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“It’s just a cold, it’s not like he’s dying.”
A sarcastic voice cut through the constant coughing in the background as Feng Xin paced around the entrance. An illness that had infected the heavenly court was surprisingly tame, one that resembled a common cold or a mild flu. It had taken half the officials into its clutches, Feng Xin and Mu Qing included, and both got personal care from Xie Lian himself. The scrap immortal swore up and down he’d be fine, that he wanted to help. Mu Qing cursed his lineage and Feng Xin pleaded for him to leave.
He stayed.
They got better.
He’d fallen ill only a week after the mess.
Now the two gods stood in the Palace of Xianle with vastly differentiating opinions on how to properly care for their friend. “You don’t need to smother him all the time! He’s still a grown man, not a child .” They’d been back and forth at each other’s throats for the better half of an hour. Feng Xin had smothered the feverish Xie Lian with a copious amount of blankets to try and sweat it out. Mu Qing had torn them all away and kicked them into a jumbled pile on the floor, lying pathetically. “He could’ve overheated you idiot! Don’t you know how to think before doing something, or is that always a skill you’ve lacked?”
“Shut it! It’s better than sitting there and degrading His Highness! He helped us, yet all you can do is shove it in his face that he got sick!” Feng Xin snapped, managing to keep his voice low.
“We warned him this would happen, it’s entirely his fault he’s in this situation.” Not only had Xie Lian fallen ill, but the two martial gods were trying to think of a plan to inform Crismon Rain Sought Flower. It’s only been a few hours and they were running out of time before Hua Cheng figured out something was wrong with his precious husband and came storming the Heavenly Capital to find him. Truly, a mess.
A wheezing cough distracted them from their argument, followed by murmurs. Mu Qing was the first on the move, entering Xie Lian’s personal room, the air thick in sickness. Xie Lian was settled against the bed, his face a feverish pink, sweat beading down his forehead. He looked to his friends and managed a slight smile before being tossed into a coughing fit, waving his free hand dismissively. “I’m alright!” Xie Lian’s voice was ragged from the constant strain, clearly taking its toll. “You two needn't worry over this, I’ve survived worse.”
Mu Qing and Feng Xin watched, fixated on such a sincere smile. How could a man look like shit and still act like nothing was happening? “Your Highness! You’re not getting any better. We need to bring Ling Wen to check your condition before this spirals into something uncontrollable!”
“Oh, will you shut up already? His Highness just needs some rest, he doesn’t need all these people here. Do you want more officers falling ill? Everyone is dealing with their problems, don’t drag His Highness into it, he’s caused enough problems for us right now .”
Despite the bluntness of the accusation, Mu Qing wasn’t wrong. The two martial gods would’ve healed on their own without Xie Lian’s help, but it would’ve been a slower recovery, and he wanted to be there for them both during the strange phenomenon. It’s not every century the God’s falls to such a mortal illness.
At no point did Xie Lian bring up the fact that the two periodically asked about the other’s condition. Feng Xin was too prideful to admit his grievances and Mu Qing made it out like he was simply doing the other a favor. Affection bubbled in his chest at his friends’ antics. How they keep up their facade even while sick was a mystery, if not enduring.
The two bickered back and forth while Mu Qing dabbed a rag in cold water and rested it on Xie Lian’s forehead, hoping to break the fever. At some point during their argument, Xie Lian had fallen asleep. His face was peaceful despite the cold running rampant through his body; truly Xianle Crowned Prince.
“I’ve got it!” Feng Xin exclaimed, eyes widened. “You have medicine in your temple, do you not? I can grab it, bring it back, and give it to His Highness! You used it, it seemed to have cleared your headache, we can work to beat this. When Hua Cheng finds His Highness in better shape, we won’t be so inclined to beat us to a pulp.”
“Are you an idiot? Don’t you think if that worked, I would’ve already given it to him? It hardly did a thing, you're grasping for straws, it should be saved for something better than this. Our medicine isn’t made for something like this, it’s made for wounds.”
“We can give it a try, what’s it look like?”
“This is stupid, you’re stupid.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a waste, so drop it. His Highness is just fine without it. He needs to sleep it off.”
Feng Xin curled his fists, staring at Mu Qing as if the man abandoned them all over again. He turned and stormed out of the Xianle Palace, a fire lit beneath his feet. That rat doesn’t care for His Highness’s condition. He’d find a way himself and save them all the headache that would be Xie Lian’s husband. Determination filled him to the brim.
***
“Here.” It was hardly an hour before Feng Xin came back, his face relatively calm, a cup of warm tea in his hands. Xie Lian’s eyes fluttered open as Mu Qing changed out the rag, muttering something under his breath. He passed the tea over to Mu Qing, who eyed it suspiciously.
“What kind of tea is this?”
“One to help His Highness recover quickly.” Feng Xin put it simply, sneering with pride when Xie Lian gently retrieved it from Mu Qing.
“You didn’t have to do that, Feng Xin, but thank you.” He inhaled its bitter scent, thinking nothing of it.
“Your Highness, I’m not sure if you-“
He drank it slowly, the warm liquid washing away the dehydrated feeling as Mu Qing’s voice faded in the background. Both stood back and watched; one with a victorious grin, the other grim. Hands suddenly still, the glass still pressed against his lips. For a moment, the room became an eerie silence, tension suddenly thick in the air. Feng Xian’s sure that’s not one of the reactions meant for this tea; had mixed something wrong? Perhaps it was too much medicine. Not a second later Mu Qing had grabbed the cup and examined the remaining liquid inside. It had a sweet whiff to it. “What did you put in this?”
“Just some medicine I found!”
“What kind? Where? Medicine doesn’t make him freeze like this! Was it some sort of poison ? By the Heavens, do you never listen?! Did you just grab whatever you found and called it good!? Dump the rest out!” He thrust the cup into Feng Xin’s chest before all too roughly shoving him out of the room. Mu Qing could already feel a headache coming on, and it wasn’t the illness going around. A customary thanks to the idiot in the other room. He thought bitterly.
Mu Qing settled back at Xie Lian’s bedside, looking up only to make eye contact with the Scrap Collector. “Your Highness? Are you alright?” He reached over, hesitantly resting the back of his hand against the other’s forehead. Xie Lian flushed at the contact, staining his cheeks and neck a pretty pink before leaning into his hand and moaning softly. Mu Qing yanked his hand away as if it’d been scorched by the sun. “HUH?” He didn’t have time to register what happened before panic painted Xie Lian’s features, reaching his hand out and seizing Mu Qing’s wrist “Please don’t go.” He begged softly, eyes wide and oh-so fearful, as if the man in front of him would suddenly vanish into thin air.
He tried twisting his wrist away, but the martial god’s physical strength was unmatched against the rest of Heaven, his efforts were proven fruitless. He was pulled forward, fumbling overtop him, unintentionally caging the shorter man against the bed. The flush on Xie Lian’s pale skin was less feverish, replaced by something warmer. Lust. While still suffering the sickness, one would need to be a fool to blame it entirely. For a moment, Mu Qing’s mind blanked at the bizarre encounter before hearing yelling behind him.
“What the hell is going on?! I leave to dump the tea and you two are.. Fighting!?”
“It wasn’t me! He’s gone mad, get him away from me! I can’t release his grip!”
He felt his stomach flip, back pressed against the mattress as his wrists were pinned above his head. Xie Lian’s weight settled onto his lap, feeling his heavy gaze run over his body, delighted with what he saw before resting his head against Mu Qing’s chest. He tried to use most of his body weight to keep him put, thighs straddling his hips, arms boxing him in. While strong, he was sick and distracted and not nearly heavy enough; Mu Qing managed to wiggle out beneath him, reversing their positions. He pinned his shoulders down, kneeling on his legs. Xie Lian didn’t mind he relished in the sudden attention, back arched. Hips wiggle against the mattress below and Mu Qing nearly faints. “What the hell did you give him?!”
Mu Qing’s fury quickly drained as quick as it bubbled, spotting a rath butterfly fluttering through the window, wings as sharp as razors as it delicately landed beside Xie Lian’s head. The Scrap God paid little mind to it. Mu Qing scrambled away as a swarm circled in the room, a blast of bright light blinded all three officials. It was replaced by a quick flash of red, a scimitar aimed right at Mu Qing’s throat. Suddenly the blade was tossed off course by a swipe of a hand, crimson blood painting the silver, white robes blocking the God of the Southwest. With another twitch of movement, Hua Cheng fell to the ground, and a foot smashed against his chest and the scimitar mourned at his side, eyes large and wet. “Don’t hurt him! Don’t–Don’t touch him!”
“Your Highness?” Hua Cheng’s cool demeanour hid something darker, brushing the dust from his robes, unamused by the outcome of this encounter. A murderous gaze landed on Mu Qing. “Mind explaining to me why I could not get into contact with His Highness, so I try my luck at his Palace only to see a low-life God pinning him to his bed.” E’ming’s eyes cleared its tears before it flicked widely, ready to strike out once more.
“Your Highness came down with a cold.” Mu Qing tried to explain in a calm manner as Xie Lian clung to his side, pressing his face into his shoulder, and hugging his arms. Mu Qing’s sleeve stained with blood. Hua Cheng’s features only darkened. “Feng Xin had made some tea with medicine mixed in and–this happened!” He gestured to all of them, Feng Xin’s face paling.
“ Medicine ?” The Ghost King whipped around and stalked the martial god by the doorway. “What did it look like, you fool?”
“A-A purply blue? I mean, of course, it was purple, I swear it! It looked identical to what I had taken! I only wanted to”
Feng Xin couldn’t breathe, suddenly strangled by invisible hands. “There are many purple potions, you absolute idiot!” Hua Cheng roared, aiming E’ming towards Mu Qing. “If you so much as touch a hair on his head, I will skin you alive.” He glanced at Xie Lian’s hand, the one that blocked his blade, and his frown deepened. “Fix that-now.” With that, he shoved Feng Xin into the other room, away from Xie Lian to keep his god from hearing the curses that would fall from his lips. “Show me the damned tea, now .” He released the grip around Feng Xin’s throat, the official scrambling to his feet to catch his breath. He’d already dumped the liquid out, instead showing him the potion itself, tucked away amongst the other clutter on the counter. One look at it and Hua Cheng had tossed it out of the window, livid. He fights the urge to massacre all of Heaven. “The Heavens are such useless creatures . You all are fools, I should’ve burned it down, again and again. Do you not know the difference between a love potion and the medicine you used?!”
“.. love potion?”
Feng Xin was suddenly flung through the air, crashing into a nearby wall as Hua Cheng entered Xie Lian’s room. Mu Qing had managed to create some distance between himself and Xie Lian, if not for his own safety , fingers wrapped around his wrist. The atmosphere was suffocating as Hua Cheng approached. His God stared him down, brows furrowed as he moved protectively in front of Mu Qing, hand wrapped in fresh bandages. *Hua Cheng needs to see it, needs to heal it himself. His God was hurt.* If it had been under any other circumstances, maybe Mu Qing would’ve approached the protection from Hua Cheng, but this only delays his inevitable death.
“I won’t hurt him.” A silent yet followed Hua Cheng’s promise. “I would not dare disrespect His Highness.” Hua Cheng kneeled in front of his god, a fist to his chest. “But you are still sick and you need proper rest. Your body can’t heal this way, Dianxia. You have my word I will not harm him.”
“Stay with me.”
His head shot up in surprise, only to see the loving gaze of Xie Lian directed at another man. Jealousy clawed deep within his dead heart, watching the hesitation in Mu Qing’s eyes. Agree you useless mutt.
Xie Lian finally settled in, his feverish head flushed under Mu Qing’s chin, arms wrapped around the man. Hua Cheng watched with undisguised hostility, pacing the room. Both he and Feng Xin watched on in envy for vastly different reasons. Hua Cheng should be the one in his husband’s arms, he should’ve been the one to nurse him back to health, to be on the receiving end of those loving smiles, those lustful gazes. Instead, he’d unknowingly put his trust in two incompetent gods that fucked Xie Lian over.
Feng Xin watched with a different sort of jealousy. He had been the one pushed away all those centuries ago, sticking by Xie Lian’s side until his Prince no longer wanted to see him. Even then, Feng Xin never stopped looking, never stopped supporting him, defended his name against all of Heaven. Why does Mu Qing get to cuddle with His Highness? Why does he want Mu Qing at his side when Feng Xin is far more capable? Though he’s more relieved he’s not certainly high on Hua Cheng’s slaughter list, he knows he’s sure a close second. Mu Qing, on the other hand, is not amused. Any decision he makes would anger Hua Cheng either way. Whether he plays into Xie Lian’s delusions or go against him, he’s fucked. Why had it been him ? Having Xie Lian, (having anyone,) showing outright affection was strange, and terrifying. Maybe a part of him was grateful for it.
***
“It’ll wear away on its own in a few days.” Hua Cheng had propped Xie Lian up with pillows, spooning him soup while Mu Qing stayed by his side, rubbing his brows and nursing his headache. “Even in small doses, the effects can last at least three days. The idiot used nearly half the bottle, it could easily be a week or longer. We just need to wait it out.”
“Actually, there’s another way to stop it. Just give in to Xie Lian’s desires. Maybe a kiss or something quick like-,” Feng Xin explained, regretting releasing his information as soon as a fist met his jaw. The God flew backwards “That is not an option!” Hua Cheng snapped, whipping around to Mu Qing. “I’ll make sure you suffer a slow and painful death for having such thoughts about Gege. Temples will be burned as worshippers I hunted down- ”
“You think I chose this or something?! I would rather die than touch him!” Mu Qing snapped, shoving away Xie Lian. The man looked at him, brown eyes wide. “You’re full of yourself! Do you think I wanted this? To fuck him? You think I stole your precious Gege -” Hua Cheng clenched his fist. “-I don’t want a damn thing to do with him! I didn’t even want to be here! You’re full of yourself! Take your damn husband and get him away from me!” He threw the blanket off him, into Xie Lian’s face and stormed into the other room.
A sharp, physical pain exploded in Xie Lian’s chest, breathing harshly as he fisted the front of his shirt. Mu Qing didn’t want him? What had he done, had he not protected him well enough? Was his affection overbearing? He was sure not to push, right? It felt like a sword pierced his heart, watching his beloved leave.It hurt far too much for words, trying to blink back the tears. He reached forward, “WAIT! Mu Qing-!” prepared to run after the man before strong arms eloped his waist, sending him crashing back into bed. “What did I do?” he wanted to sob, his voice wobbly. “Did I do something wrong? Why doesn’t he love me? Am I broken? Is my curse too much?”
“You did nothing wrong, Dianxia.” A deep, soothing voice tickled his earlobe as a comfortable, heavy weight settled against him. “You are too good for a lowlife god such as him , you deserve better, you deserve a king.” Hua Cheng kept his body firm and heavy, a soothing weight for his god beneath him, but Xie Lian wiggled and clawed. “I don’t want a king, get off!” He didn’t need a king, he didn’t care about the status of his beloved. “Please, please , what did I do? I can fix it, I swear, don’t leave me again, Mu Qing!”
Not long after his short outburst, Xie Lian had grown silent, his fever worsening. Hua Cheng shifted his god against the pillows, using a thin blanket to cover him and fixing a damp rag against his forehead. This was their fault . A murderous aura quickly drowned Xianle Palace. Feng Xin and Mu Qing stood side by side in the kitchen, too afraid to make an appearance. No amount of apologizing could undo this mistake, so Feng Xin didn’t bother with meaningless talk. They both heard Xie Lian’s pleas for Mu Qing, each one more broken, promising to be better. It reminded them of earlier years, another broken Xie Lian.
Hua Cheng entered the kitchen, his steps quiet. He didn’t utter a word upon arrival, staring through Mu Qing’s soul. “You will go in there when His Highness awakens. You will apologize to him, and you will stay at his side until this wears off. Am I making myself clear?”
***
Feng Xin had long since returned to his palace when morning came too. Two bodies slept intertwined in Xie Lian’s bed, both distressed. Xie Lian had woken with a flutter in his heart, afraid to make a wrong move. He wanted closer, his body craved skin-to-skin, to be ravished and loved on. Oh, how he craved to be held down and taken, spoke down to. To let his control slip, trusting the other completely. His hands-
His brain, thankfully, had been able to keep enough of itself to know what boundaries to push. He would not risk making his beloved uncomfortable. Mu Qing’s arms wrapped tight around Xie Lian’s waist, chests flushed against one another. He had to ignore the obvious arousal from Xie Lian. This wasn’t the first time they shared a bed. But they’d been younger, life was not so difficult. They were simply children who wished to share some sort of comfort.
Sleepovers were common in the room of the Crowned Prince. He had invited Feng Xin to his bed many times, claiming a spider had invaded his room, or a monster under his bed. They were ten and twelve, monsters did not exist to them just yet. Feng Xin agreed with hesitance at first, but as time went on, he found himself looking forward to these sleepovers. Xie Lian would talk and talk, ramble about his training, brag about his swords; and praise Feng Xin on the boy’s improvement in his field. When the Crowned Prince befriended Mu Qing, he’d been eager for the younger to join as well. “It’s simple really!” He’d bed, surrounded by familiar faces. It was hard to let it go, but Mu Qing must think of himself first. He couldn’t have regretted it, it would’ve been for nothing.
Mu Qing sighs under his breath, resting his chin on top of Xie Lian’s head. He swore the prince inhaled sharply to hide a gasp, melting into the embrace. It was… Nice. Of course, he’s got a lingering threat hanging over his head. Hua Cheng watched his every move, eye twitching, brow stiff, picking up every motion. What does he want me to do? Walk away? Hold him? It’s a lose-lose. If he’s going to be scrutinized either way, he may as well do as he pleases. “Are you feeling any better, your Highness?” Mu Qing spoke into his hair, locked in a staring contest with Hua Cheng across the room.
“Call me Xie Lian .”
A quiet settled over the room, Mu Qing blinked away his shock. Saying his name seemed far too intimate, but what reaction would be pulled from the man if he flat-out refused it? Gege . An unhelpful voice piped up, mocking Hua Cheng’s nickname for the man. It’s only for now. We don’t need to speak of it after this.
“How are you feeling, Xie Lian?” He questioned once again. This pleased the god greatly, pulling back, and looking at Mu Qing. “Far better. My beloved is lying with me.”
The glass shattered behind Xie Lian as the man clad in red stood abruptly, a chair being shoved aside. A blaze was lit behind his eye, a vein popping out of his forehead. He left the room without another word. Mu Qing could’ve sworn he saw smoke fuming out of his ears. No longer having an audience, the man relaxed, cheek pressed into the pillow. Xie Lian looked at him expectedly, eyes like that of a doe, white and a gorgeous golden color. To doubt Xie Lian’s beauty was certainly a crime. He was their beloved Crowned Prince after all.
He knew where this was going as the scrap collector leaned forward, feeling his breath against his lips. There was only so much Mu Qing was willing to do. Kissing His Highness was far off the table. He jerked his head back and forced a ragged cough, waving his hand around. “I am sorry, Xie Lian, but perhaps it’s not a good idea to share a.. kiss in your condition. Please, let me make you some tea. You must be starving as well, allow me.” An easy escape, awkwardly squeezing the Prince’s arm before scurrying out of bed.
“ MU QING! ” A voice boomed through the communication ray, ringing heavily in his ear. “ You bastard! What the fuck did you do?! Why is Crimson Rain outside my Palace?! HE'S GETTING INSIDE, HELP–”
Feng Xin’s voice cut out. Mu Qing ignored it in favor of preparing a meal instead. Hua Cheng wouldn’t kill him. It would upset his husband, there’s no need to worry. Mu Qing was doing the heavy lifting, he better be compensated. The god rolled out dumplings, making half a dozen and steaming them over a boiling pot when Hua Cheng returned. The Ghost King looked anything but settled, clearly unable to harm his main target, he took his frustrations out on another. Mu Qing leveled him with a scowl, plating the small meal, and making up warm tea. Hua Cheng snatched it away, presenting it to his god instead. Xie Lian gave him an awkward smile, eating the dumpling that pressed against his lips. A few more days, Mu Qing comforted himself, settling back in bed. You’ll be free, they’ll leave you alone. This never happened. We don’t speak of it.
On a brighter note, the illness seemed to settle mid-afternoon, His Highness’s skin no longer scorching to the touch, and his coughing subsided. Compared to yesterday, this Xie Lian was practically glowing , downing at least three dumplings and a glass of normal tea to soothe his headache. Xie Lian happily shared these accomplishments, fingers wrapped around Mu Qing’s sleeve, babbling praise about his dumplings. “The best I’ve had in a long time, you’re very skilled! Hua Cheng-” The casual usage of his ghost name falling from his beloved’s lips stung deep, but the Ghost King simply smiled, listening. “-did you have a bite yourself? You should eat some more, you look terrible! Are you getting sick yourself?”
“Don’t be so rude, Xie Lian.” Mu Qing leaned against the pillows, accepting the weight of the prince against his side. “He’s looked worse . He seems to be having some trouble in paradise.”
“Oh my,” Xie Lian gripped Mu Qing tighter, afraid he may have the same problem arise. “Apologies, Hua Cheng, I didn't mean to rub a sore spot with your beloved, it was merely a suggestion.”
“No need, Your Highness, nothing Dianxia should be sorry about, he is free to speak his mind here.”
A few more days. Just a bit longer.
***
“We should marry!”
Hua Cheng was going to kill him.
It had been four days since this terrible, awful curse fell on Mu Qing. Perhaps it's his punishment for being a sarcastic bastard for eight hundred years; he promises he’s learned his lesson!
Perhaps it was caused by his symptoms finally clearing up. Xie Lian felt like a needy cat , pressed against his arm, chest, and back. Any place he could reach, any place he dared to touch. It was overwhelming in the strangest ways . He doesn’t remember a time he ever felt this much physical contact with anyone. Ever. And now they were back at square one. Xie Lian moved with far more energy, encouraged by the attention Mu Qing had shamelessly fed him. You can’t blame the man. He tried to ignore him without hurting his fragile state. But Xie Lian had always been a natural ball of positive light, even if it was forced. A complement here and there didn’t seem like much trouble.
It was. Mu Qing had forgotten, at the end of the day, that Xie Lian was not himself, he could perceive such words differently. Xie Lian was overtop him, straddling his hips. Mu Qing tried his best not to think too hard on the position, a bit flustered. “We should marry!” The prince repeated, leaning over Mu Qing’s person. “Take me on our wedding night, have we not waited long enough? I’ve done as you asked, I have been patient! I swear it, I swear to do as you say, but I simply can’t wait any longer! Surely you feel the same?”
It was getting out of hand. Self-control could only get a man so far; in the end, a love potion still works its magic and he does not want either of them to make such a grave mistake. “Alright.” Mu Qing agreed easily, nodding along. “A wedding, then. Perhaps we can have it in a week.” “Tomorrow!” Xie Lian looked desperate.
Tomorrow? Was he absolutely nuts?! Who in their right mind would choose to make such a hasty decision so quickly? There was little guarantee the effects would wear off and Hua Cheng’s patience on the situation was wire thin. Everyone was on edge. Xie Lian stayed quiet as Mu Qing thought his options through. “The day after tomorrow.” He offered. “To give you time, of course, to mend your wedding robes and to get a set myself. We should invite Feng Xin and Hua Cheng, have they not supported you as well during your illness?”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right.” Xie Lian shifted away, reaching for a scroll, and rummaging for a quill. “We should plan now, right? I do not want anything big, just us, just us four, then us two.” Xie Lian moved off the man completely and migrated to his desk nearby. Mu Qing found his opening, clearing his throat. “Then I’ll go and share the good news. Give them time to pick out their robes. After all, the guests must look nice.” He stepped over, resting a hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder and kissing the crown of his head. It was the most he could bring himself to show any sort of physical affection. The prince turned, grabbed the hand on his shoulder, and kissed his knuckles. Mu Qing was stunned into silence, retrieving his hand back and making his shift exit.
Hua Cheng was going to kill him.
“A wedding?” The three of them met in Xuan Zhen Palace, kneeling by the dining table. Feng Xin looked as exhausted as Hua Cheng felt, rubbing his temple. “You promised him a wedding in two days? What if it doesn’t fade by then?”
“Who’s fault was this in the first place?!” Mu Qing exploded, days of pent-up frustration bubbling over. “I told you to drop it, to save the medication for something more important! Not only that, you brought back the wrong potion and told no one! You have no idea what you are doing! I swear to the Heavens you never use that damn brain of yours! You had one job, he would’ve recovered by now! I’d be far away, doing my duties! Instead, I’ve been stuck babysitting a drugged man ! Don’t act as if you’ve suffered through this ordeal! I should’ve been there to watch Hua Cheng beat you to a pulp, I should’ve joined in myself!”
Mu Qing felt no better venting, aching to get a few good punches into the both of them. He stayed seated instead. “Our best hope is to wait this out. If by then this doesn’t wear off, I’ll disappear. I’ve already sacrificed enough. You can murder me later, I can make it up to His Highness, but I won’t subject myself to it any longer. It’s my final say on the matter. I don’t give a shit anymore.” He only stayed this long in hopes that he could care for Xie Lian, to make up for his past mistakes. Xie Lian would understand, the prince had always been understanding in the worst case scenarios. Feng Xin bit his tongue, holding back vile words.
Hua Cheng pondered for a moment before staring out of the window, towards Xianle Palace. “Fine.”
***
The body pressed against his was not the one he’d grown so familiar with over the last year. Xie Lian’s brain felt heavy with fog, blindly groping the robes beneath his fingers. Had San Lang shifted forms? I don’t remember this one. Bleary eyes caught sight of navy robes instead of stunning crimson, the body next to him ran warm, pumping with blood. Alive .
This man was not Hua Cheng.
His brain processed this fact and worked on impulse, bending his leg and throwing himself out of bed. Where was he? Who dares lay with him in… Paradise Manor? No. No, this was his palace. Xie Lian was sick, he’d come down with the god’s cold. He couldn’t remember what happened after that, it seemed like a blur of time. It felt like only hours ago, had he taken a nap? It took him far less time to identify the body next to him. Mu Qing was cuddling him? Why ? He wasn’t opposed to it, of course, cuddling with friends was nothing to be ashamed about, but Mu Qing ? Perhaps Feng Xin made more sense. Where was San Lang?
“Xie Lian?” Mu Qing looked at him expectedly, propping himself on his elbow. Xie Lian gocked, perplexed. Mu Qing and Feng Xin always refused to use his given name. Again, there was no harm done, he doesn’t mind. What was the sudden change? “Mu Qing, is everything alright?” He stood from the floor, wiping the dirt from his robes.
The god on his bed nearly collapsed with relief, too mentally exhausted to even think about moving. “It’s finally over” He breathed, pressing two fingers to his temple. In an instant, the doors to Xianle Palace burst open. San Lang took charge, racing to his god’s side, and gently grabbing his shoulders. “Your Highness? Dianxia, how are you feeling? Has your sickness… Uh, passed?”
“San Lang.” Xie Lian’s laugh was light as a feather. Hua Cheng swore his smile was brighter than the shiniest of stars. “I was always fine, you needn’t worry over me! Mu Qing and Feng Xin took good care of me, I feel healthier than ever!”
“ Those two idiots will never be allowed near His Highness again. ” Hua Cheng pulled him into a crushing hug, his face pressed into soft, brown hair. His husband was back, his husband remembered. He wasted little time pulling out a pair of die, rolling them against the pristine marble floor. “Don’t follow us.” Hua Cheng growled, eyeing the two other martial gods before stepping through the door back to Ghost City, Xie Lian’s laughter fading.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin stood in silence for what felt like hours. They both knew they wouldn’t see His Highness for the better half of a month . After the whole ordeal, Mu Qing needed to find a cave and leave the rest of the world behind to cultivate, unsure how he’d face the Ghost King and his husband again.
Months later, of course, when Xie Lian finds out the truth of what happened during his illness, he’d apologize over and over, swearing on his life to make up for his terrible, foolish behavior. He would offer Mu Qing valuable scraps, the finest swords in his collections, and homemade food. Mu Qing would rather face a horny Xie Lian again than eat whatever that man considered food.
For now, though, the four of them relished in the fact this nightmare was finally over .