Work Text:
Mu Qing wakes up when the first sun rays illuminate the chamber through a crack in the curtains.
He slowly opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, waiting for the last bits of exhaustion to fade away.
Then, he turns and freezes.
There’s a very familiar face a few inches away from his own; the face he’s seen almost every day for the past centuries; the face he loathes and, admittedly, loves.
Mu Qing blinks.
Feng Xin’s face is still there, right next to Mu Qing, his eyes closed and lips parted slightly.
Mu Qing blinks a few more times.
When that doesn’t work, he tries pinching himself.
Then he shuts his eyes and counts to ten.
When he opens them, nothing’s changed—Feng Xin is still sleeping there, in Mu Qing’s bed, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
What’s worse, he’s laying almost on top of Mu Qing. His right arm is touching Mu Qing’s chest, and his legs are intertwined with Mu Qing’s.
What, exactly, is going on here?!
This must be a curse, Mu Qing thinks. He must’ve been kidnapped by some powerful ghost—probably of the savage rank—during a mission in his territory, and now he’s experiencing extremely powerful hallucinations.
It’s almost unbelievable how real everything around him seems. Feng Xin’s breath palpable on his skin, the feeling of his legs brushing against Mu Qing’s, his long eyelashes, his dark hair spread out on the pillow.
Not only did this ghost create a very realistic setting, but it also somehow got hold of Mu Qing’s darkest secrets, of his deepest desires.
How else would it know that Mu Qing dreams of nothing more than to wake up next to Feng Xin every day, for the rest of his existence?
It’s that thought that really makes him angry—these feelings are his own, hidden away in the farthest corner of his heart, and nobody else should ever be able to find out about them.
Nobody else needs to know that Mu Qing has feelings for his so-called rival.
This curse is no joke. Mu Qing must escape before Feng Xin—or the ghost pretending to be Feng Xin—wakes up, lest something even more terrifying happens.
But how is he supposed to do that when any movement will probably startle Feng Xin awake?
He tries to move his legs first, inch by inch, slowly and carefully.
Feng Xin’s body twitches, a furrow appearing on his face for a single second, and Mu Qing’s breath stops somewhere in his throat.
“Mu Qing…” Feng Xin mumbles through his sleep.
Mu Qing feels like he’s going to be sick.
He cannot believe the audacity of this ghost. How twisted must one’s mind be to not only create a clone of a Heavenly Official, but to also make it move, speak and behave as if it were a real person, as if its feelings were real, as if the scenario was something more than just a bizarre hallucination—
“Mu Qing?”
Oh. It’s already too late, isn’t it?
His gaze instantly flits back to the man laying next to him, and sure enough, Feng Xin is awake.
He starts rubbing at his eyes, visibly still sleepy; Mu Qing’s body is frozen. He can only stare as Feng Xin looks around the chamber until his eyes find Mu Qing’s, and then reaches out to touch him.
Mu Qing recoils as if he’d been burned, almost falling off the bed. “Get away from me!”
Feng Xin’s eyes widen, shock and confusion appearing on his face. “…What the fuck?”
A shaky breath escapes Mu Qing’s lips. “Whatever you are, stay away! Stop playing tricks on me!” he cries out, and then immediately jumps out of bed.
It’ll probably only take the ghost a few seconds to drop the act and attack him. He needs to find his saber, quickly, and put an end to this hallucination.
Feng Xin sits up, his back supported by the bed frame, and just stares as Mu Qing frantically searches for his weapon.
“Did you fall out of bed in the middle of the night and hit your head?” he asks incredulously.
Mu Qing ignores the question. “What did you do with my saber?!”
Is it possible that the ghost has destroyed his weapon? Since he appears to be in his own palace—or at least his own private chamber—there should be plenty of other weapons for him to use here, though. Unless… nothing exists outside of this chamber within the hallucination, and if Mu Qing were to open the door now, he would see only a dark, endless abyss.
He’s just about to try using his spiritual powers when Feng Xin’s panicked voice stops him dead in his tracks.
“You kissed me yesterday and now you’re trying to kill me?!”
Wait, what?
Mu Qing opens his mouth, racking his brain for something, anything, to say, then closes it. Then opens it again. He must look like a gulping fish.
“I did… what?” he says finally, his voice hollow.
Feng Xin furrows his eyebrows. “There’s no way you don’t remember what happened last night.”
Nothing happened, because this is only a hallucination created by a curse, and Mu Qing is being held captive somewhere in the Ghost Realm.
He stares at Feng Xin blankly.
“You’re not even the real Feng Xin. You don’t get to manipulate my memories.”
Feng Xin looks like he’s about to start screaming; he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before saying anything in what seems like an attempt to calm himself down.
“You think I’m not real?” he asks with a trace of sadness and disappointment in his voice.
No, Mu Qing knows Feng Xin isn’t real—none of this is.
“You’re not real because Feng Xin would never sleep in the same bed as me, let alone voluntarily touch me,” he says bitterly. This ghost knows all of his deepest desires anyway; it doesn’t change much if Mu Qing articulates his feelings and doubts right now.
Feng Xin looks actually pained now, and it makes Mu Qing’s stomach turn.
“Mu Qing—“
“Just get this over with! Whatever you want from me, just take it and let me go. I don’t wish to spend another second here,” Mu Qing hisses, his hands clenching into fists.
He is so tired of everything. He’s already spent countless nights dreaming about waking up next to Feng Xin, about hugging and kissing him; he doesn’t need to experience it as an illusion created by a random ghost. He doesn’t need to know what it feels like to be held by Feng Xin, only to have it all taken away from him in an instant.
This is nothing more than a cruel performance, and Mu Qing doesn’t want to play his part.
Feng Xin gets up from the bed and slowly, carefully takes a step towards Mu Qing.
Only now does Mu Qing realize that Feng Xin is shirtless, and that only makes everything worse. He can’t stand to look at Feng Xin; can’t focus on anything else when Feng Xin’s bare chest is right in front of him.
He shrinks back, his back hitting the wall.
“Mu Qing, what the fuck is going on?” Feng Xin asks, annoyance creeping into his tone. “I don’t want anything from you, and this is your palace. How exactly am I supposed to let you go? Just leave if you don’t want to be here.”
That is… suspicious, to say the least.
Why is the ghost telling him to leave? Why does this seem so easy? This must be a trap, Mu Qing thinks.
Still, he reluctantly walks over to the door and places his hand on the cold handle.
Feng Xin does not stop him as he opens the door and steps outside into the corridor. The dark, wooden floor under his bare feet is the same as always, as well as the other doors and the paintings on the walls.
He can also hear his deputies scurrying around in the faraway corners of the palace, completing their first tasks of the day.
Everything seems… normal.
Perplexed, Mu Qing returns to his chamber to find Feng Xin still standing in the same exact spot. His hands are crossed over his chest, a small scowl on his face.
“Do you believe me now?”
“So... you are the real Feng Xin, then?” Mu Qing asks incredulously.
It’s still hard for him to believe. Perhaps the ghost is just extremely powerful, and it was able to replicate the details of the Palace of Xuan Zhen based on Mu Qing’s memories alone. He probably shouldn’t be letting his guard down so quickly.
Feng Xin sighs deeply. “Yes, I am the real Feng Xin, General Nan Yang of the Southeast, for fuck’s sake.”
“Prove it,” Mu Qing says.
Feng Xin’s eyes widen in disbelief. “How exactly am I supposed to prove it, Mu Qing?! What do you want me to do?! You can touch me and see that I’m real. This is ridiculous.”
Touching Feng Xin is the very last thing Mu Qing wants to do right now. Everything is too real, too confusing, and if Mu Qing traced his fingers over Feng Xin’s bare skin, he would definitely start freaking out even more.
Feng Xin takes a step towards Mu Qing. This time, Mu Qing does not stumble backwards.
“We spent the entire evening together, Mu Qing. We fought—of course we did—and you tried to push me away and leave. Then I kissed you because I was just so fucking done with your bullshit, and you kissed me back. You said you were tired so we laid down in your bed, and I continued kissing your face until you fell asleep… then I woke up just now to you staring at me like you’ve just seen a ghost and trying to kill me?!”
“I–I just,” Mu Qing starts, hating how weak his voice sounds. “I… woke up and saw your face right next to me.”
That barely explains anything at all.
“You woke up next to me and you thought I was an evil ghost?! Seriously, Mu Qing?”
It sounds unbelievably stupid now that Mu Qing thinks about it. He’s not even sure why that was his first reaction, the first thought that crossed his mind. It simply seemed like the most logical explanation.
He casts his eyes to the floor in shame, refusing to meet Feng Xin’s gaze.
“I should’ve known a clone could never be as ugly as you are,” he says bitterly.
Feng Xin huffs. “That’s not what you said after you kissed me yesterday.”
Mu Qing really wants to punch Feng Xin in the face.
Instead, he decides to sit down at the edge of the bed. Feng Xin’s golden ribbon is laying on one of the pillows, having slid off his hair in his sleep.
Feng Xin tentatively sits down next to him, making sure to keep a distance between them.
Mu Qing feels like he’s just ruined something very important and very dear to him.
“Did you seriously not remember kissing me?” Feng Xin asks. “That’s like, really weird.”
“I did, kind of…” Mu Qing trails off. “I just thought it was a distant dream, or a part of the curse.”
Feng Xin raises an eyebrow questioningly. “What curse?”
“Nevermind. Don’t worry about it,” Mu Qing groans.
Feng Xin does not need to know that Mu Qing thought he’d been cursed. It’s bad enough that he’ll have to live with this experience for the rest of his days.
In all honesty, waking up next to Feng Xin was so shocking that Mu Qing didn’t even try to remember what had happened the night before. He simply freaked out over something that was so strange it seemed impossible.
His mind would rather have him believe that he’d been mysteriously kidnapped by an unknown ghost from his own private chamber in the Heavenly Realm.
How utterly pathetic.
Feng Xin must surely think of him as a freak now, an idiot who’s lost his mind; someone unlovable, unworthy of even talking to. But then again, isn’t that what he’s always thought about Mu Qing? It’s just been proven true.
Feng Xin rakes his hand through his hair. “This is…”
“Just don’t say anything,” Mu Qing groans.
“I was going to say this is kind of funny, actually.”
Mu Qing pushes Feng Xin away, softly. “There’s nothing funny about this!”
Feng Xin lets out a small huff of laughter; the sound is like music to Mu Qing’s ears. Perhaps it proves that not everything is lost, that Feng Xin doesn’t hate Mu Qing.
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand what goes on inside that mind of yours,” he admits.
Neither will Mu Qing, probably.
“So, let me remind you: you woke up next to me because we kissed yesterday—many times—and you let me stay in your chamber. Actually, you asked me to stay.”
A part of Mu Qing wishes he really didn’t remember any of this.
He’s never allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of Feng Xin before, this raw and honest, and being reminded of it feels like a punch in the gut.
“You just love seeing me suffer, don’t you,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, obviously,” Feng Xin dryly. “That’s why I spent the night at your palace. I just love scaring you when you wake up and making you think you’ve been cursed or something.”
That does make sense to Mu Qing, actually. It’s way more believable than Feng Xin showing Mu Qing genuine affection.
“I hate you,” Mu Qing replies.
They both know he doesn’t really mean it.
When Feng Xin scoots a bit closer, Mu Qing does not pull away.
When he takes Mu Qing’s hand and laces their fingers, Mu Qing lets him.
It felt… nice to hold Feng Xin’s hand yesterday, and it still feels nice today. Mu Qing has been dreaming about it for centuries, after all; he’s imagined doing it over and over again, but even his wildest dreams could never compare to the real sensation.
He cannot believe he’s lucky enough to experience Feng Xin’s love and affection.
“No evil ghosts can harm you when I’m here,” Feng Xin says with a smirk.
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “No ghosts would be able to harm me anyway. I’m a powerful Martial God.”
“A powerful Martial God who freaks out upon finding his lover in his bed,” Feng Xin corrects, barely stifling a laugh.
Lover…?
Are Mu Qing and Feng Xin lovers?
The words sound foreign on Feng Xin’s tongue.
Mu Qing almost speaks up to protest, but then, suddenly, Feng Xin’s lips are pressing insistently against his own, his teeth sinking into Mu Qing’s bottom lip slightly, and Mu Qing completely forgets what he had meant to say. It doesn’t matter now anyway.
He just lets himself get lost in Feng Xin, in the feeling of Feng Xin’s hands on his skin, his tongue in Mu Qing’s mouth, burning lips on his own.
This is okay, he tells himself.
It’s not a dream, or a curse, or an evil ploy of some ghost.
Feng Xin is really kissing him, because the world surprisingly didn’t end when Mu Qing admitted his long-repressed feelings yesterday. The Earth is still turning, the Heavenly Realm still exists, the Palace of Xuan Zhen and the Palace of Nan Yang are intact.
Mu Qing smiles into the kiss and places his hand on the back of Feng Xin’s neck, pulling him closer.
He’s dreamed of this for centuries, and now he gets to live out that dream.
A few months later Mu Qing randomly jerks awake in the middle of the night. His eyes shoot wide open, and he just lays there for a few minutes, his breaths uneven.
“Qing-er?”
The familiar voice almost startles him.
He immediately turns to face Feng Xin, only to be met with his favorite amber gaze.
There’s worry written all over Feng Xin’s features.
“You’re awake? What’s wrong?” he asks, concern seeping into his voice as well.
Mu Qing feels guilty for waking him up. Feng Xin should be sleeping soundly right next to him, not worrying about Mu Qing’s sleep problems. It’s none of his business, really.
Mu Qing chooses not to say this out loud, though. He knows it would only annoy Feng Xin, and he’d hear something along the lines of “we’re dating so it very much is my business.”
“It’s nothing,” he mumbles, and that’s not even a lie—Mu Qing really doesn’t know what startled him awake. If it was a nightmare, it’s already been forgotten.
Feng Xin scoots closer and gently presses his lips to Mu Qing’s forehead. He tangles his hand into Mu Qing’s hair, beginning to play with the silky strands. He knows it always helps Mu Qing relax.
“Are you sure?” Feng Xin asks, and when Mu Qing doesn’t reply, he adds: “You know you can always tell me if there’s something bothering you. Otherwise I’ll start nagging you about it and I know you hate that.”
Well, he isn’t exactly wrong. Mu Qing truly hates it when Feng Xin forces him to talk about his feelings, especially when it leads to Feng Xin being upset or concerned.
He decides to hide his face in the crook of Feng Xin’s neck, lest Feng Xin sees the blush spreading from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears (even though the chamber is almost pitch black, and the powers of Heavenly Officials don’t include perfect vision in the dark).
“What bothers me is that you’re annoying,” Mu Qing says before planting a kiss to Feng Xin’s forehead.
“and also stupid.”
A kiss to his nose.
“Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about that.”
Finally, he connects their lips.
Spending an eternity by Feng Xin’s side—holding him, touching him, kissing him—is all Mu Qing could’ve ever dreamed of.