Chapter Text
Mu Qing sighed for the umpteenth time that day, a heavy, tired sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
The stress clung to him like a thick fog, choking the breath from his chest. His palace, his responsibility was unraveling.
Lately, prayers poured in, desperate and fearful, about a vengeful ghost wreaking havoc in his territory.
It should have been an easy task to handle, but every deputy he sent vanished without a trace.
No reports.
No answers.
One report ended mid-word, the brushstroke trailing into nothing — as though the hand that wrote it had simply vanished. The ink bled toward the edge of the page, drying in uneven clots that reminded him too much of old blood.
Irritation twisted with dread in his gut. He was the General of the Southwest. He was supposed to be strong, in control. Yet, the silence from his officials was a wound he couldn’t ignore.
He was considering stepping into the Mortal Realm himself, despite every instinct telling him to delegate. Even if he wouldn't admit it, part of him feared for those missing men.
Could he do this?
Was he strong enough now?
He bit his lip, fingertips trembling as he grasped his wrist. The shackles were gone. His spiritual power was restored. He was not powerless anymore.
He could save them. He would not lose anyone else. He did not want to be alone again.
He—
"Mu Qing? Mu Qing, are you alright?"
The voice was soft, worried.
Mu Qing had not even realized he was trembling, had not known his eyes had closed until they fluttered open to meet the anxious gaze of Xie Lian.
He tried to answer, but his throat was tight and silent. Why was panic strangling his voice?
Without hesitation, Xie Lian cupped Mu Qing's face, thumbs tracing soothing circles along his cheeks.
Xie Lian frowned faintly.
"You’re cold." He murmured — and it wasn't the kind of chill born from fear. It was deep, unnatural, the kind that clung to bone.
"It's okay. You're safe. I am here."
The words settled over him like a warm embrace, and despite himself, tears spilled down Mu Qing's face — silent, unbidden.
He let himself lean into that comfort, a fragile anchor in a storm of doubt.
They were now standing in Puqi Shrine, a world away from the burdens of the palace.
Xie Lian had dragged him here the moment the tremors ceased, insisting he needed fresh air. A space away from relentless worries.
Mu Qing had tried to resist. He had tried to stand alone. But the look in Xie Lian's eyes, the gentle way their fingers intertwined, erased his stubbornness.
He gave up. Because when Xie Lian called him Qing-er, something inside him softened. Nicknames were private treasures, and though he was shy to use them openly, in this moment, he allowed it.
He sat beside Xie Lian, studying the shrine, but something was missing. A certain ghost. His brow furrowed.
"Where's Crimson Rain?"
Xie Lian's smile was calm, steady. His hand tightened around Mu Qing's.
"San Lang returned to the Ghost City to deal with matters of ghosts." He said, voice gentle but firm. "One is the ghost troubling your territory. That's why I came. I heard you might be in danger."
Mu Qing's heart twisted.
Crimson Rain?
The Crimson Rain would tell Xie Lian he might be in trouble? When did the Ghost King begin to care about him?
Didn't he hate him?
Xie Lian's smile deepened, softening with something like affection.
*San Lang worries about you too. Maybe not loudly, but since we reconciled, he's softened."
Mu Qing scoffed quietly, disbelief lingering. He doubted Crimson Rain's empathy, but more than that, he doubted his own worth.
"Your High — Xie Lian." He corrected himself, straightening, "Your husband hates me. You should hate me too."
It was the truth he had believed for so long.
But Xie Lian shook his head, eyes unwavering and tender.
"I could never hate you, Qing-er." He said, voice low and sincere, as if whispering a secret only for Mu Qing.
A blush bloomed across Mu Qing's cheeks, warmth flooding him.
Panicked, he yanked his hand away and covered his face.
"Stop." He muttered through clenched teeth, struggling to hide the fluttering in his chest.
Xie Lian laughed softly, enchanted by Mu Qing's adorable embarrassment.
The younger scowled in return, threatening to retreat to the Heavenly Realm if the teasing continued.
Then, Xie Lian's tone shifted, serious and quiet.
"San Lang said the ghost in your territory is trapping your deputies."
Mu Qing jumped from his seat, heart pounding like a war drum.
Was he still powerless? A god who could not protect his own men? Was he still not enough?
"Mu Qing." Xie Lian's voice cut through the chaos in his mind, steady and reassuring.
"You are not alone anymore."
His hand found Mu Qing's again, holding tightly.
He pressed a soft kiss to Mu Qing's pale forehead.
"You won't face this alone."
For the first time in centuries, hope flickered in Mu Qing's chest.
Even as night fell and the world darkened, he felt a light. A fragile promise of companionship.
Xie Lian insisted Mu Qing stay at Puqi Shrine overnight.
Mu Qing hesitated but eventually agreed.
Now, seated on Xie Lian's bed, he felt the warmth of the other's presence as Xie Lian knelt behind him, gently combing through his long hair.
"I have always wanted to brush your hair." Xie Lian said softly, giggling like a child.
Mu Qing frowned, confused. Xie Lian's hair was just as beautiful — better maintained, even.
"Your Highness." Mu Qing began. "I was but a lowly servant. I cannot let you do this. It is disrespectful. Even now, it feels too daring—"
He froze mid-sentence. His heart hammered, dizziness washing over him.
Xie Lian leaned in, kissed the crown of his head, then nuzzled his nose into Mu Qing's hair, breathing in his scent.
"Never belittle yourself like that again, Qing-er." Xie Lian whispered, voice tinged with melancholy — as if carrying a hidden pain.
"You are not my servant. You are my friend. A very important and special friend."
"I... Xie Lian—"
Suddenly, a voice interrupted.
"Oh. The general is still here, I see."
Mu Qing's words caught in his throat as Crimson Rain Sought Flower appeared at the shrine's entrance — still as imposing and elegant as ever.
He leaned against the doorframe, eyes flickering between Xie Lian and Mu Qing with a sly, unreadable smile.
"San Lang, you're back!" Xie Lian's face lit up as he rushed forward to greet the Ghost King, planting a soft kiss on his lips.
"I am home, gege." Hua Cheng murmured, his expression softening as he pulled Xie Lian close.
Mu Qing felt an aching squeeze in his chest.
He was suddenly an outsider. Out of place.
"I— I should go." He stammered, rising awkwardly.
"Why not stay the night, General?" Hua Cheng's voice was cool, almost sharp.
"I need to speak with you after I talk with gege."
Hua Cheng's gaze bore into Mu Qing, cold and judging — so different from the warmth he showed Xie Lian.
Memories surged — of hatred, of challenges, of battles waged in the name of the man they both loved.
Mu Qing deserved that hatred. He wasn't Xie Lian.
He said nothing, drained of strength to argue.
He sank back onto the bed as the couple retreated to the kitchen, voices hushed but charged with tension.
Mu Qing felt like an intruder, a shadow in a world not meant for him.
The problems of his palace were his to bear alone. Xie Lian's request was the only reason he was here.
Clenching his fists, Mu Qing stood, resolve stiffening.
He stepped toward the kitchen, ready to tell Xie Lian he was leaving.
But then—
"Are you sure about this, San Lang? I don't want to be selfish."
"If it's what gege wants, I am willing to try companionship with Xuan Zhen."
"It's just that... I love you, San Lang. But I liked Mu Qing first. I—"
"I understand, gege. You're blameless. I love you too."
Mu Qing stood frozen, heart pounding as the words washed over him like a storm.
His ears rang, breath caught tight in his throat.
"Mu Qing?"
Before he knew it, his legs moved on their own.
He ran — away, away — desperate to escape the weight crushing his chest.
"Mu Qing!"
Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him back.
He stumbled, falling against the figure behind him — too shattered to resist.
Eyes closed, he finally let the tears fall. Raw, loud, and unrestrained.