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Don’t fight back.
Mu Qing should have known this would happen eventually.
Don’t fight back.
He wishes someone would fight for him, just once.
Don’t fight back.
Mu Qing wishes this would end. He’s no stranger to being singled out and picked on at the Royal Holy Temple, but this is the worst it’s ever been. Zhu An and his friends have selected him as their target once again. The insults they shout are as endless as the blows and kicks they rain down on him, and just as cruel.
He knows he’s different from everyone else here, that much is blaringly obvious. He’s from a poor family; he’s cold and awkward, and overall not very likeable. But he doesn’t feel like he should be this easy to hate.
He should have expected they’d turn violent eventually. Zhu An is generally respected, after all, and he will probably get away with it even if someone does find out. Which they won’t. Mu Qing knows that if he fights back or retaliates at all, he’ll be sent away. He can too easily picture the look of disappointment on his mother’s face as she realizes she’ll have to struggle even harder to make ends meet once again. No, he can’t do that to her.
Don’t fight back.
A few weeks prior, he’d been cornered by the same group while he was picking a basket of cherries to take home to his mother. They’d made him feel like a thief, like he was doing something contemptible. The last time, Xie Lian had shown up at just the right moment to stop this from happening. But where is Dianxia this time? He thinks he’d even take Feng Xin’s help right now. But, no. Feng Xin hates him, he wouldn’t stop this even if he were here.
It's likely that having Xie Lian stand up for him last time is the reason for such a brutal attack now. Zhu An had already been angry with him last time for getting in trouble with the State Preceptor. That was his own fault, but he was going to blame Mu Qing for it anyway. He’d probably been angry ever since. Mu Qing would never blame Xie Lian for this, but he almost wishes he hadn’t gotten involved before.
It would be so nice if Mu Qing didn’t have to worry about being kicked out of the Royal Holy Temple. He could easily defeat everyone here without much effort. They probably know it, too.
Don’t fight back.
It’s likely that less than ten minutes have even passed since this one-sided fight started, but it feels endless. Mu Qing hopes that Zhu An and his friends either tire or get bored soon. He’d hate to lose consciousness here; he knows Dianxia would send someone to find him if he doesn’t show in the morning. Then Xie Lian would act concerned, and Mu Qing would have to remind himself once again that Xie Lian would be worried over anyone. They are not friends.
As it is now, Mu Qing is fairly certain he’ll be able to make it back to his room and keep anyone from finding out about the fight. Zhu An and his friends have been careful not to hit him anywhere bruises would show. They know he won’t tell anyone for fear of the blame somehow landing back on him.
“Fight back! You know you want to!” Zhu An taunts.
Mu Qing tries to shut his eyes and focus only on his breathing to block out his surroundings. He’s almost successful, but a particularly harsh kick to the ribs shocks him back into reality. It forces the air out of his lungs and leaves him gasping for air. A cry of pain nearly escapes him, but he forces himself to hold it back. He’s remained stubbornly silent this whole time, not allowing Zhu An that satisfaction.
Ignoring them seems to work for a while. At this point, Mu Qing hopes he can just avoid provoking them. He both hears and feels something crack as he’s kicked in the ribs yet again. It was inevitable that a few would break eventually. It gets harder to tune out the pain after that.
Another hit to the same spot has his vision blurring at the edges.
Don’t fight back.
It’s not fighting back, technically, when Mu Qing blocks the next kick and grabs Zhu An’s pant leg. His foot is still off the ground, and he loses his balance, falling backwards into the damp grass.
“Ugh!” Zhu An screeches, jumping back to his feet.
There is fury in his eyes now.
Mu Qing tries to scramble away, but Zhu An’s friends grab him before he has a chance. Zhu An stomps over, spitting hateful words, and backhands Mu Qing with a force that sends him sprawling. Mu Qing can feel blood dripping from a cut across his cheekbone caused by Zhu An’s ring.
He feels his own anger flare, but forces himself to stay silent. He can’t fight back. His future is ruined if he does. He can’t fight back, even when Zhu An wrenches his left arm behind his back, twisting it painfully in retaliation for tripping him. He can’t fight back, even when he feels his wrist snap from the pressure. It forces tears to his eyes, and he finally cries out, but he still doesn’t fight back.
Zhu An finally releases him. He looks panicked, realizing he’s inflicted damage that Mu Qing won’t be able to hide. It doesn’t last long, though, before the same arrogant look he always has crosses over his face again.
“Go ahead and tell someone.” He sneers. “No one would believe an unlovable piece of trash like you anyway.”
He looks like he’s contemplating saying something else, when suddenly a loud voice rings out through the cherry wood.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”
Mu Qing would recognize that voice anywhere.
Feng Xin.
A colorful assortment of language follows, sending Zhu An and his friends scurrying away, all running off in different directions. Mu Qing takes advantage of the momentary chaos, and slips away further into the woods. He’s not able to move very quickly, but he knows his way around well enough to keep himself hidden.
“Mu Qing!”
He hears Feng Xin calling for him. He calls a few times, but Mu Qing doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now, but especially not Feng Xin. Eventually, Mu Qing doesn’t hear him calling anymore; he must have given up. He waits a few more minutes before making his way back to the Temple.
The adrenaline has mostly worn off by the time he’s able to get back. Every breath hurts, and Mu Qing is barely even able to stand up straight. He wraps his good arm around his ribs, trying to brace himself somewhat, while the other arm hangs limp at his side. He’s trying not to move it.
‘How am I going to hide this?’ He thinks.
He has a few basic medical supplies in his room that he keeps for the occasional training injury, but he isn’t sure how effective they’ll be. Going to a healer is a brief consideration that is quickly dismissed. It would definitely get back to Xie Lian that he’s been hurt, and he can’t think of a good excuse to explain away his injuries. No, it will be better to just try to take care of himself. He’s aloof enough that he should be able to avoid too much suspicion.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
The voice comes from behind him, making him jump. He winces, but whirls around, glaring at Feng Xin with the harshest look he can manage.
“What do you want, Feng Xin?” He asks coldly.
Mu Qing does his best to stand normally, hiding the amount of pain he’s in and hoping Feng Xin will just leave him alone quickly.
“You look like shit.” Feng Xin says.
There’s something slightly unreadable in his expression. Shock? Certainly not concern. Not from Feng Xin.
“Tell me something I don’t know for once.”
The words come out half-muttered, and not as forceful as Mu Qing meant for them to. He turns away to continue to his room and hopefully end this interaction.
“Mu Qing, wait.” Feng Xin starts, reaching out to keep him from leaving.
“Leave me-agh!” Mu Qing can’t help crying out as Feng Xin unknowingly grabs his injured wrist.
Feng Xin releases him instantly. He looks…worried? Mu Qing cradles the limb to his chest, staring at Feng Xin for a moment, whose expression morphs into realization. Feng Xin opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but Mu Qing turns away again.
“Hey, wait a minute.”
This time, Feng Xin catches up with him and steps in front of him, blocking him from leaving without touching him. He’s clearly not going to let this go.
“What do you want, Feng Xin?” Mu Qing asks again with an irritated sigh.
“I want to know what happened to you.” Feng Xin says, clearly frustrated. “Zhu An attacked you, didn’t he?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not.”
“What’s it to you? It’s not like you care.” Mu Qing snaps.
Why can’t Feng Xin just leave him alone? Mu Qing is exhausted and hurting and just wants to go back to his room to rest for the remainder of the evening. There’s a feeling of lightheadedness that’s been bothering him since before he got back to the Temple, and it’s only growing worse. He can’t tell Feng Xin any of this.
“Look,” Feng Xin starts, “I know we don’t get along. But you’re clearly hurt, so let me at least help you get to the infirmary or something. Besides, Dianxia would have my head if he knew I found you like this and didn’t do anything.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to the healer. I’m fine. Leave me alone, Feng Xin.”
“This is fine to you? You’re always so stubborn. Fine. Deal with it on your own then. If you can’t even accept help when someone offers it to you, then-”
Feng Xin’s voice sounds like it’s a mile away. Mu Qing tries to focus on what he’s saying, but all his attention is taken up by trying to ignore the spots dancing in his vision and breathe in a way that doesn’t cause him intense pain.
Why does Feng Xin keep saying his name?
The next thing Mu Qing knows, he’s on the floor. His back rests against the wall, and Feng Xin is crouching beside him with a hand on his shoulder. The spots in his vision remain, but at least his hearing is back to normal.
“Mu Qing? Can you hear me?”
He nods, refusing to look up at Feng Xin. He needs to get up. He has to get out of here. Mu Qing tries to stand, only to collapse back to his previous spot when the pain in his ribs is too much.
“All right, that’s it. You need a doctor.”
“No! I’m-”
“Don’t you dare say you’re fine.” Feng Xin interrupts him.
Mu Qing looks defeated.
“Please, Feng Xin,” He nearly whispers, “I’m so tired. Just let me rest.”
Feng Xin’s expression softens.
“Alright.” He finally says with a sigh.
Mu Qing closes his eyes in relief, letting his head rest back against the wall. He’ll give himself a few minutes before he tries to move again. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Feng Xin will still be willing to help him back to his room.
He’s entirely surprised when Feng Xin lifts him into his arms. Mu Qing wants to protest. He doesn’t need anyone taking care of him, especially not someone who clearly hates him. Surely Feng Xin will hold this weakness against him. Will he go off and tell Xie Lian? Will Xie Lian think he’s useless?
“Relax. I’ve got you.” Feng Xin says firmly.
So he does. Mu Qing lets his head drop to Feng Xin’s shoulder. He’s sure he’s imagining it when Feng Xin holds him a little closer.
They turn down a few hallways before he realizes that maybe Feng Xin doesn’t actually know where he’s going. He eventually stops in front of a door.
“This isn’t my room.”
“I know.” Feng Xin says, “It’s mine. I’ll look after you tonight so you can rest. Tomorrow, you’re going to the healer.”
Mu Qing knows he should argue, but he’s so tired, and Feng Xin is so warm, and he feels strangely safe. He decides that maybe he doesn’t want to argue after all.
Feng Xin’s room is nothing if not unexpected. It’s a little bigger than Mu Qing’s, and far more cozy. Everything is warm and earth-toned, and there are a surprising number of trinkets on every surface. It isn’t messy, but it feels relaxed and lived in. A few lanterns cast everything in a soft golden light.
Mu Qing winces as Feng Xin sets him down on the bed. He’s unexpectedly gentle, but the movement still hurts. Mu Qing has rarely seen this side of Feng Xin before; only when Xie Lian is upset about something. Certainly never directed at him.
“Show me.” Feng Xin says. It’s not harsh, but it’s also not a suggestion.
A shaky breath is released, and Mu Qing pulls the top half of his robes open to let Feng Xin look at his ribs. He notices Feng Xin watching his awkward one-handed movements, but he thankfully doesn’t mention it. Mu Qing’s sleeves are long enough to hide his wrist, and he doesn’t feel like looking at it just yet.
“Shit.” Feng Xin breathes. His expression becomes unreadable again. Mu Qing just looks down, unsure what to do.
There are already bruises forming along Mu Qing’s ribs. He’s not surprised, but Feng Xin seems to be, since he didn’t see the intensity of the fight. He’ll just have to be a little more careful over the next few weeks. Both to make sure he doesn’t make it worse, and not let it show.
“Mu Qing, this is bad.” Feng Xin says as he gets a better look.
Anger. Not directed at him.
Worry. Directed at him.
Why?
No one worries about Mu Qing. His mother, maybe, but he tries not to let her know when anything is wrong anymore. He doesn’t want to stress her out. Besides, he’s never sure whether she’ll react with empathy, or tell him something he needs to change about himself. She says she means it with love.
“Mu Qing? Did you hear me?” Feng Xin asks, bringing him back to reality.
“Hm?”
“Here.” Feng Xin says, handing him a bundle of fabric. Clean robes. “Your clothes are filthy. Put these on, but leave them around your waist. I need to go get a few things. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Feng Xin leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mu Qing struggles a bit to change out of his old clothes and into the new ones Feng Xin left for him, but he’s eventually successful. He’s so relieved he didn’t need help with that, at least.
He sits back down on the edge of Feng Xin’s bed, and allows his eyes to wander the room now that he’s alone. He’d never expected Feng Xin to be a collector of trinkets, or to have such an inviting living space. A bit of Xie Lian’s influence over the years, probably. The bed is soft, like it could swallow him whole.
True to his word, Feng Xin is back a few minutes later, hands full of medical supplies that he probably swiped from the infirmary. He drops everything on the bed unceremoniously, and sits down next to Mu Qing. A few seconds of rummaging, and he holds a small vial out to Mu Qing.
“What’s this?” Mu Qing asks, making a face at the odd-colored liquid in the bottle.
“Pain medicine. It looks awful, doesn’t it? They had the better ones locked up, but it should still help some. Hold on.” Feng Xin gets up to grab him a cup of water.
“Feng Xin, did you…steal this stuff?” Mu Qing asks, the faintest smirk on his face.
Feng Xin just responds with a shrug and a smirk of his own.
Mu Qing uncorks the vial and drinks the medicine, quickly followed by the water. It’s awful and bitter. It must show on his face.
“That bad?” Feng Xin asks with an amused huff.
Mu Qing nods.
They fall into silence as Feng Xin starts bandaging Mu Qing’s ribs. Mu Qing can tell how meticulous Feng Xin is being, making sure the bandages aren’t too tight or too loose, and that every bruise is covered. It’s a strange feeling, letting himself be taken care of.
“You don’t have to do this. I know you’re just doing this because of Dianxia.” Mu Qing says.
“I’m not.” Feng Xin says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t even look up.
“What?”
“I’m not doing this for Dianxia. I’m doing this for you.”
Mu Qing doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.
A few more minutes pass before Feng Xin finishes tying off the last of the bandages. He helps Mu Qing get the top half of his robes on, and ties them loosely. They’re a bit too large; only his fingers stick out from the sleeves, and the collar hangs open enough that some of his bandages show. Still, the robes are comfortable and warm.
“Any better?” Feng Xin asks.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Mu Qing responds. “I’m probably okay to go back to my room now. I can have your robes cleaned and give them back to you tomorrow.”
“No.” Feng Xin says as he gets up from where he’s sitting on the bed. “Stand up for a second.”
Mu Qing is confused, but gets up. Feng Xin shifts things around on the bed, pushing the medical supplies out of the way, stacking pillows, and pulling the blankets down on one side. When he’s done, he points at it and looks at Mu Qing.
“Lie down.”
Mu Qing opens his mouth to protest, but Feng Xin cuts him off.
“Do I have to roll my eyes for you to understand? I’m taking care of you.”
Don't fight back...?
It’s not harsh, but Mu Qing complies anyway. Instantly, he never wants to leave. He was right, the bed is soft enough to feel like it will swallow him whole. It’s worlds different from the thin mattress he sleeps on at home, or even the bed he has here at the Temple. He’s half sitting, propped against a stack of pillows to avoid putting too much pressure on his broken ribs. Feng Xin pulls the blankets over him, then sits down cross-legged on the bed beside him.
“Was that so bad?” He asks, amused, but not teasing.
“I guess not.” Mu Qing says, rolling his eyes lightly for good measure.
“Good. Now, let me look at your wrist.” Feng Xin says, holding out his hand.
Mu Qing is a little hesitant, but eventually shifts his arm so Feng Xin can take a look. Feng Xin lifts it carefully, and pushes back Mu Qing’s sleeve. His touches are featherlight. He presses gently in a few places, and tests the range of motion, stopping whenever Mu Qing winces or sucks in a sharp breath.
“I think it’s broken.” Feng Xin says, frowning.
“It is.”
Feng Xin is silent for a moment. He picks up another roll of bandages and gets to work wrapping them around Mu Qing’s wrist.
“They won’t do it again. I promise.” He says quietly, still focused. There's an edge to his voice.
Mu Qing feels ridiculous when tears prick at his eyes. He tries to blink them away, but he can’t. Hopefully Feng Xin won’t see the ones that fall. A light sniff betrays him.
Feng Xin pauses, concerned.
“Mu Qing? Am I hurting you?”
“No.” Mu Qing shakes his head and looks down.
“Then what is it?”
“I just…I’m not used to having someone take care of me.”
Feng Xin nods and goes back to bandaging Mu Qing’s wrist. “You can come to me next time you need help.” He says.
“Thank you.” Mu Qing replies, voice quiet.
They both know he won’t.
“There,” Feng Xin says a few minutes later when he’s done with the bandaging. “Hopefully that helps for now.”
“It does feel better.” Mu Qing says. The bandages aren’t uncomfortably tight, just enough that he won’t be able to move his wrist without trying. Which he certainly won’t. Feng Xin takes another pillow and rests it under his arm.
“One last thing.”
Feng Xin gets up, returning to his spot a moment later with a damp cloth. Mu Qing had almost forgotten about the cut on his cheek until Feng Xin dabs at it carefully, wiping away the dried blood. The injury isn’t serious, but the action is kind. It’s nice to see this side of Feng Xin, even if he never sees it again. Mu Qing lets his eyes close, finally content to just let Feng Xin take care of him.
Several minutes pass in comfortable silence. When Feng Xin eventually pulls his hand away and gets up, Mu Qing finds himself missing the contact. He wants to roll his eyes at himself for that. It was nice while it lasted.
He’s nothing if not surprised when Feng Xin comes back and lies down beside him on top of the blankets, shoulder to shoulder. He says nothing, only picks up a book and opens it to wherever he’d last been reading.
“What are you doing?” Mu Qing asks.
Feng Xin looks at him, confused. “Reading?”
When Mu Qing doesn’t instantly respond, he continues, “There’s still a couple of hours until dinner. You can sleep until then if you want, and I’ll bring our food in here.”
Mu Qing nods. “Thank you, Feng Xin.” He whispers.
“Yeah. Just get some rest, okay?”
Cautiously, Mu Qing leans over, resting his head on Feng Xin’s shoulder for the second time that night. It must surprise Feng Xin, because he pauses turning the page of his book for just a moment. But he doesn’t push Mu Qing away. Instead, he also leans in, letting his head rest on top of Mu Qing’s.
Maybe Mu Qing is allowed to let someone in.
He stays awake for a few more minutes, reading Feng Xin’s book over his shoulder. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this safe.
Just before he falls asleep, he whispers, “Feng Xin?”
“Hm?”
“Your book is boring.”
Feng Xin’s laughter is the last thing he hears.