Work Text:
It was a perfectly fine day, but they weren’t doing anything.
The bamboo mat in Puqi Shrine was hardly big enough for two people, but the four of them managed, fitted together like little pieces of a bigger puzzle.
“What if we cooked?”
“No,” was the reply Xie Lian received immediately from his three partners. He scrunched up his nose and returned to his task of braiding Feng Xin’s hair from where he lay with his head cushioned on Xie Lian’s lap.
“You don’t have to be so quick to respond…” he muttered, yanking Feng Xin’s hair a little harder accidentally. The martial god swatted at Xie Lian’s hands away playfully.
“Ow, ow, that hurts. Be gentle. What other suggestions do you guys have?”
“Sparring,” Mu Qing answered.
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t call it a ‘fun afternoon activity’ to watch you get your ass handed to you by gege,” Hua Cheng said with a smug grin.
Mu Qing shoved Hua Cheng’s head off his chest with mock annoyance. Hua Cheng only laughed and leaned against his shoulder this time.
“No fighting,” Xie Lian said pleasantly, almost instinctively; it had been years since they’d genuinely disliked one another. “Keep thinking.”
“Sculpting?” Hua Cheng suggested.
“Oh, please. That’s almost as bad as having Mu Qing lose miserably against Xie Lian,” Feng Xin told him.
“Fine, whatever. You’re just jealous that you’ll lose,” he replied easily, causing Mu Qing to snicker. “What’s your idea, then? We all went already.”
Feng Xin pondered his question for a moment, then suggested slowly, “What about painting?”
Mu Qing sat up, dumping Hua Cheng on the floor again. Hua Cheng just moved to rest his head against Feng Xin’s legs instead. “That’s… a pretty good idea.”
“Must you sound so doubtful?”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to have a good suggestion.”
Feng Xin made to get up, his heart set on tackling Mu Qing, but Hua Cheng placed a hand firmly against his thigh, and he felt bad about moving.
“Then, are we all in favor?”
“I think I have some paint in the back,” Xie Lian said, his own way of response. “San Lang, would you get the paintbrushes you left last time? And Feng Xin, get some of those big sheets I hung up to dry outside and spread them out on the floor,” he instructed. “Mu Qing, you come with me. I need help with the paper.”
Set to their own tasks, the four dragged themselves out of their comfortable spots and went to work.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“If you shake it out like this before you put it down, there aren’t as many wrinkles. See?” Hua Cheng demonstrated.
Feng Xin gawked at him. “That is… shockingly helpful. You know a lot of weird, random things.”
Hua Cheng grinned, his sharp incisors gleaming above red lips. “I do try to be all-knowing. It’s helpful in winning arguments against everyone else and sometimes you and Qing-er.”
“Why can’t it be all three of us?”
“Because you two get all fired up and try to fight me. It’s funny. Gege just asks me questions about things he doesn’t know instead,” Hua Cheng said in his most (irritatingly) logical tone.
A fair point. Feng Xin shrugged and returned to laying blankets down.
Mu Qing and Xie Lian returned moments later, arms laden with painting supplies. Hua Cheng moved to grab some paper and paint from the pair and carried it over to dump on the sheets Feng Xin had just laid down. He dusted his hands off and watched as Mu Qing and Xie Lian added to the pile.
“So. How is this working?”
His question earned him an eye roll from Mu Qing. “We’re painting. Is that confusing?”
“I know you can’t resist a chance to be snarky, so I’ll just ignore you. Gege?”
“Phone a friend!” Xie Lian said cheerfully, pointing to Feng Xin.
He cleared his throat. “Well. Mu Qing was kind of right.”
“Hah!” Mu Qing crowed. Hua Cheng stuck his tongue out.
“Nope, we should make some rules or make this a competition or something… hmm. Who wants to be on my team?”
“I want Mu Qing,” Xie Lian volunteered, reaching out and pulling the black-haired martial god to his side. Feng Xin stifled a laugh at the way the tips of his ears immediately flushed red before reaching out to Hua Cheng.
“I guess this means we’re partners.”
“We already are,” Hua Cheng told him, a smirk playing across his lips. Xie Lian laughs and Feng Xin manages a smile.
“Okay, enough of that! Let’s paint!” Mu Qing insisted.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“This is… not going well.”
Hua Cheng poked his side lightly, then put his finger to his lips. “Shh. We’re doing fine.”
By “we”, the ghost king was really only referring to himself. There was nothing remotely “fine” about Feng Xin’s mediocre skills with a paintbrush.
Actually, mediocre might be pushing it. Hua Cheng laughed quietly as he cleaned the edges of their collaborative painting of the four of them sitting in the field around Puqi Shrine. Feng Xin groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“I ruined Qing-er,” he said, devastated. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Oh, I absolutely will. What did you do? Let me see,” Mu Qing went to stand up, but Xie Lian pulled him back down.
“No! We need to finish ours first,” Xie Lian said.
Mu Qing heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m trusting Fafa to fix this.”
Hua Cheng let out another little chuckle. “Already on it.”
He’d painted the base lines and had entrusted Feng Xin to paint each figure and line he’d created. Once he’d doubled back to assist, however, he’d found only a bit of a mess.
“I remember being a better painter than this,” Feng Xin muttered.
“You do?” Xie Lian teased. Feng Xin turned redder.
“It’s been a long 800 years, alright!”
“It’s fine,” Hua Cheng said. Feng Xin still wasn’t used to hearing those kinds of words from the man in red, and he blinked in surprise, moving his hands away from his face.
“You have paint in your hair,” Hua Cheng informs him, taking the brush gently from Feng Xin’s scarred fingers. Immediately, he brought his hands to his head, tugging at thick brown strands until they were clean.
“Thank you. Should I- can I still help paint?”
Hua Cheng hummed as he fixed a few of the painted details on Xie Lian’s face. “You can do what you want.”
Feng Xin hesitated slightly before picking up a new paintbrush and dipping it into a swirl of jet-black.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“I don’t think this looks like the palace in Xianle,” Mu Qing insisted, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure there was a gate on that side?”
“Creative liberties, Qing-er,” Xie Lian admonished playfully. With a masterful stroke of gold, he finished his side of the painting. He leaned back to admire the painting, and Mu Qing’s arm went around his waist protectively.
“It does look nice,” Mu Qing admitted. His expression was a bit soft, and Xie Lian took this as a good sign.
“Doesn’t it bring back good memories?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Mu Qing said. Suddenly looking embarrassed, his features sharpened and he leaned around the small pile of books they’d propped up to hide their paper from the other two. “Hey! Are you two done!”
“Don’t rush the creative process!” Feng Xin shot back.
“You mean Hua Cheng’s creative process,” Mu Qing retorted, grinning. “Fafa, are you ready?”
“Hold on. Still fixing this idiot’s mess,” he replied affectionately. Feng Xin’s face went red again and he ducked behind their own wall.
“I’m proud of you for painting again after… you know, what happened last time,” Xie Lian called across the room. He leaned over again to add another detail to one of their clouds. Mu Qing leaned his head against the prince’s shoulder and made a sound of approval.
“H-huh? Wait, what happened last time?” Feng Xin asked.
“You really don’t remember?” Mu Qing inquired, incredulous.
“Never mind,” Xie Lian said quickly, clapping a paint-stained hand over Mu Qing’s mouth. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.”
“I’m done,” Hua Cheng piped in. Xie Lian breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, grabbing one side of the painting carefully. Mu Qing wordlessly took up the other, though the amused sparkle in his eyes told Xie Lian that he was still thinking about Feng Xin’s terrible last attempt at art.
“Come over here, let’s all take a look.”
The other two crossed the room to join them in the middle, laying their creation down. As if practiced, the two pairs switched positions to look at the others’ painting.
Hua Cheng was the first to break the almost reverent silence. “You drew me too nicely.”
Mu Qing burst out laughing. “Feng Xin, did you paint me? I see Fafa didn’t have the time to fix all your mistakes.”
“Shut up!”
“No, no, it’s kind of cute! I like it,” Mu Qing backtracked. “The hair is nice. And I like the nose.”
Feng Xin ignored him, but Mu Qing could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Xie Lian moved to the other side, apparently to explain some of the painting to Feng Xin and Hua Cheng. “No, I didn’t draw you well enough. Mu Qing did the little details, didn’t he paint nicely? I want to learn to do details like that.”
He looked embarrassed. “It’s not that good, Dianxia. It’s just stuff I learned from doing the fine detailing on your clothes sometimes.”
“No, he’s right. This is really good,” Feng Xin added, leaning down to examine the little figure of himself. “You both did amazingly.”
Xie Lian and Mu Qing had collaborated to paint Xianle’s palace and the capital sweeping below it. From the window of the palace, a younger Xie Lian’s face could be seen, gazing longingly into the distance. On the palace grounds, right before the gate, tiny figures of Feng Xin practicing could be seen, with Mu Qing sweeping in the background. Further below, a small crowd of young children trailed after Mu Qing, while Xie Lian, Feng Xin, and Hong-er watched. Off to the side, tucked into a corner, Hong-er placed a flower at the feet of one of Xie Lian’s old divine statues.
The most beautiful part, however, was the top and center.
Awash in golden light, the four stood together, hovering above all the scattered figures below. They were all dressed differently, with their own little detailed facial features. Mu Qing had very carefully painted miniscule freckles, the kind that Xie Lian got from being out in the sun all day long, on the miniature version of him, along with the small scar along Feng Xin’s eyebrow and dangling silver earrings from Hua Cheng’s ears.
“Wow,” Feng Xin said softly. “You really did outdo yourselves.”
“Can I hang this up in Paradise Manor?” Hua Cheng requested.
“Not fair! We’re sharing,” Mu Qing said.
Xie Lian smiled. “We can hang it here, in Puqi Shrine. Both of them.”
The four simultaneously turned and moved to examine the painting done by Hua Cheng and Feng Xin.
It was almost painfully clear who had done what part of the painting. Xie Lian couldn’t help the little grin that appeared on his face and Feng Xin turned away, crouching down to bury his face in his arms.
“Okay, okay, I get it!”
Hua Cheng had managed to clean up most of the painting, smoothing out the lines of their clothes and fixing the flow of their hair. The background was beautifully peaceful, a deep purple sky scattered with bright silver stars. Each person in the painting possessed a relaxed pose and a happy expression, gazing up at the sky together. Xie Lian spotted the touch of his and Feng Xin’s hands, settled together on the grass. Meanwhile, Mu Qing’s head leaned softly on Xie Lian’s shoulder, and Hua Cheng lay sprawled with his back to the ground and his own head propped up against Feng Xin’s lap. Altogether, the scene was conventionally mundane, yet incredibly sweet, but parts of it still stood out as glaringly awkward. Places where an odd color had been used, or a streak of color stretched outside of their designated lines.
Even more clear, however, was the amount of tender effort the artists had put into their work, and Mu Qing felt a bit guilty for laughing.
“I like it. It’s much better than anything my devotees have ever come up with, anyway,” Mu Qing told Feng Xin, running a thumb over his painted self’s crooked jaw.
Xie Lian walked over to Feng Xin and pulled him to his feet and tugged him over to stand with the others. “I’m very proud of you. And you too, San Lang. This was fun!”
“It was,” Mu Qing agreed.
“Let’s never do this again,” Feng Xin said.
“I think we should,” Hua Cheng told them.
“Please, no,” Feng Xin pleaded.
“We’ll talk about that another time. Now, can we hang these up now?” Xie Lian said.
The other three exchanged glances before shrugging.
“We should put yours up here, where the lighting hits!”
“Ooh, what about on the shrine?”
“Hell, no! That’s for Dianxia!”
“Calm down, calm down…”