Work Text:
It hurts.
That was Mu Qing's first thought when his body stopped responding properly, a Wrath's blade piercing his chest from behind and thoughts scattering because it fucking hurt. His legs gave out underneath him just as the blade retracted, and he felt blood obstructing his airways and hard ground underneath his cheek. He coughed, and it came out red and wet.
He could've sworn that someone screamed his name then, but he must've been hallucinating from the pain because the voice had sounded panicked and the only other person around - the only other god who had volunteered for this mission, as it overlapped both their territories - was Feng Xin, who hated his guts - no, his everything - with a burning passion. He'd never sound like that, despite how much Mu Qing wished he could elicit this kind of reaction from him.
He closed his eyes with a tired, bloody huff. Ha. As if that would ever happen.
Mu Qing first figured out he was in love with Feng Xin when they were young and carefree still. He had just turned seventeen without anybody noticing, or so he had thought, until he had found a small silvery hairpin with a crescent moon design on his bed that evening. He hadn't found out who the present had been from, but he had cherished it, never used it, instead hiding it away so that nobody could ever accuse him of stealing it and take it from him.
He was outside with His Highness, which also meant that Feng Xin was there too. They weren't really doing anything special, not that Mu Qing remembered, but then again he honestly would've been hard pressed to notice anything else that day than the way the sunlight caught in Feng Xin's hair and gave it a warm golden brown glow, the way his amber eyes lit up in mirth and the way his laughter was simply filled with light.
Oh, he had thought then, I get it now. Not that it would ever change anything, for Mu Qing to take note of his feelings then, for him to figure it out. Xianle fell. Mu Qing abandoned his prince and the man he loved - the man who had ended up choosing someone else, it was obvious, it could never be Mu Qing, not with the dirt under his nails and the dishonor of his birth.
There was another scream then, one that Mu Qing might at another time have qualified as a roar, even, and when he opened his eyes he found himself staring at Feng Xin in all his godly glory, his expression fierce and murderous like most of his statues depicted him and his bow thrown carelessly on the ground. The golden energy flaring all around him had ripped his ribbon and let his hair loose, and Mu Qing felt like the luckiest man alive (even if he barely was, by now) to have been able to see such a display of pure power from so close.
Then he blinked, and all the ghosts around them had disappeared. Piles of ashes were disintegrating, destroyed by Feng Xin's power, and the god himself was making his way over to Mu Qing.
Powerful. Feng Xin was so powerful now. So... so utterly, beautifully powerful. He didn't need Mu Qing guarding the Southwest anymore. Had he gone through a Heavenly Tribulation without his knowledge?
"... ing. Mu Qing!"
Oh. There he was. Feng Xin was by his side, kneeling on the ground soaked with Mu Qing's blood, getting his robes dirty in the process. Don't do that, he thought, this one's blood shouldn't touch you. Mu Qing knew that love wasn't for him, but he couldn't help the tiny flicker of hope when he saw something that looked suspiciously close to fear in Feng Xin's amber eyes. The blood loss was probably making him delirious though, because there was no way Feng Xin of all people wouldn't wish for Mu Qing's death. After all...
There was anger and hatred in General Ju Yang's gaze of molten gold, right after he ascended out of pure martial might and saw Mu Qing. Every look hurt, but Mu Qing soldiered on.
General Xuan Zhen was unfeeling. General Xuan Zhen was cold and heartless. General Xuan Zhen thought himself above the opinion of others.
Mu Qing, on the other hand, was just one man, and he felt his heart bleed with every shout of righteous fury that Feng Xin aimed at him. He had to leave back then to help his mother and eventually help them, too, but explaining himself was pointless. Nobody would think that Mu Qing did this for any other reason than personal gain.
Sometimes, when General Xuan Zhen stared at his reflection in the mirror, he saw Mu Qing the errand boy and wondered if ascending had been worth it, if it meant spending the rest of his immortal life missing his mother and earning the eternal wrath of the one he knew he'd spend forever loving silently from afar.
Eight hundred years hadn't cooled Feng Xin's hatred.
It didn't hurt any less, but Mu Qing was used to it by now.
"Mu Qing!"
There was a god's furious screams in his ears and a god's holy hands on his chest. He had been rolled onto his back at some point, probably after the entry wound had been somewhat healed.
Wait.
Healed?
"MU QING! You fucker, stay with me!"
He had never left, though.
Not like that. Not after the first time, not in eight hundred years, not when all he knew for all that time was the feeling of Feng Xin's hatred surrounding him like a cloak.
He had fought General Ju Yang - eventually Nan Yang - for eight hundred years because at least when they fought Feng Xin was looking at him.
The only way he knew his touch was when it hurt.
Fitting, for the two of them.
He was looking at Mu Qing now. He was looking at him, and pouring spiritual energy into him, and still screaming. He was always so loud. Loud, and proud, and bright, and handsome, and-
"If you dare die on me, I will never forgive you!"
Mu Qing had to hold in a chuckle, not that it would've come out properly even if he hadn't. It didn't change anything, whether Feng Xin said that. They had a truce now to make His Highness happy, but...
Forgiveness wasn't something Mu Qing ever deserved.
He had abandoned his prince and his beloved when they needed him most, but he had known his mother needed him more. He hadn't sided with His Highness on the spiritual mountain, even if he knew it was in order get on the gods' good side to help his prince later. He had ascended alone, leaving behind the disintegrating ashes of the remaining ghosts plaguing the old capital of Xianle and two people he loved in different ways behind.
One gift of rice couldn't outweigh all the wrong he had done.
A wet, choking breath made its way into Mu Qing's lungs. The voice filling his ears got louder, easily banishing the gradually weakening beats of his heart to the background.
He was dying. He knew this in his bones, like he knew his love for Feng Xin would outlive him. Even dying wouldn't make him stop loving Feng Xin.
"Mu Qing, I swear to all the fucking gods, don't you dare-"
The gods.
Mu Qing had bowed to a lot of them and played nice to a lot more, all in order to climb his way up the social ladder in the Upper Court. General Xuan Zhen was still cold and unfeeling, but he was more approachable than General Nan Yang, if only because he didn't spend all his time in the mortal realm.
Would even one of them genuinely miss him? Would anyone genuinely miss him? Or would they just shrug it off, appoint Feng Xin as the martial god of the South, and then promptly forget that General Xuan Zhen ever existed? Mu Qing was pretty sure it'd be the latter.
Maybe His Highness would miss him a little, maybe for nostalgia's sake, maybe because then there wouldn't be anyone around anymore to fix Ruoye. Crimson Asshole Sought Flower sure as hell wouldn't, which was perfectly fine. Feng Xin...
"Fuck, shit, fucking FUCK! Mu Qing!"
Oh, great. The blood loss was making him hallucinate again. Feng Xin sounded... desperate. If he wasn't imagining it, then was it because he didn't want to have to deal with the entirety of the South? That sounded like a lot more work, and they were both already swamped all the time.
So much paperwork. He knew that Feng Xin hated paperwork.
Mu Qing wasn't a big fan of it either, but he was better at it. Now nobody would be around to secretly help with the paperwork of the Palace of Nan Yang. Oh, Feng Xin would get so busy, he wouldn't have time to search for his ghostly ex and son.
Such undying loyalty would go to waste.
"... s... sor... ry...," he managed to choke out, feeling familiar warmth behind his eyelids.
Feng Xin would hate him forever, for dying when he was around and thus staining his reputation as a martial god in the process, for leaving him with a ton of work and no time to look for the one he had chosen. He'd resent him for eternity.
Feng Xin had once barged into his office, looking incensed - more than usual - and ready to strangle him. Mu Qing had sighed, finished writing the sentence he had been in the middle of and taken his time in doing so, just to annoy the other. He had then put his brush down, looked Feng Xin in the eye, and asked what he was there for.
Barely two ke later, Feng Xin had stormed out of his office, not having obtained what he came for.
As if showing up unannounced like that would make Mu Qing admit that he had filled multiple mission reports in his stead over the years, whenever he came back injured and couldn't do it himself, because he didn't want Feng Xin's junior officials to mess it up.
"Don't leave me..."
There was something wet on his cheeks, and it wasn't his own tears because Mu Qing knew he didn't have enough energy for them to fall. He felt numb all over, like his limbs weren't connected to his body anymore. He tried lifting a hand, but nothing happened, so he gave up.
He blinked.
"No! NononononoNONONO MU QING! FUCK! Open your eyes, you-!"
Oh. Maybe he didn't just blink, he thought when he forced his eyes open once more. Feng Xin looked outright broken now, crying freely, crystalline tears pooling and falling from his beautiful golden eyes. Mu Qing felt like those tears should have a golden tint, too, to match the rest of him.
"... c... crying on... on me... you... oaf... always l... lacking... manners..."
There was more of that warm spiritual energy pouring into him, filling his meridians at an alarming rate. He didn't want Feng Xin to empty his reserves like that, but he supposed the other really didn't want to find himself swamped in work.
Too bad for him.
He closed his eyes again.
A voice filled his last dreams, his imagination's last attempt to make him feel wanted.
"Don't die, don't you dare fucking die, Mu Qing-"
"I got shit to tell you! Stay with me!"
"Mu Qing..."
"I never got to... to fucking say it... I'm a fucking coward..."
"... I love you... don't fucking leave me... I'm begging you..."
It's okay, Mu Qing thought, finding himself wishing he could say this out loud. It's okay, because I'm the one who...
He hoped Feng Xin would eventually be able to remember him without any hatred, someday.
Was this what death was like? Warm laughter and a warmer smile? Searing amber eyes following his movements, and the man he loved seeing him and beaming at him, and calling out, "Qing-er!"?
Apparently death was made of dreams.
Dreams of meeting Feng Xin differently, maybe in childhood, before society taught them that Feng Xin was made of everything good and that Mu Qing wasn't, or maybe after the fall of Xianle, and Mu Qing would work in a brothel to try making ends meet for his mother and himself with Feng Xin visiting him to escape from his sudden misery.
"Mu Qing..."
Dreams of never ascending, of Xianle never falling, of His Highness just being a prince and eventually a king, with Mu Qing staying by his side to dress him with Feng Xin offering his everlasting loyalty, maybe to the both of them this time.
"I'm here, Mu Qing, so please..."
Dreams of being born in the countryside and meeting a bright boy with brighter eyes the color of molten gold, and the two of them never learning the saber and the bow to instead wield the sickle and the farming hoe.
"... Qing-er..."
Dreams of being born a noble too, so that Feng Xin would look at him.
"Please..."
Dreams of Feng Xin loving him.
"Qing-er... fuck... please, Qing-er... wake up..."
Mu Qing woke up.
The first thing he registered was that his hand was too warm.
Well, no. The first thing he truly registered was that he had apparently not died, somehow, and that he seemed to be back in his Palace.
Then he registered that his hand was too warm. One glance proved enough to figure out why the fuck his hand was too warm.
There was a godly being attached to his hand by his own, holding tightly and obviously not letting go. The god was asleep, still wearing the same armor as before, still covered in bruises and cuts and overall looking like absolute shit despite being the most beautiful creature Mu Qing had ever had the pleasure of seeing.
Feng Xin?!
Why was Feng Xin there? Why was Feng Xin touching him when the only touches they ever exchanged before were kicks and punches?
"... I love you... don't fucking leave me... I'm begging you..."
Oh.
Oh, that... that wasn't a dream. That wasn't his imagination. That wasn't an hallucination caused by blood loss. Or, wait? Was it?
He tried getting up then and pulling his hand back, but searing agony coursed through his chest when he moved, and he let out a sound that was unfortunately halfway between a gasp and a scream of pain. Predictably, that woke Feng Xin up, and the other god immediately looked at him, wide awake.
"Mu Qing! Fucking finally, holy shit you're awake!"
There was so, so much genuine, pure relief in his eyes and in his voice.
Yeah. All right. That... had definitely not been his imagination, then, because there was no way his own mind could come up with all of this. Even his wildest dreams - even his near-death dreams - hadn't pictured such a soft look on Feng Xin's face.
Feng Xin was there, and he...
"You love me," Mu Qing blurted out, voice hoarse from disuse.
The following silence was unbearable. Feng Xin's eyes had gone wide and scared, and for once in his long fucking life he was completely silent. Mu Qing hated it, so he broke it mercilessly.
"I didn't imagine it," he added, feeling his throat hurt from how dry it was - how long had he been out? "I know I didn't, I couldn't, I- I- even in the best ones... the dreams, they..."
The fear in Feng Xin's eyes abated then, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like hope.
"You dream about me?"
Fuck! "No, I-"
"You dream about me. You just said it. Mu Qing, you-"
"Shut up!"
He rolled over on the bed, pulling his hand free and the covers above his head. Or, well, he would have done exactly that, if Feng Xin's stupidly warm hand hadn't tightened its grip then, preventing him from moving the way he had planned on doing. His cheeks were burning when he glared at the other, and he cursed his weak heart for fluttering happily at the sight of Feng Xin's hopeful crooked grin.
"Qing-er."
Mu Qing, just then, may or may not have let out a noise that sounded like a boiling kettle.
"Shut up," he grumbled, unable to free himself from a god's golden eyes.
"Qing-er, I love you."
If asked later, he would forever blame whatever painkilling spell he was on that day for the way he reacted then. Tears sprung from his eyes, although he didn't feel too bad about them when he saw that Feng Xin was crying, too.
"I love you, and fuck you scared the shit out of me," Feng Xin murmured, not letting go of his hand, and instead bringing it closer to press a feathery light kiss on his knuckles. "How the fuck did you let a Wrath get you like that?" he chuckled, but it was a wet sound, far from the mocking tone Mu Qing would have expected normally.
"... distracted."
"What?"
"I said," he hissed, "that I was distracted. B-by you. You idiot."
And he had been. Feng Xin had only narrowly avoided a blade trying to decapitate him, only the tip grazing his skin, and Mu Qing had been unable to tear his eyes away from him to make sure he was safe. That was how he had missed the Wrath-level ghost side-stepping him and swinging, at least until the blade had pierced his chest. He sure had noticed it then.
"You almost..."
His let his free hand reach out, half-convinced it'd get slapped away. It didn't, so he allowed his fingers to trace the wound on Feng Xin's throat, now scabbed over and well on its way to healing fully. Speaking of...
"... how long was I out?"
"Four days," Feng Xin breathed out, slowly getting his tears under control. "And five nights. The medical masters finished working on you after the first full day, but you wouldn't wake up."
"... you're still in your armor. And your wounds-"
Feng Xin had a sheepish smile then, something quiet and boyish and embarrassed, something Mu Qing stared at until he was sure he had it committed to memory because this felt rare enough that he had never seen it before and might not ever see it again.
"I, ah... I might have used all my spiritual energy on you, so I couldn't heal myself. And then refused to leave you alone."
"... not even to wash up and change clothes?"
"... yeah."
Normally, Mu Qing might have been kind of grossed out by this flagrant lack of hygiene, but he did almost die, and who was he kidding? Having Feng Xin's eyes on him, having Feng Xin's devotion - he had put himself in danger by giving him so much spiritual energy, what if other ghosts had shown up? - and knowing it was all for him... Mu Qing wouldn't spit on that.
He was still about to call Feng Xin out on that when he saw his silvery hairpin, the one he had received from someone unknown on his seventeenth birthday, sitting on his bedside table. He gasped and reached out to take it, eyeing the other.
"Where did you find that," he asked warily.
"Oh, the medical masters found it hidden in your robes. It was covered in blood, so I figured I could clean it for you. That's from Xianle, right?"
"I didn't steal it," he snapped back automatically.
"What? No, I know that. I was just wondering if it was the same I gave you."
"... what."
"On your seventeenth birthday? I never saw you wear it, so I thought you figured it was from me and got rid of it."
"... that was from you?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Deep breath, Mu Qing. He forced himself to not let his first, knee-jerk reaction show, and instead closed his eyes for a moment. His tears had stopped flowing a moment ago, but they felt ready to go again. Feng Xin. It had been Feng Xin, all along.
"... since when?" he ended up asking.
"Since when what?"
"Since when do you... you know. L... love me."
"Oh, uh. I... fuck, I don't know. The Heavenly Ceremonial Procession for the Shangyuan Festival, I think? Maybe before that?"
"... what."
"You're the one who asked! Don't get all pissy when I tell you!"
"I'm not-!"
This... this would need to wait until later, when he wasn't feeling lightheaded from the painkilling spells and lower spiritual energy, when Feng Xin would have changed clothes and taken a bath, when they would both be able to speak more than five sentences without tears threatening to come out. They'd talk about this, and about the hairpin, and about everything unsaid between them because gods knew they needed this.
For now, there was only one more thing he needed to say before he forced Feng Xin to go wash up and change clothes.
"For the record, I... I l-lo... l-love you too. Dumbass."
Maybe he should have died, actually. Then he wouldn't have to feel like he was going to combust from embarrassment. But if he had died, he wouldn't have been able to see the expression of pure happiness that bloomed on Feng Xin's face, so maybe it was better that he didn't. After all, a dead man wouldn't have been able to close his eyes to enjoy his first kiss, something gentle and warm, filled with Feng Xin's golden light and undying loyalty.
He was tempted to think that, yeah, maybe someone would genuinely miss him, if his time ever came. Feng Xin had chosen him, after all.
It hurt.
Feng Xin's smile was too stupid bright.
But that was fine, because Mu Qing was finally the one who put it there.