Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The light streamed in through the window, surrounding Mu Qing in an almost golden glow and glinting off of the tips of his hair that were falling out of his customary carefully elaborate style. He brushed the strands out of his face again, gesturing at the other god in front of him, his eyes two hard stones of frustration.

“No, I don’t want your pigs,” Feng Xin heard as he approached, “Why on earth do you think I would want them?”

Mu Qing sighed again, hand coming to rest upon his brow as he attempted to compose himself. Feng Xin tore his gaze off from the beautiful picture that made and instead surveyed Mu Qing’s conversation partner. A quick glance was all he needed to confirm that she was merely a low ranked god, only recently ascended to the Upper Court, and therefore, unimportant.

“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin interrupted. Mu Qing looked up with a flash of relief in his eyes, quickly shutting off, that made Feng Xin’s heart do the little flippy thing, a tingle in his lungs.

Their relationship had improved greatly - from rock bottom there is only one way to go - since His Highness’ fiasco (that’s what Feng Xin had taken to calling it privately) and Mu Qing had confessed his wish to be f-f-friends. Adorable.

Suddenly their weekly fights became scheduled practice sessions and their war of words became banter before either of them noticed it. It was…nice. Yeah…nice, Feng Xin decided. He liked Mu Qing, when he wasn’t being a double-crossing, scheming bastard, he was good to be around. He was pretty funny, and conversations were never difficult with him. Well, when you spend eight hundred years with someone, you get to know what makes each other tick, whether you like each other or not. And obviously , he wasn’t hard on the eyes either, but that was just an objective fact; the same way you would say Hua Cheng is a creep, Mu Qing is pretty.

And that pretty face was finally disengaging from its dull conversation and trudging over to Feng Xin, a small smirk pulling at its lips, exposing the two dimples that had driven Feng Xin insane when they had been younger, in Xianle.

“Feng Xin,” he greeted, “you ready to be destroyed?” he began to lead the way to their now designated fight spot.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Feng Xin responded, “yet you always seem surprised every time. You’d think you would’ve gotten used to it by now.”

Mu Qing picked up the pace a little, rolling his eyes, “and who was it again that was defeated last week again?” he made a mock thinking face, then clicked his fingers, “oh wait, it was you, wasn’t it!”

“Last week” was branded into Feng Xin’s memory like a knife blow, every smirk and smile and tease rewriting the folds of his brain, and he found himself incredibly distracted all throughout the days following. It was half of the reason that he was so determined to win; maybe if he had a decisive victory he could stop remembering the flashes of what it felt like to be pinned, Mu Qing a heavy and warm and real weight over him, faces mere inches apar- and that thought should stop right there.

“And the six week streak I had before that?” Feng Xin said cockily, only a beat late.

A faint flush rose on Mu Qing’s cheeks as he strutted forward again, chucking his books onto the bench and drawing his sword, twirling it proficiently. He walked backwards, teasing smirk disguising his excitement for a good, well-matched fight.

Feng Xin darted forwards too, dropping off his outer cape (for more manoeuvrability, obviously, not because he was feeling warm from the flashes of memory or anything) and unsheathed his own sword.

The weight in his palm, opponent across from him and warm sun beating down on his back grounded him, buzzing thoughts retreating into the back of his mind as he shifted forward to the balls of his feet, ready for the slightest indication of a move. There.

Mu Qing lunged forward, a picture-perfect stance and Feng Xin swayed to the side, sword brushing through the air he had been breathing a moment ago. Another lunge and another dodge and then their blades clashed in the air, the sound ringing out loudly. Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed finally, focus sharpening and his thrusts became more precise and forceful.

A step and a twist and Feng Xin moved to counter but -

A step and a twist and Feng Xin was disarmed so quickly he couldn’t even see what move had occurred. His sword arm stung from the blow and Mu Qing took advantage of his momentary weakness and pressed forward, sword pressing towards his gut and forcing him to retreat rapidly, stretching  in an attempt to regain his own weapon.

Their blades clashed together angrily, the impact jarring all the way up Feng Xin’s arm painfully aggravating his previous injury and causing him to grit his teeth to suppress the hiss of pain. The smirk on Mu Qing’s face confirmed that he had failed abysmally.

Feng Xin twisted away and steadied his blade before dashing forward and nicking a long line of red across Mu Qing’s right shoulder. Another grin and he darted forward again, but both gods were evenly matched and lunges and parries followed each other in quick succession. After the short bout they retreated from each other and returned to circling warily.

“How’s that injured arm, huh?” Mu Qing asked with only the slightest glint in his eyes.

“How’s that bloody robe, fucker?” Feng Xin replied, in normal Feng Xin manner.

Mu Qing brushed his hair out of his face again, a slight snort of frustration interrupting his menacing pacing, just like -

Mu Qing’s hair had fallen out at some point and now it hung down framing his face perfectly as he advanced again, both of them swordless now but the violent tension between them hadn’t diminished in the slightest. Feng Xin braced for the fist to his gut and retaliated with a resounding punch to Mu Qing’s jaw that made a huge cracking sound as it landed.

Mu Qing staggered backwards, spitting blood and massaging the offending area, “Ooh that one felt good,” Feng Xin taunted, shaking out his hand exaggeratedly.

Mu Qing charged back in without responding at all, twisting a foot behind Feng Xin’s knees and tugging with a great amount of force.

Feng Xin barely had enough time to think “oh shit” before he was face planting the floor, cheek scraping uncomfortably. Another kick to his back whilst he was still down was delivered before he scrambled away.

“Ow,” he spat out with a mouthful of blood, “that was not very kind of you, bastard.”

Mu Qing smirked and advanced again.

Of course, Feng Xin would easily be able to defeat Mu Qing in his normal state, however the sight of Mu Qing advancing with such confidence and power was doing something to his insides, making his lungs tickle with something floaty and happy.

And so maybe, just maybe, Feng Xin sat there admiring for a moment too long and had to scramble back to his feet before Mu Qing could strike again.

“Lost in thought there, idiot?” current Mu Qing interrupted him with another slash, across his right arm this time.

“Yeah I don’t even need to pay attention to beat you,” Feng Xin quipped, still half lost in his memories.

They exchanged a few more bouts before Mu Qing did something to remind him of the previous week, and then suddenly all he could remember was -

Mu Qing sat upon his chest, holding both of his arms above his head with one hand and a scowl upon his face.

“What kind of fight was that, dumbass?” Mu Qing shook a finger in his face, “I know you can do better.”

Feng Xin’s mind had gone blank because Mu Qing was there, close and real and… and Feng Xin hadn’t had someone touch him without intending harm in such a long time. And Mu Qing really was so pretty.

Mu Qing leaned down further, concern wrinkling his brow, but Feng Xin’s mind had wandered and he felt his face flush redder and redder the longer that they remained in the position. Mu Qing’s hair fell down to tickle at Feng Xin’s cheeks and he could almost pretend that the curtain of hair was hiding a quick brush of lips from the outside world, that Mu Qing would ever like him, would ever even consider him-

Why was he thinking about kissing Mu Qing of all people??

And once again, Feng Xin found himself flat on his back, wheezing and failing to breathe properly through the blow just dealt to his solar plexus.

Mu Qing stood a few steps away, that same frown of concern, and Feng Xin thought if everything proceeded as it did last time he would combust, he could not handle having Mu Qing that close to him again , he had barely survived the first time.

Wait.

Survive?

What was there to survive?

Mu Qing was just Mu Qing. The idiot that had abandoned His Highness and him to the streets. The obnoxiously pretty Mu Qing who fought him every week without fail, even beating him half of the time. The Mu Qing that was standing, framed by the sunlight again, ethereal with his hair still falling out of ponytail and his light robes unmarred aside from the single patch of red across his shoulder, and looking increasingly more confused.

What was special about that?

--

Xie Lian rested his head in his hands in frustration before continuing, “Why are you like this, Feng Xin?”

Feng Xin just shrugged in confusion; he genuinely didn’t understand what Xie Lian was trying to get at. 

“You know how I feel about San Lang?” Xie Lian tried again.

Feng Xin’s expression and mood soured, “I know, unfortunately for me, but you just have objectively awful taste to actually like that creep,” he retorted.

Xie Lian smiled slightly, “Yes, but you know how I feel?”

Feng Xin nodded.

“I think that he is very pretty, and although he is very strong I want to protect him, and I would be happy to spend every day until the end of my life with hi-”

Feng Xin had to interrupt there, “Hearing you wax eloquently about your husband is not why I am here, Your Highness, and if you continue I think my palace will suddenly find that they need me for something.”

“Let me speak, let me speak,” Xie Lian smiled again, “I don’t want San Lang to find someone else to be with, because that would make me upset, but if it was something that he really truly wanted, I would let him, for his own happiness.”

“Must I really listen to this? I feel sick already,” Feng Xin complained.

“These feelings…who do they remind you of, Feng Xin?” Xie Lian asked.

Feng Xin shrugged without thinking about it, “Nobody, of course. I don’t need a woman’s love to make me happy.”

“What about…what about a man then?” Xie Lian probed.

“Are you…are you asking my opinion on cut-sleeves?” Feng Xin asked incredulously, “Of course I don’t dislike you for that!”

Xie Lian put his head in his hands again, “No, that is not what I’m asking…of course you wouldn’t.”

“Well…what is it that you want then?” Feng Xin was completely lost.

“What do you think of Mu Qing?” Xie Lian asked point blank.

Feng Xin sat up straighter, “What the fuck does Mu Qing have to do with that?”

“Just answer the question, I know that you’ve been getting on better more recently, right?” Xie Lian responded.

“He’s…okay, when he’s not being a conniving bastard,” Feng Xin started dubiously, “and I like fighting him, both verbally and actually fighting…I guess he’s pretty good at his job and I like when we have to do missions together, it’s easier than any other gods.”

“Yeah? What do you think about the way that he looks?” Xie Lian looked slightly hopeful.

Feng Xin snorted, “What, you searching for compliments? Of course he’s pretty, everyone knows that.”

Xie Lian began to smile genuinely this time, “Oh? Is he? I hadn’t noticed…”

“Well we all know you have bad taste, for choosing Hua Cheng , but yes, Mu Qing is very pretty. Probably the prettiest person I know,” Feng Xin shrugged, “but everyone thinks that.”

“How would you feel if Mu Qing got a girlfriend? Or decided to not work with you anymore?” Xie Lian inquired.

Feng Xin thought for a moment, “Well, I doubt that that idiot could get a girlfriend, but I guess it would be annoying because then he would have less time to do his job properly. Romance should never get in the way of your work,” he gave a targeted long look at Xie Lian, “and if he didn’t want to fight anymore…I think I’d be upset.”

“Why would you be upset?”

“I like fighting him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s good at fighting.”

“Would you like fighting someone else every single week who was ‘good at fighting’?” Xie Lian asked, looking on the verge of burying his head in his arms for the third time.

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they wouldn’t be Mu Qing.” It was simple, Feng Xin thought; Mu Qing was Mu Qing. Of course nobody else could replace him.

“Yes! Think about that for me, for more than five minutes?” Xie Lian asked, “I can’t do this any longer.”

Mystified, Feng Xin nodded his agreement.

--

Feng Xin wasn’t good with names. He knew this. What he didn’t know, however, was the name of the Upper Court official that he had been talking to for the last hour.

“And of course you’re not free tomorrow morning,” the official continued but Feng Xin moved to interrupt.

“Oh, no, I am free then. I can take out that ghost quickly for you, which junior officials needed to go?” he clarified.

The official looked at him in horror, “...but, you have your date then? You can’t reschedule that!”

Feng Xin frowned in confusion, “What? No I don’t, I just have my spar with Mu Qing? Oh - with Xuan Zhen.”

“...yes, your date with General Xuan Zhen?” the official frowned in confusion, “You can’t put that off, it's a tradition at this point!”

“What? It’s not a date ! It’s Mu Qing for fuck’s sake!” Feng Xin tried to convey what a stupid idea this was through only his eyebrows, “Mu Qing, and me, date? Absolutely not.”

The official looked even more confused, “but…I thought…well General Xuan Zhen did say that he didn’t…but…”

Feng Xin was getting frustrated with the incompetence, “I’ll just tell him right now that I can’t go, stop your fussing.”

He placed a finger to his temple and recited Mu Qing’s private communication passcode, then greeting him with, “Oi, bitchface.”

“What do you want,” came the instant reply.

“Can’t go tomorrow. Duties.”

“Day after then, see you.”

“Bye.”

Feng Xin opened his eyes to see the overly anxious official biting their nails, “It’s fine, we rescheduled. Now what are the ghost’s details again…?”

The official looked up at him with stars in their eyes, “wow, you have such healthy communication…”

Feng Xin tutted, “the ghost, or I’ll show you my favourite kind of communication. A hint, it starts with ‘f’ and ends with ‘ucking beating your ass until you tell me what I need to know’.”

The official gulped and presented the notes on the ghost before turning tail and running. Feng Xin snorted over the spinelessness of the newest generation of officials before looking down at the file and (reluctantly) beginning to read.

Why would someone think of him and Mu Qing.., he thought to himself briefly but banished the thought in favour of concentrating on the ghost instead.

--

Feng Xin was having a Bad Day, capitals included.

First his bedroom ceiling had collapsed on him, despite being ensured that the repair of a week ago had ‘structural integrity’, covering him in dust and wood and waking him up infuriatingly early from a nice dream, after which he had to clean away the wood by himself because the repair team ‘didn’t operate’ so early on in the day.

Secondly, his junior officials were late because they had somehow gotten caught in a bog down in the human realm, and Feng Xin had to trudge through frankly awfully smelling mud and water to get them out, and then of course the bog had to have a low level but annoying ghost hidden in it that cursed all of their robes to be unable to remove the smell no matter how much they washed them, so Feng Xin squelched angrily back to his palace to change again.

Thirdly, because he had to go back to his palace, Feng Xin was horrifically late for a meeting of the top ranked heavenly officials, so late in fact, that he arrived only for everyone to say goodbye as they concluded. Feng Xin prided himself on his timeliness (for things he considered important, of course. Either he arrived on time or arrived several incense times late, no in between) and Ling Wen had tried to kindly inquire what had held him up and he snapped at her nastily in return.

So Feng Xin was having a Bad Day.

And everyone knew about it.

He had not been approached by anyone since the failed meeting, and whilst normally he would appreciate that, at this moment he was trying to find someone to drop off his palace reports to. But everyone kept fucking running away from him.

Each person that ran made his temper ten times worse. Eventually, he gave up on the fools that were leaving, and moved to his last resort. Mu Qing.

S talking (stomping) his way through the Heavenly Capital, all officials made way for him, whispering in his wake and a few sighing in relief as he turned down the road to Xuan Zhen palace. He flipped them off over his back as he ignored the officials milling around the entrance and headed straight in.

Feng Xin searched the palace from end to end, fuming and frightening the life out of the junior officials that encountered him, until finally he crashed into someone walking from the opposite direction.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he shouted, his final straw broken, “Look where you’re fucking going, dickhead!”

Mu Qing caught himself against the wall and frowned back at him before realising who he had bumped into, “Hi, Feng Xin,” he responded calmly. Then he took a second look, saw the other god’s mood and straightened up, thoughts flying across his face, “What do you mean I should look where I’m going, you’re the one who came into my palace and tripped over me! I deserve an apology.”

Feng Xin felt his anger finally bubbling over as he grabbed Mu Qing’s collar and threw him across the room with a shout.

Mu Qing somehow expected this move and caught himself, landing steadily on two feet, setting down what he was holding, then turning tail and running. Feng Xin, keyed up and itching for a fight at this point, gave chase immediately, flying through the corridors at record speeds.

Mu Qing must’ve had a destination in mind because he turned the corners with agility, careful of the decorations that cost a fortune until he reached a huge set of doors that he slipped through. He came to a halt in this large room.

Feng Xin didn’t take long to observe it but he noted that there was no furniture and plenty of space to throw Mu Qing if he so desired.

Feng Xin cracked his knuckles menacingly, before darting forward to launch himself at Mu Qing.

It only took a single incense time for Feng Xin to wear himself out, and to end up laying on the ground, heaving and fists nicely bruised. To his credit, Mu Qing was also laid on the floor with equally bruised knuckles and a nicely purpling bruise around one eye - it would heal by the morning, but had been immensely satisfying to deliver.

“Feeling better?” Mu Qing asked into the silence only interrupted by their harsh breathing.

Feng Xin sighed contentedly, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“You wanna give me those documents to hand in, then?”

“In…in a minute.”

Sometimes he really did appreciate what Mu Qing did for him. Maybe he was starting to understand what Xie Lian had said about spending every day for the rest of his life with someone…

He definitely wants to continue fighting Mu Qing if all fights will be that satisfying.

--

Oh.

Oh.

Feng Xin totally understood what Xie Lian, the bastard (affectionate) had meant.

“What is up with you?” said Mu Qing, the Mu Qing that Feng Xin loved.

“Huh?” Feng Xin replied, eloquent as usual.

Mu Qing stalked over and offered a hand to help him back to his feet, “You are so much more skilled than that. I hoped it was just a one time thing last week but something’s up.”

He felt like he had just awoken from a hundred years of sleep, everything around him weirdly bright and new despite being the same world that he had seen everyday. Nothing had changed and yet everything was different. He was a rose, petals unfurling and stretching outwards, yearning towards the sun that was Mu Qing, golden and radiant.

And Mu Qing, not being a mind reader, didn’t seem to realise that Feng Xin’s perspective on his entire life had just shifted, so he just looked confused at why Feng Xin was still laying on the ground despite the extended helping hand.

Feng Xin took his hand, marvelling at how soft it was, and pulled himself up to his feet. When Mu Qing didn’t immediately let go of him and instead made sure he was steady before going to collect the discarded swords, a small something blossomed under his heart, and his lungs seized slightly.

“Your left foot was off the entire time,” Mu Qing broke the silence.

Head still stuffed with clouds, Feng Xin blinked sharply, “...what?”

Mu Qing sighed, “That’s why you lost. Your weight wasn’t correctly distributed and so wiping out your left one made you fall,” he turned and fell straight back into the incorrect stance.

“Like this, see how my balance is all wrong?” Mu Qing shifted minutely, “Now I’m so much more sturdy, a simple kick wouldn’t knock me over so easily.”

Feng Xin felt like he was getting whiplash from trying to focus on Mu Qing’s words after such a realisation, “What? Yes…yes I know?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, “Genuinely what is wrong with you? You’ve been so out of it.”

“Nothing. Obviously,” Feng Xin replied, earning himself another eye roll but all he could think about was how pretty Mu Qing’s eyes were and how happy he would be to spend the rest of his life getting lost in them.

Mu Qing (somehow) didn’t notice his blatant ogling and instead his lips pursed together in thought, demeanour shifting slightly to be more serious “I know that…” he started hesitantly, “We haven’t been the bestest of friends for forever, but just know that I…I’m happy to listen to whatever’s on your mind.” Mu Qing gave a sharp, decisive nod and turned, walking smartly away from Feng Xin.

“I know,” Feng Xin called after him, and there was no way that Mu Qing couldn’t hear the affection in his voice, “thank you.”

Mu Qing relaxed, and gave another nod before offering Feng Xin his cape and beginning the trek back towards the main Heavenly Capital, “Obviously you’d probably prefer to talk to His Highness, but with that creep Hua Cheng hanging around I thought I should just offer, just in case you know, you thought that I wouldn’t listen or anything! Not that I wouldn’t! Because I would. Of course,” he chuckled slightly nervously and chanced a quick glance at Feng Xin before powering onwards.

--

The only problem with realising that you love someone is that the realisation never goes away.

Mu Qing smiles at someone during a meeting to reorganise after His Highness’ fiasco?

Feng Xin loves him.

Mu Qing puts his hair up in a slightly different way to usual?

Feng Xin loves him.

Mu Qing forgets his sword and has to run back to his palace to pick it up?

Feng Xin loves him.

Frankly, it was exhausting. He wanted, he needed to hit something, himself, a wall, a ghost, anything, to just get this overabundance of energy out, to scream his love to the world. And every time he noticed something, his heart and lungs twisted oddly and he felt the need to cough.

For a little while, Feng Xin wondered if he was allergic to love, and was just destined to be alone forever.

--

It had been two weeks since Feng Xin had The Realisation (capitals included, even in the solitude of his own mind) and he thinks he’s got it under control.

And now there’s been a wrath ranked ghost that had popped up on the border of his and Mu Qing’s territories, in a small town called Yiling, so the two gods had to work together to vanquish it - with an entourage of Middle court officials of course, as a “learning experience”.

Feng Xin had been waiting outside of the Xuan Zhen palace for what felt like hours, tapping his foot impatiently, when Mu Qing finally emerged.

“What the fuck took you so long?” he demanded immediately, frustration dripping off of every word.

One of his supporting officials sniped at one of Mu Qing’s officials almost in unison to Feng Xin, “Of course we can’t expect anyone from the honoured General Xuan Zhen’s palace to be on time, what a huge difficulty.”

“As if your General Nan Yang is any better,” came the furiously whispered reply, “he always shows up excessively early and then hassles everyone who told him when they would be ready for.”

Now Feng Xin would be more offended by this extremely accurate description if he weren’t busy admiring Mu Qing, who looked lovely (as usual) in the light of the early morning, and he brushed off the comment with a stern look, ignoring the now customary almost itch within his chest at his actions.

“I was busy, as I told you,” Mu Qing replied crisply, before setting off to jump down from the Heavenly capital, officials following in his wake.

Feng Xin’s heart and lungs clenched again as he admired the clean competence before striding forwards to walk side by side, “So, what do we know about this case then, honourable General Xuan Zhen?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, “Did you even bother to read the file that Ling Wen sent over?”

“Of course not!” he lied through his teeth, “What kind of martial god would I be if I read the documents given to me?” Feng Xin grinned.

“An actually useful one,” Mu Qing muttered under his breath before continuing at a louder volume, “it's the typical wrath, a war hero slighted and demonised under the new administration returned to take revenge and ‘right all of the wrongs’.”

“What kind of war was it?” a bright young god from Nan Yang’s temple spoke up.

Mu Qing gave him an approving glance, “A revolution against an oppressive clan, bad odds and the tide turned because of our little hero.”

That made it understandable why the war hero might have become a wrath; strong enough to turn the tide of a war, certainly strong enough to carry the resentment of the change in popular opinion with them through to death.

The junior official seemed to have come to the same conclusion because he spoke up again, “What wrongs do he think need righting?”

“That’s what we’re missing,” Feng Xin responded, “We don’t know what happened for public opinion to change so much, and so unnaturally.” Mu Qing gave him an approving glance entirely similar to the one given to the junior official and Feng Xin was ashamed to admit how much it made his chest squeeze and his cheeks ache to hold back a grin.

Finally they reached the jump off point and each set of gods promptly landed exactly where planned, a few miles off of the city where the wrath had last been seen.

Since this was supposed to be a teaching experience, Feng Xin let off his junior officials with no guidance, telling them to come find him if they needed anything, whereas Mu Qing gave a few hints on where to start the investigation, and handed over the file that Ling Wen had compiled. Soon enough, both sets of Middle Court officials had dispersed and Feng Xin was left alone with Mu Qing.

“Shall we walk the town then?” Mu Qing suggested, for lack of other things to do.

Feng Xin nodded, “I’ve been here more often than you! Let me show you around Yiling,” he began enthusiastically.

--

Of course, for Feng Xin, showing someone around involved showing where he had fought ghosts (and people) before, and showing off the scars associated with each battle.

“And this tree, see how deformed it is? I threw the clan leader at it when it was young and it bent that way permanently…” Feng Xin sighed happily at the memories, brushing a hand over the plant. He felt Mu Qing’s presence behind him, sturdy and strong as always, and he turned around to offer a better entertainment than wandering the forest before he saw the expression on Mu Qing’s face.

Mu Qing looked…soft. He was smiling for once, a soft happy smile as he watched Feng Xin emote. He looked merely content, something that Feng Xin hadn’t seen for hundreds of years, and the thought that merely him enjoying reminiscing could prompt that-

Feng Xin’s lungs clenched harder than they ever had before and he doubled over in coughing fits, feeling as if something was lodged in his throat. He heard the amused snort of Mu Qing and his muttered, “Of course you would be the only god to get sick with something like a common cough,” but he couldn’t think over the irritation in his throat until he finally spat out…a petal?

Feng Xin would’ve pondered its presence more if there hadn’t suddenly been a crash accompanied with a junior official flying through the air to land on that same deformed tree that he had just been pointing out.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin both blinked stupidly for a moment at the dazed god before scrambling into motion, Mu Qing rushing to the official to check for information and Feng Xin heading in the direction that he came from to provide back up if necessary.

The unspoken division of roles and the way they worked so seamlessly with each other almost prompted another round of coughing but Feng Xin shoved his emotions down, dodging through the trees in his path.

Finally he came across the action as the wrath ghost stood in the centre of a boiling storm of resentful energy, wielding a dizi and no other overt weapons. The junior officials were lying mostly unmoving across the clearing, with only a few still standing and evidently plotting against the much more powerful than expected enemy.

At his arrival, the junior officials almost cried out in relief, a certainty settling in their eyes as they darted forward towards the wrath, all long lines of sword and spiritual blasts.

It…wasn’t the best thought plan, Feng Xin could see…but at least they had tried? The last of the still conscious junior officials went flying in the same way when they came too close to the tornado-like whirling resentment surrounding the ghost.

This was a two man job - Feng Xin needed Mu Qing. In the meantime, biding time for the other god’s arrival, he quickly transported the junior officials onto the ground next to him and set up a quick array to protect them from any egregious damage.

The wrath didn’t show any signs of slowing down, but nor did it seem remotely interested in attacking Feng Xin, so he simply settled down to wait. No more than ten minutes had passed before Mu Qing came flying out of the forest, the other prone junior floating behind him.

Feng Xin directed the junior to lay with the others before relaying all he knew about the ghost from the brief moments that he had seen, “That whirlwind is not only deadly because it’s resentful, but it's also moving fast enough to lift our weight and throw us, as you’ve seen.”

“Does the wrath respond to outside stimuli?” Mu Qing queried, and just when Feng Xin was about to respond, a fourth figure arrived on the scene.

Tall and dressed entirely in white, not entirely unlike His Highness, the new arrival carried a guqin and a sword strapped around his waist. Feng Xin and Mu Qing exchanged a glance, uncertain whether this new cultivator was aware exactly what he was getting into with this wrath.

“Wei Ying,” he spoke softly, yet his voice carried all of the way through the whirlwind and the wrath seemed to recognise the figure, lowering the dizi and tilting its head quizzically. The white-robed cultivator took this as an encouraging sign and took another step closer.

“Wei Ying, it’s me, Lan Zhan,” he said cautiously, advancing slowly.

The wrath let out some unintelligible noise, hands twitching around the dizi again, as if to raise it back up again and resume the tornado of resentment.

Mu Qing brushed his arm against Feng Xin’s and Feng Xin nodded in return. A moment later, Mu Qing had vanished from his side.

Feng Xin took a side step towards the white-robed cultivator, careful not to interrupt whatever he was doing, or to distract the wrath. He wasn’t even sure that either had registered his presence there, so focused on each other they were.

And then the white-robed cultivator took one step too far and the wrath snarled, raising the dizi to his lips again and releasing a harsh, angry melody. Feng Xin threw himself in front of the white-robed cultivator, easily throwing off the attack and defending them both. The resentment dispersed harmlessly against the array protecting the junior officials, as Feng Xin had intended.

The whirlwind briefly blew back to life, Feng Xin protecting the white-robed cultivator and preventing them both from going flying, then it suddenly cut out again, the wrath falling to its knees and then passing out completely.

The dark energy revealed Mu Qing stood over the body, who gave Feng Xin an eye roll at the thumbs up he offered.

The white-robed cultivator dashed out from behind Feng Xin’s protection, right towards the (momentarily) disarmed wrath.

“Ah, daozhang- please do not go towards the- well its too fucking late now,” Feng Xin attempted.

The cultivator folded at the side of the wrath, shaking hands carefully feeling its arms and face. Mu Qing stood beside the tender scene, back straight and the most perturbed expression on his face that made Feng Xin burst into laughter; trust Mu Qing to easily defeat the enemy but not know what to do with the aftermath.

Mu Qing levelled a glare at him that caused another coughing fit, what was presumably another petal getting caught in his throat. Feng Xin stifled the urge and instead walked over to the wrath’s collapsed body.

The white-robed cultivator looked up at his approach, finally seeming to notice that there was anyone else there other than the wrath. His eyes were bloodshot and his face tearstained, and Feng Xin felt a momentary reflection of Mu Qing’s panic at the sight, offering only a small wave and nod.

The cultivator seemed satisfied with that, and let go of his death grip upon the wrath’s hand to take out his guqin…and start playing a song?

Feng Xin and Mu Qing had a furious battle of eye contact, and Feng Xin, as usual, lost, so he took a deep breath and crouched down to the cultivator’s level.

“Listen, I can see that you have an emotional attachment to this wrath-” he began, only to be interrupted.

“He is called Wei Wuxian.”

“...okay, to this Wei Wuxian, however he is dangerous and we cannot allow him to keep rampaging through this area,” Feng Xin finished, rushing slightly to avoid further interruption.

“Mn,” the cultivator continued to play his music, some sort of calming tune that was actually effective in reducing the wisps of resentful energy still floating around the wrath.

Feng Xin was conflicted, however his sense of duty (and value for life) won out over his sympathy for this poor random couple, “We are Heavenly Officials, and it is our duty to neutralise this threat, I’m sorry but there’s no allowances we can make for you.”

The cultivator seemed resigned, “Wei Ying is my everything, and I promised to myself to never stand by when he needs me. I will happily die by his side if it means I do not have to leave it,” his eyes flashed angrily, “Do not try to take him from me.”

He rose to his feet, and instead of saying his goodbyes, he gripped the handle of his sword, exposing the first few inches of the blade threateningly. It was… a pathetic stand, however the combination of movement and speech seemed to move Mu Qing in a way it didn’t for Feng Xin.

“I…we can submit an appeal,” Mu Qing rushed out, gathering himself and tugging on Feng Xin’s sleeve. A quickly drawn hand seal and Mu Qing was rushing them away, back to the juniors.

The cultivator gave a grateful half-smile, resheathing his sword and going back to his music, rendered useless by the seal of a god already over the wrath.

“Mu- Mu Qing fucking stop tugging me,” Feng Xin dug his feet into the ground, just out of earshot of the cultivator and his wrath-lover, “Why did you do that? Are you fucking mental? That wrath was so out of control!”

Feng Xin felt almost on the verge of shouting, but (unfortunately) he trusted Mu Qing’s judgement, and wanted to hear the reasoning.

Mu Qing was uncharacteristically unresponsive, not even an eye roll.

“Mu Qing?” Feng Xin prompted.

“They remind me of everything I can never have,” Mu Qing said finally, after a long silence.

Feng Xin didn’t understand, “What? You have more than both of them combined!”

Mu Qing let out a low groan of frustration, “No, I mean what they have in each other, what they mean to each other.”

“You want a relationship?” Feng Xin asked incredulously, “That cannot be why you let a fucking wrath go?!”

Mu Qing’s eyes glinted dangerously, “I want love, Feng Xin, not that you would know anything about that, you with your one night stands that never lead to anything!” he practically shouted in Feng Xin’s face, and yet he didn’t seem to be any less angry than before his speech.

Feng Xin felt the anger rise within him at this unprompted attack, but he reigned in his temper, “Mu. Qing.” he took a deep breath, “Did you let them go just because you’re lonely?”

He saw a flash of hurt quickly masked in Mu Qing’s eyes, but Feng Xin hadn’t finished, “If you want love so badly, go and talk to people, put yourself out there! You’re not going to find anyone just doing your job everyday,” Feng Xin’s traitorous mind screamed at him, yes you will, I’m right here, find me, love me, but Feng Xin ignored it.

Mu Qing looked resigned by the end of all that Feng Xin wanted to say, he rested his face in his hands briefly, only allowing a sliver of the hopelessness to show on his face, “It’s impossible for me. I just don’t work right,” he said in short, stilted bursts.

Feng Xin didn’t understand again, “What?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just broken, but it’s just not feasible,” Mu Qing said, all emotion drained from his voice, “Ever. And I just wish I were different. I wish I could have what everyone else has.”

Feng Xin felt as if he had accidentally trodden on a rope that turned out to be a snake. How is one supposed to react when your…your… person confesses such a huge fear?

“You’re not unloveable, you’re amazing and worthy and everything, Mu Qing, you hear me?” Feng Xin took a step closer, brow furrowing with the seriousness of his words, “And you will find someone who values you for all of that and knows that you’re not even remotely broken.”

Mu Qing brushed off his words with nothing more than an eye roll, and went back to the junior martial gods, quickly dismantling the array and rousing them.

Feng Xin pretended to forget what they had started arguing about in the first place, instead just taking his rightful place by Mu Qing’s side, working tirelessly together and ignoring the increasingly irritating sensation in the back of his throat.

--

When Feng Xin got back to his palace, he coughed up five petals and several handfuls of blood into his hand.

Whilst he most decidedly didn’t have the intelligence of some other gods, Feng Xin was not an idiot.

When he simultaneously realised his love for Mu Qing and began coughing up flower petals there are only so many possibilities for what is going on, and the library of Ling Wen palace was very extensive.

Hanahaki Disease

When a person suffers from one-sided love, they may develop Hanahaki disease, characterised by the coughing up of increasing numbers of flower petals - and as the disease progresses, entire flowers.

This disease comes to an end only under three known conditions;

1. If the beloved returns their feelings (romantic feelings only, deep platonic bonds have been recorded to not resolve this disease).
2. The infection is manually removed - it must be noted that this is still an experimental practice due to the rare nature of the disease, and the even rarer proportion of people who choose this route - however this will permanently remove the romantic feelings of the victim about the relationship. It also removes all memories about their previously loved one, and any desire to foster new romantic feelings towards them in the future.
3. The victim passes away; asphyxiation due to the flowers in their lungs.

It is advised to have a serious conversation with the object of affection before any drastic decisions are made, as well as long talks with any family members, friends, or others who may be impacted by the result of the disease.

Feng Xin, the hard headed idiot who couldn’t care less about people’s feelings, had Hanahaki disease. What great irony.

Feng Xin loved Mu Qing. It felt like a truth of the universe, that Feng Xin would always love annoying bastard Mu Qing. Feng Xin would always love soft, kind Mu Qing. Feng Xin would always love smart, sharp Mu Qing.

He could not give that up.

Aside from the impracticality of losing all memory of such an important colleague, Feng Xin would not be the same person without all of Mu Qing’s influence in his life, Mu Qing had been there from his early teens all the way up to his 815th birthday. Maybe not always in the most positive way, but they had always been there, with each other and for each other.

If Feng Xin suddenly went from being semi-regular friends with Mu Qing to forgetting about his existence, he didn’t think that they would ever be able to rebuild their friendship to anywhere close to where (he hoped) it was now. Mu Qing would be hurt and Feng Xin would be unable to pick up all of the broken pieces and help him fit them back together because he would’ve forgotten.

And maybe the most important of all, he didn’t want to.

He wanted to love Mu Qing because apparently Mu Qing thought he was unlovable and Feng Xin had to prove him wrong, because Feng Xin loved. He loved so much that some myth of a disease came along to prove it to him.

And besides, he was a god. He wouldn’t really die. It just wouldn’t be very comfortable.

--

The disease progressed significantly more rapidly than Feng Xin could’ve foreseen. Merely a handful of months later and coughing up blood-stained petals became a regular daily occurrence. He became quite adept at discreetly slipping them into his sleeves and if he wasn’t already proficient at cleaning blood from his robes, he definitely would’ve been after those few weeks/

Feng Xin still looked perfectly healthy however, and people merely assumed some vengeful ghost had cursed him with a cough, a rumour he encouraged - if nobody found out about his condition, nobody could do anything to stop him.

Today was a good day, however, because it was the day of his weekly spar with Mu Qing. Except Mu Qing had the audacity to be late. Mu Qing never was never late to things, so when several incense times had passed, Feng Xin hauled himself to his feet and made his way over to Xuan Zhen palace.

None of the Junior officials knew where Mu Qing was.

The more people that didn’t know where he was, the more concerned Feng Xin got. And therefore, the more that his lungs acted up. By the time he finally located the other god he was sure that his voice had gone raspy from the flowers scratching the inside of his throat, and he could feel the weight of them, a tumour growing around his heart.

“Mu Qing?” he called out to the blob of Mu Qing shaped robes that were slowly rising and falling with each breath, “you there?”

The pile of robes did not respond, but they did continue to breathe.

Feng Xin approached cautiously, stepping deliberately in order to give the pile of robes more rest, everyone knew that they needed it. He settled carefully on the ground next to the robes, and finally found Mu Qing’s face, slack and relaxed in sleep that it never would be under his conscious control.

He carefully brushed the hair off of Mu Qing’s forehead, skin soft against his fingers. Mu Qing didn’t object to the touch, his deep breaths continuing without interruption. Feng Xin let himself pretend for a moment, let himself pretend this was how they were, that Mu Qing liked Feng Xin’s fingers in his hair as much as Feng Xin liked putting them there.

Maybe they could go on a date -- a fight! They could fight down a difficult ghost and then have a picnic under the stars together, far away from heaven’s prying eyes where they don’t have to be Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen, and can just be Mu Qing and Feng Xin. And he could run his fingers through the other god’s hair as they fell asleep under the sky, safe in each other’s embrace.

Feng Xin predicted the irritability in his already abused throat, but this felt so much worse than before. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from Mu Qing’s hair to try and stifle the sounds of his coughing, but it just wouldn’t stop, blood seeping through his lips into his cupped hands, until he felt the back of his throat trying to push something through. In a desperate attempt to stop the coughing to allow Mu Qing to sleep, for fuck’s sake, he reached a hand into his mouth, grabbed, and tugged.

Only because of his insane pain tolerance did he not scream at the feeling. His entire throat felt ruined, ripped to shreds to never be used again to utter anything other than Mu Qing in an awful rasp.

An entire white rose, stained in blood and still dripping, sat whole and undamaged in his hands.

Those same hands, that just moments ago, were happy and warm, caressing his beloved, were now covered in blood and shaking, a damaged product, fit for no love.

Mu Qing was his rose, embedded deep within his soul, within his person, and Feng Xin was the blood, tainting always, creating errors in the perfect, faults in the righteous, blood on the rose.

Blood on the rose.

Blood on the rose.

Blood.

Rose.

Blood.

Rose.

Feng Xin.

Mu Qing.

Blood.

Rose.

--

Feng Xin felt as if the spools of wool making up his mind were rapidly unspooling, unwinding and drifting in the breeze, waiting and hoping for Mu Qing to gather them up again and give them purpose, to reassure them that he was alright.

They rescheduled their fight for the next day, Mu Qing sending his most profuse apologies, claiming only an excess of work, and they met as planned the following morning.

Feng Xin saw Mu Qing, and everything was fine, Feng Xin greeted Mu Qing, and everything was fine, Feng Xin loved Mu Qing, and all he could see were roses.

“Good morning, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing greeted, because there was nothing wrong.

“Good morning, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin responded, because there was nothing wrong.

Feng Xin felt himself settle back into his body again throughout the fight, with every nick of Mu Qing’s blade against his skin, and every nick of his own against his opponent’s, Feng Xin felt as if the roses were receding. Who was he to make up some meaning for everything? He was Feng Xin!

Mu Qing had gathered up the shattered remnants of his brain and stuck them back together without even knowing he was broken in the first place. Feng Xin couldn’t give this up.

Feng Xin won that day. And for once, he didn’t feel like a murderer, he felt just like himself.

--

“Mu Qing?”

“Yes, Feng Xin?”

“Would you come and consult with me over this ghost?” Feng Xin handed over the Ling Wen document,  “It’s causing havoc and I fear it may be related to…the Yiling Wrath.”

“I…I see.” A small frown appeared between Mu Qing’s brows, “I shall be at your palace tomorrow at dawn. No Middle Court juniors this time, I think.”

“I agree,” Feng Xin nodded, “No fucking idiots coming along this time,” he gave a wave as he turned, “Until tomorrow.”

--

Feng Xin woke up and dressed in record speed, rushing outside to see Mu Qing reading through Ling Wen’s file again, slight frown marring his brow. Feng Xin wanted to rub the small stress mark, smoothing it out and just fixing whatever was wrong.

His lungs seized again and he quickly coughed out the customary handful of petals and blood into his sleeve.

Mu Qing’s frown of concern had turned onto him now, “You’re still having that problem with the curse?” He began to lead the way through the Heavenly Capital again, Feng Xin following shortly after.

“Yes,” Feng Xin winced and how wrecked his voice sounded, “I’m working on it.” He didn’t enjoy lying but knew the truth would cause so much more suffering for the both of them. Putting the weight of his pain upon Mu Qing’s lack of love would be…an asshole move. Feng Xin didn’t want Mu Qing to suffer through any more guilt than he already did.

“I’ll have a look through the Xuan Zhen palace library, if you like,” Mu Qing offered offhandedly, still glancing through his file.

This disease was such a fucking inconvenience, Feng Xin thought to himself as he had yet another coughing fit, he couldn’t even think about Mu Qing without throwing up petals everywhere.

“Thanks,” Feng Xin got out between wheezes, and when Mu Qing absentmindedly gave him a friendly pat on his back immediately started coughing again.

--

The ghost indeed was related to the previous wrath, some sort of psycho fanboy that tried (and failed) to replicate the wrath’s (Wei Wuxian, was it?) incredible control over resentful energy.

A much weaker tornado swirled around the ghost, however this one didn’t have the decency to run off into the woods to cause havoc, and instead was planted in the centre of the main street of the town, Yiling.

Despite being significantly weaker, the ghost was still causing a sizable amount of damage to the houses on either side of him, and emotional distress to the poor people caught up in the whirlwind.

Mu Qing and Feng Xin exchanged a quick glance before both darting off, Mu Qing dashing from bystander to bystander and dragging them to safety behind the hastily erected protection array, and throwing talismans out to stabilise the crumbling buildings.

Feng Xin darted directly forward, infusing his whole body with qi to prevent being hurled as he dashed into the centre of the whirlwind. The ghost in the centre didn’t even register his presence before it was hit so hard it went flying through the air, hurricane dissipating from around them both.

Feng Xin followed immediately, not allowing the ghost to recover for even a moment. Sword dancing, he thrusted into the belly of the ghost, feeling only a minute resistance before resentment began to leak out of the wound like blood. Feng Xin didn’t let up, and immediately began to craft a hand seal whilst the ghost was incapacitated, only to be interrupted by a huge hit to his chest.

Feng Xin went flying back where he had come from, landing heavily on the side of the building that Mu Qing had only just reinforced.

Ow.

Mu Qing glanced over from his efforts at the sound, something flashing in his eye at the sight of Feng Xin groaning in pain through the stars in his vision, and Mu Qing leapt forwards, landing in front of the ghost in one long stride through the air.

He fought with such power, smooth long strokes of his sword landing with grace and incredible accuracy until the ghost was leaking more resentment than it could sustain and it collapsed to the floor, whereupon Mu Qing finished off the hand seal that Feng Xin had started, brutally containing the threat.

Mu Qing defending him with such ferocity prompted another coughing fit, and Feng Xin could feel the bud of another rose in the back of his throat, cutting off his airway.

No no no not now not in front of him I can’t right now please stop no no no no-

The flower bloomed in his throat and Feng Xin wheezed around the intrusion, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes and he tried to get it out with heavy coughs wracking his entire body.

Finally the rose hit the back of his teeth and he spit it out, watching it fall down, down, down all the way to the ground. He could feel the blood staining around his mouth and the beginnings of another flower growing at the bottom of his throat, soft petals brushing against the thorn-wounds.

It felt like the hit from the ghost had caused resentment to clutch onto the roots growing in his chest, corrupting them and forcing flowers to wind tighter and tighter around his lungs and his heart. He felt like his heart was dancing to some unknown tune, beating irregularly against the constricting vines.

When Feng Xin could open his eyes again, Mu Qing was stood in front of him, eyes alight with anger and concern in an unhappy mix as he tugged Feng Xin away from his comfortable wall-hole.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing began, tone hard and unyielding, “What is going on.”

Feng Xin stood on wobbly feet, still feeling slightly light headed and on the verge of passing out, “I don’t know what you mean,” he responded.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing gave a hard tap to his shoulder, “I’m not an idiot. You never go flying from just a little ghost like that,” his expression turned almost desperate, “Talk to me, please.”

So he didn’t see the rose, Feng Xin thought in relief. He felt almost delirious from the resentment flowing through his veins and the flowers growing in his lungs and seemed to have lost his brain to mouth filter some time during the fight, “Mu Qing…Mu Qing,” he muttered.

Mu Qing moved closer to hear him, still obviously pissed, “What?"

“Stop caring about me, it makes it so much harder…” Feng Xin murmured, black spots dancing in front of his eyes again. The disease had definitely impacted his cultivation and stamina, there’s no way he would normally be this weak and feeble.

Mu Qing looked like he’d been slapped, “Feng Xin? What the fuck is going on?”

Feng Xin coughed again weakly, blood slipping from between his lips as the world began to fade to black, the last thing he could see being Mu Qing’s face, frantic with worry and yet still as beautiful as always.

--

“...and so then I went to Ling Wen and asked if I could look through her library too, which she agreed to…”

The voice, even and measured, faded to a stop as Feng Xin blinked his eyes open, wincing at the bright light assaulting his eyes. He registered the presence of the one other person, who quickly let go of Feng Xin’s hand that he’d been holding and stood, peering concernedly at him.

“Mu…Qing?” Feng Xin asked, still feeling bleary.

“You dickhead,” Mu Qing replied without hesitation, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

A small smile graced Feng Xin’s lips, “Since when do you curse so often?”

Mu Qing didn’t relent, “Since you pass out in my arms like some sort of maiden after throwing up blood everywhere,” he sat down again, still glaring sharply, “You gave me a heart attack with that stunt! What was I supposed to think?”

Oh no.

Feng Xin felt his heart twist again and another cough rising in his throat, quickly suppressed.

Mu Qing evidently realised at the same time, “You know what’s going on with that cough of yours, don’t you?” he asked, not needing the answer.

Feng Xin could only nod.

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

It wasn’t a request, and yet Feng Xin refused, “No, it's fine I’m sorting it out myself.”

Mu Qing’s expression fell, “Are you trying to shut me out? If you don’t want to be…friends with me then just say so instead of…whatever this is.”

Feng Xin couldn’t reassure him fast enough, “No! No, of course not. It’s just something I have to live with, it’s fine.”

Live with? Feng Xin’s traitorous brain reminded him, You will die with this, die of this all consuming love. Nan Yang, peerless martial god withering away from something as sappy as unrequited love… how poetic.

“You expect me to just let you suffer? What kind of person do you think I am?” Mu Qing accused, standing up again and beginning to pace, “You passed out, you’re a god and you passed out in my arms. I can’t just let you…waste away like that!”

Another coughing fit tickled at the base of his throat but Feng Xin was too distraught to allow it to take over him, “It’s a worthy price.”

“What could be worth your life?!” Mu Qing shouted.

You, Feng Xin thought.

“Just trust me,” he said.

“I can’t,” Mu Qing’s voice sounded unimaginably small, “I can’t lose you.”

Feng Xin couldn’t restrain the heaving coughs this time as he pressed his hands to his mouth to prevent the petals from falling in front of Mu Qing, from revealing everything he had been hiding.

Blood seeped through his fingers and Mu Qing went white, with rage or fear, Feng Xin couldn’t tell. He couldn’t think over the pain in his chest, all consuming just as much as his love.

Then suddenly Mu Qing’s hands were covering his own, pulling them away and allowing the petals to cascade from his mouth, endless petals falling in a bloody painting across his bed sheets.

If Mu Qing’s face had been white before, now it was deathly pale, “What. The. Fuck.”

Feng Xin felt like a guilty child caught doing something bad, “It’s nothing. Please.”

Mu Qing got up in a bustle of robes, rapidly backing away and turning, almost running in his haste to get away.

Feng Xin was left alone with only the sound of the wind to comfort him, Mu Qing’s broken trust written in every line of the blood stained roses across his palms.

--

He had been removed from the list of gods ready for active duty.

How dare Mu Qing, Feng Xin was perfectly capable of completing his duties just fine without that bastard interfering.

“Xuan Zhen is unwilling to see you today, General Nan Yang,” the junior official at the entrance to Mu Qing’s palace told him.

“I don’t give a fuck if he wants to see me, either you let me in or I knock you out and then go in anyways,” he threatened, so far past the point of being reasonable.

The Junior looked slightly green and moved aside.

Feng Xin stalked past, heading straight for Mu Qing’s office, knowing that was exactly where he would be at this time of day, and sure enough, he was, working away on some unimportant paperwork.

“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin interrupted.

“I believe I mentioned that I don’t have time for you today, Nan Yang?” Mu Qing responded, not even looking up from his work.

“I don’t fucking care, Mu Qing you had no right,” Feng Xin stalked over to the desk, grabbing Mu Qing’s collar and bodily removing him from his work.

“And what is it that you’re accusing me of this time?” Mu Qing still looked politely disinterested, refusing to make eye contact.

“You know what you did,” Feng Xin shouted, “I’m perfectly fit to work!” 

This finally got Mu Qing’s attention, and his angry glare bored into Feng Xin, “Fit to work? You passed out! And then threw up blood!”

“One time, I’m completely fine!” Feng Xin yelled back with the same amount of anger.

Mu Qing stood, shaking off Feng Xin’s grip on his collar to shout back at him, “No you’re not! Fainting on the job is not how to be a good god!”

“Did the job get done? Yes. Did I defeat the ghost? Yes. Everyone gets hurt once in a while, you can’t expect to be untouchable,” Feng Xin argued, “That’s just how being a martial god works!”

Mu Qing looked furious again, “But not everyone coughs up blood and flowers! What the fuck, Feng Xin? What exactly was I supposed to do?”

Feng Xin took a sharp breath to reply but Mu Qing spoke over him, “And don’t you dare say just leave you, somehow you’ve managed to make me care about you, bastard!”

Feng Xin allowed himself a single cough, “Well maybe you should care less then! Let me fucking do what I want to do without an annoying helicopter parent snitching on me!”

Suddenly there was a finger in his face as Mu Qing jabbed angrily at him, “You should know that caring at all is hard enough! I can’t just let you go out and endanger not only yourself but all those that you’re trying to save and those working with you! Stop being so selfish!”

“Me? Selfish? You’re the one that is letting all of those people die because I can’t help them!” Feng Xin yelled, aiming where it hurt, “With the Yiling Wrath, you’re the one that let all of those deaths go unavenged because you felt lonely!”

Mu Qing looked like he’d been slapped, eyes wide and hurt, “I-,” his voice cracked, “I trusted you,” he looked on the verge of tears, “I know that you seem to find it oh so easy to…to love, but I can’t, and I’m doing my best to make up for it!” He was out of breath with the emotion he poured into his words, but wasn’t finished, “Let me care! I’m allowed to worry about you and I’m allowed to stop you from being a fucking idiot!”

Feng Xin felt the flowers rising inexorably, but he was not in the mood to be reminded that he loved this asshole, he shoved the emotions down as usual, “Well maybe your ‘best efforts’ are just not good enough!” he yelled back.

Mu Qing looked the angriest that Feng Xin had ever seen him, and they hadn’t argued with such raw emotion for hundreds of years since Mu Qing had walked out and abandoned Feng Xin and Xie Lian. Breathing hard in each other’s faces, both on the verge of almost crying, Feng Xin felt disconnected from his body and his consciousness. He let his clenched fists return to his sides, forcibly relaxing them and dropping eye contact.

He didn’t know how long he had left, and he didn’t want to waste time with arguments.

“Why is it that every time we are together we always end up arguing?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he carefully observed the speck of dirt on the floor in between his feet. Mu Qing should really take better care of the area he was living and working in.

Mu Qing seemed perplexed but no less angry, “You came here today only for the point of yelling at me, and now you’re confused. You’ve brought this upon yourself with your own stupid actions,” he shook Feng Xin harshly, “Every time that I searched for reconciliation you prolonged our stupid fights!”

“I’m sorry.”

Feng Xin wasn’t only talking about the current argument, and neither was Mu Qing. He was talking about their entire relationship, always a push and pull and never in equilibrium. He was talking about that dreadful day that Mu Qing gave up, gave up on Feng Xin and gave up on His Highness. He was talking about passing out in Mu Qing’s arms and waking up with blood in his brain, blood in his mouth, blood in his heart.

He was talking about the roses that spilled endlessly from his lips as easily as lies spilled from Mu Qing’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the fight fell out of Mu Qing’s eyes leaving only fear and concern dragging deep painful lines into his expression.

“I’m sorry,” Feng Xin could only repeat himself. He didn’t even know what he was apologising for. His existence? His mistakes? His love?

“Please,” Mu Qing’s voice cracked again, “talk to me…what are the flowers?”

“I can’t,” Feng Xin knew that his voice sounded as wrecked as he felt, all of his pain thrown onto the floor between the two for Mu Qing to see, to judge, and to find lacking.

Mu Qing let out a ragged sigh, a deep awful sound dragged out from the depths of his soul that sat uncomfortably in the silence between them.

Another moment passed before Mu Qing sat, legs seemingly collapsing beneath him, unable to hold the weight of their conversation. Feng Xin looked down at him for a moment in confusion before collapsing by his side - for Feng Xin would always follow in Mu Qing’s wake - like he were a puppet and his strings were cut, a tangle of limbs on the ground.

Feng Xin could count his heartbeat in the silence, the crushing weight of roses cutting deep into him and bringing words and confessions bubbling under his skin that he suppressed as ruthlessly as he dispatched enemies.

Mu Qing looked…defeated, pale and wan under the receding light of daytime, his hair lifeless and lank around his face as he looked searchingly into Feng Xin’s eyes, searching for some sort of answer to an unaskable question. He sent out a tentative peace alliance, threading their fingers together in silence, bloody thorns against soft petals their only point of contact.

--

Feng Xin didn’t know how long he sat like that, but when he jerked back into awareness, the sun had long gone down, bathing them in darkness, and he could only see the glow of Mu Qing’s eyes, two pinpricks of light showing him the way home.

Maybe it was only the darkness, but Feng Xin felt emboldened, and he finally broke the silence, voice rusty from disuse, “I think we’ve hated each other for so long that we don’t know how to be any different.”

Mu Qing shifted slightly, releasing Feng Xin’s hand - causing another pang in his heart, “I don’t think I’ve hated you for a long time.”

“How…how do you start from the beginning?” Feng Xin spoke haltingly, “I…want to be f-f-friends too.”

What about more than friends, whispered his mind, if you didn’t fuck everything up you’d already be there…

Ignoring the jab, Mu Qing responded, “I’d suggest starting with not barging into my palace just to yell at me,” he finished with a small smile of his own, lips curling up only slightly.

Feng Xin looked almost sheepish at that, “You did have no right to do that, though.” Mu Qing looked like he wanted to speak but Feng Xin continued, “I don’t want to fight over it though, not anymore.”

Mu Qing hesitated, “What changed? Before, you enjoyed fighting with me whether it was friendly or not.”

“I-...” Feng Xin considered his words carefully, “I value you too much to waste time with harsh words and angry fights,” he spoke all in one breath, and the amount of time I have left gets shorter every day, he left unspoken, as if not saying the words would stop them from being true.

Mu Qing’s expression melted, eyes softening and smile widening and losing its strained nature. He looked slightly awkward, as if it was an unnatural state of being for him, contentedness.

And then everything that Feng Xin had buried deep within himself came boiling to the surface with a vengeance, petals and blood cascading down out of his mouth through horrible, wet coughs. Each breath came harder than the one before as days worth of flowers forced their way through his throat.

Tears streaming from his eyes at the pain and mortification, Feng Xin grasped the stem and yanked, another rose budding in real time joining the pile of bloody petals in his lap. As soon as one flower vacated, another grew to fill its space, blooming through his trachea and thorns digging in and cutting.

Pain lanced through his body, spreading from his heart in tandem with its unsteady beat until he felt like he was crafted only to feel pain, from one beautiful flower to the next, the pouring blood increasing and the abrasions within his throat screaming at him.

And then…finally, it was over, and Feng Xin almost sobbed at the lack of another rose tickling the back of his mouth. The only thing grounding him from a complete breakdown was the warm presence at his back, and Mu Qing’s gentle movements, rubbing against his shoulder.

The kind gesture prompted another set of petals to flow out of his mouth but Feng Xin couldn’t bring himself to shrug off the embrace he longed so much for, instead allowing his eyes to flutter shut and to breathe, body weight supported completely and without any masks covering his pain, just for an instant. And Mu Qing didn’t object either, his other arm moving to brush the hair out of Feng Xin’s face to avoid the bloodstains. And that made his heart hurt in a way unrelated to the roses growing there, in pure want.

“Feng Xin?” Mu Qing asked, voice shaky despite the stable image he seemed to want to project.

Feng Xin let out a huge sigh before shifting himself upwards, no longer resting against Mu Qing’s lap, “Mu Qing.”

He turned to see Mu Qing’s distraught expression, pale skin taut and lips pursed.

“Let me help.”

“I can’t,” and Feng Xin swore that this was the moment his heart finally broke, shattering irreparably into millions of blood-stained glass shards discarded on the office floor, forever lost and forgotten.

Mu Qing’s expression hardened in determination, “I refuse to be shut out when I’m the one you came to,” he stood abruptly in one long elegant movement, “I will figure this out,” his lip quivered slightly, and then more to himself than to Feng Xin, “I have to…”

Feng Xin tried to lever himself to his feet too, uncomfortable with being so much shorter, and tried his best for a smile that he imagined looked more scary than reassuring, with the carefully gathered flowers falling onto the floor with the movement, and blood staining his teeth.

“You can take the guest room,” Mu Qing said, for lack of a response, “You know where it is.” He paused slightly, as if waiting for something before turning beginning to stride out of the room.

“Wait,” Feng Xin interrupted, in a small croaky voice to avoid aggravating the thorn-wounds in his throat, and Mu Qing turned immediately, brow crinkling in concern, “Thank you.”

Feng Xin knew that he had given up, he gave up the very first day that he had seen Mu Qing silhouetted by sunlight and fallen in love -- and Mu Qing must be able to sense that resignation in his expression because he turned sharply to avoid eye contact and almost threw himself out of the room, his footsteps receding rapidly.

And Feng Xin lay himself back down on the floor, in the pool of his blood and his flowers, and he closed his eyes, letting the darkness seeping into the edges of his vision drag him under.

--

Feng Xin’s condition worsened rapidly after that emotionally straining night, but he bore it with forced positivity and activity; he didn’t want to spend his last…however long, being an invalid in forced bedrest, so he didn’t allow anyone to find out.

Today, he was visiting Xie Lian again. It had been too long, and Hua Cheng was supposed to be managing things in Ghost City so it was perfect timing for a quick trip to Puqi Shrine.

Feng Xin stumbled a little on his landing in the human realm, then chastised himself for his incompetence, forcing a casual stroll as he arrived at the shrine.

“Your Highness?” he called out into the silence.

A quick shuffling sound and Xie Lian poked his head out of the front of the door, face lighting up at the sight of Feng Xin, “Oh! Come on in, I wasn’t expecting you!”

Feng Xin could feel himself relax as he ducked into the shrine at its shabby interior, the combination of Xie Lian’s presence and a lack of finery reminding him of their wandering days - which, of course had been difficult, but also had a simplicity that Feng Xin found himself yearning for sometimes, their biggest worry being dinner on the table and not the fates of thousands of worshippers.

He allowed himself a huge, calming sigh before turning to Xie Lian with a small smile, which Xie Lian returned before freezing.

“Feng Xin…are you doing okay?” he reached out a hand to steady Feng Xin, “You don’t look well, at all.”

Trust His Highness to know exactly when Feng Xin wasn’t feeling well. He forced a smile, “Of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

Not being an idiot, Xie Lian only looked more concerned but allowed him to drop the subject, “So how have things been then? How is Mu Qing? Neither of you come to see me anymore…”

Feng Xin coughed quickly into his sleeve at the mention of Mu Qing, petals quickly hidden, but Xie Lian had great eyes and even faster reflexes, grabbing his arm and letting them fall to the floor between them.

Feng Xin could feel his heartbeat ramp up, thudding against his rib cage as Xie Lian froze, fingers still tight against his pulse point in his wrist.

“Feng Xin? That is not ‘fine’ to me,” Xie Lian said finally, voice accepting no objection, “How about we sit down and have a long conversation, hm?”

Obediently, Feng Xin sat in the chair provided without a voicing a word, mentally berating himself for his carelessness. How could he let his wish to see his friend outweigh his need for privacy? Stupid, stupid stupid.

Xie Lian sat heavily in the seat across from him, depositing a pan full of some sort of steaming green mess in between them, “I cooked! It’s lucky that you’re here now, you can try it instead of San Lang,” he gave a scary smile, all teeth and no compassion. Feng Xin swallowed uncomfortably but still pushed away the portion in front of him, unwilling to risk vomiting and setting off another coughing fit.

“Now, I would say I’m a fairly well travelled god wouldn’t you, Feng Xin?” Xie Lian began, still with that terrifying smile, “And I know an awful lot of what people would consider ‘obscure’.”

Feng Xin nodded, already expecting the next words out of Xie Lian’s mouth.

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognise the Hanahaki disease?”

“I…I hoped,” Feng Xin hung his head, breaking the eye contact.

Xie Lian shifted audibly, “As well as knowing about the disease, I know you and I know…other people that may be important in your life.”

Feng Xin’s head snapped back up again, “Absolutely not, do not, please dianxia he can’t know I can’t do that-”

Xie Lian interrupted him with a finger in the air, “It isn’t my decision to make, you know.”

Feng Xin let out a silent breath of relief, but then Xie Lian continued, “However, I don’t think things are as hopeless as you seem to believe.”

Feng Xin shook his head resolutely, “I can’t give that guilt to anyone, that’s an awful thing to do.”

A hand came to rest against his on the table and Xie Lian gave him the most tender gaze, “It’s okay, I truly believe…you just have to actually have that conversation.”

Another head shake followed that sentence.

Xie Lian shook his head ruefully, “That’s not a request, Feng Xin. I understand this can be a sensitive topic seeing how far that it has come,” and there was the accusatory stare, “but I will not allow a perfectly good General, and a perfectly good person waste away out of stubbornness.”

“No,” Feng Xin was unwilling to give in on this.

“I’ll give you two months, Feng Xin, and I’m completely serious over this,” a poke to his chest accompanied each point, “or I will step in.”

Feng Xin suppressed his breath of relief with great effort - somehow he had successfully deceived His Highness, because there was no chance he had two months left.

Xie Lian looked up and swivelled around to face the door with a smile, “Oh, here he comes now!”

Feng Xin only had time to think what the fuck before there was a huge crash and a frantic banging against the door, which creaked and groaned in protest. And over the complaints of the door, he could hear Mu Qing’s angry voice, yelling “Let me in for fuck’s sake or I will break down this door!”

He chanced a pleading look at Xie Lian who ignored him and went over to let in their (uninvited) guest like the polite host that he was. Mu Qing barely even glanced at Xie Lian before striding over to Feng Xin and poking him harshly in the chest with a hand shaking with anger.

“Who is it?” he managed to finally get out, fury still radiating off of his body.

Feng Xin feigned nonchalance, “Who is what?”

“Do not try to play coy when your fucking life is on the line, asshole,” Mu Qing continued, “Who is the bastard that doesn’t love you back?”

Feng Xin shook his head in resignation, “How did you find out?”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Mu Qing didn’t allow the subject change, “but Ling Wen keeps records of who reads what in her library, and there are only so many cases that cause people to throw up flowers.”

“Ah, of course, I should’ve thought of that,” Feng Xin nodded to himself absently, feeling a little as if he were floating in space, unable to influence anything going on around him.

Mu Qing gave a hard tap to the side of his head, just on the verge of actually hurting, “Who the hell is it, dumbass, let me go beat them until they get it into their thick head!”

Affection bloomed in his chest and he coughed out another handful of petals and blood, “I’m past redemption now.”

“Like fuck you are!” Mu Qing shouted back, “Tell me their name!”

Feng Xin only smiled wearily, “I’ve made my peace with it, and I’m making my amends now…I’m sorry, Mu Qing.”

“If you were really sorry then you would do something, anything to change it,” Mu Qing yelled, “Not just sitting here…like some depressed loaf!”

Another flower bloomed in his chest and with practised ease Feng Xin grabbed it and pulled it out, letting the thorns prick his fingers and draw more blood to the surface, dribbling down his thumb.

“It’s too late now, might as well go out happy, doing the things that I love,” Feng Xin smiled, then stood, offering the flower to Mu Qing, “And this may be rather macabre, offering you the symbol of how unloveable I am, but will you just allow me to die happily?”

Mu Qing stood unmoving, tears brewing at either end of his eyes, “You’re serious…”

Feng Xin nodded, “They could never stoop to my level.”

“You…I will never understand you,” Mu Qing forced out from between clenched teeth, “But I will never give up on you how you have given up on yourself.”

“Why not? It’s hopeless,” Feng Xin coughed another handful of petals into his sleeve rather ruefully; even when accepting his death this dreaded disease had to confront him with his sappy feelings as if he were going to do anything about them.

“It’s what friends do,” Mu Qing said with finality, “And I’m your best friend,” he took the rose from Feng Xin, locking eyes with intensity as if trying to telepathically communicate how much he cared.

Feng Xin would never put the guilt of his death upon the other by actually talking about it, but in that moment, watching Mu Qing squeeze the fucking rose, thorns embedded in his soft flesh and ignoring the pain and the rivulets of blood dripping down his fist, he wanted. He wanted to be loved and cared for and he wanted to spend every day by Mu Qing’s side, having someone to come home to instead of a cold empty bed in an echoing room. By dianxia, he wanted.

The soft touch of Mu Qing’s bloodstained hand against his robe jerked him out of his thoughts, “You hear me? You don’t get to die and leave me all alone.”

Feng Xin smiled, a soft-happy-content-love smile, “Alright, save me from myself, mighty General Xuan Zhen.”

“I’ll save you from that bastard who doesn’t see what’s right in front of them,” Mu Qing corrected.

An awkward cough interrupted the tense moment, and both Mu Qing and Feng Xin flushed bright red at the reminder that Xie Lian was still there - of course he was still there, they were stood in his fucking house.

“Do not say a single word, dianxia, or I swear that I will commit so much violence,” Mu Qing muttered, stepping away from his bubble within Feng Xin’s personal space.

Xie Lian didn’t need to say anything to communicate everything he wanted to with a smirk at the two of them.

“Right, well, I need to be off then!” Feng Xin exclaimed, pressing a finger to his temple to feign receiving a message on the communication array, “It was wonderful catching up, until next time, Your Highness,” he nodded at Xie Lian, “and see you around Mu Qing,” he nodded at the other too, before striding quickly out of that awkward atmosphere.

From outside, just before jumping back up to the heavenly capital, he heard Xie Lian’s voice talking to Mu Qing, “Well, luckily for you, I only just finished cooking this soup before you arrived! I would just love it if you could taste test for me?” Feng Xin was so happy to be gone before he had to survive that torture.

--

And Feng Xin certainly did see Mu Qing around, a whole lot more than usual in fact. Considering his love, this should’ve been a happy occurrence, however, Mu Qing insisted on presenting every single god that Feng Xin had ever interacted with, and asking - is this them? What about this? Isn’t she pretty, is she the one?

This charade got very tiring very quickly.

Feng Xin was walking over to Ling Wen’s palace, a huge stack of documents distributed to the junior officials following him like ducklings, when Mu Qing sprung from who knows where, dragging some official that Feng Xin had never set eyes on before behind him.

“General Xuan Zhen,” the lead official following him greeted politely, “Luo Qingyang.”

“Feng Xin!” Mu Qing exclaimed with exaggerated surprise, “Fancy seeing you here!”

“...Hi,” Feng Xin responded shortly.

“Oh, I’m sure you know this wonderful woman with me, this is Luo Qingyang! You both investigated that claim of murder from the prominent clan within your territory, remember?” Feng Xin continued with a huge fake smile plastered across his face.

“No. I don’t remember,” Feng Xin bowed quickly to the two, “and if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be,” he brushed past them, ducklings following closely, ignoring Mu Qing’s defeated sigh.

--

Feng Xin arrived on time to his spar with Mu Qing (which had turned into interrogation over who his beloved could be in recent weeks) only to find a strange man that he vaguely remembered standing there in Mu Qing’s place.

“Lan…Xichen?” he tried, hoping that he got the right name.

“Ah yes, that is me. And you are…General Nan Yang, correct?” the figure responded.

Feng Xin pressed his head into his hand for a moment, “I have a feeling that neither of us expected the other here today?”

Lan Xichen gave an uncomfortable smile, “...yes, I was under the impression I would be meeting a Nie Mingjue…”

His teeth ground together in an attempt to control his frustration before barking out, “Mu Qing! Get out here.”

A scuffle sounded in the bushes to their right and a bedraggled Mu Qing clambered out, muttering, “So…not him, then?”

“Of course not, you imbecile,” Feng Xin couldn’t understand why he loved that idiot sometimes.

That was a lie, even then he was suppressing coughs at the efforts Mu Qing was going to in order to try and save him even when he had given up on himself.

--

Mu Qing often barged into Feng Xin’s palace without warning, and he’d never minded it before. But now, he was close to actually throwing the other out himself, ‘love of his life’ be damned.

“It is too fucking early to be up,” Feng Xin got out through gritted teeth (he’d been doing that a lot recently), “What do you want that could possibly be necessary at this time?”

Mu Qing looked far too pleased with himself before stepping aside to reveal Wen Qing - an associate that Feng Xin had a grudging respect for due to her revolutionary medical practices. She looked just as tired and confused as to what she was doing there as Feng Xin was.

“This clarifies nothing,” Feng Xin rolled over and buried his face into his bed again. If he ignored it, it would go away, right?

“I know you like Wen Qing, right? Is she the one?” Mu Qing held entirely too much hope in his voice so he must not know that-

“I’m a lesbian, Mu Qing,” she sounded incredibly fed up of these antics, “and you would do well to not dare disturb my sleep for something so immeasurably stupid in the future.”

She levelled a glare at Mu Qing on her way out, calling out, “Good night, Feng Xin,” as she departed.

Feng Xin groaned some sort of agreement into his bed, already trying to doze off again.

--

The next day, Feng Xin woke up covered in flowers. Fully grown ones, stems, stalks, and petals lush and beautiful.

He felt sick to his stomach at the sight.

Not much longer now, he consoled himself with, drifting back off into a (mercifully) dreamless sleep.

--

When he awoke the next time, the flowers were gone and there were no bloodstains at all, and Feng Xin half thought he had hallucinated the entire thing until he saw Mu Qing collapsed at the end of his bed, head pillowed on his arms as he slept.

His lungs gave a huge lurch and he plucked another flower from its growth as quietly and quickly as he could, careful not to shake the bed too much and wake Mu Qing from his peaceful slumber.

He doubted that he would rise from this bed again, so he briefly indulged himself with running a quick hand through the other’s soft hair before laying back down and allowing sleep to drag him back under.

--

Mu Qing stood before him, clothes no longer made of cloth but made of petals, white roses that swirled infinitely into the void beneath the two of them. His face was dotted with little seed-freckles and his leaf hair tied back in its usual style.

And then Mu Qing opened his mouth and words in a language Feng Xin didn’t know and couldn’t understand came pouring out, accusatory and harsh as Mu Qing advanced on him, an elegant hand raised in front of him in anger.

Feng Xin backed away as best as he could, his hurried apologies whipped away by the wind that sprung out of nowhere, existing only to unbalance him and make him fall from the tightrope that appeared beneath his feet atop the void. He was an acrobat, a dancer placing careful stride after careful stride as he ran from Mu-Qing-that-hated-him.

Suddenly the world all fell apart, shattering like glass and he fell, arms windmilling as he tried and failed to call up his spiritual energy to save himself until he landed on the ground of blackness, the darkness impermeable and the only thing he could see was Mu Qing, the beautiful rose collapsed upon the ground ahead of him.

And so he struggled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing of his heart in his chest and ran across the quicksand-land grasping and pulling at his feet to get to Mu Qing.

And then Mu Qing was collapsed only because he had a sword buried in his chest and Feng Xin’s hand was on the handle and he was pushing the blade even deeper inch by inch and he-couldn’t-stop-himself-he-couldn’t-control-himself he could only scream in his mind as the blood stain on Mu Qing’s front grew and grew until Mu Qing was no longer a white rose but had been tainted by Feng Xin’s hands made of blood and then he looked down on himself and he was blood, the skin and bones he had always had were gone and he was blood he was red he was red he was red he was red he was-

--

Feng Xin startled out of his dream with a scream in his throat only broken by the blood that poured out in its place.

Mu Qing tutted at him and reached over with a warm cloth to wipe it away with a weary yawn.

“Mu Qing?” Feng Xin could feel the breath rattle emptily in his lungs, a breeze winding through the forest of flowers that had taken nest there.

“Hm,” Mu Qing responded, purple bags under his eyes and a dullness resting in them that Feng Xin had hoped he would never see again.

“I’m-,” another round of blood and coughing interrupted Feng Xin and he couldn’t finish, choking on another rose bud. He was certain they were getting bigger, slicing the inside of his throat more, blocking his breath for longer.

He didn’t try to speak again, focussing instead on getting the offending plant out. Mu Qing grasped the rose with careful fingers and tossed it to join a steadily growing pile to his side. Something about the way that he moved convinced Feng Xin that Mu Qing, too, had given up on him. He should’ve expected this, but tears still sprung to his eyes and he allowed the wracking sobs to shake him, despite how much they pained his already abused throat and how his grief wound the flowers tighter around their death grip on his poor bruised heart.

Mu Qing rubbed him gently across his back, and suddenly Feng Xin remembered the last time they had done this, when he had still obstinately held a tiny sliver of hope that his own mind had since crushed into smithereens, when Mu Qing had made his decision and stuck to it.

It was in the past now.

The crying had been a bad idea, Feng Xin concluded as he choked on another flower. He felt like his lungs were going to collapse or explode, but this was it, this was his last moment, in his palace that he had abandoned his one family to have, with nobody but Mu Qing knowing that he wouldn’t get up again.

He was drowning, unable to suck in another breath, drowning on that same damnable blood that had taunted him with release for months now, and it was overflowing from the inside.

His panicked thrashes must’ve alerted Mu Qing because he pulled back from his comforting quizzically to look down at him, before his face lost all colour and his lips began to mouth the same word over and over in supplication nononono.

“Who is it? Please Feng Xin who the fuck is it?” Mu Qing demanded, shaking the dying body beneath him hopelessly.

Feng Xin forced the words out from the very depths of his soul, dragging them out kicking and screaming through the river of endless blood and death within him, “Thank you.” He felt his lips pull back in a grotesque imitation of a smile, blood and petals covering the two of them.

“I can’t, please please Feng Xin it can’t-” the words were cut off by Mu Qing desperately pressing their lips together, but it was all wrong, Feng Xin knew in the depths of himself, and he only wished that Mu Qing didn’t blame himself for things out of his control.

Mu Qing pulled back and pressed their lips together yet again, hoping against hope that somehow, within himself, he could find one last vestige of humanity, one inkling of the love that Feng Xin had given him…and he found himself lacking. Feng Xin’s body went still in his arms, his heartbeat slowing and stopping underneath Mu Qing’s fingertips and the awful gurgling breaths halting.

Feng Xin’s last thought before everything faded into permanent black was well, he did tell me himself, he can’t love like I can…it just took dying for me to understand what he meant.

A ragged, tortured sob tore itself from Mu Qing’s throat as he tried desperately to search for anything that could indicate Feng Xin’s survival, a flicker of air, a heartbeat, anything.

His sobs went unanswered as nobody disturbed Mu Qing’s vigil.

--

Beside the bed, there stood a desk. And on that desk, was a file, courtesy of Ling Wen and her palace. Within that file was a single line that would haunt Mu Qing for the rest of his days with ‘if onlys’. If only he had been more human. If only he hadn’t been broken. If only he could be normal . That line came under the subsection of resolutions of a peculiar disease named “Hanahaki disease”, and read as follows, in awfully clinically language that seemed to personally discard Mu Qing’s trying, for how he had tried;

If the beloved returns their feelings (romantic feelings only, deep platonic bonds have been recorded to not resolve this disease).

For everyone knew that Mu Qing loved Feng Xin, but only Mu Qing himself knew that he hadn’t loved enough. He searched within himself for romance, and could only find the love of a shield brother, soulmates but not soulmates.

And he despaired.

Mu Qing lost that day, and for every day that followed. He was numb to his brokenness, he accepted that he was a murderer. That was just himself.