how Feng Xin’s emotions were so open and honest. Yet, it was unfortunate that Mu Qing always misinterprets it. “Perhaps you can find Mu Qing once he returns to the Heavenly Capital. I’m sure he won’t be away for too long.”
Feng Xin sighed. “You’re right. I should do that.”
He stuck around Puqi Shrine to help Xie Lian with the menial chores of sweeping and such, and the two chatted as they went— about techniques, cultivation, and small matters like clothing and food. Occasionally Feng Xin would go on a rant about Pei Ming and some other annoying officials while Xie Lian listened with great mirth, piping up with comments and remarks every now and then. The shrine was filled with bright laughter. It was just like old times. Except they were missing one person, who happened to be running around somewhere in the world at the moment.
Sometime later Feng Xin found himself chopping vegetables and cooking for Xie Lian, since he absolutely refused to watch his Crown Prince ingest poison all the time. Xie Lian stood nearby to set up tableware on the wooden table, until he had other ideas.
“So,” Xie Lian said, gracefully taking a seat on a chair. “What does Pei Ming have to say about your… love issues?”
Feng Xin’s fingers nearly became one with the chopped vegetables as he choked. “What does that bastard have to do with this??”
Xie Lian gazed at him innocently. “Hm? I thought he was well-versed with things like this, no?”
“Xie Lian, that man has nothing but vulgar thoughts all day long— you shouldn’t ever trust him.” Feng Xin froze. “And I do not have any love issues.”
“Don’t you like Mu Qing? You should really just talk to him. I’ve known both of you long enough to know that he also feels—”
Feng Xin lunged across the room with a red face to quickly, but gently, slap a hand over Xie Lian’s mouth to stop him. “
Shut up, shut up, shut up. I’ve been around that bastard for centuries and he does not like me.” Feng Xin rambled, embarrassment kicking out any common sense he had left. “You know last week he tried to leave me in a pit with a bunch of demons—”
“Take your hand off of His Highness if you still want it attached,” a cold voice spoke from beside them, and Feng Xin immediately released Xie Lian. Despite nearly being suffocated to death, the latter had a large toothy grin from Feng Xin’s reaction.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian exclaimed, bouncing off his seat to crash into Hua Cheng for a hug. Hua Cheng chuckled and leaned down to brush his lips against the top of Xie Lian’s brown hair. Feng Xin wanted to dig his eyeballs out at their affectionate display. Then Xie Lian looked up at Crimson Rain with a mischievous glint in his eye. “San Lang, did you know that Feng Xin—”
“Fucking hell, nope, nope,” Feng Xin shrieked out, dashing to the door. “I’ll take my leave now. Goodbye!”
And this was the second time the Southeastern martial god had fled from a confrontation.
Almost as if Xie Lian predicted the future, Feng Xin ran into the exact person he was looking for as soon as he returned to the Heavens. Feng Xin was still trying to cool his head after his visit to Xie Lian that he hadn’t watched where he was walking, bumping face first into a black ponytail that stumbled forwards at the impact.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he started, until he realized who it was. “...Mu Qing?”
The Southwestern general straightened himself and turned around to fix Feng Xin with a quiet but irritated gaze. Feng Xin snapped out of his daze and nearly staggered back from the sight in front of him. Mu Qing’s usual sharp eyes bore dark eyebags that could rival Ling Wen’s. Hell, it was probably worse than her’s. His cheekbones were casting horrid shadows down his gaunt face, his skin so pale he could be mistaken for a ghost.
Mu Qing got tired of Feng Xin gaping at him and rolled his eyes. “What is it, dumbass.” Even his insults lost their sharp edge. He sounded tired, and that alone said a lot about his current condition.
Feng Xin collected himself and took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Mu Qing, we need to talk.”
Mu Qing stiffened at his serious tone. “About what?”
“You.”
“Oh.” Mu Qing snorted. “So nothing important. Look, I’m busy so I don’t have time for your petty complaints,” he said as he turned and began walking away. He stopped when Feng Xin reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“Can we talk?” Feng Xin tried again, his tone growing softer. “Please?”
Mu Qing stilled, staring at him. He relented. “...Alright.”
Tension visibly washed away from Feng Xin’s body, and he gently tugged Mu Qing towards the Palace of Nan Yang. Mu Qing was strangely compliant, following Feng Xin without a word. Instead of going inside, Feng Xin led him towards the back, where a garden was located.
It was a quiet and small area, filled with the refreshing scent of jasmine and honeysuckles. Junior officials only ventured here to tend to the garden, and Feng Xin occasionally found himself here after an exhausting day. He turned his attention to Mu Qing who was quietly standing by his side eyeing their new surroundings. Now that Feng Xin thought about it, even Mu Qing had never been here before.
“Look,” he started, and Mu Qing’s gaze drifted from a bush of nearby flowers to Feng Xin. “I heard from Ling Wen that you’ve been taking on a lot of missions.”
Mu Qing’s face darkened. “It’s none of your business.”
Feng Xin scoffed, “What are you being so damn snappy for? Have you looked in a mirror?”
Saying nothing, the other general simply rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine, Feng Xin. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Mu Qing spun around and started walking away, but Feng Xin reached out to grab his arm.
“You’re not okay. You need rest, Mu Qing.”
A scowl settled on Mu Qing’s face as he tried to pull his arm out of Feng Xin’s grasp. “I do not.”
“Yes you do, you stubborn idiot. I don’t want you dying from overtime, of all things.”
“Please. It’s not like you would care anyways.” He slapped Feng Xin’s hand off of his arm.
Feng Xin froze at those words, ignoring his stinging hand that was just slapped away. “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I care?”
Mu Qing snorted. “Why would you care? I’m not stupid, Feng Xin. You’ve wanted me out of your sight for centuries now.”
“What?” Feng Xin spluttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He could feel his patience running thin. “Is that really what you fucking think of me? Why do you always assume people hate you??”
The other silently frowned at him, clearly not buying it.
This bastard. Feng Xin took a deep breath to calm himself. “I really don’t hate you. I never have. Even when you left Xie Lian and I, I only felt upset— I couldn’t bring myself to hate you.” He watched Mu Qing bristle at the memory, the times they both made their biggest regrets.
“...So to show that you didn’t hate me, you decided to fight with me for centuries?” Mu Qing eyed him with a look of exasperation.
“You acted like a piece of shit, so you deserved it,” Feng Xin snorted. “My point is— I seriously don’t hate you.”
‘Actually, I love you’ goes unsaid. “And I don’t care what you think of me, but please get some rest.”
The on-guard expression on Mu Qing’s face crumbled at those words, but he still refused to yield. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”
Why was he so insistent on not resting? Feng Xin watched Mu Qing’s unwavering expression. Yet a hint of unrest and nervousness flickered in the other’s cold eyes.
“... You’re hiding something.” It wasn’t a question.
Mu Qing’s eyes widened, a flash of panic showing on his face before disappearing. But Feng Xin didn’t miss it. “I am not.”
“Mu Qing.”
The pale general’s lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Noticing Mu Qing’s eyes flitting between him and the entrance of the garden, Feng Xin quickly stepped around to block the path before Mu Qing had a chance to escape. Seeing that his escape route was blocked, Mu Qing’s hand snuck towards his sabre when Feng Xin spoke up with a sigh.
“I don’t want to fight you. Tell me what’s wrong, please?”
Mu Qing’s hands hesitated in contemplation before they dropped from the hilt of his sabre, resting by his side. He took one look at Feng Xin’s worried expression, before turning away to stare at the moonlit reflections dancing on a small pond nearby.
“...I figured I would help take care of any issues near Xie Lian so he could spend more time with Crimson Rain, since it makes him so happy. He had been moping around for the past months the asshole disappeared and it was driving me insane,” Mu Qing’s nose crinkled in disgust as he spoke, emphasising his disdain for Hua Cheng.
“That’s why were you sneaking around the places Xie Lian lives like a creep—”
“I was not sneaking,” Mu Qing snapped, glaring at him.
“Okay, fine.” Feng Xin let him win this one. “But if you really cared about Xie Lian’s happiness you shouldn’t run around like this. He’d feel awful if he knew you were working yourself to death for his sake.”
Mu Qing didn’t respond, but Feng Xin could see understanding dawning on him. Silence fell upon then, and Mu Qing fiddled with the hem of his sleeves with a look of guilt on his face. His carefully-built defences broke apart, wariness and exhaustion finally seeping through.
“...I guess you’re right.”
Feng Xin sighed. He stepped towards Mu Qing and swiftly swept the other off his feet, carrying him with an arm under the other’s knees and the other wrapped under his back. Mu Qing gave a startled gasp, flailing slightly when he felt his feet leave the ground.
“What are you doing??” he shrieked, clinging to Feng Xin’s robes in a death grip.
“Taking you to bed—” Feng Xin said before he could realise how wrong those words sounded.
Mu Qing stilled in his arms, face flushed a pretty crimson, staring wide-eyed at the other god. “YOU WHAT??”
“WAIT, NO!” Feng Xin blushed red too. “Sleeping! I meant sleeping!”
Mu Qing continued to stare at him in alarm, before Feng Xin felt his body finally relax. The flush subsided but a tinge of pink was still left on his cheeks.
“You really do have muscles for brains, huh.”
“Hey!”
A small, genuine smile tugged on Mu Qing’s lips, making Feng Xin’s heart flutter erratically. The god leaned his head on Feng Xin’s shoulders, finally letting his guard down and allowing days of built-up exhaustion to overtake him.
“...Let’s go,” he muttered.
“Okay.” Feng Xin was still trying to recover from Mu Qing’s close proximity. “Okay,” he said again, this time letting his feet lead him to his bedroom.
The palace was empty. Feng Xin could only hear the soft clumping of his boots and the sound of his heart beating in his ears. He wondered if Mu Qing could hear it, feel it, from where he was cradled to Feng Xin’s chest. The other god hadn’t made a single sound, his breathing even.
After what felt like a millenia to Feng Xin, they finally reached his bedroom where he nudged open the door with his foot. He immediately headed towards the large bed, sitting on the edge of it so he let Mu Qing rest in his lap while he freed an arm to push the blankets aside. He gently lowered the god down onto the silk sheets, hearing the other sigh contentedly when his body settled into soft sheets.
Feng Xin reached over to tug off Mu Qing’s boots, setting them neatly on the floor beside the bed. Then he turned his attention to the robes, removing the outer ones so that it was more comfortable to sleep in, folding it to the best of his ability lest the god beat him up in the morning over wrinkled clothes. He slid the hair piece off of the silky midnight strands, hands slowly as he marvelled at it.
Mu Qing’s eyes were already closed, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He finally looked at peace, the tired scowl that was etched on his face no longer in sight. Feng Xin resisted the urge to brush the dark strands away from his face. He pulled away from the bed, about to find his way to a nearby divan when a hand tugged at his robes.
“Stay?” Mu Qing’s sleepy voice murmured. It wasn’t a command— nor a statement— but a request.
A request Feng Xin could never refuse.
“Okay.”
He walked around to the other side of the bed and removed his own accessories and robes, leaving them carelessly on the floor. He carefully laid himself down on the bed, making sure there was distance between himself and the other god.
Unexpectedly, Mu Qing rolled towards Feng Xin, burrowing his head into the crook of Feng Xin’s neck. His warm breath fanned across the bare skin of Feng Xin’s neck, an arm tossed haphazardly over Feng Xin’s chest.
Feng Xin stilled, his breath catching in his throat. He felt like a child who witnessed a butterfly land on his hand, staying completely still in fear of scaring it off.
“G’night,” Mu Qing muttered, snuggling his head into the robes more.
Gathering all his courage, Feng Xin pressed a tentative kiss to the top of the other's head. He relaxed when Mu Qing simply hummed contentedly in response.
“Sleep well,” Feng Xin murmured back.
The next morning, Mu Qing and Feng Xin made their way to Ling Wen’s palace, an air of ease between them. Officials and gods alike stared at the pair, wondering if they were still dreaming or if a calamity would strike the Heavens any second now.
At least, most people were thinking that.
Pei Ming popped out from behind them with a rather large grin on his face, squeezing in between the two of them and draping his arms over both their shoulders. Feng Xin felt his eye twitch knowing that something annoying was going to come out of the Northern god’s mouth.
“So,” Pei Ming started, with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You two finally talked it out like sensible adults, huh. You have no idea how torturous the past few centuries were being around you two,” he sighed. Something seemed to have crossed his mind, and he turned to beam at Mu Qing. “How’s your cultivation today?”
“What do you mean…” Mu Qing trailed off, blinking. Feng Xin’s gaze flickered between Pei Ming and Mu Qing, confused. Then the implication of those words finally hit them.
With a burning face, Feng Xin smacked Pei Ming’s arm off his shoulders, hissing, “We didn’t do anything, you fucking pervert!” To which Pei Ming responded with a disappointed gaze. Behind him, Mu Qing was fuming, his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Really? And here I thought something would’ve happened considering you two had been repressing your feelings for centuries,” Pei Ming mused.
“Pei Ming.”
“Hm?”
A sabre slashed through the air threatenly.
“Die.”
Pei Ming’s smile quickly faltered, putting his hands up in a defensive pose. “W-Wait, Xuan Zhen. It was just a joke.”
“Alright. I’ll let that be your last words,” was all Mu Qing said before swinging his blade dangerously close to Pei Ming’s neck.
The Northern god yelped and ran off, with a red-faced Mu Qing following right behind him.
Feng Xin watched them run around, grinning.
He could get used to this.