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Feng Xin is a good two seconds into his relaxing break when his holoprojector vibrates from inside his pocket. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters, pulling it out and holding it in the center of his hand. He curls his body over it slightly, sending a wary glance at the other patrons in the bar.
Pei Ming’s hologram flickers to life before him, wearing that same annoying smirk. Feng Xin sighs. “What?”
“Can’t I just call to say hi?” Pei Ming asks. It looks like he’s leaning against something in that obnoxious way of his that women and men alike seem to find irresistible.
“Is it about work, or can I hang up?” Feng Xin asks. “I just got here.”
“Work,” Pei Ming answers. “So, don’t hang up.”
“You’re actually kidding,” Feng Xin says. “We just got off a job.”
“Yeah, I know,” Pei Ming says. “Trust me, I’m not a fan, either—but she says it’s a big one. Big haul, too.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand credits.”
“You are fucking with me,” Feng Xin says. “Who the hell would pay that much money—”
“Not sure,” Pei Ming says. “You in, or not.”
Feng Xin looks around the bar. He wishes he could say he was busy, but unfortunately, there’s not much he could possibly be busy with. He sighs. “Yeah. I’m in.”
“Excellent,” Pei Ming says. “I’ll be at the ship in about fifteen minutes. Meet me there?”
Feng Xin just glowers, and presses the button on the side of the hologram until Pei Ming disappears. He sighs. “Fuck.”
“Something wrong, sir?” the bartender sidles up to him, his eyes tracing over Feng Xin’s figure in a way that’s anything but comfortable.
“No,” Feng Xin says. He fishes a couple of credits out of his pocket, and slides them towards the bartender. “For the drink.”
“Don’t worry,” the bartender winks. “This one’s on the house.” He slides the credits back to Feng Xin. “Stay a while?”
“No thanks,” Feng Xin says shortly, getting off his stool and leaving the credits on the counter.
He gets out of the bar as soon as possible.
Coruscant is odd at the hour in the sense that it isn’t odd at all. The city planet never seems to want to sleep, or, at least, all its residents are nocturnal. It’s a few hours past midnight, and still, the streets are bustling.
Feng Xin shoves his way through the crowds, trying to remember exactly how to get back to the compound where they’d parked the ship, when he stumbles across the place anyway.
Feng Xin ducks inside, scanning each berth until he finds their ship: Fengshen. Wind god . He can’t help but smile when he sees the ship—it’s home, after all, but his smile drops when he sees the man leaning in the doorway.
“Feng-di!”
“Fuck you,” Feng Xin glares, and ducks into the entrance of the ship.
Pei Ming ambles after him, grinning. “Something put you in a bad mood?”
“Yeah,” Feng Xin says. “You.” He pauses. “What’s the job?”
Pei Ming slaps a holoprojector down onto the table as they walk into the center room of their ship. “Ling Wen just sent this one in.” He presses a button on the side, and the projection flickers to life.
Feng Xin’s brows furrow when he sees the man displayed in the image. He’s cloaked, but… “A Jedi?”
“Not really sure,” Pei Ming says. “They call him the Silver Blade. Says he can be found on a planet in the Outer Rim. Pretty mysterious guy, if you ask me.”
“Okay,” Feng Xin shrugs. “So, not a Jedi? Because I really don’t feel like fighting one—”
Pei Ming raises an eyebrow. “But you—”
“Fuck you.”
“That can’t be your answer to everything,” Pei Ming complains.
“I’ll go chart the course,” Feng Xin says. “Go pay the guy for the parking.”
“On it, boss.” Pei Ming raises a hand in mock salute.
“Legitimately, fuck you.”
“I think you can do better, Feng-di—”
Feng Xin ducks into the cockpit, tuning Pei Ming out. There’s a note of the coordinates in the file that Ling Wen sent them, so Feng Xin plugs them in. Thankfully, they’ve got plenty of fuel for the journey, and it shouldn’t actually take very long.
Feng Xin turns the name over in his head. The Silver Blade.
Whoever that person is, they clearly have a penchant for theatrics—honestly, a title like that just feels unnecessary—which is, in Feng Xin’s opinion, just another sign pointing to that person being a Jedi. For monks, Jedi can be very dramatic.
“Ready?” Pei Ming enters the cockpit and plops down into his seat.
Feng Xin nods, sliding into his own.
The two of them have been doing jobs together for almost the last eight years, almost—since Feng Xin left. Nineteen and confused, he’d run into a guy roughly his age with a ship and weird political connections, and as much as Feng Xin likes to complain about Pei Ming, the two of them work well together.
The two of them move in tandem as the ship lifts off the ground and zooms out of the port and off into Coruscant’s night sky.
Once they’re outside of the planet’s atmosphere, Feng Xin checks that their course is correct one more time, then says, “Making the jump to hyperspace in, three, two…”
“Congratulations, you can count,” Pei Ming offers unhelpfully, and the stars around them blur as the ship accelerates to hyperspace.
Feng Xin stands. “Should be about twenty minutes. I’m going to suit up.”
“That short of a journey?” Pei Ming asks. “I’ll make sure the cell is ready, for once they’re on board. Oh, and I also have to call Shi Wudu back. He was pretty pissed when I left in the middle of the night with no warning.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to mess up your relationship with the random senator you’re fucking,” Feng Xin glares, stifling the urge to roll his eyes.
“He’s not random! He funds Ling Wen.”
“This is why I stay away from all the politics,” Feng Xin says. “It’s all sex and back alley deals.”
Pei Ming grins. “Well, that’s why you have me! I’m an expert in both!”
Feng Xin scoffs and steps into their armory. It’s a tiny little closet, but the walls are lined with practically every kind of modern weapon known to man—with one notable exception, obviously. Feng Xin hasn’t touched a lightsaber since he left the temple.
Feng Xin grabs his personal favorite—an energy bow they bought off a shady dealer in an alley Mos Eisley. The dealer claimed he’d taken it off a witch. Feng Xin never believed that, but the bow is excellent.
Feng Xin also grabs a blaster, because it’s stupid to not have one. He lingers quickly over a line of daggers, but decides to leave them behind. They’re beautiful weapons, but, in all honesty, Feng Xin just isn’t too good with them.
Suddenly, Pei Ming is reaching over Feng Xin to grab a massive blaster from the wall. Pei Ming likes to switch around weapons. In fact, Feng Xin isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Pei Ming call a weapon his own.
Pei Ming seems to be multitasking, arguing with a tiny holoprojector from which his beloved Senator’s face is glaring up at him. “I am sorry Shui-xiong, but I’m a busy guy—”
“You’re an ass, that’s what you are,” Shi Wudu says, and hangs up.
Feng Xin tries not to laugh. Pei Ming looks very offended. “That’s fine. He’ll come around—”
“I don’t care,” Feng Xin says. “Ready? Let’s go prepare for landing.”
They both head back into the cockpit, and sit back in their seats. Feng Xin moves his hands over the familiar buttons and switches of their ship’s cockpit, landing it like muscle memory.
The ship cruises over foreboding, misty forests, until Feng Xin spots a clearing in the forest and guides Fengshen down to land.
He and Pei Ming exchange a glance as they look out the windows at the forest. The visibility is horrible, the fog settling over the whole forest. Feng Xin will probably walk into a tree or two if he’s not careful.
“What else did Ling Wen say?” Feng Xin asks.
“She said there’s an old abandoned Jedi temple somewhere on here. That the Silver Blade hides out there, when he’s not out.”
“Out doing what?”
“Hunting slavers, apparently,” Pei Ming says.
“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Feng Xin admits.
“No,” Pei Ming says, “But a job is a job.”
“Who wants him captured?” Feng Xin asks.
“Ling Wen didn’t say,” Pei Ming replies. “Just to bring him back alive, and she’ll deliver him to her client from there.”
No surprise. Ling Wen tends to be unhelpfully vague about these things. “Fine, then, let’s go,” Feng Xin says. Pei Ming nods, and the two of them leave to cockpit, grabbing their weapons.
Pei Ming flips the switch to lower the gangplank, and Feng Xin is the first one off the ship.
Pei Ming holds up a compass, scanning the forest around them. “That way,” he points. Feng Xin nods, and the two of them set off.
For all the mist and greyness, the forest isn’t actually very thick—but it is disorienting. Every direction looks roughly the same, just thin trees tinted grey by the lighting, and leaves swaying slightly in the breeze.
Pei Ming is silent as they walk, very focused on making sure they’re going in the right way. Suddenly, he speaks. “Do you think it is a Jedi? The Silver Blade?”
“Don’t know,” Feng Xin says. “Not for sure, but the signs seem to be pointing to yes. The robes, hiding in an old Jedi temple—and what’s the blade that his name comes from?”
“Ling Wen didn’t say that, either.”
“Did she say anything ?”
“Not really,” Pei Ming says. “Maybe she doesn’t know much about him, either.”
“Great,” Feng Xin says flatly.
In front of them, the trees break off, and Feng Xin can’t stop himself from gasping.
In front of them, the forest ends abruptly at the bottom of a cliff, and carved into the cliff's rocky walls—decidedly grey, like everything on this damn planet—is a building.
Its facade is beautiful, with reliefs carved into the stone about its doors and windows, and it’s three or four stories high into the cliff. Feng Xin can’t tell what the reliefs are of, but they’re impressive nonetheless.
“Shit,” Pei Ming says. “Stop gaping—get behind this tree. Do you want to be seen?”
Feng Xin ducks behind the tree. Next to him, Pei Ming is fiddling with his blaster. “What’s the plan?” Feng Xin asks.
“Let’s split up,” Pei Ming says. “Contact me on the comms if you run into him, yeah? You search the upper stories, I’ll take the lower ones—and if he isn’t there, let’s meet back at this tree.”
“Okay,” Feng Xin says, loading his bow. “On three?”
“Nah,” Pei Ming says. “Let’s just run for it.”
Feng Xin nocks an arrow, then they run. Feng Xin dashes across the edges of the clearing. The temple seems to only have one main entrance, so, for just a split second, he and Pei Ming stand in the doorway, silhouetted.
The entrance room is already terrifyingly nostalgic—massive stone statues in Jedi robes, towering over Feng Xin in the darkness—a sight straight out of his childhood. Feng Xin tries not to dwell on it too much, but it’s useless.
If Mu Qing was here, he’d be complaining about the accuracy of the statues’ craft. Xie Lian would admire their ornate lightsaber hilts. But they are not here. Feng Xin is alone. With Pei Ming.
“See you on the other side,” Pei Ming says, and ducks into one of the adjoining chambers to search for the Silver Blade.
Feng Xin lets out a breath, then scans the room for a staircase—locating one, shrouded in the same darkness that seems to cover the temple and practically the whole planet.
Once he’s up one flight of stairs, he finds himself in a room much more cavern-like than the first. The walls and ceilings still have the texture of the rocks that build up the cliffside, but the floor is uncannily smooth—polished, almost. The wall facing out of the cliff has flat stone windows overlooking the misty forest.
Everything here is built of the same grey stone. In fact, Feng Xin hasn’t seen a single thing that isn’t—and there are no signs of inhabitation, either. Does the Silver Blade actually live here?
But before Feng Xin can ponder the subject further, a force slams into his back, nearly knocking the breath out of him—and causing him to stagger backwards, towards the center of the room.
Feng Xin whirls around, only to see a blur of fabric disappear into one of the side chambers.
It must be the Silver Blade. It’s got to be.
Feng Xin draws his bow and sprints after him. But as he enters the chamber, he quickly slings his bow over his back—the room is much too dark, and too small, for that weapon.
Suddenly, Feng Xin wishes he had brought those daggers, and he barely has time to reach for his blaster before the Silver Blade slams into him again.
Shit. Feng Xin ducks under the man’s arm, though he can’t see much in the darkness, and sprints out of the side chamber. At least the main room has some light.
On his way out, Feng Xin’s arm slams against the stone doorway, and he can’t control the hiss of pain that escapes him. But the adrenaline of the fight is just making his heart beat faster.
Feng Xin scans the room, looking for any cover at all—but there is none. The Jedi are nothing if not minimalist.
“ PEI —”
The Silver Blade emerges from the side room slowly, and Feng Xin freezes.
He’s clothed in all black, a hood covering his head and obscuring his face, with slight touches of silver on the hems of his robes, and on his boots. The adornments on his robes almost seem like a mockery of Jedi tradition. But that isn’t the shocking part.
In the Blade’s hand, he’s holding a lightsaber—its blade gleaming a pure white in the darkness.
Feng Xin steps backward, but the Blade launches himself at Feng Xin with the grace of a dancer, his movements with the lightsaber direct and precise. Feng Xin recognizes the style of fighting instantly, but he doesn’t dare to think about it.
It isn’t him. No fucking way.
Feng Xin ducks under the lightsaber’s blade with ease, because he’s practiced fighting against this lightsaber form before. Whoever the Blade is, they’ve clearly trained under the Jedi temple—and that makes them even more dangerous, though Feng Xin may as well be the best person equipped to handle it.
But maybe not, because before Feng Xin knows it, he’s unarmed, his blaster slashed in half by that lightsaber’s blade, which just doesn’t seem to miss.
Feng Xin’s sleeve is torn at the arm, and he’s bleeding there, the blood dripping down to coat his palms—though he doesn’t remember how that happened, either.
Feng Xin’s back hits the wall, and he reaches to grab it to steady himself, but he grasps nothing. There’s a window there.
Feng Xin can’t stop himself, because there’s nothing to grab—
And before he knows it, he’s falling backwards, and his feet are no longer on the ground.
Is this how he dies? Is this how it ends?
Feng Xin feels oddly like he’s flying, but suddenly—
There’s a hand gripping his, tightly.
What the fuck?
The Silver Blade had reached out the window to grab Feng Xin’s hand before he could fall. He’s holding it so tightly, Feng Xin fears his fingers could break—but that’s nothing compared to what would happen if he fell three stories.
Feng Xin’s palm is slick with blood, and his feet kick uselessly against the carved stone reliefs that cover the temple’s outer walls, but he—
The Silver Blade… saved him?
The Blade groans, clearly trying to pull Feng Xin back up—but given the fact that he’s close to falling out the window, too, it isn’t very effective.
“Are you just going to hang there?” The Silver Blade snaps. “Try to climb up!”
Feng Xin’s brain is still spinning at ten thousand miles per hour, because what the fuck just happened, but he braces his feet against the carvings on the outer wall, pushing against them to pull himself over the edge of the window.
As the Silver Blade steps away, his hood falls backwards, and Feng Xin freezes, sitting on the edge of the window.
Feng Xin would know that face anywhere .
“…Mu Qing?”
Mu Qing looks up, his eyes meeting Feng Xin’s, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Mu Qing, what the fuck?”
Now, Mu Qing is the one backing away. Suddenly, Mu Qing turns on his heel and runs towards the stairs.
“Feng Xin?” Pei Ming asks, hip cocked, standing on the top of the staircase, blocking Mu Qing’s only exit. Clearly, he’d watched the whole thing unfold. “Do you know him?”
“I… yeah,” Feng Xin says, not taking his eyes off Mu Qing, who looks ready to jump out the window that Feng Xin almost just fell out of. “Mu Qing, what the fuck… you’ve been here this whole time?”
Suddenly, Mu Qing turns sharply to glare at Feng Xin. His scathing eyes are awfully familiar. “So what if I was? Why does it matter?”
“It matters because—” Actually, Feng Xin isn’t sure why it matters. Nonetheless… It’s Mu Qing. It’s him. After eight years, Feng Xin somehow found him again. “You’re the Silver Blade?”
Mu Qing lifts his chin slightly, in something like pride. “I am.”
“And that lightsaber—”
“It’s mine,” Mu Qing says.
“But it’s white ?” Feng Xin says. The lightsaber is sheathed at the moment, but Feng Xin remembers its blinding glow, the way it cut through the darkness.
“That’s what happens to lightsabers after a Jedi defects,” Mu Qing says. “I’m sure you know that. You should know that.”
“You… uh…” Feng Xin still doesn’t entirely know what to say, but behind Mu Qing, Feng Xin sees Pei Ming looking at him pointedly. “Come with us,” Feng Xin says quickly, not really thinking.
“No,” Mu Qing says flatly.
“Why not?” Feng Xin asks.
“...because you’re here to capture me?” Mu Qing says, like it’s obvious. Well, maybe it is.
“We won’t,” Feng Xin says, avoiding Pei Ming’s gaze. “Come with us,” he repeats.
Mu Qing glances back at Pei Ming skeptically. “And do what? What is it you do , anyway, Feng Xin?”
“Mu Qing, please—”
“I thought you were going to stay with Xie Lian forever, huh? What happened to that?” Mu Qing asks, his words like knives.
“Well, I didn’t!” Feng Xin yells. “And it doesn’t fucking matter anymore, because I don’t know where he is—”
“Oh my god, you’re just going to make this all about him,” Mu Qing seethes. “Don’t ask me again: I don’t regret leaving.”
“That’s not what I was going to—”
“Alright,” Pei Ming says. “I don’t know what the two of you have going on—and honestly, I don’t want to know—but you,” he turns to Mu Qing, “have two options. You come with us willingly, or I hit you over the head with this here blaster and we drag your unconscious ass back to the ship.”
“ Really ?” Mu Qing asks, glaring at Pei Ming.
“Yes, really,” Pei Ming says, fiddling with the settings on his blaster and raising an eyebrow.
Mu Qing looks back at Feng Xin. “You’re just going to let him talk to me like this?”
“You just pushed me out a window,” Feng Xin offers, swallowing the lump of emotions in his throat.
“And I saved you from dying !”
“Two options,” Pei Ming repeats.
“Why?” Mu Qing asks. “So you can sell me off to the highest bidder? How much did you get paid for this?”
“We’re not going to sell you,” Feng Xin says, before Pei Ming can argue. “We’ll figure it out, just—come back to the ship with us.”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes. It’s so achingly familiar that Feng Xin could wither on the spot. After a moment’s pause, he mutters, “Fine.”
Pei Ming grins. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”
He reaches to pat Mu Qing on the shoulder, but within a second’s breath, Mu Qing flips Pei Ming’s grip in his hands and twists Pei Ming’s arm to a precarious angle—just on the edge of breakage.
Pei Ming yelps, but Mu Qing just keeps glaring. “Touch me again and it’ll be your leg.”
“Duly noted,” Pei Ming says, pulling away and rubbing his shoulder.
Feng Xin tries not to laugh, and leads the two of them down the stairs.
Once they’re down in the entrance hall of the temple, Feng Xin glances up at the towering Jedi statues. “Uh. Nice statues.”
“That one’s lightsaber grip is wrong,” Mu Qing says dismissively. “Let me grab my stuff.”
Mu Qing ducks into one of the side rooms.
Pei Ming glances after him apprehensively. “He won’t try to run?”
Feng Xin presses his lips together. “I don’t think so.”
“And what are we going to do about the bounty? Clearly, you’ve got some type of emotional attachment to—”
“Jedi don’t have emotional attachments,” Feng Xin says automatically.
“And you are no Jedi.”
Mu Qing emerges from the side room, a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Let’s go to the ship,” Feng Xin says quickly. Pei Ming glances between Feng Xin and Mu Qing, somewhere between worried about his money and amused by their dynamic, but heads out of the temple.
Feng Xin watches Mu Qing cast one last glance over the temple before stepping out of the threshold.
They walk back through the same misty forest, though it feels like some of the mist has lifted slightly. Pei Ming walks a couple paces ahead of Feng Xin and Mu Qing. Feng Xin glances over at Mu Qing. “How did you find this place?”
“I lived with the guardians of this sanctuary for a while,” Mu Qing says. “After…”
“After you left?”
“No,” Mu Qing corrects. “I went to see my mother after I left. But after she died…” He trails off.
“I’m sorry.”
Mu Qing doesn’t respond.
“Pei Ming said you were known for hunting slavers,” Feng Xin says.
“Yeah,” Mu Qing nods. “Much more morally reprehensible than what you’re doing, anyway.”
“Hey, it’s an honest business,” Feng Xin argues.
“Sure,” Mu Qing responds, rolling his eyes. “And who do you work for?”
“...I honestly don’t know,” Feng Xin admits. “We’ve got someone who sends jobs our way, but I have no idea who her contacts are, or where she gets them—Pei Ming claims she’s being bankrolled by a senator, though.” Feng Xin pauses. “The same senator that he is fucking.”
“Of course,” Mu Qing scoffs, casting a judgemental glance in Pei Ming’s direction. “How’d you meet him, anyway?”
“It was kind of an accident,” Feng Xin says. “Honestly, I don’t really remember, but… uh…” Feng Xin stops, because in front of them is the clearing where Fengshen is waiting. Pei Ming is standing on the gangplank, his stance impatient.
Mu Qing raises an eyebrow at this ship. “What a piece of junk.”
“She is not ,” Feng Xin says defensively. “She’s a little beat up, but—”
“ She is at least fifty years old,” Mu Qing says. “Why didn’t that senator buy you a new one?”
“I did ask,” Pei Ming says, popping into their conversation without warning. “Shui-xiong said he was busy. Also, I don’t think he cares that much.”
Mu Qing looks like he just doesn’t want to know, and honestly, Feng Xin doesn’t really blame him. “So?” Mu Qing asks, as the door to the ship closes. “What are you going to do with me now?”
“About that—” Pei Ming starts, but Feng Xin cuts him off.
“Let’s just get her in the air, yeah?”
“Fine, fine,” Pei Ming says. “There’s only two seats in the cockpit, though, so—”
“He can wait in my quarters,” Feng Xin suggests.
“ Oh ?” Pei Ming raises an eyebrow.
“It’s not like that!” Feng Xin yelps, looking desperately for Mu Qing for support.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mu Qing asks Pei Ming. Feng Xin is grateful for that, because he’s been wondering the same thing for eight years.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Pei Ming says, grinning. “Down the hall and to your left.”
“I could have told him that,” Feng Xin mutters. He glances at Mu Qing. “I’ll come back once we make the jump to hyperspace.”
Mu Qing nods, and disappears down the hall.
Feng Xin walks as fast as possible, so Pei Ming can’t talk to him, on his way to the cockpit.
Unfortunately, Pei Ming is unavoidable, given the fact that Feng Xin has to pilot the ship with him. “So, Feng-di, how do you know him ?”
“We were at the Jedi Temple together,” Feng Xin says shortly. “We had a… mutual friend.”
“Xie Lian, I assume?” Most people know about what happened with Xie Lian, especially Pei Ming, who seems to just know everything.
“Yeah,” Feng Xin says.
“And the two of you are—”
“Not. Anything.” Feng Xin slides down into his seat.
“Uh-huh,” Pei Ming says, clearly not believing a word of it, flicking switches to get the ship ready for flight.
Feng Xin rolls his eyes.
“Oh, look, you’re even picking up his mannerisms.”
“I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” Feng Xin says.
“Okay,” Pei Ming says, faking a loud yawn. “How about we fly the ship now?”
Feng Xin’s hands fly over the controls, partially because he wants to get the ship off the ground, and partially because he just doesn’t want to deal with Pei Ming anymore. Once they’re lifted up off the ground, Pei Ming takes over the controls, and Feng Xin peers over the surface of the planet as they fly over it.
Pei Ming points at something as they pass by it. “There’s the temple.”
Feng Xin nods, wondering vaguely if Mu Qing is looking out the window at the temple, too. Feng Xin wonders if he misses it. After all, if he’s been living there for the last eight years, then it must be as home to him as Fengshen is to Feng Xin.
Though, Mu Qing didn’t seem to mind leaving.
“Alright, Feng-di, jumping to hyperspace in three, two…”
“Congratulations, you know how to count,” Feng Xin finishes. It’s a stupid fucking joke, but Pei Ming grins back at him.
Once they’re steadily coasting through space, en route back to Coruscant, Pei Ming pats Feng Xin’s arm. “I’ll take it from here. Go see him.”
“You’re acting like something crazy is going to come of it,” Feng Xin replies.
“Love surprises you sometimes,” Pei Ming offers.
“It’s not love—”
“Trust me, okay? Your Pei-xiong knows things.”
Feng Xin glares, but stands and goes off in Mu Qing’s direction. Down the hallways, each path down the ship familiar to Feng Xin. He supposes, from outside eyes, the ship might look like a piece of junk, but Feng Xin is never going to admit that out loud.
Mu Qing is sitting on the bed in Feng Xin’s quarters. Feng Xin touches the door frame as he steps inside. “Hey.”
Mu Qing looks up, turning to face him. “You’re bleeding.”
Feng Xin glances down at his arm. It is true that he is bleeding, but at least the blood sticking to his skin is starting to dry. “I’ll take care of it later.”
Mu Qing shakes his head. “Do you have bandages?”
Feng Xin points. “That drawer.”
Mu Qing reaches inside, and pulls them out, scanning Feng Xin up and down. “Sit. I’ll fix it for you.”
Feng Xin almost says no, but he sits anyway. “You did this to me, so you might as well.” He pauses. “Why were you trying to kill me?”
“Do we really have to talk about that right now?” Mu Qing asks, ripping off a length of bandage with his teeth. “Take off your shirt.”
“What? No?”
Mu Qing glares at him. “It’s all ripped up. It’s barely a shirt, anyway.”
“That’s your fault!”
“I’ll fix it for you if you take it off,” Mu Qing says.
Feng Xin tugs at the sleeve, which is, indeed, very ripped. “It’s not worth it.” Reluctantly, he tugs the shirt over his head, though one sleeve is still sticky with blood.
Mu Qing lets out a breath, which Feng Xin presumes to be annoyance, and reaches for Feng Xin’s arm. He pulls out a bottle of a sterilizer, dunks a portion of the bandage in it. “This will sting.”
“Yeah, I fucking know,” Feng Xin says. “You shouldn’t have tried to slice my arm off—shit!” Feng Xin grits his teeth together to prevent himself from saying anything more as Mu Qing quickly swipes the soaked cloth over the wound.
Mu Qing’s brows are pinched together with focus as he puts the cloth down and starts carefully wrapping a bandage around Feng Xin’s wound.
Feng Xin watches Mu Qing’s face as he does it, the way his hair spills over his shoulders, the way his lips are just slightly parted, and suddenly, Feng Xin is seventeen years old again.
“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin says, before he can regret it, “about what happened back then—“
“You mean me leaving? We already talked about that.”
“Not that,” Feng Xin says. No, he’s thinking of something completely different. Something… something else, to be sure. “Before Xie Lian was banished, the two of us—“
“Oh. That,” Mu Qing says, not looking up from where he’s almost done bandaging Feng Xin’s arm. At this point, even his scant touches are too much to bear—and that isn’t because of the pain.
“I was just wondering if you—“
Mu Qing’s hands move from Feng Xin’s arm to the back of his neck, and suddenly, Feng Xin is being pulled towards him. Gravity, magnets, tractor beams, the goddamn Force—they have nothing on this.
For just a moment, Feng Xin stares at Mu Qing—eyelashes fluttering slowly as he closes his eyes, but Feng Xin’s are wide open.
But that is just for a moment. And soon enough, Feng Xin’s lips are meeting Mu Qing’s, just like nine years ago, just like when they were seventeen, just like before everything went to shit.
The kiss is gentle, almost enough to make Feng Xin wonder if Mu Qing’s gotten more practice at this over the last eight years, because their kisses used to be so much messier. But it’s not practiced. It’s the opposite, really, like Feng Xin is the water and Mu Qing is just dipping his toes.
After, they don’t speak for a second. Then, Mu Qing reaches for the back of Feng Xin’s head, fingers tangled in his hair as he pulls him in again, and they fall back onto the bed, Mu Qing laying slightly across Feng Xin’s chest.
The Force, Feng Xin thinks numbly as Mu Qing kisses him like Feng Xin is the eclipsed sun and Mu Qing is his moon, the Force has nothing on this.