Chapter Text
This feels... strange.
Feng Xin roams the remains of the Heavenly Capital – wandering between fallen palaces and broken statues – looking for the one person he never thought he’d be looking for.
Mu Qing.
Following the fall of the Emperor and the dispersion of Crimson Rain Sought Flower, they’d taken care of Xie Lian together, dragging their friend out of the rubble and supported him on their way back to the other gods. There’d been a new kind of understanding between them as they did, a careful trust found in exchanged glances and whispered conversations. Feng Xin had even found himself smiling at Mu Qing once. After Xie Lian had excused himself and wandered off, Mu Qing had awkwardly but fiercely insisted to treat Feng Xin’s wounds as well, further building this brittle bond between them. But when Feng Xin had offered to do the same – Mu Qing should have let him go first anyways, he’d been worse off than Feng Xin to begin with – a look of terror had appeared on Mu Qing’s face and he’d left in a hurry.
Strange.
At the time Feng Xin had only stared after him, shaking his head at the unsolvable enigma of Mu Qing’s feelings and pushed it away, but then the unease had set in.
Things had been going fine up until that point, had he done something wrong?
Had he misinterpreted things?
Mu Qing was slower than he appeared, apparently, not catching on that Xie Lian saw him as a friend all those years ago, so what if he still held a grudge against Feng Xin? He hadn’t really apologized after all and... thinking about everything, Feng Xin has to admit that Mu Qing is right, that things could have been different, if he hadn’t talked so much shit about him in front of Xie Lian.
And then he couldn’t stop thinking about that moment on the Heaven-Crossing-Bridge.
About Mu Qing drowning in a sea of flames; about Mu Qing closing his eyes; about Mu Qing raising that hand to his head; about Mu Qing ready to take his own life.
At some point it had become too much to bear and so, Feng Xin had decided to go looking for Mu Qing.
It feels... strange.
It feels more than strange.
On one hand Feng Xin feels desperate to find Mu Qing – to make things clear for once – but on the other hand it’s that very thought that sets his nerves on edge. That after centuries of bitter grudges and ugly brawls he is out here, looking to extend a peace offer to his oldest enemy. That if he’s honest with himself, he wants it to be more than just that. Friendship.
He wants them to try and be friends.
Not for Xie Lian’s sake, not anymore, but simply because... he thinks he cares about Mu Qing. Always has in a muddled kind of way.
Feng Xin discovers the statue first.
Night has already fallen and turned the world around him into shapes and shadows, but the flickering light of candles catches his eyes.
The shape of the object puzzles him for a moment, but then he recognizes it for what it is.
It’s a miracle, Feng Xin thinks, that anything should have survived the fall of the Heavenly Capital, but the statue appears undamaged. He’s still too far away to make out any details, but judging by the weapon on its back – a sabre? a long-bow? – it must be a Martial God. The closer Feng Xin gets, the more familiar the statue begins to look to him, but just when he’s about to put his finger on it...
He sees Mu Qing.
It’s hard to make out his features in the dark, but Feng Xin would recognize his shape anywhere – the proud set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the long hair gracefully flowing down his back. The sight of it fills Feng Xin with such an overwhelming sense of relief that it terrifies him.
A part of him had been worried that Mu Qing had underestimated his injuries and collapsed somewhere, or that he’d succumbed to his wounds after all, but-
But now, underneath it all, there’s just the thrill of seeing him.
The person he’s known for longer than anyone else in this world.
The person that reminds him of home, that feels so familiar to him, no matter how many misunderstandings they’ve had.
Feng Xin realizes he doesn’t know how to tell Mu Qing any of that.
What was he thinking?
He’s never been good with words, never been one for rousing declarations of friendship, and worst of all he has a history of saying the wrong thing when it comes to Mu Qing. If Mu Qing really is still cross with him, then how is he going to change that?
For a moment Feng Xin considers leaving – it would be so much easier – but then he pulls himself together. He’s here because he wanted things to be different. The only thing worse than fucking this up, would be doing the same as always and not to try at all. Besides, he’s lived for hundreds of years and fought countless battles, he’s the rising sun of the Southeast, General Nan Yang – with all his prowess this can’t be the task he fails to master.
There needs to be something he can do. Something that makes it impossible for Mu Qing to misinterpret his intentions. Or at the very least something that will help Mu Qing understand he’s serious about this.
Suddenly an idea takes shape.
Determinedly Feng Xin summons his spiritual energy – growing it until it’s buzzing under his skin, eager to spill over – before turning it outwards. And as a familiar warmth washes through him, his body begins to change. Bones moan in protest, twisting into new shapes; features stretch and skin grows softer, and slowly, he takes on the form of a young Deputy God.
He’s done it so often at this point, that it doesn’t feel much different from stretching his legs.
As the energy settles back into his new form, Feng Xin feels himself relax.
The familiar weight of this skin has come to mean the greatest form of freedom to him. Nan Feng is untroubled. Unbound. He carries none of the burdens that Feng Xin does, be it godly or otherwise, and he has made none of the mistakes that keep Feng Xin awake at night. Nan Feng has never turned his back on a friend. Nan Feng extended a hand when it was needed. Nan Feng has never lost anything, when that’s all that seemed to be left for Feng Xin for the longest time.
Above all, Nan Feng means a new beginning to him. Because he symbolizes the day Feng Xin found Xie Lian again. And because for the first time in centuries, Mu Qing and him willingly worked besides each other. Feng Xin realizes now that even back then he’d been glad to rekindle their “friendship”; despite everything that was still standing between them.
He hopes that Mu Qing will recognize his sentiment.
Feeling more confident in his plan, Feng Xin strides forward, moving towards Mu Qing, but he doesn’t get far before he realizes that something is terribly wrong. Mu Qing isn’t alone. Closer to the scene the flickering shadows reveal a pulsing mass of bodies around him – shoving, pushing, closing in on him; at least a hundred, or two hundred figures, with malicious-looking instruments grasped in their hands.
Are those ghosts? Demons?
A few hours ago Feng Xin would have never consider interfering, but a few hours ago his mind wasn’t filled with images of Mu Qing falling to his death or taking his own life.
He knows that Mu Qing can handle himself, but... What if he’s still hurt?
Before he can think about what he’s doing, Feng Xin has moved closer to the scene.
He can hear shouting now.
The sound of it is distant, but not too distant to make out some of the words being spit at Mu Qing.
“...THIS A JOKE?”
“...YOUR TERRITORY!”
“...NO RIGHT..."
As far as Feng Xin can tell Mu Qing remains silent, which only increases the fear in his heart. He knows Mu Qing’s pride better than anyone, and Mu Qing would never let anyone talk to him that way. Every fibre of his body is screaming at him to barge in and face the situation head-on, but Feng Xin is afraid of putting Mu Qing in danger by revealing himself too early; he needs to get closer first.
And so, Feng Xin sticks to the shadows, inching towards the scene like a thief in the night.
With a last sprint he dives behind the statue.
This close to the scene he can finally make out who Mu Qing has been facing and it leaves him completely dumbfounded.
It's just a group of mortals.
Suddenly, nothing makes sense anymore to Feng Xin. But before he has the chance to ponder why Mu Qing is letting these peasants treat him that way, he finally snaps.
“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Mu Qing’s voice booms powerfully, and Feng Xin can feel it echoing through his bones. “SPEAKING TO YOUR GOD LIKE THIS, HAVE YOU NO SHAME?”
The crowd immediately falls silent.
“YOU DARE ASK FOR PERMISSION TO DESECRATE THE STATUE OF A HEAVENLY OFFICIAL AND THEN QUESTION MY WORD?”
Only one merchant dares to raise his voice...
“But General, this feud has been going on for centuries. Our fathers’ fathers have been fighting for you, and their fathers before them. You can’t expect us to just lie down our weapons like this.”
“AM I NOT THE ONE TO DECIDE IF THE FIGHTING IS NECESSARY?”
Feng Xin discovers how much he enjoys Mu Qing’s sharp tongue, when it’s not wielded against him.
“Of course, you do, General...”
The merchant falters, but he doesn’t back down.
“But aren’t we owed justice at least? Even if we were to step back, do as you say... Does that mean the Nan Yang followers will do the same?”
Feng Xin is taken aback.
Nan Yang???
“If we let them build their statues across the entire Southern territory,” the merchant continues, “Does that mean they will repay us in kind? Leave our temples and statues as well?”
The crowd roars in agreement, Mu Qing snarls, and Feng Xin finally connects the dots.
This statue-
It’s... It's one of his.
This must be the Southern Plains – Mu Qing's territory – and one of the statues from his palace has ended up here; caused by the fall of the Heavenly Capital. The followers of Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang have always had a strained relationship, so it's no surprise that Mu Qing's followers would be enraged over a symbol of worship for him here.
But that means Mu Qing is protecting his statue.
Not only that but-
“GENERAL NAN YANG IS TO BE WORSHIPPED WHEREVER HIS FOLLOWERS DEEM FIT,” Mu Qing roars, spiritual power crackling to life on his skin. “I WILL NOT REPEAT MYSELF AGAIN.”
As the mortals burst into terrified whimpers, scrambling to bow to Mu Qing, Feng Xin feels himself grow flustered. So, Mu Qing really is like this – pretending not to care, while he secretly does nice things for other people. It’s infuriating too, because how is anyone supposed to pick up on that??? But still... Feng Xin knows now, and Mu Qing acting this way means that whatever reason he had for leaving earlier, it had nothing to do with Feng Xin.
He remains crouched as Mu Qing’s followers, one after the other, begin to retreat; overzealously assuring their loyalty to General Xuan Zhen, that they will definitely heed his orders and spread his word. And then everything goes silent. And Mu Qing is the only one left.
Feng Xin waits for him to leave too – torn between calling out and remaining hidden after what he’s just witnessed – but then Mu Qing turns around and steps closer to the statue.
"Who's there?"
His words send a jolt of panic through Feng Xin and he presses closer against the statue. For some reason the thought of Mu Qing discovering him now feels mortifying.
A few feet away Mu Qing listens silently, vigilant, before his shoulders relax again.
When he turns to leave Feng Xin lets out a relieved breath, but a moment later Mu Qing has whirled around and slammed him against the statue. Their bodies collide and Feng Xin curses himself as the stone digs deep into his back.
Of course.
He’s never been able to fool Mu Qing.
Too dazed to struggle against the arm on his throat, Feng Xin stares up at the Martial God, blood pounding in his ears. Mu Qing looks the same as always – dark eyes, long lashes, lips curled in a hateful snarl – but for some reason it sets his heart racing. Maybe it’s the post-battle adrenaline or maybe it’s just that he’s not used to Mu Qing towering over him like this with their unfamiliar height difference, but his closeness is doing things to Feng Xin.
"It’s you..." Mu Qing states somewhat breathlessly as his face clears up, staring at Feng Xin with wide eyes. "Why is it you?"
Seeing how fast he reacted, Mu Qing seems to be doing okay, but it’s not giving Feng Xin the relief he was hoping for. There were so many things he wanted to tell him – that he’s sorry, that he wants to start over, that he was scared of not reaching him in time – but now his mind is completely blank. It’s not like they’ve never gotten close and personal during their fights before, but Mu Qing’s leg between his thighs is making him increasingly uncomfortable.
Feng Xin doesn’t understand what is happening to him.
Mu Qing, in the meantime, seems to be struggling with his own problems. The longer they stare at each other, the more panicked he looks, blotches of red appearing on his cheekbones as he realizes something Feng Xin just can’t put his finger on.
“Why do you keep doing this today?” he eventually chokes out, sounding so frustrated that it momentarily shakes Feng Xin from his stupor. “Why do you have to be like this? Always coming back, when I’m trying to-”
Mu Qing stops himself and turns his head, shadows dancing across his features, before he steps back into the darkness.
“Mu Qing-”
Feng Xin stumbles forward, legs suddenly too weak to carry his weight without Mu Qing’s support, while he moves a hand up to his throat in a daze.
Mu Qing has let go of him, so why does it still feel like someone is crushing the air out of him?
“Why do you look like that?” Mu Qing asks all of a sudden, regaining some of his usual snark and his eyebrows twist together in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he adds, looking at Feng Xin like he’s only now realizing that he must’ve had a reason for coming.
And Feng Xin realizes how stupid his idea was.
Why did he think Mu Qing would pick up on his intention for choosing this form?
Why did he ever think that taking this form would mean he wouldn’t have to explain himself?
And worse, even though Mu Qing is acting stranger than usual, he’s obviously not holding a grudge against Feng Xin like he thought he might, meaning there is no reason to tell him about the horribly sentimental thoughts he’s been having, meaning-
Mu Qing is waiting for an answer Feng Xin is only now fully realizing the impossibility of speaking aloud.
Feng Xin realizes he can’t do this.
He bolts.
And that’s how it starts.
He tries to talk to Mu Qing a few more times – pacing in front of his re-constructed palace, lingering after meetings – but every time he does, that feeling comes back; that overwhelming, uncomfortable sensation that makes his chest feel like someone is crushing the air out of him. He always leaves before Mu Qing has the chance to notice him.
It’s infuriating to say the least.
In the past he has never had problems speaking his mind, but now Mu Qing of all people is making him tongue-tied. Feng Xin doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him. It’s driving him insane.
When he tells Xie Lian about it, his friend smiles.
“It sounds like Mu Qing is making you nervous.”
The way he says it sounds so simple, so obvious, when it’s anything but.
“Why would I be nervous around Mu Qing?”
Xie Lian lowers his gaze with a chuckle – both endearing and infuriating, because he seems to know something that Feng Xin doesn’t, and after all that’s what he’s here to find out, but Xie Lian doesn’t look like he’ll elaborate.
“I think that’s something you need to be asking yourself.”
“That’s all I have been asking myself!” Feng Xin blurts out upset – only to grow red when he realizes how that makes him sound. “I mean, it’s not like I’m constantly thinking about it, it just annoys me. When I think about it. Which isn’t- Why are you laughing?”
Xie Lian hides his laughter behind his hand, trying to put it off as a cough, but he’s always been a terrible actor.
“You- Stop it! What the fuck?” Feng Xin curses, feeling more and more embarrassed about the whole situation, even though there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s just asking a friend for advice; Xie Lian is the one making this weird.
Except he still feels like he’s the butt of a joke, which is something he hates more than anything.
If it was anyone else, he’d have bashed their head in by now, but since it’s Xie Lian...
He’s never been able to be mad at Xie Lian.
He looks too gentle when he laughs.
Too happy.
Which is something he hasn’t seen on him in quite some time Feng Xin realizes with a sudden soberness. Ever since Crimson Rain dispersed, Xie Lian has been looking absent and tired – the sadness he’s learned to hide over so many centuries just a little more pronounced.
“Sorry, I’m sorry...” Xie Lian chuckles with a wave of his hand, then straightens up and clears his throat. “I’m sorry for acting this way,” he says more seriously. “I shouldn’t be making any assumptions, so this really isn’t something I can help you with.”
As Xie Lian folds his hands in his lap, there’s a part of Feng Xin that wants to argue with him – – but at the same time he feels too embarrassed to drag this out.
“It’s okay,” he grunts. “Forget it.”
Intently staring at the floor, he startles when a hand suddenly lands on his arm.
When he looks up, Xie Lian is looking at him with a soft smile.
“I want you to talk to me.”
“...What?”
“I want you to talk to me. About how you feel. About what you want. Just because this isn’t something I can help you with- You’re one of my oldest friends, but I’ve never properly treated you like one. I’ve never asked about you, so... Please.”
Feng Xin stares at him, blinking.
“You- You don’t have to do that, that’s not-”
“But I do.”
That’s not true, Feng Xin wants to say, but then he realizes he’s never thought about it before.
And it feels wrong, contemplating that Xie Lian has been anything but a good friend to him; he’s always been kind, always been caring, but-
But he’s right.
He has never asked before.
It’s not something Feng Xin would ever hold against him and it certainly doesn’t excuse the things Feng Xin did behind his back – but Xie Lian is right.
Now that he’s thinking about it, there were a lot of things that he kept to himself back in the old days; things he didn’t tell Xie Lian because they would have made him look weak, because they weren’t honourable to feel as a man, much less as the bodyguard of the crown prince. But if Xie Lian had asked him... He believes he would have been honest.
Yes, I feel guilty about taking innocent lives.
Yes, I've been having nightmares.
Yes, I’m scared.
“I never expected you to ask,” Feng Xin mumbles awkwardly. “It wasn’t your duty; I always knew that you cared.”
“It was my duty as your friend,” Xie Lian argues softly. “Of course, things were different back then, but I never saw you as my subordinate. I should have asked.” With a sigh he adds, “There’s no way to change the past anyways, I just want you to know, that things are different now."
Feng Xin starts feeling guilty again. He’s glad to rekindle his friendship with Xie Lian, but here he is, apologizing for not asking about him, when Feng Xin hasn’t been any better.
“I’ve never really asked you about stuff either...”
Now Xie Lian is the one to look at him in surprise.
“What do you mean? Of course, you have.”
“Not about, you know... important stuff.”
Love, is what Feng Xin wants to say, desire, but it feels too embarrassing to say out loud.
“I just- With your cultivation path, I never thought that you would have... urges,” he chokes out eventually, looking anywhere but at Xie Lian. He can feel his ears burning.
“Oh.”
The sound Xie Lian makes is not quite as embarrassed as he thought it’d be, more something like understanding, or... sadness, maybe?
“I didn’t,” he replies quietly, hands suddenly twisting in his lap. “Not for the longest time, you- I couldn’t have told you, if you’d asked.”
“But it’s different now, isn’t it?” Feng Xin brings himself to ask. “Crimson Rain...”
“It is.”
Xie Lian stops fidgeting and his voice sounds even quieter than before.
Feng Xin aches.
“So, I should have asked.”
He looks up to see just a flicker of grief in Xie Lian’s eyes before he stores it away, putting on a smile for Feng Xin. Feng Xin thinks he’s starting to realize how few of Xie Lian’s smiles these days are actually genuine.
Xie Lian notices that he’s been caught and something in his gaze shifts. There’s fear at first, then uncertainty; next something like defeat, but more hopeful, and then... Trust. Feng Xin isn’t sure it’s a conscious decision, but it’s like this mask of Xie Lian’s slips just a bit more, allowing him to see a few more cracks that have been hidden.
This time Xie Lian’s smile seems genuine, and it feels like something changes between them.
Like they’ve understood something about each other, they hadn’t before.
“I shouldn’t be asking for honesty, when I’m not willing to do the same,” Xie Lian says after a moment. “I’m sorry. How about we both try to talk more openly in the future?”
“Fine. But only if we also agree to stop apologizing, it’s giving me a headache at this point.”
Xie Lian chuckles.
“Alright.”
They spend the rest of the day in comfortable silence, working besides each other as Feng Xin helps Xie Lian fix a part of the roof which has caved in; then it’s cleaning and chopping wood for the night. When Xie Lian asks if he wants to stay for dinner, Feng Xin decides it’s his cue to leave. Declining more or less politely, he lets his friend walk him towards the door, turning around a final time to say goodbye. He can see the remnants of a smile on Xie Lian’s lips – a real one, again – and Feng Xin thinks he should visit him again soon.
Feng Xin is back sooner than he expected.
His talk with Xie Lian just won’t leave him alone and he can’t stop thinking about how lonely his friend looked. And maybe, a part of it is also because without Mu Qing to fight with, there’s not much for him to do in the Heavens. (Which is something he tries very hard not to think about; the realization of just how much Mu Qing has always been a part of his life.) But mostly it’s about Xie Lian.
"So... Do you miss him?” he asks, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Xie Lian on the front porch of Puqi Shrine.
It’s a stupid thing to ask, but Feng Xin can’t think of another way to let Xie Lian know that he wants to be there for him.
It feels terribly awkward.
Because they’ve never talked about stuff like this, yes, but also because the thought of two men...
“I do.”
Xie Lian either doesn’t notice his awkwardness, or he pretends not to, as he answers with a soft smile. His fingers close around the ring hanging from his neck.
“It’s... hard sometimes.
Feng Xin grunts, unsure of what to say next.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Xie Lian continues, “I know that he will come back, he promised, and I’m willing to wait however long that takes, but...”
He hesitates.
“But what?”
Xie Lian’s fingers curl tighter around the ring; Feng Xin watches him struggle. His next words are barely more than a whisper.
“It’s been a long time since I wanted something this badly. It still scares me sometimes.”
Feng Xin looks at his friend – grieving, hopeful, longing – and is overcome with a sudden burst of anger.
“He better be back soon,” he says grimly, cursing that there’s nothing to do to make the Ghost King return faster. It’s not that he’s starting to like Hua Cheng – he doesn’t think he ever will – but the more he understands his importance in Xie Lian’s life, the more he feels the need for the Ghost King to return himself.
Xie Lian reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze.
“Thank you.”
They sit in silence for a moment, back in their newfound comfort, until Xie Lian speaks up again.
“What about you?” he says. “Do you miss Jian Lan?”
“Jian Lan?”
“Yes, I mean, she... she left again, didn’t she?”
Xie Lian phrases the question as careful as possible, but Feng Xin still feels his ears grow hot with shame. He hates people bringing up this story, even if it’s Xie Lian. Especially if it’s Xie Lian, actually, because... Because he doesn’t ask out of malice, or because he wants to gather some gossip; he asks because he cares. Xie Lian cares, even though it’s one of the greatest betrayals Feng Xin has ever committed against him.
“I don’t think I do,” Feng Xin presses out, hoping that it’s enough to make Xie Lian drop the topic, but he doesn’t.
“I’m not going to force you to talk about this, if you don’t want to,” he says. “But we promised to be more open with each other, so if this is because you feel guilty in any way – don’t. I never asked you before and- I’d like to make up for it.”
Feng Xin doesn’t think he deserves Xie Lian’s sympathy, but he does want to honour their agreement. After pondering for a moment, he hesitantly says, “I think... I might’ve stopped missing her a long time ago. When she left- I don’t know, I think I felt more guilty than anything else. Angry, maybe. But I don’t think- I don’t think I’ve missed her since then.”
He stares at the floor, but he can feel Xie Lian’s eyes on him, kindly – always kindly – waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to continue. Feng Xin catches himself thinking that it feels good to finally talk about this. Not easy. Not right. But good. Like a weight is being lifted off his shoulders.
“I see,” Xie Lian says slowly. “So, you have no desire to rekindle old flames?”
Feng Xin feels his ears grow hot.
“No,” he mumbles, “those times are behind me.”
Xie Lian accepts it without question.
“Since I found out,” he says, “I’ve been meaning to ask- How did you meet back then? What did you like about her?”
“I don’t know...” Feng Xin replies slowly “I didn’t like her at first. I saved her from a bunch of drunk soldiers, but instead of thanking me, that woman started cussing me out in the middle of the street. She could’ve handled it herself, she said, she didn’t need a man to protect her, and who was I, to think that I had the right to interfere in her business. ”
Xie Lian laughs awkwardly, seeming to remember his own encounter with her.
“I believe she would,” he says. “That sounds much like her. She seems to have a... passion for making a scene in public.”
Feng Xin laughs too, torn between nostalgia and embarrassment.
“Yeah, well...”
He scratches the back of his head.
“We kept bumping into each other after that. Kept getting into fights. She thought I was stalking her.”
Xie Lian unsuccessfully tries to disguise his chuckle as a cough.
“HOW IS THAT FUNNY?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry, there’s nothing funny about it at all,” Xie Lian appeases him, but he still has to bite his lip to hide his smile. “So, what changed?”
Feng Xin stares at him darkly, sulking, but eventually he gives in.
“I’m not sure,” he replies with a shrug. “We kept arguing, but- I guess at some point, I realized that she didn’t mean it; our fights weren’t really about me, they were about her.”
He scratches the back of his head, trying to remember.
“She’s an incredibly proud woman, you know? I think that was maybe the reason.The fact that she kept her head high, despite her situation. That she hated the thought of being seen as weak. She preferred to struggle rather than rely on other people’s help. Made me go insane sometimes, but...”
Xie Lian is looking at him, attentive, understanding, like Feng Xin is talking about something of utmost importance rather than his failed love life; being seen so completely by him – it’s more than terrifying.
“Thank you,” Xie Lian says and squeezes his hand with a smile.
Feng Xin squeezes back, grateful.
Things really are changing between them.
They stay like that for a moment, content with the truths that have been shared, until suddenly, Xie Lian perks up again.
"So, these... qualities, that you liked about Jian Lan,” he says, “Is it because she's a woman?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well... It always seems like those are the traits you most dislike about Mu Qing."
Feng Xin's stomach jolts in a funny way.
"I dislike everything about that guy, what are you saying?” he blurts out. “What does that have to do with anything?"
“I thought you wanted to be friends with him.”
“I thought you said this is something you can’t help me with.”
Xie Lian sighs.
“I did say that, you’re right.”
His shoulders drop in defeat, but he’s got that look again, like he knows something Feng Xin is just too stupid to see.
“I just think it’s funny that you’re drawn to them for the same reason; only that your feelings are different.”
“WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?” Feng Xin cusses, and there’s a drumming noise inside his head that’s growing louder and louder and louder until he realizes it’s the beat of his own heart.
“Have you considered...”
Xie Lian bites his lip, suddenly looking somewhat sheepish.
“... that maybe you like Mu Qing?”