Archive of Our Own ^beta

Feng Xin hadn't even fully awakened when a voice crackled through the communication array. 

“General Nan Yang, I urgently request your presence at my office.”  

He groaned as he forced himself to wake up. The world outside was barely touched by dawn's light. And while gods technically didn't need sleep, he had been on a relentless streak of missions for the past few months. He was exhausted.

“Now, General.”  

Annoyance flared in Feng Xin's chest, a familiar sensation that he had grown accustomed to over time. (Honestly, he might need to learn how to control his anger better.) But duty called, as it always did, and he forced himself to sit up with a resigned sigh.

Glancing around his room, he sighed as he was met with the messy scenery. Prayer scrolls were scattered disheveledly everywhere. He hadn’t had the time to check them. For weeks, he had been tirelessly pursuing a savage ranked ghost that had wreaked havoc across several villages in the southeast. The swift and elusive ghost had tested his patience before he finally managed to track it down. 

Now that the ghost had been dealt with, Feng Xin had returned to the Heavenly Realm.

It hadn’t even been a week since he returned, a day since he finally finished all the mission’s paperwork to report it to the civil gods, and Ling Wen had already requested him. Honestly, no one can blame him for being grumpy.

Observing the mess once again, he made a mental reminder to ask some of his deputies to organize the clutter scrolls strewn across the room. Finally, with a determined sigh, Feng Xin pushed himself out of his comfortable bed and headed out of his private chamber.

As Feng Xin pushed open the door to Ling Wen's office, his eyes immediately landed on Mu Qing, who was already seated in front of the Civil God. A surge of surprise rippled through him, causing him to slow his steps. His brows knitted in confusion at the unexpected sight of his rival’s presence.

“Look who's finally decided to join us,”  Mu Qing greeted lazily. He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the armrest,  slightly glancing at Feng Xin.

Feng Xin couldn't help but retort, his tone laced with annoyance, “Shut the fuck up. What are you doing here?”

Before Mu Qing could respond, Ling Wen let out a weary sigh. “Generals,”  she addressed them, voice tinged with exhaustion.

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing redirected their focus back to the Civil God. The dark shadows beneath her eyes were as dark as ever, showing evident signs of her fatigue. Despite their usual antagonism, the two Martial Gods felt a pang of sympathy and stopped themselves from arguing. Still frowning, Feng Xin turned to settle into the chair next to Mu Qing. He could feel the other god roll his eyes at him, but he didn’t say a thing.

Ling Wen hummed appreciatively seeing the two Martial Gods comply. She glanced up from her paperwork, gaze meeting Feng Xin's and Mu Qing's, “There has been a surge in prayers from both of the souths this week alone. It appears that an evil spirit, a ghost, has been terrorizing mortal couples.” 

Upon hearing this, he exchanged a puzzled glance with Mu Qing. While not entirely unheard of, a ghost terrorizing both the southeast and the southwest was still rare and clearly not a good sign. “What do you mean, exactly?” he inquired.

“The ghost seems to have developed a sinister interest in relationships. It manipulates emotions, drives mortal couples to turmoil, and incites violence between them. Recently, the ghost's actions have escalated to a point where it's taking mortal lives.” 

“Do we know its motive?”  

Ling Wen paused, her gaze shifting between the two gods as if measuring their reactions. “We're not entirely sure of its motives yet. Our initial assumption is that it's an evil entity seeking chaos and discord for its own satisfaction. But we need to investigate further to understand its origins and goals.”

“You want us to work together to locate and subdue this ghost,”  The Southwest God finally spoke, his lips pursed in a thoughtful expression.

“This case falls under both of your jurisdictions, and your followers have been restless. You two need to act as quickly as possible.” 

Feng Xin let out a resigned sigh. If the ghost had gone as far as serial killing, it became apparent that his followers had grown increasingly troubled. He couldn't help but recall the towering stacks of prayer scrolls back in his room, a twinge of guilt gnawing at him for not having found the time to read them. “Of course,”  he finally replied with a nod.

Now, not that he wanted to admit it, but working alongside Mu Qing didn't feel as unbearable as it once did.

They had reconciled almost two years ago after the battle in Mount Tong’lu. And while Mu Qing remained infuriating and as sarcastic as ever, there was an underlying understanding that had developed between them. 

Outside of their duties and disagreements, they also found themselves spending more time together. On occasion, they ventured to Puqi Shrine, visiting Xie Lian and his god-awful of a husband. There, amidst the laughter and shared stories, they discovered a semblance of friendship that neither of them had expected. 

Of course, they still engaged in frequent bickering, both in heated words and physical clashes, but it lacked the intensity it once held.

“Oh, one more thing,”  Ling Wen retrieved a scroll from her drawer and handed it to Mu Qing, “this scroll contains what we've gathered about the ghost. It appears the ghost is most active during the night. You have some time to review the scroll or whatever else you'd like to do before you commence your mission after the sun sets.”

Ling Wen nodded in dismissal, and Feng Xin rose from his seat, heading out from the Civil God’s office. 

He didn't get far before the sound of Mu Qing's footsteps reached his ears.

“Where are you going?”  

“Back to my chamber. I'm going to make use of the free time we've got before the mission begins.”

Mu Qing hummed in response, not uttering another word, but he continued to trail behind Feng Xin.

Feng Xin allowed Mu Qing to follow him to the Nan Yang Palace, a sight that had surprisingly become increasingly common.

They had been spending a lot of time together recently. When he had first witnessed Mu Qing's confession of only wanting to be f-f-friend, Feng Xin had laughed at the Southwest God's expense. It seemed absurd that someone as seemingly heartless, sarcastic, and cold as Mu Qing had revealed a glimpse of vulnerability. 

Perhaps Feng Xin had secretly anticipated that day for quite some time. 

He’d admit that he hated Mu Qing after he left. 

There was once a time when his priority list only consisted of Taizi Dianxia and Xianle. 

His father, the renowned Great General of Xianle, had tirelessly groomed him to be his successor from the moment he could walk. 

His father was a harsh man. From his earliest memories, Feng Xin's world had been one of training and sparring sessions. The echoing clash of swords and the sensation of muscles straining had become his companions. 

As a naive child, he would return from the harsh training sessions, his small body aching and tired. Little him then would try to seek the comfort and solace that a mother was supposed to provide.

However, his mother would turn a blind eye to his tears, as if he were invisible. No words of consolation or tender hug. Even now, the reason behind her behavior remains a mystery to him. He understood that his parent’s marriage had not been one of love, that his mother may have harbored resentment toward his father, but why extend that disdain to her own child?

The question lingered in his heart, unanswered and haunting.

As soon as he was of age, his parents sent him to the Royal Palace. Though harsh, the pieces of training were proven effective as he was recruited immediately as Taizi Dianxia's bodyguard. Since then, Feng Xin's life has become entwined with his duty. The palace became his new home, and his commitment to his role as protector took priority over any lingering questions about his family.

He was crafted to be a warrior, a protector. His destiny was bound to the defense of Xianle.

Family meant nothing to him, an empty word devoid of warmth and significance.

So he didn’t try to understand Mu Qing. He did not understand Mu Qing. I have to take care of my mother, Mu Qing had said. But what did that matter? Was it more important than Xianle? More important than Taizi Dianxia?

 He did not understand.

Feng Xin remembered hating Mu Qing, as he had betrayed Xianle. As he had betrayed him, a small, selfish voice in his head said. 

His heart ached as he remembered his first day after he ascended as a Martial God. He remembered ignoring Mu Qing's attempts to reach out to him. He remembered telling Mu Qing to fuck off, remembered saying he didn’t want to hear excuses, that he should’ve apologized to Xie Lian and not him. 

He could still picture Mu Qing's pained expression, tears glistening in his eyes. You don’t understand, Mu Qing had pleaded.

What I heard was all excuses, he’d coldly retorted. I don’t want it, you and your victim complex, just go.

He remembered regretting it.

Feng Xin internally sighed. Well, the past is in the past. Now, he thought of Mu Qing’s confession in Mount Tong’lu and how their time together increased significantly following that revelation.  

After the event of Mount Tong’lu, they shared the responsibility of looking after Xie Lian in the aftermath of Crimson Rain's temporary 'death’. Feng Xin also took on the role of ensuring Mu Qing's recovery. 

It was a lengthy process, as Mu Qing's burns had been severe, and it took him a considerable amount of time to regain his strength after the ordeal with the cursed shackle.

He honestly had almost expected that they would return to their old dynamics once Crimson Rain returned. After all, Feng Xin didn't need to nurse Mu Qing as he had fully healed by then, and they no longer had to look after Xie Lian. However, to his surprise, Feng Xin found himself rather enjoying Mu Qing's company. Really, when he learned how to read Mu Qing better, their interactions seemed to flow more smoothly. 

So, yeah, the sight of the two Martial Gods going to each other’s palace was not unusual. Occasionally, Mu Qing would spend time in Feng Xin's chamber. He'd arrive, quietly engrossed in his prayer scrolls, and they'd work together in silence. That’s not all they do, of course. Every now and then, one of them would seek out the other, asking for a sparring match. There were also moments when Feng Xin would find himself in Mu Qing's chamber when he was tired and needed to talk to someone.

“Where have you been?” Mu Qing's voice interrupted his train of thought. As he turned to look at Mu Qing, he noticed the other god sporting a curious expression. 

“There was a savage ghost in the southeast,” Feng Xin began, his hand rubbing the ridge of his brow as fatigue crept over him. “He wasn't particularly strong, but he was fast. It took weeks to hunt him.”

Mu Qing responded with a thoughtful hum, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded Feng Xin’s state. “You sure you can handle this mission?”

Feng Xin sighed, “Oh, fuck off, don't try to start a fight. Of course I can,” he retorted, feeling Mu Qing's sharp gaze directed at his back.

Mu Qing huffed in response, quickening his steps to pass by Feng Xin on his way to the latter's chamber. “I wasn't even trying to start a fight, you fool,” he muttered under his breath.

As Mu Qing stepped into Feng Xin's chamber, his eyes roamed in all directions, taking in the chaotic mess of prayer scrolls that filled the room. “What happened here? A tornado?”

Feng Xin, too tired to engage in banter, ignored Mu Qing's comment. He dragged himself to his seat, slumping into it with an exhausted sigh. When he looked up at Mu Qing, the other god was still gazing at him with an expectant expression, waiting for an answer.

“I haven't had the time to check the prayer scrolls. I've been busy,” Feng Xin replied wearily.

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow in response. “Don't your deputies sort the scrolls before delivering them to your office?” He asked as he moved to sit across from Feng Xin. “You should only have to deal with the important ones.” 

Feng Xin let out a tired chuckle. “Well, I suppose there are quite a few 'important' ones when you haven't checked in for weeks,” He paused. “Where's the mission's scroll? I want to review it.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes but handed over the scroll. “Here. No new information, though. Just what Ling Wen told us,” he explained, tone tinged with irritation. The cluttered room and Feng Xin's disheveled appearance seemed to have irked him more than usual.

“What are you even doing here, anyway?” Feng Xin inquired.

He couldn't help but notice the subtle flinch in Mu Qing's reaction, “Do I need a reason to come here?” 

Feng Xin's expression softened, his irritation momentarily dissipating. “No,”  he sighed, his tone gentle. “No, of course, you're my friend. You're welcome anytime.”

Mu Qing's entire face flushed with embarrassment at his words. He averted his gaze to the left, pretending to find interest in the scattered scrolls beside Feng Xin's desk. “S-shut up,”  he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Before Feng Xin could respond, Mu Qing abruptly stood up, his posture tense. “Whatever, review the scrolls all you want,” he muttered, his cheeks still tinged with red. “I need to get back to my palace. Just meet me at the capital after the sun sets.” With that, Mu Qing left Feng Xin's chamber.

Well…that is to be expected, I guess. If there’s one thing he learned after his reconciliation with Mu Qing, it’s that he seemed to get embarrassed quite easily, and his go-to defense mechanism was to mask these emotions with anger. In fact, it appeared that Mu Qing concealed most of his feelings behind a facade of anger.

Not like Feng Xin was any different.

After Mu Qing's unexpected departure, Feng Xin remained in his chamber for a while. He took a moment to review the scrolls and gather his thoughts, knowing that the mission ahead would require his full focus. Rest was a luxury he rarely indulged in, and he decided to recline in his chair for a brief rest. 

With his eyes closed, he allowed himself to regain some much-needed energy before the impending mission.

—

When Feng Xin arrived at the Heavenly Capital, he found Mu Qing already waiting there.

“Was I late?” He scanned Mu Qing’s demeanor, searching for any sign of irritation or impatience in the other god’s expression. But Mu Qing merely cast a brief glance at him before responding curtly.

“Let's just get on with it.”

Together, they descended to the mortal realm, their descent beginning a few meters away from the circled area specified in Ling Wen's scroll. The sun had already set, casting darkness over the surroundings as they prepared to confront the ghost. 

As they walked, they found themselves standing in the heart of an abandoned field. Tall grasses whispered secrets in the night breeze, and the occasional chirping of nocturnal insects filled the air. The field stretched out before them, like a hauntingly serene canvas meant for battle.

“How do we even lure the ghost out?”  Feng Xin wondered aloud.

Mu Qing forged ahead, his sharp eyes surveying their surroundings. After a thoughtful moment, he cast a fleeting glance back at Feng Xin. “Their last kill was in a village near here yesterday, so they shouldn't be that far.”

“So, we'll just wander aimlessly until we stumble upon the ghost?” Feng Xin couldn't suppress his skepticism, his grip adjusting on the bow he held.

“Have any better ideas?” Mu Qing’s reply carried a tinge of impatience. He moved gracefully through the field, his hair shimmering under the silvery rays.

Now, Feng Xin wasn't oblivious. He was well aware that Mu Qing was beautiful. He has eyes, and people talk. From Heavenly Officials to mere mortals, it seemed like they all agreed with Mu Qing’s undeniable beauty. 

As he gazed at his friend before him, Feng Xin couldn’t help but be momentarily captivated by the sight. Mu Qing’s black and red robe clung to his lithe form, accentuating his graceful physique. His hair, a cascade of midnight black, fell around his shoulders.

Shaking his head, he focused on the scene around him. Their exploration, however, came to an abrupt halt when Mu Qing unexpectedly stopped in his tracks. Feng Xin, who was right behind him, was caught off guard and almost collided with Mu Qing.

“What the fu–” 

Mu Qing shushed him, “Do you feel it?”

“Feel wh–”  Feng Xin started but then ceased as realization dawned. “The ghost is here.” 

“They're watching us.”

At his side, Mu Qing drew his Zhanmadao from his side. Feng Xin notched an arrow on his bow, ready to draw at a moment's notice. They exchanged a knowing glance, a silent understanding passing between them.

All of a sudden, a ghost emerged from the darkness. Mu Qing and Feng Xin braced themselves, spiritual power coursing through their veins.

Without warning, the ghost unleashed a fierce assault. Her movements were blurry as she struck at them. 

Mu Qing was fast. He met every strike from the ghost. Feng Xin, on the other hand, drew his bowstring taut and released an arrow imbued with spiritual energy. The arrow precisely cut through the ghost's thigh, and for a second, there was silence. 

Within the next second, the ghost vanished.

“What?” 

Mu Qing remained rooted in his place, where the ghost had been in front of him a mere second ago. His brows knitted in confusion, “Something’s not right.”

Both gods remained on high alert, their senses on edge. Just what the fuck was the ghost woman planning?

“You,” a woman's voice suddenly pierced the silence. It was undoubtedly the ghost, yet there were no visible signs of her presence anywhere around them.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them shuddered violently, sending tremors through their bodies. Feng Xin fought to regain his footing, his gaze never wavering from Mu Qing, who was struggling against the earth's sudden instability. A heartbeat later, an army of ghosts emerged from the ground, marching at the two Martial Gods.

“Watch out!” He heard Mu Qing yell a few feet away from him.

Without hesitation, Feng Xin nocked multiple arrows and unleashed them quickly, each finding its mark and striking down the ghosts around him. The ghosts were relatively weak; however, their sheer numbers were overwhelming. Feng Xin's heart raced, and his thoughts raced even faster. The odds were now stacked against them.

At a certain point, he ceased drawing his bow and instead channeled his spiritual energy to ignite flames that engulfed the ghosts surrounding him. 

Feng Xin's senses were stretched to their limits. His heart raced, and his muscles burned from the exertion. 

Amidst the turmoil, a voice reached him, a voice he recognized all too well – Mu Qing's.

Feng Xin's attention snapped towards Mu Qing just as the other god momentarily let his guard down. Behind him, a ghost with its claws bared lurked menacingly, poised to strike.

In that breathless moment, time seemed to slow. Feng Xin's mind raced as he assessed the situation. With reflexes honed through centuries of combat, he acted faster than he ever had in his 800 years of existence. His fingers released the bowstring, and an arrow was unleashed. It sailed through the air, piercing the ghost's head, defeating it instantly, and preventing it from harming Mu Qing. 

Fury coursed through Feng Xin's veins like an inferno. He couldn't believe the recklessness of the other god's actions. In a moment of sheer desperation, he yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice laced with both anger and fear.

“Idiot! Focus!” The words were a harsh reprimand, a desperate plea hidden beneath the rage. 

His eyes bore into Mu Qing's, his grip on the bow tightened, knuckles white with tension as he tried to shake sense into the other god. “You could've fucking died!”

“Stupid, it would take more than that to kill me.” Mu Qing retorted with a mixture of irritation and a faint hint of amusement, his usual response to Feng Xin's outbursts. He wiped away the blood splatter from the defeated ghost, his saber gleaming ominously under the moonlight.

“Don't push your luck, Xuan Zhen.”

They continued to battle the remaining ghosts one by one. Slowly, the number of ghosts decreased, but with each passing second, the two gods grew increasingly exhausted. 

Sweat streamed down Feng Xin's face, and an ache settled into his bones. He cast a glance at Mu Qing, who still fought gracefully. But Feng Xin knew better; by the way Mu Qing’s eyes darkened, he was slowly getting tired. 

Honestly, if they kept this up, exhaustion would catch up to them.

After some time, Feng Xin summoned a vast amount of his spiritual energy, igniting a brilliant fire that incinerated the ghosts surrounding them. This time, Mu Qing joined in, channeling his power to aid him.

Gasping for breath and with their bodies heavy from the battle, Feng Xin and Mu Qing locked eyes, their exhaustion evident. 

He began to walk toward Mu Qing when the ghostly woman's voice rang out once more.

“Fools,” the ghost woman reappeared out of nowhere. 

This time, she directed her formidable power squarely at Feng Xin.

Feng Xin swiftly dodged the ghost's attack, his eyes widening. Holy shit, he was so utterly drained.

“You took everything away from me,” the ghost hissed, slashing her sword towards Feng Xin. 

Feng Xin's movement barely spared him from the ghost's lethal strike. His heart pounded against his ribs, and exhaustion clawed at every inch of his being. The ghost's words hung in the air, making him pause for a moment, taken aback. “What?”

At his hesitation, the ghost tried to seize the opportunity, thrusting her sword towards him while he was distracted.

To his side, Mu Qing moved with all the grace and speed he possessed, his saber poised for a strike. But the ghost seemed to have expected this as she quickly repositioned her sword to intercept Mu Qing's attack.

Suddenly, the ghost erupted into a chilling, maniacal laughter. Her eyes gleamed as she uttered, “You,” with a tone that sent shivers down Feng Xin's spine, “You'll do.”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Feng Xin's stomach. 

He had always regarded Mu Qing as a cautious and strategic fighter. But in this moment, it was as if something had ignited within Mu Qing, setting him ablaze with fury and impulsiveness.

What happened next felt like an eternity. 

As the unfolding tragedy stretched on, the scenery around him seemed to hold its breath. Every movement felt like slow-motion; each breath was an uphill struggle, and the tension hung heavy in the air.

Feng Xin watched helplessly as the ghost's sword found its target, the blade piercing Mu Qing's chest, right into his core. 

No, he thought. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

This couldn’t– What? This isn’t right.

Mu Qing was a powerful god, one of the strongest people Feng Xin ever knew.

This isn’t right.

Feng Xin's world shattered as he watched Mu Qing fall, the ghost withdrawing her sword with a sinister smile. 

In that moment, fury consumed him, a rage unlike any he had ever experienced before. Driven by desperation, Feng Xin lunged at the ghost with every ounce of his remaining strength. However, the ghost's swiftness proved overwhelming, and Feng Xin's attack ended in failure.

“You took everything away from me. Now it's my turn,” the ghost whispered. Feng Xin spun around, searching for the source of the voice, but there was no one in sight.

“Pity,” the ghost continued mockingly, Feng Xin desperately scanned his surroundings; the ghost had disappeared, again, “you never know what's important until you've lost them, right?”

But Feng Xin couldn't care less about the ghost's words. His sole focus was on Mu Qing. Ignoring the ghost's comment, he rushed to his fallen friend's side, heart pounding with dread as he desperately checked on Mu Qing's condition.

“Nan Yang, oh, you deserve worse than this,” she muttered, her voice laced with anger and sorrow. “I have to make sure you experience this over and over again, then.”

He couldn’t feel the ghost’s presence anymore, what a coward.

Mu Qing kept his eyes closed, his face strained in agony. Blood had splattered across him, staining his robes, pooling around his mouth, and marring the ground beneath him. 

Desperation welled within Feng Xin as he whispered, “No, Mu Qing,”  his trembling hands frantically sought the other’s pulse. He let out a breath when he could feel the pulse beating weakly.

“Hey, hey, open your eyes,” Feng Xin desperately called, “fucker, if you don’t open your eyes, I will fucking kill you myself.” He gently lifted Mu Qing's body, cradling him across his lap, his arms enveloping his rival's form protectively.

He attempted to transfer his spiritual energy to Mu Qing in a desperate bid to help the other heal faster, but it barely did anything. The fierce battle had sapped almost all of Feng Xin's spiritual energy.

He couldn’t even muster enough power to ascend. 

The gravity of their situation pressed down on him. His mind raced as he desperately sought a solution. Lifting a trembling hand to his forehead, he reached out to activate the communication array, the connection sparking to life with a flicker of hope.

“Backup!” Feng Xin's voice trembled with urgency as he pleaded into the array. His heart pounded in his chest as he continued, “I need backup. Xuan Zhen is heavily injured. I need a medical god. Please, hurry!” 

He couldn't recall a time when fear had gripped him so tightly.

“–ng Xin?” 

“Here, I’m here.”  he tightened his grip on Mu Qing, “Help is coming. You need to stay awake” 

Mu Qing slowly opened his eyes, looking at Feng Xin with an expression he couldn’t recognize. 

“I'm sorry,” Mu Qing whispered, his voice quivering as tears welled up in his eyes. “I-I–”  A painful cough racked through him, staining his words with blood.

Feng Xin's heart ached, and his own eyes welled with tears. He couldn't bear to see The Great, Powerful, and Divine Xuan Zhen like this. 

Mu Qing was never supposed to end like this.

“What the fuck are you sorry for? Don't say another word.” 

“For–,”  Mu Qing tried to continue, but Feng Xin wasn’t having none of it. Tears streamed down Feng Xin's face as he held Mu Qing close. “Apologize to me after you healed.”

Mu Qing, in his typical stubborn fashion, refused. “N-No,”  he whispered weakly. “I know you hate me, but—”

“I don't hate you,” Feng Xin interrupted. How could Mu Qing think of something like this when he was literally dying?

“You hated me, same diff—”

“It's not the same fucking thing,” Feng Xin snapped.

“Can you stop interrupting me? I'm dying,” Mu Qing snapped, though his glare lacked its usual intensity.

Feng Xin was overwhelmed by emotion, gripping Mu Qing's body a little tighter. He refused to think that the other god was dying, he refused. “You're not,” he glared back at his rival, “You're not dying.”

Mu Qing’s gaze softened before he closed his eyes. “You’re the only constant thing in my life for over 800 years, you know?” 

Tears continued to roll down Feng Xin's cheeks as he poured out his feelings. “Back up will come. You will survive,” he declared. His fingers gently caressed Mu Qing's hair as he spoke. “I will personally nurse you back to health, and after that, you better bet I will be with you through every mission. I don't care if you don't want it; I will protect you and make sure this shit won't happen again.”

Feng Xin heard Mu Qing's soft chuckle, “You can't just protect everyone,” Mu Qing countered gently.

“I'm not protecting everyone! I'm protecting you!”  Feng Xin's voice broke, and he leaned closer to Mu Qing. “You—You are the only constant thing in my life for over 800 years, you said it yourself. You can't just suddenly leave me here alone!” 

As Mu Qing slowly opened his eyes once more, Feng Xin noticed a profound change in them. The light that had usually been there was now replaced with emptiness.

“Don't cry. You're an ugly crier,” Mu Qing weakly teased, mustering a small smile as he reached up to caress Feng Xin's face. His touch was feeble. “–m tired, A’xin. I'm sorry.”

Feng Xin felt his heart sink as Mu Qing's hand fell from his face, “No,” he whispered desperately, refusing to accept the idea of losing the person who had been his constant companion for centuries.

“No,” Feng Xin's hands trembled as he checked Mu Qing's pulse, desperately searching for a sign of life. His heart pounded in his chest, and a wave of grief and denial washed over him. It couldn't end like this. Not after all they had been through together.

But there was none. His pulse was no longer beating. The Martial God of the Southwest was dead.

As he held Mu Qing's lifeless form, an all-encompassing wave of grief and hopelessness washed over him. He couldn't bear the thought of a world without Mu Qing in it.

This isn’t real, this isn’t real.

Mu Qing was supposed to be his eternal companion, an unchanging presence in his life. Where Feng Xin stood, Mu Qing should be beside him. Mu Qing had been a constant by his side through all the stages of their relationship, from childhood rivalry to begrudging allies and finally to friends. For 800 years, they had faced challenges together.

He never knew the world would feel colder, darker, and lonelier without Mu Qing. 

It felt like a part of his soul had been torn away, and he was left with an aching void that nothing could fill.

Time blurred into a hazy, unrecognizable sequence of events after that moment. It felt like an eternity before help finally arrived. 

Too late, Feng Xin wanted to curse them out. They helped him ascend back to heaven with Mu Qing's lifeless form cradled in his arms. He refused to let anyone else touch the Southwest God, holding onto him as if he could bring Mu Qing back by sheer willpower alone.

As Feng Xin walked through the Heavenly Capital, he felt the weight of countless eyes upon him. Most of those gazes were fixed on Mu Qing's lifeless body, their whispers and hushed conversations a stark contrast to the usual bustling activity of the heavenly realm. He couldn't help but wonder if any of Xuan Zhen's deputies were there among them.

The ache in Feng Xin's heart deepened as he considered how much the Xuan Zhen deputies loved and admired Mu Qing. He knew firsthand the bond between Mu Qing and his subordinates, understanding how much Mu Qing cared for them in return. This public display of tragedy must have sent shockwaves throughout them, leaving everyone in disbelief.

It all transpired in a hazy blur. Feng Xin's memory of the events was fragmented and disjointed. He recalled feeling a wave of overwhelming anger when someone had told him to release his grip on Mu Qing's lifeless form. He remembered how others eventually subdued his furious protests, and the nameless medical god carefully cradled Mu Qing's body away from him.

Amid this chaos, another medical god attended to Feng Xin, checking him for injuries or signs of exhaustion. But Feng Xin's mind was a whirlwind of emotions and fatigue.

Eventually, he found himself standing at the entrance of his palace, the weight of the night's events pressing down upon him. He made his way to his bed with heavy steps, collapsing onto it without bothering to change out of his armor. The moment his head touched the pillow, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the embrace of sleep.

–

Feng Xin stomped through the surroundings with growing irritation. He cared deeply for his friend, Xie Lian; he had sworn to protect him with his life, after all! But at times, he couldn't help but feel exasperated by Dianxia's carefree and wandering nature. The sun was gradually sinking beneath the horizon, and it was time for them to return to the Royal Palace, yet there was no sign of Dianxia.

He had been scouring the vast expanse of Mount Taicang for what felt like an eternity, a full 30 minutes of fruitless searching. His impatience grew with each passing moment, and he couldn't help but grumble under his breath as he called out for Dianxia.

As Feng Xin continued to walk, the sound of voices caught his attention. He turned his gaze towards the left, where a massive cherry tree stood. There, he saw a group of kids from the cultivation sect gathered in a circle around someone who was on their knees.

Feng Xin's eyes narrowed as he recognized the person on their knees. It was Mu Qing, the new personal attendant of Dianxia. It had been a few months since Dianxia took pity on Mu Qing and assigned him this role. Feng Xin didn't particularly like Mu Qing; he found him odd, quiet, and often uncooperative. He knew Mu Qing was up to no good.

Mu Qing was different. He was not from wealth. His background was far from prestigious; his father had been a criminal, a fact that would surely raise eyebrows if it were widely known. Feng Xin found it difficult to fathom what Dianxia had been thinking when he made this decision. While he held great respect for His Highness, there were moments when he questioned the wisdom of some of Dianxia's choices. However, he decided it was best to keep such thoughts to himself and not voice them to anyone, especially not to Dianxia himself.

The kids were hurling insults and derogatory remarks at Mu Qing, berating him for supposedly taking advantage of Dianxia's kindness to study cultivation with them. The cruelty of their words was appalling, but what followed was even more shocking. Without warning, one of the kids kicked Mu Qing in the stomach, sending him sprawling backward. 

It was as if a dam had burst, and the rest of the group descended upon Mu Qing, delivering a series of brutal kicks and punches.

Feng Xin couldn’t stand watching it and rushed forward, his voice thundering with outrage. “Hey! What the fuck is happening here!”

His voice echoed through the cherry tree grove, startling the kids who had been tormenting Mu Qing. Feng Xin was not known for his patience, and he had reached the limits of his tolerance.

One of the kids stammered, “F-Feng Xin, we were just teaching this guy a lesson.”

Feng Xin's glare could have withered flowers. “Teaching him a lesson by beating him to a pulp? Are you idiots out of your minds?” He took a step closer, trying to present as intimidating and commanding.

Mu Qing, still on the ground, had his head bowed, and his face was hidden by his long hair. His silence was unnerving.

Feng Xin was not in the mood for excuses. “You, step aside,” he ordered, pointing at the kid who had instigated the violence. The kid hesitated but quickly obeyed, stepping away from Mu Qing.

He knelt beside Mu Qing, his expression softening momentarily as he assessed the damage. Mu Qing's clothes were torn, and his face bruised and bloodied from the onslaught. Feng Xin couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness. His dislikes of Mu Qing aside, this was beyond cruel.

“You okay?” Feng Xin asked. His tone surprisingly gentle.

Mu Qing didn't respond immediately. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met Feng Xin's briefly before he nodded. There was a mixture of emotions in those eyes, but Feng Xin couldn't quite decipher them all.

Feng Xin turned back to the kids, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. “This better not happen again. Next time, Both me and Taizi Dianxia won't be so forgiving. Now get lost.”

The kids scattered, leaving Feng Xin alone with Mu Qing.

“You need to learn how to fight back,” Feng Xin finally blurted out, unable to contain his exasperation any longer.

He watched Mu Qing's downcast expression, his frustration growing with each passing moment. It wasn't that he expected a hero's welcome for intervening in the bullying, but Mu Qing's complete lack of response was testing his patience.

Feng Xin gritted his teeth, trying to keep his temper in check. He knew Mu Qing had a tendency to withdraw into his own thoughts, but this was pushing it too far.

“You–” Feng Xin paused, taking a deep breath to quell his impatience. “Say something! You can't just shut everyone out like this, you know?”

Slowly, Mu Qing lifted his gaze, locking his eyes with Feng Xin. “What do you want?” 

Feng Xin blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the question. “What do I– What?” he repeated, his own frustration now mingling with confusion.

Mu Qing's expression remained unreadable. “Why did you interfere?” 

“Why?” Feng Xin repeated. “Because I couldn't just stand there and let them beat you senseless! You're Dianxia's attendant, for Heaven's sake.”

“So, you did it for Dianxia's sake?” 

Feng Xin clenched his fists, feeling a surge of irritation. “I did it because it was the right thing to do!”

Mu Qing's gaze remained fixed on him, and there was a hint of something in those eyes that Feng Xin couldn't quite decipher. It was like Mu Qing was testing him, probing for a reaction.

“Right thing to do, huh?” Mu Qing finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

Feng Xin frowned, still trying to grasp the meaning behind Mu Qing's words. 

“What do you mean by that?” Feng Xin asked, his tone laced with confusion. He couldn't shake the feeling that Mu Qing was toying with him, and it grated on his nerves. “Mu Qing,” Feng Xin began, choosing his words carefully, “are you okay?”

“Fine.” Mu Qing said curtly. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

He really, really couldn’t understand Mu Qing even if he tried, “Do what?”

“Help me.”

“You know what, whatever,” Feng Xin muttered, getting to his feet. He really doesn’t have the patience to deal with Mu Qing’s antics. “Do whatever you want. Don’t expect me to come to your rescue next time.”

He turned to leave, his emotions in turmoil. Mu Qing's cryptic words had left him feeling more frustrated and confused than ever.

–

Feng Xin hadn't even fully awakened when a voice crackled through the communication array. 

“General Nan Yang, I urgently request your presence at my office,” He heard Ling Wen's voice echoing in his head.

He groaned as he forced himself to wake up. The world outside was barely touched by dawn's light. And while gods technically didn't need sleep, he had been on a relentless streak of missions for the past few months. He was exhausted.

“Now, General.” 

Annoyance flared in Feng Xin's chest, a familiar sensation that he had grown accustomed to over time. (Honestly, he might need to learn how to control his anger better.) But duty called, as it always did, and he forced himself to sit up with a resigned sigh.

Glancing around his room, he sighed as he was met with the messy scenery. Prayer scrolls were scattered disheveledly everywhere. He hadn’t had the time to check them. For weeks, he had been— 

Wait, what had he been doing exactly?

Groaning, he tried to recall the details, but his mind felt muddled. The exhaustion from his recent missions must have finally caught up with him.

Observing the mess once again, he made a mental reminder to ask some of his deputies to organize the clutter scrolls strewn across the room. Finally, with a determined sigh, Feng Xin pushed himself out of his comfortable bed and headed out of his private chamber.

As Feng Xin pushed open the door to Ling Wen's office, his eyes immediately landed on Mu Qing, who was already seated in front of the Civil God. A surge of surprise rippled through him, causing him to slow his steps. His brows knitted in confusion at the unexpected sight of his rival’s presence.

(There was a terrifying feeling in his gut. Screaming at him, something was wrong. )

“Look who's finally decided to join us,” Mu Qing greeted lazily.

(Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong. )

Feng Xin couldn't help but retort, his tone laced with annoyance, “Oh, shut the fuck up. What are you doing here?”

Before Mu Qing could respond, Ling Wen let out a weary sigh. “Generals,” she addressed them, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

Still frowning, Feng Xin turned to settle into the chair next to Mu Qing. He could feel the other god roll his eyes at him, but he didn’t say a thing.

Clearing her throat, Ling Wen glanced up from her paperwork, her gaze meeting Feng Xin's and Mu Qing's, “There has been a surge in prayers from both of the souths this week alone. It appears that an evil spirit, a ghost, is wreaking havoc on mortal couples.”

But as the conversation unfolded, Feng Xin felt a growing sense of déjà vu. Ling Wen's words, her urgency, and the way the room was lit by the soft morning sun felt eerily familiar. It was as if he had lived this moment before.

(Something was wrong.)

Ling Wen explained the situation, her words echoing in Feng Xin's ears. It was the same case, the same request for his assistance.

Tensing, he scanned Mu Qing’s appearance on his left. Pale skin shimmering in the soft office lighting, accentuating the elegant lines of his face—Mu Qing with blood splattered across him, staining his robes, pooling around his mouth, marring the ground beneath him.

He remembered cradling Mu Qing, the other god’s light had dimmed, and despair had filled his eyes. He remembered the tears, the desperate pleas for help, and the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that had consumed him.

He remembered a part of him had died that day.

“General Nan Yang,” Ling Wen's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Are you listening?” 

Feng Xin nodded absentmindedly to Ling Wen's question, his thoughts still preoccupied. He could feel Mu Qing's gaze on him.

As Ling Wen continued to explain the situation, Feng Xin found himself sinking deeper into his thoughts. The memories of this day, this mission that would inevitably lead to Mu Qing's death. Was it a mere dream, a vision, or something more ominous? The line between reality and dream blurred, leaving him in disarray.

As Ling Wen dismissed them, Feng Xin couldn't get out of her office fast enough. His footsteps echoed loudly in the corridor, and he could sense Mu Qing following closely behind. Ignoring the other god, Feng Xin quickened his pace, desperate to escape the suffocating grip of those memories.

However, Mu Qing had other plans. He suddenly stepped in front of Feng Xin, effectively blocking his path. His brows were furrowed, and his expression seemed angry, but Feng Xin knew better, “What is wrong with you?” Mu Qing asked, no, he demanded .

“Nothing!” Feng Xin replied a bit too quickly. He wanted to be in his private chamber as fast as possible, to find solace and time to think. “I'm just tired. I need some rest before we head out for our mission.”

Mu Qing responded with a thoughtful hum, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded Feng Xin’s state. “You sure you can handle this mission?”

“Yeah,” Feng Xin insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. “I just need some rest.”

Mu Qing stepped aside, allowing Feng Xin to go to his chamber. But Feng Xin could still hear Mu Qing following him.

“I'm coming with you,” Mu Qing said firmly.

With a resigned sigh and a desire to avoid an argument, Feng Xin relented and allowed Mu Qing to accompany him to his chamber.

As they entered Feng Xin's chamber, Mu Qing remained uncharacteristically silent. His critical gaze swept over Feng Xin’s messy chamber, earning a scoff from him. “I'm going to make some tea. You go rest,” he declared before proceeding with his plan.

Feng Xin watched Mu Qing with a detached air. His deputies might find it perplexing to see General Xuan Zhen bustling around, preparing tea in his palace. However, he didn't dwell on such concerns.

As he settled into a chair, the unsettling images of Mu Qing, limp and lifeless, haunted his thoughts. Was it a dream? A vision? The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he couldn't escape the relentless grip of dread and confusion.

The shock of it all still reverberated through Feng Xin's mind. A companion of eight centuries, a constant in his tumultuous life, had been snatched away in the blink of an eye. The sensation was akin to having the earth ripped from beneath his feet, leaving him suspended in a void of disbelief and grief. 

As the memories of that dreadful moment consumed him, he couldn't help but feel the overwhelming weight of sorrow pressing down on him like an inescapable, suffocating shroud. The room seemed to close in on him, the walls closing in as if to mirror the crushing weight of him. 

He clutched at his own chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his robe, as if trying to alleviate the pain physically. His thoughts spiraled into chaos, a whirlwind of guilt, regret, and anguish.

Images of Mu Qing, lifeless and still, flashed before his eyes. He could hear his friend's voice, see his face contorted in pain, and it was all too much. It was all too much.

Tears welled up, blurring his vision as he struggled to regain control. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of it all, but the words caught in his throat.

It felt like the walls were closing in, a suffocating prison of memories. And he needed to escape, to run from the haunting images that threatened to consume him. But there was nowhere to go, no refuge from the cruelness of his own memories. The panic tightened its grip, threatening to drag him into an abyss of despair.

That was how Mu Qing found him. 

Without a word, he set the tea on his table and sat beside Feng Xin. He didn't attempt to console or offer empty words of comfort. Instead, he reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Feng Xin's shoulder. 

In that vulnerable moment, without warning or hesitation, Feng Xin turned to his side and wrapped his arms around Mu Qing. Immediately, Mu Qing tensed, taken aback by the suddenness of the embrace. But then he felt the tremors running through Feng Xin's frame, the unspoken pain that the other was going through. Slowly, the tension in Mu Qing's body melted away, and he reciprocated the hug.

As Feng Xin held Mu Qing in his arms, he vividly recalled his speech in that haunting vision – the promise to be with Mu Qing through every mission, to protect him. 

He couldn't erase the memories of Mu Qing's death, but he could change their fate this time.

They were bound by more than just friendship; they were bound by the promise of a future together, one where Mu Qing would not meet a premature end. Feng Xin would do whatever it took to protect the person who had been a constant in his life for over 800 years.

Feng Xin was born a warrior, a protector. He shall not fail.

As the minutes passed, Feng Xin's grip on Mu Qing slowly loosened, “I’m sorry.” He murmured.

Mu Qing appeared to scrutinize Feng Xin's expression for a moment, his brows furrowing in concern. “There's something you’re not telling me.” Sighing, he offered Feng Xin a cup of chamomile tea.  “Drink this. It'll help you relax and get some rest.”

“You know,” Feng Xin said as he took the cup of tea from Mu Qing’s hand, I'm really grateful that we're friends now,”  He admitted. 

He could see Mu Qing's cheeks reddened slightly at his words. And in typical Mu Qing’s behavior, he quickly composed himself and stood up, “I have some matters to attend to. Get some sleep, and meet me at the capital after the sun sets.”

With that, Mu Qing left Feng Xin's chamber. Feeling a bit more at ease, Feng Xin finished his tea and settled down to rest, his mind a little clearer than before.

– 

Feng Xin’s first plan was not to rely on his spiritual power, given the disastrous outcome the last time they used it, which had left them both weakened.

That plan proved to be ineffective, though. As he assessed the dire situation with an army of ghosts surrounding them, he realized that using their weapons alone wouldn't be enough.

Reluctantly, he abandoned his first plan and opted for the second one. Feng Xin raised his hand to his forehead, “Reinforcement!”  He shouted at the communication array, “We need help.”

Upon hearing this, Mu Qing scoffed beside him, “What? We can handle this ourselves.”

Feng Xin ignored him. He knew of Mu Qing's pride, and he could practically hear his friend's disdain for needing outside help. But the overwhelming number of ghosts left them with little choice.

The battle raged on, and Feng Xin and Mu Qing fought side by side, their movements in sync as if they had been doing this for centuries – which, in a sense, they had. They were a formidable duo, their weapons slashing through the ghostly figures with precision and power.

He released a powerful burst of fire to the ghosts around them. Amid the stillness that followed the fiery explosion, Feng Xin remained vigilant, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the ghost woman's presence.

Mu Qing, too, stood on guard, his saber at the ready. The field around them was eerily quiet, the once-advancing army of ghosts now reduced to ashes. 

Time seemed to stretch as they waited, the tension in the air palpable. Where was the reinforcement they had called for? Each passing second seemed to mock him, and the tension in the air grew more suffocating. 

Feng Xin's mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategies and possibilities. He couldn't afford to underestimate their foe, not after witnessing her ferocity in his vision.

And then, as if materializing from thin air, the ghost woman reappeared. Her form emerged from the darkness, her eyes fixed on Feng Xin with so much hatred that Feng Xin asked himself if he had met and personally wronged the ghost before. 

“Fools,”  the ghost woman's voice echoed, she directed her strength squarely at Feng Xin.

But he was ready this time. He knew what to do. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

Feng Xin fought like a warrior possessed, his attacks fueled by a primal need to protect. Every swing of his bow was precise, every arrow aimed with deadly accuracy. He moved with an intensity that could only be born of desperation.

Feng Xin knew that he couldn't afford to lose. Not again. The memory of Mu Qing's death in the vision weighed heavily on his heart, and he couldn't let it happen for the second time. 

The assault from the ghost bore down on Feng Xin like a storm. Her attacks were fast, a ruthless barrage of strikes that pushed him to the brink of exhaustion. He could hear Mu Qing's frantic shouts in the background, but he couldn't afford to be distracted. His focus remained locked on the ghost that sought to end him.

When the ghost suddenly disappeared, panic surged through him. Not another trick.

“Mu Qing!”  He shouted, needing to ensure the other god's safety amid the chaos.

“Here.”  Feng Xin's heart leaped with relief at the sound of Mu Qing's voice behind him. It was a reassurance, a beacon of hope that he was unharmed in the midst of danger.

But that relief was short-lived. Before he could react, a whispering voice sent shivers down his spine, and he felt the ghost's presence behind him. Time seemed to slow as he turned, his heart pounding in his chest, but it was too late.

“Got you,” the ghost whispered, and her sword descended toward him. Feng Xin couldn't move, couldn't escape the impending strike. He didn’t feel anything.

He didn’t feel anything.

A paralyzing horror struck him as he turned around, watching as Mu Qing took the deadly blow meant for him.

Realization dawned within him: Mu Qing had sacrificed himself to save him.

No, no, this couldn’t be. How did he fail again?

As he witnessed Mu Qing fall, he caught a glimpse of the ghost in front of Mu Qing, smirking before she disappeared into thin air.

Emotions swirled tumultuously within him: rage, desperation, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

As someone raised as a warrior and a protector, Feng Xin has failed to protect the people he cared for most often. It was a burden that he had come to know intimately, one that haunted him in his darkest moments. He recalled the haunting memories of the Xianle War, where he had been unable to shield his own parents from the chaos and brutality of battle.

Feng Xin's thoughts then turned to Taizi Dianxia, someone he had sworn to safeguard. Yet, repeatedly, he had failed in his duty, leaving Taizi Dianxia vulnerable and exposed. The guilt for his negligence gnawed at him, an ever-present reminder of his shortcomings.

And now, as he cradled the lifeless form of his companion of 800 years, his closest friend, it was as if the accumulated failures of a lifetime had converged upon him. 

Mu Qing, who had become an inseparable part of his existence, was gone, and Feng Xin's heart bled with the knowledge that he had failed to protect the one who was essentially half of his soul.

Mu Qing. His closest friend. An inseparable part of his existence. Half of his soul.

Tears blurred his vision, and he couldn't stop the torrent of curses that poured from his lips. Shit! Shit! Shit! He choked on his own helplessness, his chest heaving with sobs that tore through him like a knife. The promise to protect Mu Qing had been his most sacred vow, one he had sworn to uphold at any cost. But here he was, broken and defeated, having failed for the second time.

That dream, that godforsaken vision had warned him, had screamed at him not to let history repeat itself. He fucking saw it coming, he still failed.  

He clutched Mu Qing's lifeless hand, as if hoping to find some warmth, some sign of life that had been stolen from him.

Nothing. Mu Qing was dead. Once again.

Maybe a part of him died too.

He didn't even recall ascending to the heavens, didn't remember when he had handed Mu Qing over to a medical god. All he knew was that he eventually found himself back in his own palace, a place that had once been a haven but now felt empty and hollow. 

-

There was once a time when Feng Xin thought his relationship with Mu Qing could lead to something else, something more. 

He hated Mu Qing. Couldn't stand how proud and determined Mu Qing always appeared. He hated that despite the constant bullying from other kids in the cultivation sect and the Guoshi himself, Mu Qing never uttered a word of complaint. He remained stoic, rarely showing any emotion and keeping his thoughts to himself

Mu Qing was an enigma to those around him, a figure of icy reserve and self-control. He was quiet and reserved in front of most people, soft-spoken and compliant in front of Dianxia. 

Yet, when he was in Feng Xin's presence, Mu Qing shed his mask of cold indifference and embraced a fiery, sarcastic persona. He would talk back. His words were sharp and unapologetic, a stark contrast to his usual coldness. Their interactions often evolved into heated arguments, even physical fights sometimes! Mu Qing had no qualms about defending himself when he was with Feng Xin.

It left Feng Xin baffled. Why couldn't he stand up for himself with the same fiery spirit when confronted by the other kids from the cultivation sect? Not like Feng Xin was worried, of course.

He had held the hope that Mu Qing's timidity would fade after they were both appointed as Dianxia's deputies following Dianxia's ascension. However, just a few strides ahead, Feng Xin stumbled upon Mu Qing. He stood there, head bowed, as a Martial God berated him mercilessly.

“What? How could you mess up such a simple task? Even a mortal could perform it flawlessly.”

“My apologies, General, but there were several factors to consider—” 

“I care not for your considerations,”  the god interrupted harshly. “Just do your job.” His tone grew more contemptuous. “You,” he grumbled, “I initially gave you the benefit of the doubt, but honestly, how are you even a middle-court official? I'm starting to think those rumors are true — that you're nothing more than a charity case.”

Mu Qing tensed, his jaw clenched, but he remained quiet. The god scrutinized Mu Qing for a moment before sighing condescendingly. “You're utterly useless. Although—” He lifted Mu Qing's chin, “With a pretty face like yours, I might know a thing or two about how to put it to good use.”

A red-hot rage coursed through Feng Xin. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he had become so fiercely defensive of his friend, so protective, even. Yet, every fiber of his being screamed at him to remove Mu Qing from the clutches of that vile god.

“General,” Feng Xin exclaimed as he walked towards them.

The god shifted his attention to Feng Xin, a sly amusement dancing in his eyes. “Oh?” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “It appears you both came as a pair, didn't you?” He released his grip on Mu Qing's chin.

Feng Xin met the god's smirk with a steely gaze. “No need for such harshness. Feng Xin, is it?” The god's smirk deepened. “I have no intentions of causing harm. However, I will report his failure to the Crowned Flower Martial God. I shall return to my palace.” With those parting words, the god departed before Feng Xin could reply.

Feng Xin's fists clenched with a nearly irresistible urge to strike the Martial God's cheek, status be damned. But he willed himself to regain composure, shifting his attention to Mu Qing instead.

“What the hell is his problems?”

Mu Qing frowned as he studied Feng Xin as if attempting to decipher something hidden beneath the surface. “You shouldn't act so recklessly, Feng Xin,” he sighed, “he's a Martial God.”

Feng Xin wasn't about to back down. “He was speaking to you inappropriately! He even touched you! Martial God or not, we’re not his subordinates! He has no right to treat you that way.”

Mu Qing remained silent, though his tension was still clear in the air. Sensing this, Feng Xin let out a weary sigh. “Come on,” he said, relenting. “Let's just spar.”

To Feng Xin's surprise, Mu Qing complied and accompanied him to the training field. 

They began their sparring session, circling each other cautiously, each waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Feng Xin couldn't help but notice the shift in Mu Qing's demeanor. A raw, barely concealed frustration simmering just beneath the surface seemed to manifest itself in the way he fought. He was more aggressive than usual, his movements less calculated and more reckless, as if he were trying to release his pent-up emotions through their spar.

Their swords clashed, sparks flying as they engaged in a flurry of strikes and parries. Feng Xin could feel the force behind Mu Qing's attacks, the almost brutal intensity that had taken hold of him.

Feng Xin knew better than to underestimate his friend, and he met Mu Qing's ferocity with his own skill. They fought fiercely, the clash of steel echoing through the training field, their movements a dance of aggression and defiance.

In the midst of their duel, Feng Xin decided to break the silence that had settled between them since they began sparring. “Mu Qing,” he said, his voice measured, “I can tell something's troubling you. You can talk to me.”

Mu Qing's response was a fierce strike that Feng Xin barely managed to dodge. There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by their heavy breathing, before Mu Qing finally spoke, his voice laced with frustration. “Shut up.”

Feng Xin's frustration surged in response to Mu Qing's reticence. “I don't understand you.”

“You don't.”

As their blades clashed, Feng Xin's frustration grew with every passing moment. Mu Qing's relentless strikes left Feng Xin struggling to keep up. He deftly disarmed Feng Xin with a quick twist of his wrist. Feng Xin's sword flew, landing several feet away with a clatter. 

“Yield,” Mu Qing held his sword against Feng Xin’s throat. Feng Xin glanced around at their surroundings, searching for any possible advantage. But he soon sighed, realizing that there was nothing he could do to reverse their positions.

“I yield.”

Mu Qing lowered his sword and sank into the soft grass, his breath heavy from their spar. Feng Xin followed suit, settling down beside him.

Mu Qing broke the silence, “Where's Dianxia, anyway?” 

“He's preparing for the lantern festival. It's tonight, remember?” Mu Qing responded to this with a disdainful roll of his eyes.

As they sat there, the sun descended below the horizon, painting the sky with vibrant hues of red and orange. The comfortable silence enveloped them, and they watched as other deputies and gods bustled around the main heavenly palace.

Once the sky had darkened, Feng Xin turned to Mu Qing, “Let's find a spot to watch the lanterns together,” he proposed.

Mu Qing appeared taken aback by the idea, his expression bordering on scandalized. “You want to watch it together?” he asked, his surprise evident.

Feng Xin shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, duh,”  he replied. “It's not like I know anyone else in heaven. Dianxia will sit with the gods; it's just us two now.”

So they roamed the celestial realm, guided by the soft glow of lanterns hanging in the night sky.

After some searching, they stumbled upon a secluded garden, nestled in the heart of the heavenly palace. They sat there, gazing upwards at the sky filled with lanterns.

“Do you ever miss your family?” Mu Qing's voice cut through the night air, breaking the silence between them.

Feng Xin was momentarily taken aback. He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “Eh? No. Not really. Why do you ask?” He paused, “Do you miss your mother?”

A profound silence hung in the air, stretching out between them. After a contemplative pause, Feng Xin sighed, his voice softened. “You can ask Dianxia if you want to meet your mother, you know? I'm sure he'll understand.”

Mu Qing only hummed as an answer, his sight never leaving the lanterns in the sky.

Under the gentle illumination of the moonlight, Feng Xin's gaze remained fixed on Mu Qing's face. The soft lunar glow seemed to cast a tender aura over Mu Qing, lending a slight softness to his features. 

Mu Qing, a year younger than both Feng Xin and Xie Lian, had always been the smallest among them in terms of both height and weight. However, recent months have ushered in a noticeable growth spurt. A mere half-year ago, he had been a few inches shorter than Xie Lian. Yet now, he stood as tall as Xie Lian himself. 

Feng Xin remembered a conversation with Xie Lian just a week ago when they discussed Mu Qing's growth spurt. Xie Lian had playfully remarked that Mu Qing would soon surpass Feng Xin in height. In response, Feng Xin had snorted, refusing to believe it would ever happen. Mu Qing had, of course, rolled his eyes at their banter.

Mu Qing had also been steadily gaining weight and muscle, a welcome change from his previously thin frame. His cheeks had taken on a rounder, more youthful appearance, though it didn't do much for his attempts to seem intimidating. Lately, whenever Mu Qing huffed and pouted, it bordered on being adorable. Feng Xin had teasingly pointed this out to him once, only to receive a punch to his cheek in response.

His fuller cheeks also accentuated the appearance of his dimples. Mu Qing wasn't one to smile frequently, but when he did, Feng Xin found himself utterly captivated by the charming dimples that graced his face. The way they appeared when Mu Qing's lips curved into a smile was like a secret charm, a hidden treasure that only Feng Xin had the privilege of witnessing. Each time those dimples made an appearance, they seemed to light up Mu Qing's entire face, adding an endearing touch to his usually serious appearance.

In an unexpected moment, Mu Qing turned his gaze toward Feng Xin. “You're staring,” he remarked.

Feng Xin's response escaped his lips before he could censor himself. “You're beautiful.”  

The words hung in the air, leaving both of them momentarily stunned. Realizing what he had just blurted out, Feng Xin's cheeks reddened. It was not like Mu Qing was any better; his pale complexion made it harder for him to hide his blush. His whole face was as red as a tomato.

Before Mu Qing could retort, Feng Xin hurriedly added, “I mean, I-I—” 

“Shut up! What is wrong with you?” Mu Qing snapped, turning his gaze away.

Now, Feng Xin felt a twinge of offense. “There's nothing wrong with me! I have eyes! I can make observations,” 

“And you chose to comment on my—on—you think—you think I'm—”

“Beautiful.” Surprisingly, the word emerged from Feng Xin's mouth once more. He mustered the courage to reach out and gently touch Mu Qing's hand, coaxing him to meet his gaze.

Reluctantly, Mu Qing turned to face him. Feng Xin found himself once again staring. Beneath Mu Qing's right eye, a subtle mole added a touch of uniqueness to his complexion. His small but finely sculpted nose formed an elegant bridge between his big eyes. Mu Qing's thin, pink lips seemed to invite admiration, framed by his fair and pale skin, which further emphasized his striking appearance.

He was beautiful.

Feng Xin had noticed that recently, an increasing number of individuals, ranging from mortals to deputy gods and even some martial gods, were directing their admiring gaze toward Mu Qing. He always felt an irritation when people did that. At first, Feng Xin dismissed his feelings as mere irritation. He believed it was because he wasn't accustomed to others paying so much attention to Mu Qing—perhaps he was envious.

Upon closer examination, though, Feng Xin came to a different realization. It wasn't a simple irritation or envy; instead, he found himself grappling with a complex and unfamiliar sense of jealousy.

Selfishly, he yearned for Mu Qing's attention to remain solely on him. He wished to shield Mu Qing from the prying eyes of others, shielding him from yearning gazes and, worse yet, lustful stares. Mu Qing was no creature to be preyed upon! Memories of their encounter with a Martial God stirred a furious fire within him.

“What's your problem now?” Mu Qing demanded, his eyes piercing.

“What’s on your mind?”  

“I think you’re stupid.”

Despite himself, he laughed, “I don’t understand you.” 

Because it was true. He could never guess what was on Mu Qing’s mind. In one moment, he seemed quiet, his words soft-spoken and measured. Yet, in the very next breath, he could transform into a tempest of fiery sarcasm, catching those around him off guard. He was too prideful for his own good. His mind, a labyrinth of complex thoughts, seemed to default to anticipating the worst in people and situations.

“I know.” Mu Qing replied. His gaze never left Feng Xin’s.

“What if I want to try to understand?”

Because he knew Mu Qing was kind. Feng Xin had witnessed him endure kicks from the students in the cultivation sect, all to gather cherries for his mother and the other children in his neighborhood.

“Why?” Mu Qing tilted his head, his inquisitive gaze searching Feng Xin's eyes.

Feng Xin let out a nonchalant shrug, his gaze softening as he locked eyes with Mu Qing, “I like you.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

“I do! I mean, you annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but…”  He hesitated for a moment. “I do like you, I guess. I've been feeling... things.” He finally said lamely.

Mu Qing couldn't hide a small snort at Feng Xin's somewhat awkward confession. “How eloquent,” he teased.

“I'm being honest here! Your annoying habits used to irritate me, but lately, I find them oddly endearing. You've always been cute, but now it's like you've turned even cuter! I've caught myself wanting to pinch your cheeks. Can you believe that? And the jealousy, it's been eating me. Whenever someone so much as looks at you, I can't help but feel this intense anger. I just, I want—"”

Thankfully, Mu Qing interrupted his embarrassing rambling with a simple, surprising request.

“Kiss me.”

Feng Xin was momentarily taken aback. “Huh?” His eyes widened, disbelief and astonishment etched across his features.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Kiss me.”

So he kissed Mu Qing. It was a fleeting moment at first—a simple, tender peck on the lips. But then, something ignited between them, a spark of longing and desire. Mu Qing, unable to resist, pulled Feng Xin closer, deepening the kiss. It was their first kiss, and neither of them had much experience. Their lips moved hesitantly, exploring each other's, their hearts pounding with a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

It was a messy kiss, filled with uncertainty and a yearning to learn. They stumbled through it together, navigating the uncharted territory of their newfound emotions.

As they pulled away from the kiss, Feng Xin couldn't help but wonder if their relationship was on the verge of evolving into something deeper and more meaningful. Despite the uncertainties that lingered, a sense of hope welled within him. Would Mu Qing eventually allow him into his heart? 

Feng Xin couldn't be certain, but he was willing to take the journey to find out.

(The next day, Yong’an attacked Xianle.)

(There was no place for love in a war.)

—

Feng Xin woke up with a start. The room was still and silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock beside his bed. Its hands pointed to a time that hardly seemed appropriate for waking. 

It was barely 3 AM, and the world outside his window was cloaked in a deep, inky blackness.

A throbbing pain pulsed through his head, a relentless reminder of his disoriented state. His fingers brushed against his cheeks, and he recoiled at the unexpected sensation. They were damp, moistened by something he had been unable to control.

Tears.

In an instant, the vivid, painful memories rushed back to him, flooding his mind and heart. He remembered the feeling of helplessness. The overwhelming despair that had washed over him as he cradled Mu Qing's lifeless body in his arms. The anguish of knowing that he had failed, that he had been warned in a vision but had still been unable to protect the person who mattered most to him.

Feng Xin's heart clenched in his chest, the pain as acute as it had been in that harrowing dream. He couldn't shake the sense of loss that clung to him, a haunting specter that had invaded his sleep and now refused to let go. The room seemed to close in around him, a prison of grief and guilt, and he found himself wishing for the dawn to arrive, if only to chase away the lingering shadows of that haunting vision.

Tears flowed freely down Feng Xin's cheeks, his heartache an unbearable weight on his chest. 

How does one grieve for a companion who had been integral to their existence for 800 years?

At that moment, amidst the sea of sorrow, a memory surfaced. It was a fresh, vivid dream, a cherished recollection from their days as deputy gods. Feng Xin could see Mu Qing's face in his mind—pretty, delicate, and filled with hope. He recalled the protectiveness that had always been a part of him, even when he hadn't fully understood Mu Qing's complexities. 

He remembered the tenderness of their shared moments, the kiss.

He truly was stupid. How could he have forgotten that moment, that precious memory that had remained buried beneath the weight of time?

After that day, a war had erupted, engulfing their world in chaos and turmoil. There had been no opportunity to explore the depths of their feelings, no respite from the relentless march of conflict. Their relationship had been strained and tested under the stress of battle, and the warmth of their affection had withered away, replaced by the harsh realities of survival.

Now, in the solitude of his room, the memories of their past came rushing back with painful clarity. Feng Xin realized that he had loved Mu Qing 800 years ago, and that love had endured, undiminished by the passage of time. It wasn't a fleeting emotion or a recent revelation—it was a deep, enduring love woven into the fabric of his existence for nearly a millennium.

He was so stupid.

The weight of regret bore down on Feng Xin. How could one just forget about his feelings until it was all too late?

The realization had come crashing down upon him like a merciless wave, and he couldn't help but feel the cruel irony of life's unfairness.

Mu Qing, Mu Qing, Mu Qing. His mind chanted, each repetition a painful reminder of the person he had loved for so long, and yet had failed to fully embrace until it was too late.

With the weight of his emotions and the overwhelming sense of loss pressing down upon him, he collapsed onto the bed.

When he woke up for the second time, he hadn't even fully awakened when a voice crackled through the communication array.

He froze, a wave of exasperation washing over him. Couldn't Ling Wen have waited a few days before summoning him for another mission?

“Now, General.”

Feeling numb, he disregarded his disheveled appearance and hastily made his way to Ling Wen's office.

As he stepped into the office, Feng Xin came to an abrupt halt. His heart seemed to stop as his gaze landed on Mu Qing, who was seated before Ling Wen. 

The Southwest God's normally pale skin seemed to shimmer in the soft office lighting, accentuating the elegant lines of his face.

He looked... alive.

He ignored Mu Qing’s comment. He had spent the entire night grieving for Mu Qing, and he couldn't deal with this right now. Like a robot, he made his way to a chair beside Mu Qing, his expression blank and his thoughts in disarray.

Ling Wen proceeded to explain the situation, outlining the same case, the same mission. Feng Xin's mind raced as he grappled with the implications. It was as if he were reliving the day of Mu Qing's death.

Had the first vision been a mere warning, or had it depicted an actual event that had come to pass? The gears of Feng Xin's brain churned, desperately seeking any detail, any sign that could provide clarity.

“Nan Yang, oh, you deserve worse than this,”  he remembered the ghost's words. “I have to make sure you experience this over and over again, then.”

A cold chill gripped Feng Xin's heart. Was this what the ghost had meant? 

A time loop? One where he would be condemned to relive the anguish of losing Mu Qing again and again?

Once Ling Wen had dismissed them, Feng Xin wasted no time hastily returning to his own palace. His mind was in complete disarray, a jumbled mess of emotions and thoughts. He felt a profound sense of disbelief, as if he were trapped in a surreal nightmare. The mere idea of a time loop, of being forced to relive the agony of losing Mu Qing repeatedly, was too surreal and terrifying to grasp fully.

Guilt gnawed at him, an unrelenting force that whispered accusations of his own failures and shortcomings. He had let Mu Qing down in the past, and now he was faced with the possibility of failing him again and again.

Confusion reigned as he attempted to make sense of the situation. Why had this happened? What had triggered the time loop? Was there a way to break free from this seemingly endless cycle of pain?

Feng Xin's heart was heavy with the weight of his emotions, a mixture of fear, regret, and a desperate longing to protect Mu Qing. He knew that he had to find answers, to unravel the mysteries of the time loop, if there was any hope of sparing himself and Mu Qing from the torment that lay ahead.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and there was Mu Qing, standing there, very much alive. 

“What is wrong with you today?” The relief that washed over him was palpable; just the sound of Mu Qing's voice brought a measure of ease to his troubled mind.

But the thought of losing Mu Qing all over again was unbearable.  “You can't go on this mission,”  he blurted out then.

Mu Qing's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean I can't go?” he asked, clearly taken aback by Feng Xin's sudden declaration.

“I—” he began, but then halted, struggling to articulate his thoughts and emotions. “You can't!” he finally exclaimed, his frustration getting the better of him.

Mu Qing's expression hardened in response, and he couldn't resist rolling his eyes. “Wow, how eloquent.” 

Feng Xin let out a weary sigh, attempting to temper the tension in the air. “Let's just…” he trailed off, his voice softening slightly.  “I will handle this myself.”

Feng Xin searched for an excuse that might convince Mu Qing to let him handle the mission alone. He cleared his throat and said, “Look, Mu Qing, it's not that I don't think you're capable, but this mission is, uh, specifically tailored to my skills. I mean, it's a bit of a, um, specialty mission.” 

(He was not a great liar.)

Mu Qing's eyebrows arched, skepticism evident in his expression. “Specialty mission?”  he echoed, his tone laced with doubt.

“Yeah,”  he continued, “and you know how unpredictable these situations can get. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

However, Mu Qing's reaction differed from what Feng Xin had expected. Instead of agreeing or showing understanding, Mu Qing's anger flared. “So, you think I can't handle it? You think I'm weak?”  

Feng Xin's attempts at persuasion had backfired spectacularly, and now Mu Qing was storming off in anger, leaving him standing there in the wake of their argument. 

Feng Xin let out a resigned sigh, well at least now Mu Qing had left him alone. He could deal with Mu Qing later.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Feng Xin embarked on his journey to the same battlefield he had been visiting for the past two days.

Before his arrival, he had spent time in meditation, ensuring he was adequately prepared for the battle. 

The ghost woman raised her eyebrows as she observed Feng Xin's arrival, but a sly smirk crept onto her face nonetheless. Feng Xin tried not to think too much about it.

The battle against the armies of ghosts was something he had grown accustomed to over the last couple of days. His mind had become attuned to their attack patterns. In the end, he unleashed a fire, obliterating the ghosts and bringing an end to the confrontation.

As her eerie custom, the ghost woman reappeared, her unsettling smile stretching across her face. 

The battle raged on, and Feng Xin relentlessly pressed his offensive against the ghost woman. His attacks were fierce and unyielding, a stark contrast to the previous days when he had been on the defensive.

In the midst of their battle, Feng Xin couldn't contain his frustration any longer. He paused, catching his breath, and confronted the enigmatic ghost. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded, his voice tinged with exasperation.

The ghost's response remained as cryptic as ever, her smile unfaltering. “I'm just doing what you did to me, with extra pain, of course. You deserve worse, General,” 

“What? Fuck! Stop speaking in riddles,” he spat out in irritation.

Ignoring his plea, the ghost resumed her assault, determined to wear him down. However, just as she exploited what seemed to be a weakness in Feng Xin's defenses and launched a strike, a voice resonated from behind her.

Mu Qing’s voice.

He knew Mu Qing could be stubborn, but couldn't he have just listened to him for one day?

Before he could react, the ghost woman swiftly redirected her attack toward Mu Qing. The whole sequence unfolded in a split second, too fast for Feng Xin to even blink. 

The ghost's sword pierced through Mu Qing, immediately impaling his core.

He watched as the love of his life died in front of him for the third time. 

Three times in, and the pain remained as raw as ever.

—

Feng Xin couldn’t sleep.

It was nearing midnight, and he sat beneath the sprawling branches of a tree behind the house they had called home for nearly four months. This was the longest they had stayed in one place in what felt like an eternity.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, mingling with a numbness that had settled into his bones. Anger simmered beneath the surface, fueled by hunger and desperation.

Dianxia had been struggling with panic attacks, their frequency increasing over time. Sometimes, he would disappear for days on end, leaving Feng Xin in a state of frantic worry during his absences. While the initial episodes had been a source of great concern, Feng Xin had learned to cope with the fear and uncertainty that accompanied Dianxia's disappearances.

He was still concerned, of course. They were fugitives, pursued by the soldiers of Yong'an, and the dangers were ever-present. However, Feng Xin refused to let those worries deter him from his duties and responsibilities. Dianxia's parents needed to eat, and so did Mu Qing and him. 

So he kept working hard during the day, and after the sun set, he would search for Dianxia. 

Currently, though, he didn’t have to think about that; Dianxia was safe and sleeping in his bedroom.

He stretched out on the cool grass, his gaze locked on the shimmering stars above. These days, there had been little time for rest and reflection. He hadn't even had the chance to properly grieve for his hometown, his parents—the weight of those unspoken sorrows hung heavy in his heart. It felt like he had failed everyone: his people, his parents, and most of all, Dianxia—the burden of those failures pressed upon him.

Yet, he couldn't afford to let the grief consume him, not now. His concern was Dianxia, who was slowly succumbing to his own anguish. Feng Xin understood that his friend needed him more than ever.

He couldn't, he wouldn't allow his mind to dwell on the war. The mere thought of it sent shivers down his spine, a gnawing fear that it might drive him to the brink of madness.

(Feng Xin was born a warrior, a protector, and he had failed— failed his people, his parents, and every soul who had relied on him.)

A sudden sound from beside him sent a jolt of tension through Feng Xin, instinctively causing him to raise his head. His eyes swiftly landed on Mu Qing, who held a basket laden with clothes. Mu Qing's own clothes were drenched, and there was a smear of blood on his forehead.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Mu Qing visibly tensed before acknowledging Feng Xin's presence. “None of your business,” he retorted curtly, “I was washing His Majesty and Dianxia's clothes.”

Feng Xin arched an eyebrow, though he couldn't hide the underlying worry. “ And you decided to take a swim in the river?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes dismissively and continued toward the house. Feng Xin followed him, the sense of unease lingering, as they made their way to their shared room. 

“You'll catch a cold.”

“I've had a cold for three days now.”

Feng Xin paused, reflecting on Mu Qing's condition over the past few days. It was clear to him now that Mu Qing had become noticeably paler, and his once-vibrant demeanor had given way to an unsettling silence. The realization weighed heavily on Feng Xin's conscience, causing a pang of guilt to settle in his chest.

“Why the fuck are you still working, then?”  Feng Xin demanded.

Mu Qing, in the process of changing into fresh clothes, let out another sigh. “Do you think you can earn enough money for all of us?”

“Well, we can't afford for you to be sick! We don't have enough money for medicine! You'll die.”

“Good. Dying would be better than this.” 

Feng Xin came to a sudden stop, his gaze fixed upon Mu Qing. As he scrutinized the other, the weight of the situation bore down on him, and he couldn't deny the overwhelming sense that Mu Qing appeared more fatigued and fragile than he had ever seen him. 

As if the life had been drained out of him, leaving behind a shadow of the person Feng Xin had known.

“You don't mean that,”  Feng Xin asserted, his voice laced with a deep concern that bordered on devastation. He couldn't bear to see Mu Qing so lifeless, so utterly hopeless, like he could shatter into pieces at any given moment.

Meeting Feng Xin's eyes, Mu Qing's weariness was starkly evident. “No,” he admitted finally, “No, I don't.”

Sensing the urgency of the situation, Feng Xin moved quickly. He reached out for a towel resting on a nearby table and made his way over to Mu Qing, who sat wearily on his mattress. “Let me,” he said gently as he tenderly patted Mu Qing's bleeding forehead. Concern and curiosity etched onto his features, he couldn't help but ask, “What happened?”

Mu Qing studied Feng Xin's face for a moment, his defenses slowly giving way to exhaustion. He heaved a weary sigh and replied, “I fell while washing the clothes.” 

Feng Xin hummed, his touch gentle as he continued to dab the towel softly against Mu Qing's forehead. In their current situation, lacking access to proper medicine or alcohol, cleaning the wound with water was the best he could do to help.

He watched as Mu Qing's eyes gradually fluttered closed. Concern deepened the lines on his face as he touched Mu Qing's forehead with his bare hand, immediately noticing the heat radiating from his friend's skin. Mu Qing was burning with fever.

“You should rest. Don’t go to work tomorrow,” Feng Xin suggested softly.

“Can we afford that?”

“We can’t afford to lose you, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin replied earnestly. Mu Qing's eyes snapped open at those words, revealing the stress that had taken its toll on him.

Feng Xin continued to scan Mu Qing's condition, his worry deepening with each observation. Mu Qing's damp hair clung to his pale skin, emphasizing the gauntness of his frame. His face appeared sunken, with purple shadows beneath his eyes and even his knuckles, bearing the same disconcerting hue. It was a stark reminder of the harsh realities they faced, and Feng Xin couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of responsibility to ensure Mu Qing's well-being.

“Can I hug you?” Feng Xin's sudden request caught both him and Mu Qing off guard, but he refused to back down.

Mu Qing's brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

Feng Xin stammered, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I mean, I–”

“Yeah, sure,”  Mu Qing interrupted, his tone less harsh than usual.

Feng Xin paused, his uncertainty evident as he gazed at Mu Qing. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Just get on with it!” Mu Qing snapped, his face flushing with embarrassment. “You look like you need it more than me.”

Feng Xin grumbled softly in response but complied, wrapping his arms around Mu Qing's waist. After a brief moment, he suggested, “Wait, let's lie down.”

Together, they shifted into a more comfortable position. Feng Xin wrapped his arms around Mu Qing, his firm and protective hold enveloping him from behind. Mu Qing, in turn, leaned back against Feng Xin's chest, finding solace in the sturdy support he offered. It was a position that felt both comforting and intimate, as if their troubles and worries could momentarily melt away in the safety of each other's arms. Together, they lay there, seeking refuge from the harsh realities of their world, finding a brief respite from the chaos that surrounded them.

In that fleeting moment, as Feng Xin held Mu Qing close, he allowed himself to drift back to a time before the world had crumbled around them. It was a memory that he sometimes forgot as much as he cherished it, a memory of a day just before the war had shattered their lives into a thousand fragmented pieces.

He recalled the day when he and Mu Qing had lain side by side in the lush grass, their eyes fixed on the mesmerizing dance of lanterns in the night sky. It was a night when everything had felt perfect, and the world had seemed full of possibilities. The lanterns had cast a warm, gentle glow, and the air had been filled with an enchanting mix of hope and anticipation.

Feng Xin couldn't help but think of the what-ifs, those tantalizing questions that danced on the periphery of his thoughts. What if the war had never reared its ugly head? What if they had been given the chance to explore their connection further, to nurture the budding feelings that had stirred within them?

As he held Mu Qing tighter, he couldn't help but wonder if, in an alternate reality, they could have been something more—something beautiful, something profound. 

But for now, those what-ifs remained locked away in the recesses of his mind, overshadowed by the harsh reality they faced.

—

The familiar voice of Ling Wen summoned Feng Xin from his uneasy slumber, and his heart ached with the weight of what he knew was to come.

Throughout the entire journey to the office and during the meeting that followed, Feng Xin avoided looking in Mu Qing's direction. He dared not meet those eyes that held the warmth and life that he had lost not once, but three times. The fear of breaking down in tears, of crumbling beneath the weight of his grief, kept him distant and stoic, like a numb shell of his former self.

As Ling Wen dismissed them, he quickly left her office.

He couldn't bear to linger there any longer. The heavy atmosphere, the suffocating grief that hung in the air—it was all too much to bear. His heart ached with the familiar ache that seemed to have taken permanent residence within him.

With a sense of purpose, he knew where he needed to go. The thought crystallized in his mind, guiding his steps with a determination he hadn't felt in a long time.

Puqi Shrine.

His descent was fast, almost urgent. He hated asking for Crimson Rain’s help, but for Mu Qing, he was willing to lay everything on the line.

As he reached Puqi Shrine and knocked on the door, there was a sudden, loud thump from inside. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Xie Lian with a warm smile.

“Feng Xin! Long time no see!” Xie Lian greeted him.

Feng Xin managed a smile in return, though it carried a hint of guilt. “I'm sorry, Dianxia. I've been preoccupied with other matters.”

“Ah, so I heard. Come in.”

He followed Xie Lian through the inviting threshold of the room, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. The familiar scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the soft sound of wind chimes that hung by the door.

Inside, Xie Lian gracefully settled into a cushioned chair at a wooden table. Feng Xin took a seat opposite him, their positions mirroring the many times they had met to discuss various matters.

“Do you need something?”  Xie Lian asked finally.

Feng Xin hesitated momentarily before replying, “Is Crimson Rain here?”

“Never thought I'd see the day when General Nan Yang would come to Puqi Shrine to see me,” came Hua Cheng's voice from behind, taking him by surprise.

Hua Cheng gracefully took his place beside his husband, leaning in to press a tender kiss to Xie Lian's temple before turning his attention to Feng Xin. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under Hua Cheng's piercing gaze.

“So?”  Hua Cheng prompted.

Feng Xin cleared his throat and began; his voice weighed down by the gravity of the situation. “I am cursed,” he confessed, “I don't know how, but I am cursed. This is the fourth time I'm reliving this day.”

Hua Cheng arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “A time loop?”

“Tonight, Mu Qing will die.”

Xie Lian, who had been quietly observing the conversation between his husband and Feng Xin, suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with concern. “What?” 

Before he could even answer Xie Lian's shocked question, a voice rang out from behind them, filled with anger and annoyance. “So you decided to ask for their help, but you didn't even think of telling me?” 

Feng Xin froze in his seat, his heart sinking as he realized Mu Qing had followed him to Puqi Shrine.

“I—” Feng Xin began to defend himself, his frustration evident in his voice, “I didn't think telling someone that he's going to die tonight was the best idea.”

Mu Qing, clearly unimpressed, retorted with his usual sharpness, “Of course, you would think that. You're stupid.”

“Fuck off!” Feng Xin shot back, his irritation growing by the second, “Why are you here anyway? Did you follow me?”

Trying to diffuse the tension, Hua Cheng intervened by lightly tapping his hand on the table. “Now, now,”  he admonished them, “Do not fight in front of gege's face. Just tell me what the hell is going on.”

As Mu Qing took a seat next to Feng Xin, he let out a sigh before proceeding to recount the entire story. He detailed Ling Wen's mission, the ghost woman, and the horrific moment when she had killed Mu Qing, disappearing into thin air before Feng Xin could kill her.

“It felt personal,” Feng Xin admitted with a heavy sigh, “like she was exacting revenge on me. She said that I took everything away from her and that I deserve worse.”

Xie Lian hummed, his expression thoughtful, “If she was seeking revenge against you, why did she target Mu Qing instead?” 

A moment of silence hung in the air until Hua Cheng broke it with a knowing smirk. Feng Xin instantly knew that this smirk didn't bode well.

“Isn't it obvious?” Hua Cheng laughed, he dared laugh! “You took everything away from her, so she took everything away from you.”

Feng Xin tensed as the Ghost King’s words hung in the air. He could see Xie Lian choking on air, his eyes widening with a sudden realization. Beside him, Mu Qing briefly tensed but quickly regained his composure.

“Do not talk of such an absurd concept, Crimson Rain,” Mu Qing retorted, trying to dismiss the topic.

Hua Cheng, wearing his signature smirk, wasn't easily deterred. “Oh, I'm not going to babysit and teach you two dumbasses about a basic concept. That's for you to figure out,” he quipped. “So, what did you take from her, Nan Yang?”

Frustration welled up inside Feng Xin. “I don't know!”  he snapped. How was he supposed to know? The ghost refused to give more information. 

Hua Cheng's gaze sharpened. “You sure are stupid.” 

Always the voice of reason, Xie Lian chimed in with a suggestion. “Perhaps it was a lover? Ling Wen mentioned that she was targeting lovers from the south, and a lover can mean everything.”

Feng Xin pondered this possibility, a sense of unease settling within him. Beside him, Mu Qing remained silent.

Hua Cheng leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “It seems like we have a little mystery on our hands, don't we?”

“How do I break the curse?”

“Well, we won't have definite answers until we gather more information about the ghost. However, considering you've never killed the ghost before,” Hua Cheng paused briefly, “My current suspicion is that you just simply have to kill her.”

“If Feng Xin breaks the curse, though, Mu Qing will stay alive, right?”  Xie Lian questioned; his worry-filled eyes didn't escape Feng Xin's notice, and he felt a surge of guilt. It was evident that the thought of Mu Qing's death troubled them deeply.

Hua Cheng panicked when he sensed sadness in Xie Lian’s voice,  “Gege, I—”  He hesitated for a moment, “That’s for them to find out.”

Feng Xin left Puqi Shrine with a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind. Dianxia had promised to help him gather information about the two lover ghosts in the south, and Feng Xin had thanked him, though he couldn’t help but think that it was useless. Time was running out.

Hua Cheng had said that it was possible that to break the curse, Feng Xin simply just had to kill her. He hated that it made so much sense. It would explain why the ghost would disappear quickly after reaching her goal; she depended on her speed.

Feng Xin was not strong enough, not fast enough.

If only he’d know how to outwit her. 

Damn it, if only he could uncover what 'everything' meant to her, he might hold the key to their salvation. But Feng Xin was clueless. He had killed millions of ghosts in his 800 years of living. How was he supposed to know?

“Where are you going?” Mu Qing's voice, like a sudden chill in the forest, interrupted Feng Xin's train of thought. 

They found themselves in the heart of a dense forest, a labyrinth of towering trees and tangled underbrush. The sun hung low on the horizon, promising the approach of nightfall within a few short hours. Time was slipping away like grains of sand through their fingers, and the urgency of their situation weighed heavily on Feng Xin.

“I need time to think,” Feng Xin replied with a sigh. He turned away, unable to meet Mu Qing's gaze. “Why aren't you panicking?” 

“Panicking won't change my fate,” Mu Qing responded calmly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the woods.

Feng Xin turned back around, finally meeting Mu Qing's eyes. Mu Qing's expression remained stoic, a mask that hid his genuine emotions, and it grated on Feng Xin's nerves. The fading sunlight painted Mu Qing's features with a soft, golden glow, creating an eerie contrast to the tense atmosphere. He was mesmerizing.

He was a dead man walking.

“Are you okay with this?”  Feng Xin couldn't contain his frustration any longer. Here he was, on the verge of losing his mind, grappling with the weight of their predicament, while Mu Qing seemed strangely calm. Was this a joke to him?

“Aren't you happy?” Mu Qing muttered, his gaze dropping to the forest floor. The leaves rustled beneath their feet as a gentle breeze swept through the trees, lending an unsettling quality to the moment.

Feng Xin froze, taken aback by the unexpected question. The tension between them crackled like electricity in the air.

“Why would I be happy? Look at me and tell me that I look happy right now,” Feng Xin exclaimed, his frustration and anxiety reaching a breaking point.

He couldn’t believe it. How dare Mu Qing accuse him of being happy? In the past few days, he had been on the brink of collapse, one emotional breakdown after another. How could anyone in their right mind think that he, Feng Xin, could find any semblance of happiness when he had lost half of his soul? Every moment without Mu Qing felt like an eternity of agony, a void in his heart that nothing could fill. To insinuate that his pain somehow equated to happiness was beyond cruel.

“You just don't get it, do you?” Feng Xin's voice erupted, a turbulent mix of anger and anxiety coursing through every word. His emotions spilled out, raw and unfiltered. “It tears me apart, Mu Qing, to watch you die repeatedly, right before my eyes. I can't even begin to describe the pain it inflicts on me, knowing that I'm utterly powerless to save you, to shield you from harm.”

Feng Xin watched as Mu Qing's typically guarded expression began to change. “I've failed you before,” he started, his voice tinged with remorse. “I've been awful to you from the moment we met, and I'm truly sorry.”

“I'm sorry I never made an effort to understand you when we were young,”  he continued, his voice trembling. “I should've listened when you tried to apologize. You are not, you were never selfish, Mu Qing.” Tears welled up in Feng Xin's eyes, the weight of his emotions overwhelming him. “I'm sorry it took you dying for me to realize how much you mean to me, how, after 800 years, you've become an integral part of who I am.”

“I keep replaying our moments before the war in my mind, especially our kiss,” he confessed, his voice soft and laden with a mixture of longing and regret. “I think about the 'what ifs,' the—”

“Shut up,” Mu Qing interjected, his voice firm.

Feng Xin felt a pang in his heart. His words were cut short. When he looked up at Mu Qing, he saw a resolute determination in those familiar eyes. But before he could even react, Mu Qing silenced him with a kiss.

He froze for a moment, heart pounding, but he swiftly leaned in to reciprocate the kiss. His hands found their way to Mu Qing’s waist, drawing him closer, and Mu Qing let out a contented sigh into his mouth. Time seemed to stand still as their kiss deepened with each passing second. 

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled back, lips parting with a soft sigh. Feng Xin looked into Mu Qing, finding the other’s eyes filled with tears. Mu Qing’s voice, tinged with exasperation and affection, broke the silence, “You are so stupid,” he whispered, his fingers brushing gently against Feng Xin’s cheek.

Feng Xin couldn’t help it. He pressed a quick, playful kiss on Mu Qing's lips before breaking into a teasing grin. “Does this mean you like me?” 

Mu Qing's eyes widened, his face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. Feng Xin found it utterly endearing, a stark contrast to Mu Qing's usual stoic demeanor. He leaned in for another kiss, cherishing the warmth and tenderness of the moment. When Mu Qing made a sound like a boiling kettle, he couldn't help but chuckle softly.

Mu Qing's eyes remained fixed on Feng Xin, his gaze searching and vulnerable. He finally broke the silence, his voice filled with sincerity. “You don't hate me,” he stated, almost like it was a revelation.

Feng Xin shook his head, his smile unwavering. “I don't,” he affirmed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

“I'm sorry too,” Mu Qing began, his gaze flickering downward. “I'm not sorry for choosing my mother, but I'm sorry that I didn't try to communicate things better. I left with little explanation, and I didn't even—”

“No,” Feng Xin interrupted firmly.

“No?”

“It was my fault that I didn't make an effort to understand,” Feng Xin admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. “You provided enough explanation, and I shouldn't have been upset that you wanted to take care of your mother."

“Still, I hurt you,” Mu Qing's brows furrowed, and he frowned in a display of both sadness and stubbornness. Feng Xin responded by pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead, as if trying to soothe the creased expression with a touch of affection.

“At that time, maybe I felt hurt,” Feng Xin admitted, making Mu Qing's frown deepen, and Feng Xin hurriedly continued, concern in his voice. “Wait, it's okay! I forgive you, okay? No more apologizing now. I love you. And I’d rather focus on the future.” 

“Wait,” Mu Qing's eyes widened, forming an 'O' with his mouth. “You, you l-l-love me?”His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, creating a vivid contrast with the serene forest backdrop. Feng Xin couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of Mu Qing in this unguarded moment, his usual icy composure melting away.

“Yes,” Feng Xin replied. He leaned in for another kiss. “I love you. I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it, but I love you, Mu Qing. I've always loved you. I was too blind to notice it, but my heart doesn't lie.”

Embarrassed, Mu Qing buried his face in the crook of Feng Xin's neck. Feng Xin's heart swelled with tenderness, and he held Mu Qing close, savoring the sensation of their bodies pressed together. The rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds formed a gentle backdrop to their intimate exchange as if nature itself was celebrating their newfound connection.

“I love you too. From the days of Xianle to the present, my heart has only belonged to you.” His hands found their way to Feng Xin's shoulders, holding onto him as if afraid to let go. Feng Xin knew it was a defense mechanism to conceal his embarrassment, to make himself seem smaller. “I've always known about my feelings, though,” Mu Qing admitted with a chuckle.

Putting his hands on Mu Qing’s waist, he nuzzled his nose to Mu Qing’s hair, “I’m sorry.”

Mu Qing quickly let himself go from Feng Xin’s hold, “No more apologizing!” he started to walk further into the forest, “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

Laughing, he followed Mu Qing through the forest. “What? Us confessing our undying love?”

“Don’t say it like that!”

Feng Xin quickened his pace to catch up with Mu Qing, their hands finding each other naturally as they walked side by side. “Hey, wait,” He stopped walking, making Mu Qing stop.

“What?” Mu Qing turned to face him.

“I will find a way to break the curse, okay? You will not die,” Feng Xin promised earnestly.

Mu Qing studied Feng Xin's face for a moment before letting out a sigh, their intertwined fingers a symbol of their commitment. “Okay,” he finally said.

He meant every word of it. His promise to Mu Qing was not just words; it was a sacred vow that ran deep in his heart, anchoring him like roots in fertile soil. He will not let Mu Qing die. His love for Mu Qing burned bright, refusing to dim. He was ready to face any challenge, no matter how daunting, and endure countless time loops if it meant securing Mu Qing's safety and happiness.

He whispered his promise to the forest, to the world around them, and to the skies above. He would never give up, never falter, and never rest until the curse was broken, and Mu Qing could truly live. 

—

The army of ghosts vanished.

Feng Xin stood there, trembling with anticipation. Beside him was Mu Qing, still very much alive. He’d told Mu Qing about the ghost woman’s fighting style, about how she seemed to target Mu Qing, where he should watch out, and how he died.  

With each piece of knowledge shared, Mu Qing had nodded in determination, his grip on Feng Xin's hand tightening. “I will not let her kill me, this time.”  His face glowed under the moonlight. He was beautiful. “I know about the ghost’s plan. We get the upper hand.”

Feng Xin scanned the field, his eyes sharp and focused, searching for any sign of the ghost's presence. Beside him, Mu Qing seemed to find the ghost as he launched a swift and aggressive attack. Feng Xin turned to his side, where Mu Qing was playing offensive, and swung his saber relentlessly toward the ghost.

With a practiced motion, he reached for his arrows and began firing them rapidly, each shot aimed at the ghost. The battle raged on, a symphony of clashing weapons and determined spirits. Feng Xin and Mu Qing moved with a fluidity born of trust and shared experience.

Mu Qing, his features set in fierce concentration, darted around the battlefield like a whirlwind. He expertly dodged the ghost woman's attacks, his swordplay a dance of precision and grace. With each strike, he aimed to disarm and disable their spectral foe, refusing to let her get close enough to fulfill her sinister plans.

Slowly, their coordinated attacks began to wear down the ghost's defenses. She became increasingly erratic, her movements growing less precise as frustration and desperation set in. Feng Xin and Mu Qing pressed their advantage. Their combined might gradually overwhelm their enemy. They might have a chance this time , Feng Xin thought.

A glimmer of hope flickered in his heart, a tantalizing glimpse of victory over the curse that had tormented him for so long.

That was Feng Xin’s first mistake.

 It was a momentary lapse, a fraction of a second where his focus faltered.

In that heartbeat, the ghost woman seized her opportunity. With an otherworldly speed that defied mortal comprehension, she lunged forward, her sword pierced through the fabric of Feng Xin's robe and into his abdomen.

He blinked. What?

Was this supposed to happen? He looked to see the ghost smiling at him, making his heart raced.

Was this how it ended?

Surprisingly, Feng Xin was more than okay with this. If it meant Mu Qing was okay, if it meant Mu Qing would be alive. Feng Xin would give anything.

The ghost pulled her sword back, and suddenly Feng Xin was hyper-aware of his body. The sensation was excruciating. The blade didn't reach his core, but it was deep enough to cause searing pain to radiate through his body. Feng Xin cried out in anguish as his strength faltered, and he crumpled to his knees, his hands instinctively clutching at the wound.

The clearing seemed to grow eerily silent at that moment, the sounds of battle muted by the shock of the sudden turn of events. Leaves rustled gently in the night breeze, bearing witness to the profound shift in the course of the battle. Feng Xin's labored breathing filled the air as he fought to stay conscious, his vision blurred by agony.

Amidst the haze of pain and disorientation, Feng Xin's senses were a chaotic mess. He thought he heard Mu Qing's voice, a scream of anguish that tore at his heart, but it was muffled and distant as if coming from a far-off place. The clashing of blades and the relentless battle cries filled his ears, sending a shiver down his spine.

His heart sank as he realized that the ghost had not departed, her presence lingering like a shadow. If she was still here, it could only mean one thing—she had not yet achieved her goal. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, adding to the torment of his injury.

Summoning every ounce of strength he possessed, Feng Xin forced himself to focus. With sheer determination, he channeled what remained of his spiritual energy into healing his wound. It was not enough to completely mend the deep gash in his abdomen, but it was sufficient to stave off the encroaching darkness that threatened to consume him.

Slowly but steadily, Feng Xin's awareness began to return, and he struggled to his feet. The effort left him breathless and trembling, but he stood, refusing to succumb to the pain and despair that threatened to overwhelm him. The clearing came back into focus, the moonlight casting eerie shadows that danced around him.

His gaze darted around, searching for any sign of Mu Qing. The battlefield was still a tumultuous sea of combat, blades clashing and spirits colliding. Fear gripped his heart as he desperately sought out his dearest amid the chaos, his voice trembling as he called out, “Mu Qing!”

“You think you can fool me, Nan Yang? Think you can win against me?” The ghost woman replied.

“Shut the fuck up!” He heard Mu Qing said.

And Feng Xin tried, he tried so hard. He fought with every ounce of his being, struggling to regain his strength and intervene in the dire situation unfolding before him. But his body betrayed him, and he remained incapacitated, unable to do anything but watch in agonized helplessness.

His vision remained fixed on Mu Qing, who raged at the ghost with unbridled fury. He noticed that Mu Qing's movements lacked strategy, driven solely by his determination to defend him. To protect him, his mind whispered. The ghost, cunning and unrelenting, seized upon Mu Qing's momentary lapse in judgment. She exploited his recklessness, turning his own aggression against him.

Feng Xin's heart sank as he witnessed the all-too-familiar scene repeat itself for the fourth time—the ghost's sword piercing through Mu Qing's chest.

The ringing in Feng Xin's ears seemed to intensify, drowning out all other sounds. He strained to call out to Mu Qing, his voice hoarse with desperation, but the words barely left his lips. His eyes were fixed on Mu Qing, aching to reach out and pull him from the jaws of death.

The ghost slowly withdrew her sword from Mu Qing's chest. Feng Xin's body quivered with a mixture of anger and despair, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The ghost turned her eerie gaze toward him, her words dripping with sinister satisfaction. “This is what you get when you try to mess with me,” she taunted, a cruel smile dancing upon her lips.

Feng Xin paid no heed to the ghost's taunting words; her presence dissipated in less than a second, leaving behind a chilling emptiness. Summoning every ounce of strength he could muster, he dragged himself across the grassy ground to where Mu Qing lay, his blood staining the earth beneath him.

Reaching Mu Qing's side, Feng Xin's trembling hand sought out his dearest's, their fingers interlocking in a desperate and reassuring grip. The sight of Mu Qing's blood-smeared form sent a pang of anguish through his heart, but he refused to let despair consume him.

Slowly, Mu Qing's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the haze of pain and exhaustion. His pupils gradually focused, allowing him to gaze up at Feng Xin, who hovered anxiously above him. “So, we failed again?”  he asked, a humorless and weary laugh escaping his lips. His gaze held a hint of melancholy.

Feng Xin's voice trembled with raw emotion as he cried out, his heart laid bare in his words. “Mu Qing,” he pleaded, his words quivering, “I'm so sorry. I won't fail you next time. I can't bear to see you die like this. I won't let it happen again, no matter the cost. I love you more than anything, and I won't rest until you're safe.”

Mu Qing's expression remained serene. He reached out, his touch gentle and bittersweet as he cupped Feng Xin's cheek, his eyes searching his lover's soul. “Feng Xin,” he whispered, his voice carrying a note of insecurity,  “is it worth it?” 

Feng Xin was momentarily taken aback by the question. Of course! Mu Qing was worth any sacrifice, any torment. “I would endure this torment countless times if it means you get to live. I love you, Mu Qing. Qing'er. I won't give up.” 

Mu Qing's smile was tinged with sadness, a poignant reflection of the heartache that had become a constant in their lives. He closed his eyes, his breathing growing slower as he surrendered to the encroaching darkness. “I-it's okay,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I love you.”

The fourth time, as Mu Qing's breath faded away, it was no easier for Feng Xin. He was drained, utterly exhausted, his body aching and his own wounds unattended. He could get it fixed if he ascends back to heaven right this moment.

He didn’t want to.

Instead, he chose to rest beside Mu Qing, still clutching his hand tightly. His eyelids drooped heavily as weariness threatened to overtake him. It was the fourth time they had experienced this painful ordeal, and he longed for respite. He couldn't help but wonder if it would all be over this time, if he chose to die next to Mu Qing.

Yet, deep down, he knew the ghost would not release him so easily. He had made a promise to Mu Qing anyway, a vow that he intended to keep no matter how many times he had to relive this fateful day. With a heavy heart, he closed his eyes, his body growing lighter with each passing moment. Slowly, the darkness of unconsciousness overtook him, but he knew that the next time he opened his eyes, he would see Mu Qing again.

—

He repeated it for the fifth time, and then the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth. He had lost count of how many times he had endured this agonizing cycle, and with each repetition, his anger grew.

He was seething with rage, furious at the ghost for subjecting him to this relentless torment. He despised the cruel hand of fate that had bound them to this cursed existence. But most of all, he directed his anger inward, loathing himself for what he saw as his own weakness.

He was a god! The martial god of the southeast, and he was defeated by a simple curse. The weight of his inadequacy bore down on him, fueling his frustration and driving him to search desperately for a way to break free from the never-ending cycle that had become his prison.

When he woke up, he didn't bother with his usual visit to Ling Wen's office; instead, he surveyed the chaotic disarray of his room. With a sigh, he summoned his head deputy, Zhong Hao, and instructed him to tidy his chamber. 

Without wasting a moment, Feng Xin made his way to the Heavenly Library. It had been a considerable amount of time since he had started his search for answers, and he now possessed a keen sense of which books and scrolls held the information he needed. With determination, he combed through the shelves, meticulously gathering all the materials he deemed relevant to his quest. 

While returning to his palace, an unsettling feeling clung to Feng Xin. He sensed Mu Qing's attempt to contact him through their communication array but decided to shut it down before any words could be exchanged. 

Lately, facing Mu Qing had become increasingly difficult for him. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on his chest, an unrelenting burden that threatened to consume him. Now that he knew Mu Qing had loved him since the days of Xianle, the guilt gnawed at his conscience even more fiercely. It felt as though he had consistently let down the one person who had cherished him for centuries.

So now, Feng Xin acted like a coward, avoiding Mu Qing whenever he could. Every passing moment fueled his anger, at the ghost, at himself, and at the world. He cast resentful glances at the world that had trapped them in this never-ending nightmare. His own reflection in the mirror seemed to accuse him of weakness, fueling the fiery anger that simmered beneath the surface.

It was as if a storm raged within him, and he chose to hide, hoping to escape the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

As Feng Xin stepped into his chamber, he found Mu Qing already occupying the space. The atmosphere in the room crackled with tension. Mu Qing stood with a rigid posture, his brows were furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a silent storm brewing within.

Mu Qing's anger boiled over as he confronted Feng Xin in the chamber. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Feng Xin, tired and overwhelmed, couldn't contain his own frustration any longer. He snapped back, “What now?” 

“You've been gone for months!” Mu Qing half-shouted, his voice echoing through the room. “You've been distant for a week, and now you didn't even come when Ling Wen requested!”

Feng Xin flinched. He forgot he had been gone on a quest for months before his mission with Mu Qing. But he was too exasperated to back down. “Can you not be a pain in my ass for a second? I'm just tired.”

“Are you avoiding me?” Mu Qing frowned.

He couldn’t look at Mu Qing. He needed him to be gone, gone, gone from his palace. He needed to breathe. “Maybe I should be avoiding you! You act like everything revolves around you! Like I have nothing better to do than cater to your needs!”

He felt Mu Qing’s punch on his jaw. 

Feng Xin staggered back from the force of Mu Qing's punch, his jaw throbbing with pain. He didn't let the strike go unanswered and retaliated with a punch of his own. “What the fuck is your problem now?” he demanded, his voice laced with anger and frustration.

Mu Qing attempted another punch, but Feng Xin anticipated it, swiftly dodging and seizing Mu Qing's wrists, preventing further blows. “Fucking communicate!” Feng Xin snapped, his grip firm. “I thought we were past this!”

“Is that how you see it?” Mu Qing's body shook with anger as he shot a glare at Feng Xin. “Have you been hanging out with me out of pity?”

“What? No! How do you even come to that conclusion?”

With visible effort, Mu Qing tried to free his hands from Feng Xin's grip, but Feng Xin's hold remained unyielding. “I don't expect you to drop everything! I just thought we were friends,” Mu Qing retorted, his voice quivering with emotion.

“We are friends,” Feng Xin insisted, his anger giving way to exhaustion. “I just need some space.”

Mu Qing met his gaze, tears glistening in his eyes, and Feng Xin knew he fucked up. “Fine, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing said, his voice bitter. “If that's what you want, then I'll leave you alone. You won't have to worry about me anymore.” 

The room felt charged with tension as Mu Qing turned and walked away, leaving Feng Xin to grapple with the guilt and regret that washed over him.

But he didn’t have time to go after Mu Qing. He needs to figure out how to break the curse, now.

Hours turned into a seemingly endless blur as Feng Xin delved into the texts scattered across his chamber. Books piled up around him, scrolls scattered across the table, and yet, he couldn't find a single clue to break the curse that bound them. His frustration grew with every passing moment, his mind racing to find answers that remained elusive.

Feng Xin's eyes stung from exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to rest. He was determined to find a solution, no matter how long it took. The room was silent, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional frustrated sigh that escaped his lips. As the hours ticked away, Feng Xin's determination remained unyielding, even in the face of the seemingly impossible challenge before him.

A sharp knock echoed through the chamber, interrupting Feng Xin's relentless pursuit of answers. He let out a weary sigh and called out, “Enter.”

The door swung open, and in walked Zhong Hao, his head deputy. “I apologize for disturbing your time, General,” 

“I've come to deliver this to you.” Zhong Hao carefully placed a scroll on Feng Xin's cluttered table. “It's a report from your last mission, General. It appears that you may have overlooked submitting it to Official Ling Wen.”

Feng Xin acknowledged Zhong Hao with a curt nod. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to deliver it to Ling Wen later.”

“Oh! Sir, it's worth mentioning that there's been a noticeable increase in prayers regarding a woman ghost in the—”

“I'm already aware of that situation. I intend to address it later tonight.”

“Understood, General. I suggest reviewing the scroll containing the report from your previous mission before you confront her. It could provide valuable insights, Sir.”

At this comment, Feng Xin paused, “What do you mean it might help?”

Zhong Hao cleared his throat, his face reddening slightly. “Well, Sir,”  he began cautiously, “as your Head Deputy, it's my responsibility to thoroughly review prayer scrolls and analyze them before bringing them to your attention. This is merely a suspicion of mine, but it seems that the last ghost you hunted was frequently seen in the company of another ghost, a female one, according to reports from nearby residents.”

Fuck, Zhong Hao was always smarter than him.

“Uh, after you dealt with that ghost, a woman ghost was reportedly wreaking havoc in the south. I don't believe it's a mere coincidence, General.”

Mu Qing had been right when he called Feng Xin stupid. He couldn't believe it. After countless loops and extensive searches for the right scroll, the answer had been right in front of him all along.

“Retrieve every scroll related to this ghost that you can find,” he instructed Zhong Hao.

And if, despite all his efforts, he couldn't figure out any of her physical vulnerabilities from the records, he had a hunch that her lover might be her Achilles' heel, just as Mu Qing was his.

He awoke with a sudden start, his head feeling heavy as though he'd just risen from a long nap. 

Panic coursed through him when he realized he'd succumbed to exhaustion and lost precious time. Glancing at the window, he saw that the sky had already darkened.

Fuck, he muttered to himself, frustration bubbling up. He noticed a stack of scrolls piled beside him, most likely containing information about the last ghost he'd hunted, courtesy of Zhong Hao. Why hadn't Zhong Hao awakened him?

Feng Xin's heart raced as panic coursed through him. He imagined Mu Qing already heading out to confront the ghost without him. There was no time to waste. 

As Feng Xin bolted out of his palace, he could hear his deputies calling out to him, their voices filled with concern and confusion, but he paid them no heed. His mind was consumed by a singular, urgent thought—Mu Qing was in danger.

Ignoring the voices, he dashed through the heavenly corridors, his footsteps echoing with a sense of urgency that matched the pounding of his heart. Each step he took was a frantic push toward the field where he believed Mu Qing might be facing the ghost. Time was slipping away, and he couldn't afford to waste a single moment.

Feng Xin ran and ran. But it seemed like he was a joke to the universe. 

Feng Xin's heart sank as he arrived at the familiar field, only to find Mu Qing lying on the ground, a sword piercing his chest. The woman ghost stood menacingly over him, her malevolent smile sending shivers down Feng Xin's spine.

“Late, aren't you?” The ghost mocked, her voice dripping with disdain. “Or have you already given up?” 

Breathing heavily, he tried to charge his arrow to confront the ghost, but she moved with supernatural speed, eluding his aim. Frustration and despair welled up within him.

“He died alone, you know?”  the ghost taunted, her words cutting into Feng Xin like a knife. “Alone, angry, and sad. He thought that you hated him. What a pitiful god.” 

“Fuck you!”  Anguish coursed through Feng Xin as he realized the extent of his failure, and the cruel words of the ghost only deepened his torment. Mu Qing laid there, lifeless, and it was all because Feng Xin had been too late once again.

When he finally spotted the ghost, he was ready with his arrow, and his fingers trembled with anger. He had to avenge Mu Qing, had to make her pay for the torment they'd endured. He was poised to release the arrow, ready to let it fly and end this nightmare once and for all.

But then, doubt crept in like a shadow, casting a pall over his resolve. A chilling question gripped his mind: What if killing the ghost now meant that Mu Qing would remain eternally lost to him?

In that moment of hesitation, the ghost seized the opportunity. She lunged at Feng Xin. Pain surged through him as her blade pierced his side. The wound wasn’t deep, so he wouldn't die from it, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

“Who knows that the God of the Southeast could be so stupid?” the ghost taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. “See you later, General.”

With the ghost gone from his sight, Feng Xin bolted to where Mu Qing's lifeless body lay sprawled across the ground. His trembling hands reached for Mu Qing's wrist, desperate for any sign of life, but there was nothing—no pulse, no warmth, only cold stillness.

The truth struck him like a dagger through the heart. Mu Qing had died alone, just as the ghost had claimed.

As he knelt there, grief and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. Memories of Mu Qing leaving his chamber in tears flooded his mind once more, a painful reminder of their last encounter filled with anger and hurtful words. The weight of regret bore down on him, and he wished with all his being that he could turn back time and make amends.

Once again, he had let Mu Qing down.

—

As he opened his eyes, determination washed over Feng Xin. 

He had been so close to the answer. He needed to act smarter.

After Ling Wen dismissed them, Feng Xin nodded and pulled Mu Qing to follow him. He didn't have the luxury of tiptoeing around this conversation; every moment counted.

It took a moment for Mu Qing to snap out of his daze. He shook his hand free from Feng Xin's grasp and snapped, “What are you doing?” 

“I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

Mu Qing's expression remained defiant. “Well, you don't have to pull me forcefully, you brute.”

Feng Xin sighed, his frustration palpable. “Fine, whatever. Let's talk in my palace.”   

As they stepped into Feng Xin's chamber, he immediately reached for the communication array and called for Zhong Hao. “Zhong Hao, bring me every scroll related to my last mission,” he instructed. After Zhong Hao acknowledged the order with a respectful, “Alright, Sir,”  Feng Xin gestured for Mu Qing to take a seat in front of him.

Not a moment after, a soft knock echoed through the chamber's wooden door. Feng Xin swiftly responded with an authoritative “Come in!” anticipating the arrival of his head deputy. As the door creaked open, Zhong Hao entered, bowing to acknowledge both generals. Carefully, he began placing the requested scrolls onto Feng Xin's decorated table. Without any need for words, Zhong Hao left the chamber, leaving Feng Xin and Mu Qing.

“Okay, what do you need to talk about?” Mu Qing asked impatiently.

Feng Xin hesitated for a moment, grappling with how to begin this conversation. How do you tell someone you've witnessed their death countless times?

“Just,” he began, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty as he reached for one of the scrolls, “this will sound crazy.” He could feel Mu Qing's piercing gaze on him

Mu Qing's expression remained impassive, though a glint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Come on, I've lived 800 years. I've seen everything at this point.”

He cleared his throat, his voice steadying as he spoke. “Well, I'm cursed.” The words hung in the air, and Feng Xin could see Mu Qing processing the information, his eyes narrowing slightly as he waited for further explanation.

 “Go on?”

“I’m cursed,” his voice trembled as he continued, his gaze fixed on the scroll in his hands. “I've experienced this day repeatedly, and I couldn't even tell you how many times I've lived this day now. It all started and ended the same, with this morning when Ling Wen gave you and me a mission, and it ended with you dying.”

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, and he finally turned to meet Mu Qing's gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and hope.

Mu Qing met Feng Xin's eyes with a calculating look. His fingers absently played with his robes, a clear sign that he was deep in thought.

“Well?”  he said finally, breaking the silence. “Is this the only day where you've told me?”

“No,” Feng Xin admitted, “I told you once,” it didn't end well, he wanted to say.

Mu Qing's reaction was swift and filled with anger. “Shut up, really?” he retorted, his frustration evident. “Countless times, and you don't bother to tell me? You think of me as stupid?”

Feng Xin tried to interject, to explain, but Mu Qing wasn't finished. “Aren't you glad?”  he continued, his voice laced with bitterness. "That I die?" 

Fuck, he really should’ve known this was coming.

“No, okay?”  Feng Xin exhaled with exasperation. “This might surprise you, but I'm not happy! I've been losing my mind for some time now. Every time you die, it feels like a piece of my heart is torn away. I can't bear this any longer, Mu Qing. I'm so close to finding the answer now. I need—” He paused, his lips trembling, but he couldn't afford to break down in front of Mu Qing at this moment. “I need to end this now. I need you to be safe and alive by the night's end.”

Mu Qing looked at him as if he believed Feng Xin was losing his mind. He was losing his mind! “Why?”

“Mu Qing, I—”  Feng Xin needed to be direct. No room for misinterpretation., “I love you. I have been since Xianle, yet I’ve been too foolish to notice–”

"No." 

“Fucking listen to me for a—”

“No! Feng Xin!”  Mu Qing stood up, his entire face flushed with anger, and Feng Xin noticed that Mu Qing was shaking, “You have no right to say that! Have you no shame? Is this some kind of cruel joke?”

Feng Xin slowly stood up, approaching Mu Qing with utmost care as if he were a stray kitten who would bolt at the slightest noise. “You have no idea what I’ve felt when I watch you die repeatedly in front of me.” He took a step closer, ensuring he was right in front of Mu Qing.

“I’m not going to lie and say that I’ve never hated you,” He could see Mu Qing tensed. Quickly, he held Mu Qing's hands firmly, his eyes sincere and determined.

“You once told me that I didn't understand you,” Feng Xin continued, “and I never tried to truly understand. I'm sorry. You were just a child—”

“You were a child, too! I don't need your pity!” Mu Qing's voice was filled with frustration, and he attempted to pull his hands away, but Feng Xin's grip remained resolute.

“You asked me to understand you. You even swallowed your pride and apologized to me back then. I regret not listening to you so much, Mu Qing. Please hear me out” he begged, “Apologizing might not be enough, but I plan to make it up to you in the future, if you’ll let me.”

He could sense Mu Qing's surprise, a gasp escaping his lips. “What—” 

"I love you,"  Feng Xin declared firmly, his eyes locked onto Mu Qing's. “It wasn't a joke. I love you. Seeing you die before me was torture; I couldn't shield you from the pain. Each time you die, a part of me also goes with you.”

Mu Qing's eyes widened as he stared back at Feng Xin, his anger and disbelief slowly melting away, replaced by astonishment and vulnerability. “Are you still playing with me?”  he whispered. 

Without thinking, Feng Xin leaned in and pressed his lips against Mu Qing's. The kiss was tender and unhurried, a reflection of the depth of his emotions. In that single, intimate moment, he bore his soul to Mu Qing, pouring out all the love and longing he had hidden for far too long. Their lips moved together in a slow, heartfelt dance, each brush and caress conveying a thousand unspoken words. Feng Xin's hands cupped Mu Qing's face, his thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, as if he could touch the very essence of his beloved.

It was a kiss filled with all the emotions that had been locked away for centuries—the love, the yearning, the regret, and the hope for a future where they could finally be together without the shadows of the past haunting them.

As they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other, and they shared a moment of quiet intimacy. Feng Xin's heart felt lighter than it had in a lifetime.

“I love you, Mu Qing,” He declared, his voice filled with sincerity and devotion. He pressed a light, affectionate kiss to Mu Qing's lips before continuing,  “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each declaration of love, he peppered kisses across Mu Qing's face—a soft kiss on the forehead, a gentle one on the nose, and tender kisses on each cheek. Finally, he returned to Mu Qing's lips, sealing their love with a sweet, lingering kiss.

“I'll never tire of saying it,” Feng Xin whispered against Mu Qing's lips, his eyes filled with love, “And I'll never tire of proving to you that I love you, now and for all eternity.” 

Mu Qing, eyes brimming with tears and his body quivering, finally locked eyes with Feng Xin. He couldn't help but let out a small, watery smile. “You're such a sentimental fool,”  he whispered, his voice filled with amusement.

Feng Xin couldn't help but chuckle at Mu Qing's comment. “Yeah, I guess I am,”  he admitted, his own eyes shimmering with emotion. “But you're the only one who makes me feel this way.”

He wiped away a tear from Mu Qing's cheek with his thumb, his touch gentle and loving. “So, do you believe me?”  Feng Xin asked with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I-I guess,” Mu Qing's cheeks flushed with a mixture of emotions. He planted a quick, affectionate kiss on Feng Xin's lips before continuing, “You're a fool, but I love you too. Now, let's get back to the topic—the curse.”

Feng Xin's mood took a somber turn. He had momentarily forgotten about the curse. "Yeah,"  he replied, refocusing on the matter at hand.

“I’m going to die tonight,” Mu Qing stated matter-of-factly.

Feng Xin's response was swift, his determination unwavering. His eyes bore into Mu Qing's as he uttered, “No, not tonight, not soon. We will end this tonight.”

"How are you so sure?" 

Feng Xin handed some of the scrolls on his table to Mu Qing, his gaze never leaving. "I've figured it out," he declared with a glint in his eyes, “the motive.”

“And?”

“And?”

Mu Qing sighed, he hesitated before continuing, “So you've figured out the motive, but how do we break the curse?” 

“Well, I was hoping I'd find that in these scrolls.”  Feng Xin said slowly, eyes narrowed as he attempted to suppress the irritation that was building up.

“So you’ve basically no idea.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes.

Would punching the guy you love and kissed be considered inappropriate? Feng Xin had to remind himself that Mu Qing's endearing ability to be a little shit shouldn't be a cause for violence, especially now.

With a sigh, Feng Xin proceeded to tell Mu Qing about his last mission before they were cursed. He explained how he had killed a wrath on his territory and how Zhong Hao had astutely deduced that the savage ghost and the woman ghost they were going to face, or rather, had been facing, were actually lovers.

Mu Qing listened attentively to each Feng Xin’s words. “Have you ever asked for Xie Lian and Crimson Rain's help?”

“Yeah, once.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as Mu Qing absorbed this revelation. He couldn't help but furrow his brows. “So you've been facing all these alone most of the time? You're insane.”

Feng Xin let out a tired sigh, his hand moving to massage his temples. The emotional exhaustion was obvious in the room. “Do you want to seek out their help now?”

“I might be prideful, but I know my limit—” 

“Debatable.” 

" —when it comes to my duty,"  Mu Qing finished, his expression stern, as if challenging Feng Xin to question his dedication to his responsibilities.

Feng Xin was quiet for a moment. Then he took some of the scrolls on his table, “Yeah. Let’s go to Puqi Shrine.”

The trio, with Hua Cheng opting to stay out of the investigation, dedicated themselves to a thorough examination of the scrolls. They pored over every page, scrutinizing the contents for any hints related to the curse. However, despite hours of diligent searching, they found no mention of the curse nor any reference to the ability to manipulate time.

Feng Xin's frustration grew with each passing second, the weight of urgency pressing upon him. Time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. His gaze settled on Mu Qing, who wore a deeply concentrated expression. Feng Xin couldn't afford to lose him again, not after they had come so close to unraveling the curse.

Sensing Feng Xin's intense scrutiny, Mu Qing met his gaze and responded to the unspoken worry. He arched an eyebrow and offered reassurance. “We'll figure it out. Don't look so pessimistic.”

Noticing the exchange, Xie Lian paused in his reading, his eyes lifting to Feng Xin. He echoed Mu Qing's sentiment, his voice filled with determination. “He's right. We'll find a way through this.”

Sitting on the other side of the room, Hua Cheng observed the interaction with his usual annoying demeanor. “You just have to outsmart her.”

Feng Xin huffed in frustration. “That's so much easier said than done.” 

Xie Lian contemplated for a moment before offering his support. "We'll go with you!" 

He was taken aback by Xie Lian's willingness to assist him. He hadn't initially wanted to trouble Xie Lian with his problem, but a selfish glimmer of hope sparked within him at Xie Lian's words. Anything to ensure Mu Qing's survival.

“Your Highness!”  Feng Xin exclaimed, gratitude and a tinge of guilt coloring his voice. “I am already deeply thankful that you're willing to assist me in this research.”

As Feng Xin spoke, Xie Lian's expression shifted, and his brow furrowed slightly as he stared at Feng Xin. “Mu Qing is my friend too, you know? I feel just as deeply as you do at the mere thought of him—” He paused abruptly, a hint of sorrow flickering in his eyes as he contemplated the next word he wanted to say.

Beside them, Mu Qing couldn't help but roll his eyes, his trademark gesture of annoyance. But his voice was fond when he said, “I'm still very much alive, you know. There's no need to speak of me as if I'm already dead.”

Xie Lian suddenly turned towards Mu Qing. Without warning, he launched himself at him, catching the Southwest God off-guard. “You will not die today, Mu Qing! Feng Xin and I will make sure of that,” Xie Lian declared with a determined gleam in his eyes.

Mu Qing froze for a moment, taken aback by Xie Lian's sudden embrace, but then he sighed and returned the hug. "I know,"  he replied softly.

The heartwarming sight stirred something deep within Feng Xin. He approached the two gods and wrapped his arms around his friend and his beloved. Mu Qing made a protest sound, likely feeling uncomfortable because he was caught in the middle of their impromptu group hug. But Feng Xin paid no heed to his protests.

In that warm embrace, Feng Xin felt a profound sense of relief wash over him, as if a heavy burden had been momentarily lifted from his shoulders. 

Xie Lian, who had once occupied the place of utmost importance in his heart, was now standing beside him, offering support in his time of need. And then there was Mu Qing, the current anchor of his existence. At this moment, wrapped in their arms, Feng Xin couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected turns life had taken. Mu Qing had become an indispensable part of his life, filling voids he had never known existed.

“Awe, is Feng Xin feeling emotional right now?” Xie Lian's gentle voice broke through the moment, and Feng Xin was startled to realize that his eyes had welled up with tears. He felt a twinge of embarrassment at his own vulnerability.

Before he could respond, Mu Qing's gaze shifted to him, and a teasing smirk played on his lips. “You are such a crybaby.” 

Feng Xin's face burned with embarrassment, and he half-yelled, “Shut up! I'm just happy that we're together. That's it!” He couldn't help but feel a little sheepish as the words left his mouth. 

Beside him, Xie Lian's laughter filled the air, and Feng Xin could feel the reassuring weight of his hands on his shoulders. “It's okay," Xie Lian said, his voice warm and understanding. “I'm happy that we're together too.”

“Now, though, we need to think of a plan.” 

—

The plan was simple. Too simple, even.

Dianxia and Hua Cheng will come, but they won’t be on the battlefield. They’d assist from afar. 

As for Mu Qing and Feng Xin, they now had insight into the ghost's motives. Armed with this knowledge, their task was to confront her and coax the answers they sought from her. It was a high-stakes gamble, and the success of their mission hung in the balance.

The night had fallen, casting its inky veil over the realm. Mu Qing and Feng Xin stood on the empty field, their eyes fixed on the eerie mist that shrouded the area. Lingering traces of an unsettling energy permeated the air.

The initial encounter with the ghost unfolded swiftly, much like the previous timelines. With her disappearing before anything major could happen.

However, this time, a significant change occurred. As the ground trembled and an army of ghosts began to emerge, the earth abruptly swallowed them before they could fully materialize. 

Definitely Crimson Rain's work.

Feng Xin couldn't help but feel a surge of newfound optimism. With the army of ghosts vanquished by Crimson Rain's intervention, they didn’t have to waste a grand amount of spiritual energy before facing the ghost. 

A chilling silence enveloped the battlefield momentarily, with the two gods standing tall, a sense of unease coursing through them.

“How audacious,” the ghost woman finally appeared. “Do you believe your little ploy will aid you?” Her words sounded composed, but Feng Xin could discern a subtle tremor in her body, a hint of unease beneath her seemingly indifferent facade. She had been caught off guard.

In response, Feng Xin swiftly drew Fengshen from his back. His attacks were relentless and well-timed, each strike calculated to overwhelm her. On the other hand, Mu Qing, always the strategic thinker, circled around the ghost, seeking an opening in her defenses.

Amidst the chaotic clash of spiritual energies and the haunting echoes of their battle, Feng Xin boldly confronted the enraged ghost. “Do you have any intention of ending this, or are you content to squander all your power on trying to trap me in this wretched loop?”

The ghost let out a spine-chilling laugh, casting a sinister shadow over her features. Her eyes glinted with a twisted delight as she retorted, “Why should I stop? I'll persist until I've had my fill.”

Mu Qing hummed as he swung his saber at the ghost, “Pretty sure your lover wants you to pass as quickly as possible.” 

She dodged his attack, laughing manically, “How dare you mention him!” she screamed, her voice filled with fury. “We had a plan! He was about to commence a ritual that would have granted us eternal life! We could have lived together forever, but Nan Yang ruined everything!”  

Feng Xin added his voice to the fray, his frustration apparent. “A ritual that involved the murder of innocent souls? Both of you posed a grave threat to my people!” Simultaneously, Mu Qing delivered his signature sarcastic retort. “Well, you can already enjoy eternal death, so what's the difference?” 

The ghost, now wholly unhinged, launched a series of erratic and unpredictable attacks in response to their taunts. After a while, she turned her attention to Feng Xin, smiling cruelly. 

“How does it feel, then, Nan Yang?”  she taunted, her voice dripping with malice. “To watch your beloved die before your eyes countless times?”

Feng Xin fought to maintain his composure, recognizing her tactics as an attempt to provoke him. “Does your beloved Xuan Zhen know of this feeling?” she added, now turning her gaze to Mu Qing in an effort to catch him off-guard.

Mu Qing responded with a bitter laugh. “I've loved him for 800 years,"  he stated firmly. “Do you truly believe you know everything about us?”

Upon hearing this, she was momentarily stunned, and Mu Qing seized the opportunity in that fleeting moment of hesitation. With a lightning-quick swing of his saber, he drove his blade into her spectral form, aiming for her ribs. 

Her eyes widened in a mixture of excruciating pain and utter shock as the gleaming blade found its intended mark, ruthlessly sinking into her flesh. The cold metal bore into her body, and the searing pain surged through her like wildfire, causing her to gasp for breath.

In a heartbeat, Mu Qing withdrew their saber, the blade shimmering with deadly intent, ready to administer the final, fatal strike. 

The eerie silence of the moment hung in the air, shattered only by the harsh, ragged breaths that escaped the ghost's lips.

Yet, as the ghost grappled with the stark reality of her impending doom, desperation began to consume her. Her options dwindled, and she was forced to embrace her final gambit. 

With a sudden, supernatural burst of speed, she closed the distance between herself and Feng Xin. It was as though she became a fleeting specter, a blur of movement reminiscent of a lightning bolt, bridging the gap in the blink of an eye.

Before Feng Xin could react, a searing, white-hot-pain erupted in the right side of his abdomen as the ghost’s blade pierced his flesh. The excruciating sensation left him gasping, his face contorted in agony.

A profound sense of deja vu washed over Feng Xin like an icy wave crashing against the shore of his consciousness. It was a haunting reminder of a previous encounter when she, the ghost before him, had attacked him first, causing Mu Qing to lose control. 

“I'm fine! Finish her!”  he desperately yelled, his voice edged with urgency. This plan was their last hope, the thin thread that held the promise of Mu Qing's survival. He couldn't afford to let it slip away like smoke through his fingers.

Then, like a divine response to his plea, his eyes widened in relief as he witnessed Ruoye gracefully soaring through the battlefield. The radiant fabric spirit moved with otherworldly grace. It wound itself around the ghost, trapping her.

With every fiber of his being burning with agony, Feng Xin summoned the last ounce of his strength. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain coursing through his body, he dragged his battered form across the field. The world around him seemed to blur and waver as though reality conspired against his resolve.

But before he could reach his target, a whirlwind of movement erupted before his eyes. Mu Qing had already stood tall before the ghost. With a grace and fluidity that belied the chaos of battle, he swung his saber with a deadly move, its sharp edge slicing through the air. 

The razor-sharp blade cleaved through the ghost, severing her head from her body in a gruesome spectacle. 

A profound stillness settled upon the battlefield, as if the very essence of the world held its breath in the face of such sudden, brutal violence.

Feng Xin rushed toward the spot where Mu Qing stood, his body enveloping the other man in a tight embrace as the shock began to dissipate. Mu Qing attempted to pull away, concern etched across his features. “Feng Xin! Are you okay?”

However, Feng Xin was in no mood to entertain more questions. Instead, he pressed his lips against Mu Qing's, uncaring of the audience that surrounded them. “You're alive,” he whispered, his voice filled with both relief and emotion. He showered Mu Qing with a cascade of affectionate kisses, each one a testament to the overwhelming joy of the moment. His lips brushed Mu Qing's temple, then moved to his cheek, his nose, and eventually found their way back to his lips.

Through the haze of emotions, he could hear Mu Qing's soft chuckle. “I am,” Mu Qing replied, amusement lacing his voice. “Let me see your wound?” 

Feng Xin's body seemed to remember the gash that marred his flesh as if on cue. His exhausted and bloodied form began to sag, and he heard noises from his surroundings, though his vision remained unfocused. Mu Qing's reassuring touch guided him as he was gently laid down on the grass, the world around him fading into a blur.

A soothing warmth and tingling sensation enveloped Feng Xin's weary body, and at that moment, he realized that Mu Qing had shared his spiritual energy with him. “Hey, you'll be okay,"  Mu Qing's voice reached him.

Around them, the sounds of hurried footsteps on the grass signaled the arrival of Dianxia and Crimson Rain. Panicked voices and hushed conversations swirled above him, but Feng Xin found it increasingly difficult to decipher their words. 

With enough concentration, he could discern the sound of Mu Qing's voice, gently encouraging him to open his eyes. Yet, he found himself utterly drained both physically and mentally. The toll of what he had endured weighed heavily on him. Surely, he deserved some well-earned rest after everything he had been through, wouldn't you agree?

Ignoring the voices that swirled around him, Feng Xin surrendered to the embrace of exhaustion. As a result, the world slowly dimmed and faded away into a comforting abyss of darkness.

—

Feng Xin's return to consciousness was marked by a sharp intake of breath, his awareness returning before he dared to open his eyes. Apprehension loomed over him about what he might find when he finally did. To his surprise, the familiar female voice that had been his alarm for weeks was absent.

“I can sense that you're waking up, you know?” a voice, unmistakably Mu Qing's, reached his ears. 

He cautiously opened his eyes with newfound courage and found Mu Qing there. 

He was ghostly pale as if he hadn’t been resting, and his eyes were red as if he had been crying for hours. But he was alive.

“We killed the ghost. It's over,” Mu Qing assured him, his voice blending exhaustion and relief. He retrieved a glass of water from a table near Feng Xin's bed and handed it to him. “Here, drink first.”

He gratefully sipped the water that Mu Qing offered, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. As he felt the comforting weight of Mu Qing's hand in his own, he clung to it tightly, their fingers intertwining in a reassuring grip. Mu Qing reciprocated, squeezing his hand gently.

“You passed out for 3 days, idiot,”  Mu Qing chided him with a hint of exasperation, but it was softened by the genuine concern in his eyes.

Feng Xin let out an awkward laugh, his voice raspy. “I guess the exhaustion finally caught up with me.”

“I thought you were going to die,” the Southwest God murmured, his words barely audible.

Feng Xin's brow furrowed as he attempted to sit up, determined to offer some comfort. “I’m not one to die easily,” 

However, Mu Qing's response was far more emotional than he had anticipated. His eyes welled up with tears as he clung to Feng Xin tightly, “You remained unconscious for three whole days! I can't stand you.”

Feng Xin reciprocated the embrace with equal intensity, his arms enfolding his beloved tightly. It was a new day, and most importantly, Mu Qing was alive.

Together, they had succeeded in defeating the ghost.

The curse had finally shattered. With tears brimming in Feng Xin's eyes, he held his beloved even tighter, his lips tenderly pressing a kiss to Mu Qing's temple. “I love you,"  he whispered. “I'm sorry it took me so long to break the curse. I—" 

Mu Qing silenced him with a gentle shush, his fingers lightly brushing against Feng Xin's lips. “Shut up,”  he chided softly, his eyes warm and filled with affection. “I'm here, and I'm alive, alright? You're here with me, too. We're together. That's what matters.” 

Mu Qing's words struck a chord deep within Feng Xin. It wasn't just about being okay or being alive; it was about their shared existence. After 800 years of standing side by side, despite the tumultuous nature of their relationship, filled with moments of hatred and hidden tenderness, the fact remained that they had spent 800 years side by side.

Their lives had become inextricably linked, and the thought of a world without Mu Qing was inconceivable. Feng Xin didn't just rely on him; he couldn't fathom a life without him.

“We're together,” Feng Xin repeated with a heartfelt smile. He couldn't help himself and pressed another quick, affectionate kiss onto Mu Qing's lips. After all they had been through, who could blame him for seeking solace and reaffirming their bond in this tender way?

Mu Qing's smile remained as he welcomed Feng Xin's affectionate kiss, savoring the moment they shared. However, he soon leaned back slightly, mischief dancing in his eyes, “On another note,”  he began, “Xie Lian asked since when we were dating.”

Feng Xin replied with a teasing smirk and a soft chuckle, “Are we dating then? Is this the beginning of something new?”

"Do you want it to be?"

Feng Xin leaned in once more, their lips meeting in another tender kiss. With a grin, he inquired, “Does the distinguished General Xuan Zhen wish to be in a relationship with this humble one?”

Mu Qing couldn't suppress a soft snort, but he responded with another heartfelt kiss. “Of course,” he affirmed, sealing their commitment with loving exchange.

It might have taken them days, weeks, or even years to finally confront the misunderstandings and deep-seated hurts that had festered over their 800 years of being alive. 

But as he held Mu Qing in his arms, he found it in himself that he didn’t care. His longing to truly understand the man nestled in his embrace burned fiercely within him. He was willing to suffer countless hardships to protect him. 

(Though he’d hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.)

In the end, what mattered above all else was the simple fact that they were both alive and together.