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Despite Mu Qing's declaration of wanting to be ‘f-friends’, nothing had changed. The dynamic between Xie Lian, Feng Xin and Mu Qing remained awkward; cordial but impersonal. Xie Lian felt that Mu Qing was too closed off but he'd come around. Feng Xin held similar sentiments, though he lacked Xie Lian's sheer determination to return their friendship to the closeness of the past. He wouldn’t give up yet.
Feng Xin and Xie Lian fell into a regular routine that began shortly after Mount Tonglu. Initially to make sure the other was well, recovering mentally and physically, but it didn’t take long for it to transform into a social engagement. One that Xie Lian went to alone. San Lang still didn’t see the appeal of visiting either Feng Xin or Mu Qing, but respected his husband’s decision to do so: ‘Anything for gege.’
“Have you heard from Mu Qing recently?” Xie Lian turned his gaze to Feng Xin; Feng Xin would have more opportunities to interact with Mu Qing. Their own interactions were limited to a letter or two and sometimes Mu Qing would visit Puqi Shrine when Xie Lian's husband was away. “Truth be told, I’m worried about him.”
Feng Xin shrugged, shaking his head. “He’s a god, capable of looking after himself. Even if his declaration of wanting to be friends was false, I wouldn’t worry about him.”
Standing in the corridor in the Palace of Nan Yang showed the stark contrast between their lives; it was almost comical, though Xie Lian wouldn’t change anything about his current situation. Feng Xin oversaw the Southeast, living with all the worldly comforts in the palace, and Xie Lian lived in the simpleness of his shrine with San Lang.
“I'm going to his palace. Are you coming?”
Feng Xin considered him warily. “I think you’re worrying for nothing—” He paused then sighed, “but you’ll be going, no matter what I say.”
Xie Lian grinned from ear to ear. “Indeed. I'm going whether you join me or not.” He spun in a flap of white robes, and exited the way he’d come in. He expected Feng Xin to follow and a quick glance back confirmed it. He was struck by nostalgia as they walked, with Feng Xin at his back. Feng Xin now stood as a martial god in his own right and immortality treated him well, with clear eyes and healthy skin.
“When did you last hear from him?” Feng Xin questioned, speeding up to fall in pace with him.
The question gave him pause. Honestly, he didn’t know. Life with his husband was easy, so carefree that the days passed in a blur. With no set schedule, there was no urgent need to keep track of time. A stab of guilt in his gut made him feel uneasy. “I cannot say how long it’s been exactly…just longer than normal.”
“Have you tried the communication array? Failing that, a letter?”
“His communication array was the first thing I tried, but he’s changed the password. No, I didn't try a letter.”
“He changed his password!?” Feng Xin bellowed. “In 800 years, he’s never changed it! The one time we need to get hold of him he’s changed the damn thing, the idiot.”
“Don’t call him that,” Xie Lian chastised, brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth pulled downward. He had hoped that Feng Xin and Mu Qing would fight less and cooperate more; perhaps it was a futile wish he kept close to his heart. The fall of Jun Wu had improved things but not to the extent he had hoped.
Feng Xin looked almost offended at the scolding but quickly schooled his expression neutral. “It’s not a lie,” he mumbled. Xie Lian glared at him and stomped on ahead.
Through an archway, where the corridor transitioned to a large, open chamber, Xie Lian turned to face Feng Xin. He regarded him with care, taking note of the lines of his face that left him looking worn out. The burden of a God was immense.
“I'm going to go check on him. Are you coming?”
“Dianxia.” Feng Xin sighed, exasperated. Xie Lian wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’ll come but I still believe you’re overthinking it. He’s likely just busy with answering prayers and will not thank us for the interruption.”
It was distinctly possible that Feng Xin was correct, that Mu Qing was simply too busy to contact him. He already knew how big a burden godhood could prove to be, both answering prayers and commanding a force of disciples.
Feng Xin questioned Xie Lian. “Are you truly that worried about him?”
“I know he can handle himself, but on the other hand it’s unlike him to change his habits. So yes, Feng Xin, I am concerned.” Xie Lian explained softly.
A short time later, they stood at the entrance to the Palace of Xuan Zhen. Crafted from solid stone and wide enough for a carriage to pass with foot soldiers walking beside it, the gateway suited Mu Qing; neat and orderly but impersonal. Two heavily armoured guards stood to attention, one at either side. They weren’t surprised by Xie Lian and Feng Xin’s sudden appearance. Amongst the most trusted of Mu Qing’s personnel, those two were the gatekeepers.
“State your purpose,” the first announced. A pair of crossed guandao, one in each guard’s sword arm stopped Xie Lian and Feng Xin in their path.
Xie Lian was not surprised the guards didn’t recognise him. General Nan Yang however, was a well-known martial god, especially in the Southwest where their rivalry knew no bounds; even their respective disciples disliked each other.
“We are here to see General Xuan Zhen,” Xie Lian explained quickly, keeping his tone light and non-threatening. Letting Feng Xin talk would be a mistake.
“He’s not seeing guests right now. You’ll need to come back another day. If you–” the second began.
“Do you even know who we are!?” Feng Xin’s shout interrupted.
Xie Lian sighed, rubbing his temple with thumb and forefinger.
“Should we know?” the guard sneered, eyeing Feng Xin suspiciously.
The other chuckled. “I cannot say that I did, until you spoke.”
Feng Xin had his hand on Fengshen before the guard finished his remark. The last thing they needed was to fight at the entrance to Mu Qing’s palace. Xie Lian pressed a warning touch to his wrist, stepping in front to separate the two. “I apologise. We mean no harm, and do not wish to disturb General Xuan Zhen, however we need to speak to him rather urgently. We will leave as soon as we have spoken with him, you have my word.”
The guards considered him carefully. Their gazes darted between him and Feng Xin. Xie Lian supposed the guards were speaking in a private communication array. After a moment that seemed to drag on for an age, the loud-mouthed one nodded.
“We have only heard from our General via a communication array. No one has seen him in person,” he explained. The grip on his guandao slackened.
Feng Xin questioned him. “What was the message?”
“He declared himself overwhelmed with the amount of prayers in recent weeks, that he will shut himself away to complete the backlog,” the guard explained, neutral expression slipping to concern the more he spoke. “We are not against you checking his progress, but you heard nothing of this from us. Good day to you.” The pair nodded in unison, swept back to their posts and took no further interest in them.
That was easier than anticipated. Following Feng Xin’s move to draw his weapon, Xie Lian had resigned himself to having to put up a fight. It was mildly heartwarming that Mu Qing’s disciples would risk themselves for his well being. It was nothing less than his friend deserved.
“Come on, let’s see what has Mu Qing so preoccupied.” Xie Lian looked to Feng Xin expectantly. He’d not actually spent any time inside the Palace of Xuan Zhen, therefore didn’t know where his personal chambers were.
“What?”
“You’ve surely stepped foot in the palace before, so lead the way.”
Feng Xin opened his mouth to argue, decided against it and instead looked to the sky in defeat. He ran a hand through the hair that framed his face and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Xie Lian. “Mu Qing will not appreciate this, I know that you won’t let this drop. This way.” He slipped away from the main walkway, down one of the many side paths. Xie Lian rushed after him, all flapping robes and light footsteps. Feng Xin led Xie Lian silently through a maze of corridors. Xuan Zhen disciples gave them curious glances when they passed. They likely knew Feng Xin by face alone.
They came to a halt at a solid wooden door, plain in nature but clearly thick enough to hold under an attack. It was quite like Mu Qing to think of a worse case scenario when designing his personal quarters; Xie Lian couldn’t quite fault his thinking.
The first knock went unanswered.
Feng Xin was impatient. He knocked again, louder this time then folded his arms and tapped a restless foot.
Again, it went unanswered.
“Mu Qing, open your damn door! We traipsed over here, and won’t be leaving until we speak to you!” Feng Xin yelled, slamming his fist against the wood.
“You don’t need to be so loud, Feng Xin…” Xie Lian admonished.
The door unlatched, opened a crack and an eye stared at them. “You’re so noisy, you’ll wake the dead.” Mu Qing sounded tired. “Why are you here? I’ll discipline the guards who let you through.”
The effort was immediately worthwhile. Knowing Mu Qing was well was an instantaneous relief. From the little he could see, Mu Qing looked pale, more so than usual. “Mu Qing, we’ve not heard from you in a while. So we’ve come to visit.”
His eyes widened, then relaxed.
“W-well, now you have seen me. I am fine. So you can leave. I’ll assume you don't need directions,” Mu Qing mocked, though his voice wavered. Feng Xin pressed his hand against the door so it couldn’t be shut again. Xie Lian eyed him gratefully.
“Not so fast, we won’t be leaving just yet.”
“I’d prefer to see more of you than just a sliver of your face,” Xie Lian insisted.
Mu Qing sighed. “I suppose you’ll want to come in?”
“That is why we’re here, so open up,” Feng Xin demanded.
Xie Lian immediately understood why Mu Qing had been so adamant about hiding himself. Mu Qing’s naturally pale skin was ghost-white, making him look sick, the bags under his eyes threatened to engulf his cheeks. His eyes were dull and lacked their usual lustre. The sight would have led his disciples to panic. It took a lot for a god to die, but Mu Qing certainly looked like death in that moment; all boney limbs and limp hair.
“You look-”
“Like shit.” Feng Xin finished. Xie Lian shot him an annoyed look. “I mean, you look…unwell.”
“Get inside before anyone sees you,” Mu Qing mumbled, stepping aside. To ignore Feng Xin’s remark, something was amiss. The lack of his usual ire tugged at Xie Lian’s heartstrings. He grabbed Feng Xin’s arm and pulled him into the room, slamming the door behind them.
Mu Qing’s chambers were, quite unexpectedly, a mess. He was known for his immaculate appearance, strict expectations of his disciples and an eye for the small details. Books lay scattered across the floor, stacked haphazardly on his desk and at least five open on the bed – the blankets pooled where Mu Qing had been sitting – with pages bent in place of bookmarks. In a corner, the previous days’ linen was thrown in a pile and a stack of dirty dishes balanced precariously at the opposite end of the desk. He didn’t seem bothered by the mess, nor about letting them see it.
He huffed, moved sluggishly to sit on the bed and pulled a thick, dog-eared tome back into his lap. He flipped the pages, pouring over the text. “If you want to be useful, you can look at some of those and help me,” Mu Qing vaguely gestured to the desk. “I cannot find any information how to cure this damned poison and-”
“You’re poisoned?” Feng Xin shouted. That earned him a weary glare from Mu Qing, startled by the sudden noise.
“Yes.”
“So that’s why you’ve shut yourself away.” Xie Lian tilted his head to regard Mu Qing, who’d buried himself back in the book. “You didn’t consider asking for help?”
Mu Qing’s gaze snapped to him. “Who would help me?”
It was painful to think that Mu Qing didn’t believe anyone would help him. After everything Mu Qing had done, the least Xie Lian would do is return the assistance in kind. He couldn’t blame Mu Qing for having lower expectations of him. “I have many questions. Most importantly, what happened?”
Mu Qing huffed, reluctant to talk, and folded his arms. He pulled his eyes away from the text. “A demon terrorising a village gained a taste for mortal flesh. I killed it, of course. However, it had a final surprise for me.”
“And you’ve found no cure?”
Mu Qing bristled, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Ju Yang, I have. I want to stay like this for a while longer. Just for fun.”
Feng Xin clenched his fist, clamouring for a fight. Xie Lian pressed a soothing hand to his arm. An argument would bring no one succour.
“Have you asked in the communication ray? Perhaps Ling Wen would know,” Xie Lian suggested. If he were in the same position, that would have been his first point of call. She seemed to have endless knowledge on many subjects; an enviable skill.
“I tried that first,” Mu Qing admitted. “My cultivation is-” He paused. “My cultivation is either gone or disrupted.”
This was something Xie Lian could help with. His mood brightened considerably. “I will contact Ling Wen.”
Mu Qing opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing and nodded.
Xie Lian pressed a forefinger to his ear.
‘Yes, Your Highness, how may I help you?’ Ling Wen responded a moment later.
‘Thanks for answering so quickly. I need your help. How versed are you in poisons?’
A silly question in truth. If Ling Wen had no information on a subject, then it was worthless information to begin with.
‘I have records of most poisons. What do you need to know?”
Xie Lian explained Mu Qing’s situation. He felt guilty for revealing the pitiful state Mu Qing was in, but he trusted Ling Wen to keep the secret. She hummed and asked questions in all the right places.
‘One moment.’
Ling Wen went silent for a few minutes.
‘Well, Your Highness, this demon’s poison is not fatal. Nor does it require any particular antidote. The cure for it is quite simply time. It has been at least fourteen days since the encounter. It should be out of his system within the next seven.’
The sound of sheer happiness that Xie Lian let out startled Mu Qing and Feng Xin, who both turned to stare at him. The grin on his face, he hoped, conveyed the good news. ‘That’s great. Thank you for your help.’
‘You’re most welcome, Your Highness.’
‘Thanks again.’ He had a rush of gratitude toward the studious Ling Wen. Exiting the array, he turned his attention back to Mu Qing. During their discussion, Mu Qing had moved the books from the bed to the desk and he now lay atop the covers. “All we need to do is wait. Potentially up to another seven days, but then you will recover.”
With a face like thunder, Mu Qing folded his arms. “Another seven days? I cannot be away from my duties for that long and you most definitely cannot stay here.”
Mu Qing wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t leave all the prayers to his disciples as he had, presumably, been doing up until that point. An unspoken nuance between disciple and God generally dictated that the most important prayers were handled by their martial God.
“What about coming to the Palace of Nan Yang?” Feng Xin interrupted his thoughts. An unexpected offer, though not one Mu Qing was likely to accept.
“Not a terrible idea,” Mu Qing admitted.
Did Xie Lian hear that right? Mu Qing readily agreed with Feng Xin, with no arguing, sarcasm or mocking remarks. The poison really had taken hold, twisting its way into his very foundation!
“The two of you staying here would be too conspicuous. If I remain locked away for another week, it would cause rumours of my potential demise. To the absolute happiness of some, I’m sure.” He sneered. “You should leave first, and I will come after sundown. The darkness will hide my weakened state. I’ll tell my deputies I’m going on a mission to return in a week.”
Feng Xin looked dumbfounded. Xie Lian suspected that Feng Xin had no plan to begin with. He just blurted out the offer of his palace. He cleared his throat. “Yes. That is what I had in mind.”
“You’ll be careful travelling alone, won’t you?” Xie Lian asked.
“One, very short, nighttime walk will not kill me.”
With a rushed farewell, Xie Lian and Feng Xin left the Palace of Xuan Zhen. Some disciples were known to gossip. The rivalry between the Southeast and Southwest notwithstanding, whispers of their respected Generals sharing chambers would prove scandalous.
“That was easier than I anticipated,” Xie Lian admitted, turning to Feng Xin when they arrived at his palace. “What was your plan?”
Feng Xin shrugged, his brow furrowed in thought. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Mu Qing may be annoying, but I don’t hate him. He looks dreadful.” Offering no further explanation,
They waited for him in Feng Xin’s personal chambers. His taste in decor was relaxed. Each piece was picked for its sentimental value or its individual attractiveness with little thought for cohesion, but had a comfortable and welcoming ambience. A large, cushioned bench dominated one corner. Xie Lian sat with his legs drawn under him, hands folded in his lap and robes draped carelessly. Conversation between Feng Xin and Xie Lian came easily now. They spoke of their hopes for the future, Xie Lian with his husband and Feng Xin shaping new recruits into worthy disciples.
“Do you think he’s going to come?” Feng Xin questioned.
“I do.” Xie Lian believed the answer he gave; Mu Qing would come.
The weak knock at the door confirmed it. Xie Lian darted from his place on the sofa before Feng Xin could even rise from his chair. He opened the door without hesitation.
“Mu Qing!”
“You don’t need to announce my arrival. Sneaking past your guards was hard enough. My own wouldn't let people sneak in or out, which is why I told them I'm on a mission. Trust you to undo my hard work.”
“Come in before anyone else sees you.” Feng Xin hastily pulled an unhappy Mu Qing inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.
Mu Qing sighed and turned to Xie Lian. He paused.
“What is it?” Xie Lian coaxed.
“Thank you,” Mu Qing mumbled stiffly.
Feng Xin frowned but said nothing; probably for the better. Xie Lian gave Mu Qing a smile in return for his unexpected gratitude. “You’re welcome.”
The atmosphere was awkward. Feng Xin returned to his chair, leaving Mu Qing to stand in the doorway. Xie Lian couldn't help but smile, his day brightened.
“I knew this would be awkward but come on.” Feng Xin said. “Stop standing in the doorway and lay down.”
“But-”
“I’ve prepared everything to look after your sorry backside. So please stop protesting and just lay down so you can get well soon and leave!” he blurted.
“Feng Xin, you…” The outburst shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Xie Lian didn’t know how to respond; there were other ways to coax Mu Qing into accepting their help. “Mu Qing, please rest. We’ll stay here until you feel better, then you can get back to your duties.”
A knife could cut the tension. Mu Qing huffed and folded his arms, tilting his chin away to avoid looking at them. If not for his intense focus on Mu Qing, Xie Lian would have missed the grateful glance back he gave them.
“Fine.”
My Qing kicked his boots off at the door and, with some hesitancy, stepped up into the room. He looked languidly around, judging Feng Xin’s taste in decor until his gaze fell upon the bed. He stared longingly at it. My Qing glanced between the bed, Xie Lian and Feng Xin with a scowl upon his face. He remained silent, and crossed the room to fall face first onto the mattress.
“Mu Qing, you should-” Xie Lian was cut off by a single, quiet snore; Mu Qing had fallen asleep as soon as he hit the bed, fully dressed and unwashed.
Xie Lian turned to a surprised Feng Xin. “Can you wake him?” He didn’t feel confident waking Mu Qing up. He more than likely slept as he lived, on the defensive.
“Absolutely not. He’d kill me. You're on your own.” Feng Xin cringed, holding up his hands in defeat.
Whilst he couldn't blame Feng Xin for declining, Xie Lian didn't look forward to the prospect himself; San Lang would have been a better choice. He gulped, looked down at the sleeping Mu Qing and pressed a hand to his shoulder. Mu Qing’s eyes shot open. He snatched Xie Lian’s wrist in one hand and flames licked at the fingers of his other. It extinguished as quickly as it sparked when he realised who had touched him. He scowled at Xie Lian, confusion plastered across his features until he glanced around the room.
“Yes?” His voice was croaky.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…well, you fell asleep with your clothes on and without washing up. A bath has already been prepared for you. There are clean robes in the trunk at the end of the bed. Perhaps you can refresh yourself and then turn in for the night.” It had been Xie Lian's idea to prepare everything for Mu Qing’s arrival, asking the attendants to bring boiling water in the wooden tub as well as a selection of light, plain foods.
Mu Qing threw Xie Lian a look that was something between confusion and disbelief. It transformed into a scowl, the corners of his lips turned down. He said nothing. No rejection from Mu Qing was as good as acceptance.
They left him alone to prepare for bed, and waited in a side room. “I don’t want to leave him alone. At least for the first night,” Xie Lian admitted, glancing at Feng Xin.
Feng Xin shrugged. “Then we won’t. But you can’t exactly watch him all night, Hua Cheng wouldn’t like it. I also can’t leave prayers unanswered. So I suppose we can take it in turns.”
Xie Lian flushed at the mention of his husband. Feng Xin wasn’t wrong, San Lang wouldn’t approve. Xie Lian slipped back into the bedroom. In the silence, he heard the even breathing of sleep and slipped to a chair in the corner to sit with him. Under the soft light of a lamp, he passed the time by reading a rather dull book he’d pulled from a pile on the desk.
He was pulled away from the text by a soft groan. Mu Qing tossed and turned in bed. He was sweating profusely and his face was scrunched up in discomfort. A nightmare. Xie Lian wondered if it was the work of the poison. He slipped from the room and returned with a dish of water and clean cloth. He placed it on the small table beside the bed.
“What are you doing?” Mu Qing mumbled, opening one eye and rolling over to regard him.
“You’re burning up.” Xie Lian looked at the material in his hand. He wrung the excess water out and wiped Mu Qing’s face. Mu Qing glared at him, but said nothing. He didn’t move until Xie Lian removed the cloth and bowl then turned over and went back to sleep.
Though Mu Qing didn’t thank them for their help, it was enough that he didn’t reject it. Xie Lian had long since learned that it was his way of accepting help without having to say the words. He curled up in the chair, pulled a blanket over his knees and rested his chin on his hand to watch Mu Qing sleep. Feng Xin arrived to take over at the agreed times and the night passed much the same, cooling Mu Qing’s forehead and watching him sleep.
The second day was filled with fumbling attempts at conversation. Feng Xin and Xie Lian did most of the chatting, but Mu Qing hummed his affirmation where appropriate and even added his own thoughts at times though he never fully opened up nor let down his guard. He did little else except sleep and – upon his insistence – read prayers that had been delivered that morning. The man really couldn’t leave work behind.
As Mu Qing slept into the early morning of the third day, Feng Xin and Xie Lian sat in one of the side chambers around a low table and drank tea together.
“We should find breakfast when he wakes up again,” Xie Lian suggested.
Feng Xin placed his tea down, considered Xie Lian and hummed. “Since this is all some big secret, I’ll make it. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“That’s kind of you.”
Feng Xin finished his tea and left quietly. Less than an incense time later, he returned with a basket of ingredients, various implements and a steamer basket. He pushed up his sleeves and got to work. He roughly mixed the ingredients, gradually added the water and kneaded the dough until it was smooth. He split it into even amounts and shaped them until round.
“What are you doing?” Mu Qing stood in the doorway. His mouth hung open.
Feng Xin looked just as surprised. His hands were covered in dough and a smudge of flour covered the bridge of his nose. “Making breakfast for us…?”
Mu Qing’s mouth shut and his bottom lip quivered. He turned around and returned to bed without a word. The next time he woke up, at a more reasonable hour, the mantou had been steamed. Stacked hot and tempting, Xie Lian could almost see him drooling. Mu Qing joined them at the table and dutifully ate in silence.
By the seventh day, Xie Lian was near the end of his, seemingly infinite, tether. The tension was palpable from being cooped up together for far too long in such a small space. Mu Qing and Feng Xin were at each other’s throats. Mu Qing had regained his usual pale, but healthy appearance and looked less gaunt. His sharpened tongue had returned with full fervor.
“When did you learn to cook anyway?” Mu Qing jabbed, his mouth full of bao.
“I’ve always known how to cook, I just never needed to.”
Mu Qing’s face darkened, he swallowed; clearly Feng Xin had said the wrong thing. He raised his voice. “Why you–”
“Please!” Xie Lian instantly felt better after the outburst. Though he flushed with embarrassment under the stares from the pair. He sighed, turning to Mu Qing. “And here we are. Seven days have passed. You don’t look ill anymore. How is your cultivation?”
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “It’s returned. Don’t worry, the burden of looking after me has finished. You can go back to your husband and your oh-so-perfect life,” he mocked, bitterness twinged his voice.
Xie Lian was overjoyed to hear that Mu Qing’s cultivation had returned with no lasting effects. It had been his greatest concern, that Mu Qing would grow weaker over time, unable to return to his former glory and eventually cease to exist with no followers.
In sheer joy, Xie Lian leapt forward, and – disregarding Mu Qing’s pride – wrapped his arms around him to pull the stunned man into a tight hug. “It’s not a burden. You’re my friend. I’d do nothing less for either you or Feng Xin.”
A plank of wood had more emotion. Mu Qing didn’t return the affection nor offer a reply to his kindness. However, he didn’t complain nor push Xie Lian away. After a long moment, Mu Qing pulled away from the hug and immediately spun on his heel. The tips of his ears were red. Xie Lian grinned.
Mu Qing paced to the door, huffed and mumbled something that Xie Lian wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “I’d still very m-much like to be your friend.” He pushed the door open and left without giving them a chance to respond.
Feng Xin turned to look at Xie Lian, slack jawed and wide-eyed. “Did he-?”
“Yea.” Xie Lian confirmed, all smiles and happiness.