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In the quiet Puqi Shrine, dust motes floated in lazy sunbeams, and the smell of incense drifted in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of tea brewing nearby. A content smile graced the god’s lips as he busied himself with setting out small cups on a low wooden table. Xie Lian looked up, his smile deepening at the sight of his beloved. Hua Cheng’s single eye softened in response, and he crossed the room in a few strides, taking a seat by Xie Lian’s side. There was a quiet understanding between them, one that rarely needed words.
But the peace didn’t last long.
The distinct sounds of bickering drifted in from outside, and moments later, two figures crossed the threshold of the shrine—Mu Qing and Feng Xin. Their quarrel was nothing new; they seemed to pick up old arguments as easily as one might pick up a cup of tea. Xie Lian felt a bittersweet pang as he watched his two old companions, his brothers from centuries past, still clashing just as they had when they’d fought side by side.
Mu Qing’s face was set in his usual stoic expression, though a hint of bitterness tugged at the corners of his mouth. Feng Xin, on the other hand, looked as blunt and stubborn as ever, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes flashing with irritation.
Xie Lian’s heart warmed at the sight of them, though he kept his feelings tempered. It had been so long since they had all shared a space like this.
“Come, join us,” Xie Lian said, gesturing to the empty seats.
Feng Xin huffed, settling down with a hint of reluctance. “We didn’t come for a tea party, Your Highness,” he said, though he took the cup Xie Lian offered him anyway.
Mu Qing’s gaze flickered toward Hua Cheng briefly, his expression hardening slightly. He lowered himself onto a cushion but didn’t immediately reach for his tea. Xie Lian noticed, though he kept his face carefully neutral. “We actually have a few questions… about the matters in Heaven,” Mu Qing began, his voice guarded.
Xie Lian poured the tea in silence, letting the quiet warmth of the shrine provide a contrast to the tension that prickled in the air. “What questions do you have?”
Feng Xin’s mouth twisted, his face visibly darkening as he glanced at Mu Qing. “It’s not so much about Heaven itself, but more about—” he gestured vaguely toward the other, as though words couldn’t quite capture his frustration. “Well, this one seems to think he doesn’t need a lesson in loyalty.”
A flicker of resentment flared in Mu Qing’s eyes, his posture stiffening. “You’re so quick to say that, aren’t you? But let’s not forget, I was never more than a servant in your eyes—or in his.” His gaze shifted pointedly towards Xie Lian.
Mu Qing sat, shoulders tense and expression guarded, staring down at the tea he had barely touched. His voice came out low, almost as if he were speaking to himself rather than anyone else in the room. “You never understood, did you? How it felt to stand in your shadow every single day… just a ‘servant’ to you. Just a deputy general who could be replaced at any moment. Even after I ascended, nothing really changed. Everyone saw me as just the spare—one that no one wanted around.”
Xie Lian looked at him, feeling the weight of those words land heavily in the space between them. There was an edge to Mu Qing’s voice, a bitterness that spoke of years of quiet resentment, of feelings that had never been shared, never even hinted at. Xie Lian hadn’t known—he had never even considered that his friend might feel this way. He opened his mouth to respond, but the other continued, his tone sharpening.
“I did everything I could,” he went on, his voice rough with an intensity that surprised Xie Lian. “I worked harder, fought harder… for what? Just to be overlooked? To be the one standing to the side, forgotten, while you and Feng Xin had everything?” His gaze flickered toward Feng Xin, who was staring back, equally stunned.
Xie Lian’s chest tightened, and he took a breath, searching for the right words to bridge this unspoken chasm that had opened between them.
“Mu Qing,” he said softly, holding his gaze. “You weren’t just my deputy. You were more than a soldier, more than a servant. You were… family. Both of you were. I never saw you as anything less.” His voice grew quieter, and his eyes softened, a kind of sorrow flickering in their depths. “I loved you, Mu Qing. You were my brother, as much as Feng Xin was. I would have done anything to help you, if you’d asked.” He took a small break, just to avoid his voice cracking. “I think it’s you who never saw me as more than your master.”
Mu Qing’s eyes widened, the mask he so carefully held up cracking, just a little. He looked almost as if he hadn’t heard correctly, as if he was trying to make sense of words that simply didn’t fit the story he’d held onto for so long. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
The sincerity in Xie Lian’s voice cut through the other god’s bitterness, making him feel something he hadn’t felt in centuries—a kind of vulnerability that bordered on shame. He wasn’t used to seeing Xie Lian’s kindness directed at him this way. He had always assumed that Xie Lian’s loyalty, his warmth, was reserved for others, for those like Feng Xin who could claim it so easily. To hear Xie Lian speak of him with such affection and regret, as if Mu Qing’s pain were something real and valid… it left him unsteady, at a loss.
“Family…” Mu Qing echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head, almost as if to shake off the words. “Then why—why did it feel like I was never… enough?” His gaze fell, a flash of resentment and hurt twisting across his face. “You never needed me. Not really.”
Feng Xin, who had been watching in stunned silence, stepped forward, his expression tightening with frustration. “Mu Qing, that’s… that’s not true. You were his right hand. You know that! We all relied on you, as much as we relied on each other!”
But Mu Qing shot Feng Xin a dark look, his voice rising slightly. “Oh, of course. It’s easy for you to say, Feng Xin, isn’t it? You always had his trust. You never had to question it; it was just… there. But me? I had to fight for every scrap of approval, and even then, it was never enough.” His voice dropped, raw and uncertain. “I was always waiting for the moment I’d be cast aside.”
Feng Xin looked taken aback, his face twisting with an emotion somewhere between sympathy and frustration. “Mu Qing, that’s—look, I’m not saying you didn’t feel that way, but you’ve got it wrong. We both were there for him, in our own ways, and he needed both of us. I stayed as long as he’d let me stay… but you, you were the one who chose to leave.”
The words hit him like a slap, and he drew back, as if bracing himself. He looked away, his expression hardening once again, a quiet anger simmering beneath the surface. But Xie Lian leaned forward, his gaze imploring, filled with an earnestness that broke through even his defenses.
“I don’t know why you felt that way, Mu Qing. But I know this much: I would have given my life for you. For both of you. You were the only family I had left,” Xie Lian said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his emotions rang clear. “If I failed to show you that, then… I’m sorry.”
Mu Qing swallowed, his lips parting as he struggled to form words. The look in his eyes was one of utter disbelief, of confusion. This wasn’t how he had expected things to go. He had built a wall of resentment around himself, a fortress to keep out the pain of feeling overlooked, of feeling second-best. And now, here Xie Lian was, saying things that he hadn’t ever let himself imagine he might hear. Saying that he was loved. That he was family. And that he left that family.
It was almost too much to process.
“You’re… sorry?” the god murmured, his voice laced with disbelief and an almost childlike vulnerability that felt foreign on his features. He looked down, avoiding Xie Lian’s gaze, a deep furrow in his brow as he struggled to understand.
“Yes, Mu Qing.” Xie Lian’s voice was gentle, unwavering. “I loved you, and I still do.”
The words were simple, but they reverberated with years of unspoken emotion, of a loyalty and affection that Mu Qing had always believed was beyond his reach. He blinked, his expression cracking as he struggled to hold onto his anger, his resentment. But it was slipping away, unraveling in the face of Xie Lian’s kindness.
Feng Xin let out a sigh, crossing his arms with a quiet shake of his head. “See, dumbass? It wasn’t about who was first, or who he ‘needed’ more.”
“Then… why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Mu Qing asked, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded almost… lost.
Xie Lian’s face softened, a sorrowful smile playing on his lips. “I thought I did. I thought… I thought you knew. I thought I showed you by training with you, playing with you, always searching for you when I was sad… I never wanted you to feel that way, Mu Qing. You were always important to me. I just… I didn’t realize you felt so distant.” His gaze dropped slightly, regret evident in the slump of his shoulders.
Xie Lian looked at Mu Qing, his expression filled with a quiet, profound sadness that carried the weight of centuries. He took a steadying breath, his voice soft but unwavering as he began to speak.
“Mu Qing, I need you to understand something,” Xie Lian said, his gaze steady but filled with a pain that seemed endless. “When you turned me away from the spiritual land all those years ago… when you refused to help me, it deeply hurt me. We’d stood together through everything, and in that moment, it was as if all those years, all our memories, had meant nothing to you. You acted like we were strangers. No, worse—like I was a burden to you.”
Mu Qing’s face remained still, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a hint of discomfort, as if Xie Lian’s words were digging into places he had buried long ago.
Xie Lian continued, his voice growing even softer. “I would have given everything for you, Mu Qing. I loved you as a brother, as family. You and Feng Xin were all I had in this world, and I would have done anything to protect you, to help you if you’d ever asked. So when you pushed me away… it felt like you had taken that trust, that loyalty, and thrown it aside as if it were nothing.”
Mu Qing’s mouth opened, a protest rising to his lips, but Xie Lian held up a hand, shaking his head.
“Please, let me finish,” he said, his voice still gentle, but firm. “Even now, all these years later, I want you to know… if you ever need me, Mu Qing, I will be there for you, without question. But… I just don’t think I’ll ever ask for your help again.” A note of finality entered Xie Lian’s voice, a quiet, almost sorrowful acceptance. “I’m sorry, Mu Qing. That’s just… how it is now.”
In the midst of silence, Hua Cheng, who had been listening intently, finally spoke, his voice low and cutting. “You’re both just trash,” he said, a growl rumbling beneath his words. His gaze swept over Mu Qing and Feng Xin, sharp and unforgiving. “Pathetic, really. I can’t believe you would call them family your highness. You deserved better than either of them.”
Mu Qing’s expression darkened, and his hand tightened around his tea cup. He glared at Hua Cheng, defiance flickering in his eyes. “And who are you to judge us? You have no idea what it was like back then.”
Hua Cheng met Mu Qing’s gaze, his expression hard as stone, a fierce protectiveness radiating from him. “I know enough. I know that while you were turning your back on him, I was willing to face the fires of hell for him.”
Feng Xin’s face twisted in frustration, and he shot a glare at Hua Cheng. “You weren’t there! You didn’t see what we went through—what it was like watching him fall, watching him suffer and knowing there was nothing we could do to stop it!”
Xie Lian raised a hand, his voice gentle but firm. “Enough. Please.” His gaze softened as he looked at each of them in turn, the weight of his sadness clear in his eyes. “We’ve all suffered. We’ve all made choices we can’t change. There’s no point in tearing each other apart over what’s already done.”
The bitterness in Mu Qing’s expression eased just slightly, though his gaze remained averted, fixed on some distant point beyond the shrine walls. Feng Xin crossed his arms tightly, his frustration simmering but contained, as if recognizing the futility of arguing further.
The four of them sat in a heavy, pained silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Xie Lian felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him—not from the physical strain, but from the emotional toll of confronting the past. He had carried these memories, these regrets, for so long, and he had thought he had come to terms with them. Yet here, with his oldest friends and his fiercest protector by his side, the wounds felt fresh once more.
Hua Cheng’s hand slipped into his, a silent reassurance. Xie Lian glanced at him, gratitude in his gaze. He found strength in his San Lang’s presence, a quiet, unwavering support that reminded him he wasn’t alone, not anymore.
“Tea has grown cold,” Xie Lian murmured, a small smile touching his lips. He poured a fresh cup for each of them, the ritual calming in its simplicity. “Let’s drink to what we have now. To those who stayed, to those who left, and to those who returned.”
Feng Xin raised his cup reluctantly, his gaze flicking toward Mu Qing, who hesitated before lifting his own cup as well. The silent toast was full of unspoken words, of apologies that would never be uttered, and of a bond that, despite everything, still connected them.
Mu Qing’s gaze shifted to Feng Xin, his expression growing more strained, as though grappling with feelings he couldn’t quite name.
But old habits died hard, and Mu Qing couldn’t simply let go. The hurt and anger still lingered, his walls crumbling, but not completely shattered. He looked back at Xie Lian, his eyes searching, as if trying to see some hidden meaning behind the sincerity in his expression.
Mu Qing stared at him, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. He looked almost as if he were on the verge of saying something, of letting down his guard entirely. But then, as if suddenly overwhelmed, he stood up abruptly, his movements sharp and restless.
“I… I can’t,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes flicking between Xie Lian and Feng Xin with a look of utter bewilderment. “I can’t… deal with this.” His voice trembled slightly, though he tried to mask it with his usual coldness. He looked as if he might say more, but instead, he turned and strode out of the shrine, his figure quickly disappearing into the daylight.
Feng Xin sighed, watching Mu Qing’s retreating figure with a mixture of exasperation and sympathy. “That’s… that’s just like him, isn’t it? Can’t face anything head-on unless he’s convinced it’s a fight.”
Xie Lian’s gaze lingered on the doorway where Mu Qing had disappeared. A faint sadness colored his expression, but there was a glimmer of understanding there too. “It’s hard for him,” Xie Lian murmured. “After so long…”
Feng Xin looked at Xie Lian, his voice softening. “He’ll come around. He’s just… stubborn. You’ve been more patient with him than anyone else ever would have.” He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But that’s just you, isn’t it?”
Xie Lian chuckled softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. “It’s all I know how to do.”
They sat in silence, the warmth of the shrine filling the quiet. Hua Cheng, drawing circles on the back of his hand and Ruyoe caressing his cheek.