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Feng Xin felt terrified.

Not the kind of terror you feel when the stock market drops or a high-stakes deal teeters on collapse—those were part of the job, and he handled them with practiced confidence. No, this was something far worse. This was the fear of ruining a moment that could define the rest of his life.

Fifteen years. That’s how long he and Mu Qing had been together. Fifteen years of late-night study sessions, shared coffee runs, quiet arguments that ended with muffled apologies, and stolen kisses in the kitchen. It had been fifteen years since they stumbled into each other’s lives in college, and while everything else in their world had shifted and grown, one thing had remained constant: Feng Xin loved Mu Qing with every fiber of his being.

And that’s why he had to get this right.

It wasn’t a sudden realization; Feng Xin had known for years that he wanted to marry Mu Qing. Their 25th anniversary only confirmed what he had felt for so long: he didn’t just want to be Mu Qing’s boyfriend anymore. He wanted to be his husband, his partner for life—the one Mu Qing could lean on through everything. 

But lately, the feeling had become too overwhelming to ignore. Knowing that dating wasn’t enough anymore—and hadn’t been for a long time—left him teetering on the edge of overwhelm, desperately trying to plan everything to make it happen as soon as possible.

He glanced at his wardrobe, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes settled on the top shelf. Hidden behind a mess of shoeboxes and old jackets was a small velvet ring box. It had been there for months, waiting for the perfect moment.

The plan had been simple—well, as simple as planning a proposal could be. Feng Xin wanted to make it special, something Mu Qing would never forget. He had been quietly working toward this moment for years, taking on extra projects and saving carefully since they were twenty-five. 

This wasn’t just about asking a question. No, Feng Xin wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to see that rare, genuine smile on Mu Qing’s face, the one that lit up his whole world. He wanted to give Mu Qing something unforgettable, something he deserved.

Feng Xin knew how much Mu Qing valued stability, how hard he had worked to create a better life for himself and his mother. He had been working harder than ever since they graduated. Feng Xin was painfully aware of the life Mu Qing had grown up with—constant moving, cramped apartments, and his mother working tirelessly just to make ends meet. A life without stability, without a place to truly call home.

Feng Xin had watched Mu Qing grow from that shy, guarded college freshman into the incredible man he was now. He had seen Mu Qing bury himself in books, determined to excel in med school, driven by an unrelenting desire to give his mother the life she deserved. Feng Xin had been there through it all—the sleepless nights, the stress, the sacrifices—and the pride he felt for Mu Qing was beyond words.

But even after all these years, Feng Xin could see the shadow of that past lingering. Mu Qing worked tirelessly, saving for the future but hesitating to spend on himself, always prioritizing others. He had been quietly looking for a house for his mother, even though she insisted she didn’t need one. Mu Qing never said it out loud, but Feng Xin knew—he wanted a home. Not just for his mother, but for them.

But the habits of a lime time don’t disappear so quickly. Despite working long hours as a doctor, he had been saving diligently to buy his mother a house—a proper home she could call her own. Feng Xin admired that about him, but he also noticed the quiet hesitation in Mu Qing’s actions—the fear of spending too much or wanting something too big, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. Feng Xin knew that with his job, Mu Qing could easily afford his own home without a problem. But he also knew that Mu Qing was too afraid to spend on himself, too scared to believe he deserved something so grand.

Feng Xin wanted to give him more than just a house. He wanted to give Mu Qing everything—a life full of love, security, and joy. This proposal was the first step. And he was determined to make every one of Mu Qing’s dreams come true.

So, for months, he had been meticulously planning. While Mu Qing worked late-night shifts at the hospital, Feng Xin scoured the internet, researching everything from five-star hotels to scenic spots he remembered Mu Qing mentioning in passing years ago. A cozy yet luxurious escape. A trip disguised as a casual vacation.

The plan was foolproof—at least, it had been until recently.

Mu Qing’s schedule had shifted, leaving him home during odd hours. And with his tendency to quietly wander the house, Feng Xin had to be painfully careful. He had already been caught once browsing vacation packages, and while he managed to brush it off with an awkward excuse about work stress, a second time might be harder to explain.

Feng Xin let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair. How did people keep proposals a secret when their partner was this observant?

“A-Xin?”

The sound of Mu Qing’s voice startled him so badly that he nearly knocked over a stack of papers. Spinning around, he found Mu Qing standing in the doorway, a faintly amused expression on his face.

“You okay? You look like you’re about to fight a ghost.”

Feng Xin cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, just, uh… organizing some stuff. You know, the usual.”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, he glanced at the clock. “I’m heading out for my shift. Don’t stay up too late.” 

Before Feng Xin could respond, Mu Qing leaned over and kissed him—soft and brief but enough to make Feng Xin’s heart race.

“See you in the morning,” Mu Qing said with a small smile.

Feng Xin stood frozen for a moment, watching as Mu Qing grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

As Mu Qing walked away, Feng Xin exhaled, slumping against the wall.

He was in love with the most brilliant, compassionate, and stubborn man in the world. And if that meant navigating late-night espionage missions to pull off this proposal, so be it.

But first, he needed to make sure he didn’t blow his cover again.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The moment Mu Qing’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Feng Xin sprang into action. He darted to the closet, retrieving his laptop and a thick folder of notes he’d been compiling over the past few months.

Everything had to be perfect—every detail, every backup plan, every possible contingency. He couldn’t risk Mu Qing figuring it out, not when the stakes were this high.

Feng Xin had learned his lesson after almost getting caught twice. Now, his nightly preparation sessions were practically a covert operation. He kept his laptop angled away from the door, a second browser tab open with innocuous spreadsheets, just in case Mu Qing decided to double back for something he’d forgotten.

The travel brochures, maps, and itinerary drafts were tucked away in a shoebox at the very back of the closet, hidden under a pile of old clothes he knew Mu Qing would never touch. Feng Xin even kept a small notebook on him during the day, jotting down ideas as they came to him, always careful to tear out and shred the pages once he’d transferred the notes to his digital files.

Tonight, he was focused on refining the timeline of their trip. He’d finally settled on a proposal location—the cliffside garden at sunset—but there were still so many other details to work out. Timing was everything, and Feng Xin knew Mu Qing well enough to predict his reactions. If dinner ran too long or the hike took too much out of them, the mood could be ruined.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he checked the clock. 2:15 a.m.

The hours felt short these days, especially with Mu Qing’s new schedule keeping him home more often. Feng Xin had started going to bed earlier—sometimes as soon as Mu Qing left for his night shift—just so he could wake up and work on his plans undisturbed. It wasn’t ideal, but it was worth it.

“Just a few more months,” Feng Xin muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just a few more months, and it’ll all be worth it.”

He scrolled through the itinerary one last time before saving his progress and closing the laptop. His eyes flicked toward the door, half expecting to see Mu Qing standing there, arms crossed, with that sharp, no-nonsense look that always made Feng Xin’s stomach twist in both guilt and admiration.

But the apartment was quiet.

Relieved, Feng Xin carefully tucked the laptop back into its hiding spot, making sure to clear the desk of any stray papers or notes. He was meticulous, going so far as to straighten the throw blanket on the couch and fluff the pillows—anything to keep the room looking exactly as Mu Qing had left it.

By the time he climbed back into bed, it was nearly 3:30 a.m. His body ached from exhaustion, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of sunsets, ring boxes, and the look on Mu Qing’s face when he finally popped the question.

Feng Xin smiled to himself as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, the faint scent of Mu Qing lingering on the fabric.

Just before he drifted off, he heard the faint click of the front door opening. Mu Qing was home.

Feng Xin forced himself to keep his breathing steady, pretending to be asleep as Mu Qing moved quietly through the apartment.

He felt the familiar dip of the mattress as Mu Qing sat down beside him, the weight of his presence soothing even as Feng Xin feigned unconsciousness.

“You’re working too hard,” Mu Qing murmured, his voice so soft that Feng Xin almost thought he imagined it.

A moment later, he felt the light press of Mu Qing’s lips against his temple.

Feng Xin stayed still, his heart swelling with love. He didn’t care how many sleepless nights it took—he’d make this trip unforgettable, for both their sakes.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Morning came too soon, sunlight spilling through the curtains and nudging Feng Xin awake. His body protested as he rolled over, exhaustion clinging to him like a heavy fog. He’d barely had four hours of sleep, but it didn’t matter. He had work to do—both responding to urgent mails and in his secret preparations.

Mu Qing was already up, standing at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in hand. His hair was damp from a quick shower, and the faint scent of his herbal shampoo hung in the air.

“You’re up early,” Mu Qing said, glancing at Feng Xin over the rim of his mug.

Feng Xin rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a sheepish grin. “Couldn’t sleep much. Thought I’d get a head start on the day.”

Mu Qing gave him a pointed look, one eyebrow raised in that skeptical way that always made Feng Xin’s stomach flip. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Of course,” Feng Xin said quickly, too quickly. He cleared his throat, pretending to focus on pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Work’s just been busy, you know, the virus. That’s all.”

Mu Qing didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he turned to the counter to prepare Feng Xin’s coffee.

Since his schedule at worked changed, he would always receive Feng Xin’s mornings with a coffee, knowing he has been waking up earlier to take care of urgent situations at work. As they moved through their usual morning routine, Feng Xin found himself watching Mu Qing more closely than usual. 

There was a calm efficiency to his movements, the kind of quiet confidence that came from years of hard work and dedication. 

Thirteen years. 

Feng Xin couldn’t help but marvel at how much they’d both grown since those awkward teenage days. Mu Qing, with his sharp wit and relentless determination, had always been the more composed of the two. And yet, even after all these years, there were moments—like the way he hummed softly to himself while preparing breakfast—that reminded Feng Xin of the shy, bookish boy he had fallen in love with. 

“A-Xin.” Mu Qing’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“Hmm?” 

“You’ve been staring at me for the past minute. And you haven’t touched your coffee. Do I have something on my face?”

 Feng Xin blinked, caught off guard. “What? No. I was just admiring my boyfriend.” 

Mu Qing set his mug down, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter. His sharp gaze pinned Feng Xin in place. “You have been acting off lately.” 

Feng Xin waved a hand dismissively, taking a long sip of his coffee to buy himself a moment. “Nothing important. Just sudden realizations of how much I love you.” 

Mu Qing looked at him for a bit more, “If something happens, you can tell me. And I love you too.” 

“It’s nothing, really.” Feng Xin put on his best reassuring smile before giving Mu Qing a kiss in his temple.

 Mu Qing sighed, his expression softening slightly.

 Feng Xin carried his coffee to the small coffee table of the living room. His laptop sat open, already buzzing with notifications. He sighed, settling into the couch and rolling up his sleeves. His workday officially began, but his thoughts strayed to the figure moving around in the kitchen.

 Mu Qing finished cleaning and strolled into the living room, tea in hand. He set the cup down on the coffee table, his gaze flicking toward Feng Xin. Without a word, he walked over to the spot at his side on the couch. “Do you have a lot to do today?” 

“A few calls and some reports to finish,” Feng Xin replied, not looking up as he typed. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

Mu Qing hummed, he hesitated for a moment before resting his head on Feng Xin’s shoulder. His hair was still wet, sending a reaction to his boyfriend's body when it touched his exposed neck. 

“You’re comfortable?” Feng Xin asked, his voice quiet, his hands settling instinctively on Mu Qing’s thigh. 

“Hmm,” Mu Qing murmured, resting his head against Feng Xin’s shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut, and the tension in his frame melted away. “You’re warm.”

 Feng Xin chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of Mu Qing’s head. “You say that every time.” 

“Because it’s true.” 

Feng Xin’s hand found its way to Mu Qing’s hair, his fingers threading gently through the soft strands. The herbal scent of Mu Qing’s shampoo lingered, soothing in its familiarity. “Have I told you how good you look with your hair like this?” Feng Xin asked, his tone light but sincere. 

Mu Qing opened one eye, giving him a skeptical look. “You’ve mentioned it. Repeatedly.” 

“Can’t help it,” Feng Xin said, grinning. He shifted to press a kiss to Mu Qing’s temple, lingering just long enough to feel the heat rising in Mu Qing’s cheeks. 

“You’re shameless,” Mu Qing muttered, though he made no move to pull away.

 “Only for you.” They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s presence. Feng Xin’s laptop chimed with some new notifications as he multi-tasked his attention between his lover and his responsibility of responding to emails as he didn’t have more important things to work on. 

“Am I interrupting?” Mu Qing asked, though there was no real concern in his voice. 

“You? Never.” Feng Xin smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to Mu Qing’s temple. “Besides, I can multitask.”

 Mu Qing made a faint hum of approval and tilted his head slightly, offering Feng Xin easier access to kiss his cheek. Feng Xin took full advantage, letting his lips linger. 

“You’re being clingy,” Mu Qing said, but there was no real complaint in his tone. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” Feng Xin replied, smirking. 

Mu Qing scoffed, but his cheeks were faintly pink as he adjusted himself to get more comfortable. He stretched his legs across the couch and let his head rest against Feng Xin’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.

For a while, they stayed like that, Mu Qing dozing lightly while Feng Xin worked around him. It was a routine they’d fallen into—a routine that was only interrupted when Mu Qing had to get prepared for work.

Even if his new routine made Feng Xin stay up until shameless hours during the night, it was something he didn’t mind at all. Mu Qing would return home before he awoke, always preparing him a mug of coffee to accompany him. Then, as if it were second nature, Mu Qing would find their usual spot to rest his fully exhausted body against Feng Xin while he worked.

As the evening deepened, Mu Qing sighed and reluctantly peeled himself away from Feng Xin’s embrace. “I have a meeting in half an hour,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Already?” Feng Xin asked, his tone more disappointed than he intended. 

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “You’ve been spoiled by my presence all day. Don’t act like you’ll wither without me for a couple of hours.” 

“No promises,” Feng Xin teased, grinning as he watched Mu Qing gather his laptop and notes, “How long is it going to take? Should I start to prepare lunch?” he said before Mu Qing could retreat to the bedroom-turned-office they shared.

“Hopefully it won’t take long, but it is about the lab result we have working on. You know the virus.” His voice sounded exhausted. Not that he expected otherwise, Mu Qing’s shifts turned to be shorter but with him now working in a lab investigation they also turned to be way more exhausting.

“Fine, baobei, take it easy, you’ve been working a lot.” Mu Qing gave him one of those smile that he did when he was feeling too much and couldn’t respond with words. It was a cute habit he had since they were kids.

Once Mu Qing had disappeared behind the door, Feng Xin turned back to his own laptop. He had his own work to finish, but first, there was something far more important to handle. 

He opened the browser and navigated to the travel site, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he thought back to a memory he hadn’t revisited in years. 

They’d been eighteen, sitting around Mu Qing’s small kitchen table with his mother. The conversation had drifted to dreams of the future, and Mu Qing had mentioned, almost offhandedly, that he’d always wanted to visit Italy. 

“It’s beautiful there,” Mu Qing had said, a rare, wistful tone in his voice. “The history, the architecture... everything about it feels like stepping into a dream.” 

The look in his eyes had stayed with Feng Xin ever since.

 He searched for flights to Rome, his mind buzzing with anticipation. Mu Qing had never brought up the dream again, but Feng Xin had never forgotten. And now, with their upcoming vacation, he wanted to make it happen.

 It took some time to compare options, but Feng Xin finally settled on a boutique hotel near the city center. It was small and charming, the kind of place he thought Mu Qing would love.

 By the time the confirmation email landed in his inbox, Feng Xin felt a rush of satisfaction. Plane tickets, hotel reservations—it was all set. Now, he just needed to keep it a secret long enough to surprise Mu Qing.

He was still smiling to himself when he decided to get up to start cooking their lunch. The aroma of garlic and onions sizzling in the pan began to fill the apartment as Feng Xin started on it. 

Mu Qing loved his work—the thrill of uncovering new medical insights and the satisfaction of helping patients—but Feng Xin didn’t quite share the same affection for the place where Mu Qing worked. Howbeit, they seem to finally recognize all the work he has done for the past four years of his life by ascending him to a position in the laboratory. And Feng Xin couldn’t deny the pride in seeing him achieve so much.

Even if it meant longer hours, Mu Qing was happier than Feng Xin had seen him in a while.

Feng Xin leaned against the counter, mulling over the thought. As much as he didn’t love the idea of Mu Qing working himself to exhaustion, it was hard to argue with the contentment that had settled over him in recent months. 

Still, if Mu Qing was going to pour everything into this new position, Feng Xin would make damn sure he could take a break after it—a reminder that he didn’t have to carry the world alone.

He glanced at the clock. Two hours into the meeting already. That stubborn workaholic would probably stretch it into three. Shaking his head fondly, Feng Xin turned to the fridge, pulling out meat to make sure Mu Qing would also eat some protein and not only a few vegetables. 

He worked methodically, preparing the stick the way Mu Qing liked with practiced ease. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filled the quiet kitchen, accompanied by the occasional sizzle from the pan. Garlic and ginger were the base—it was always the base when he cooked for Mu Qing, a small touch of familiarity he knew his boyfriend appreciated.

As the fragrance of the spice mixture began to fill their house, Feng Xin felt a swell of satisfaction. Cooking for Mu Qing wasn’t just about food; it was his way of saying, I see you. I care for you.

The steak was tossed into the pan next to the vegetables, their vibrant colors popping against the golden oil. Feng Xin reached for the soy sauce and a dash of sesame oil, moving with the kind of confidence that came from years of learning what Mu Qing liked best. He’d perfected the balance of flavors over time, tweaking the seasoning until it was just right.

By the time he plated the stir-fried vegetables, the pieces of meat and started on a pot of rice, Feng Xin was humming under his breath. It was a tune he’d picked up somewhere—maybe from Mu Qing, or maybe just from the quiet rhythm of their lives together. 

He glanced toward the closed door of the office and smirked. “Bet he hasn’t eaten all day,” he muttered, shaking his head. “He’s lucky I’m here to save him from himself.” 

The rice cooker beeped just as he was setting the table. Everything was ready, the dishes steaming invitingly under the soft light of the kitchen. Feng Xin poured a glass of water for Mu Qing, leaving it by the chair he knew his boyfriend would claim the moment his meeting ended. 

“Just in time,” Feng Xin muttered as he heard the faint creak of the office door opening. 

Mu Qing emerged, his expression a mix of exhaustion and mild surprise at the sight of the table set. His eyes flicked to the food, then to Feng Xin, softening in that quiet way that always left Feng Xin feeling like he’d won something. “I thought you were working,” Mu Qing said, though his tone was more grateful than accusatory. 

“I was,” Feng Xin replied, gesturing to the table. “But someone’s got to make sure you don’t starve. Sit. Eat.” 

Mu Qing huffed a laugh, but he didn’t argue. As he settled into the chair, Feng Xin took the seat beside him, arms crossed, watching him. It wasn’t much—just a simple lunch—but seeing Mu Qing relax, even for a moment, made it worth every second.

They shared their day in cuddles and kisses, as the evening settled in, the apartment grew quiet except for the soft rustle of Mu Qing preparing for his night shift. Feng Xin leaned against the doorway, watching as Mu Qing adjusted his white shirt in the mirror.

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Feng Xin asked, arms crossed as he tilted his head toward the bag by the door.

Mu Qing shot him a knowing look through the mirror’s reflection. “Yes, Dad. I triple-checked.”

Feng Xin smirked, stepping into the room to straighten the already-perfect aligned buttons. “Just making sure.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. “You’re hovering,” he said, softer now.

“Maybe. You’re leaving me alone again. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Get some sleep?” Mu Qing teased, grabbing his bag.

Feng Xin huffed dramatically, walking him to the door. “No promises.”

As Mu Qing slipped on his shoes, Feng Xin took a moment to mentally run through his plan. The tickets were booked, the hotel reserved. Now came the hard part: figuring out how to ease Mu Qing into the idea without tipping him off too early.

“Don’t forget to eat,” Feng Xin said as Mu Qing opened the door.

“I have snacks,” Mu Qing replied, holding up a pack of granola bars as evidence before stepping out. “Don’t wait up.”

“I never do,” Feng Xin muttered under his breath before receiving a soft kiss, grinning as the door clicked shut.

For the next two months, Feng Xin played the long game. It started with casual comments about how Mu Qing’s wardrobe could use an update.

“Don’t you think it’s time to get some new shirts?” Feng Xin asked one evening as they sat on the couch. “Some are starting to look... well-loved.”

Mu Qing arched a brow, clearly suspicious. “It’s fine. Besides, it’s not like I need anything fancy.”

Feng Xin shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You deserve something nice for once.”

Weeks later, Feng Xin insisted on a shopping trip, framing it as a chance to restock essentials. He led Mu Qing through a maze of stores, occasionally steering him toward some t-shirts and brand new shoes that could double as travel gear. 

“These sandals are durable,” Feng Xin remarked, holding up a pair. “You’d probably get a lot of use out of them.”

Mu Qing gave him a sideways glance but tried them on anyway. “You’re acting weird,” he said, testing the fit.

“I’m always weird,” Feng Xin replied smoothly. “Now, walk around a bit. See how they feel.”

The rest of the weeks unfolded in a similar pattern. Feng Xin researched travel tips when Mu Qing wasn’t looking, bookmarked restaurants and museums, and made mental notes of what they’d need for a two-week trip.

One evening, as they shared a quiet dinner, Mu Qing leaned back in his chair and gave Feng Xin a pointed look. “So, what’s the big secret?”

Feng Xin blinked, playing innocent. “What secret?”

“You’ve been acting... different. Not in a bad way,” Mu Qing admitted, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork. “But you’re up to something.”

Feng Xin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I think you’re just paranoid.”

Mu Qing narrowed his eyes but said nothing more, letting the conversation drift to other topics.

The weeks passed in a steady rhythm. Between Mu Qing’s shifts at the hospital and Feng Xin’s hours at work, they carved out moments of normalcy—shared breakfasts, late-night conversations, and the occasional errand that inevitably involved Feng Xin dragging Mu Qing out of the apartment. One Saturday morning, over the rim of his coffee mug, Mu Qing gave Feng Xin a skeptical look when he declared, “We need to go shopping.”

“We?” Mu Qing echoed, his tone filled with doubt.

“Yes, we,” Feng Xin replied with a grin, leaning against the counter. “You need new stuff.”

“I have plenty of stuff; may I remind you we were at the mall just last week,” Mu Qing said, his brows furrowing.

Feng Xin grinned, undeterred. “Yeah, but there’s always something we missed. Come on, just a quick look.”

Mu Qing scowled but set his mug down, his voice resigned. “Fine. But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

Feng Xin smirked, triumphant.

The mall was already bustling with weekend shoppers by the time they arrived. Mu Qing looked like he regretted stepping outside the moment they entered. Feng Xin, on the other hand, dived into the task with enthusiasm, scanning racks with a kind of determination that made Mu Qing sigh.

“Let’s look for some new things.” Feng Xin said.

Mu Qing gave it a brief glance. “Fine, but whatever you’ll try on, you’ll show me. I still don’t trust in your taste.”

“Yes Qing-er, whatever makes you happy.” Feng Xin teased.

Mu Qing hesitated but eventually relented; they spent a couple of minutes looking around the store when Mu Qing finally disappeared into the fitting room with an unbearable amount of clothes, thanks to Feng Xin. When he emerged, the sight stopped Feng Xin mid-thought. The shirt was tailored, sharp, and undeniably suited to Mu Qing.

 “You look great,” Feng Xin said, unable to hide his grin.

Mu Qing adjusted the cuffs and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s… not bad.”

“Not bad?” Feng Xin scoffed. “You look like you walked out of a magazine.”

Mu Qing’s ears reddened slightly, but he covered it with a huff. “Let’s just get this and go.”

“Not so fast,” Feng Xin said, snatching a few shirts from a nearby rack. “You will need all the other clothes. “They suited you a lot.”

Mu Qing sighed but didn't argue, which only encouraged Feng Xin to grab a few more items as they navigated the store.

When Feng Xin tough it was enough, it was Mu Qing time to drag him to a store that suited his style more. They spent even more time in search for the perfect clothes for Feng Xin than they spent in Mu Qing's, probably because her boyfriend could be, without a doubt, a model.

By the time they left, the trunk of their car was filled with shopping bags. Mu Qing turned to Feng Xin as they loaded the last one in.

“Are you planning to dress me up like a doll?” he asked, his tone dry.

“Only if you let me,” Feng Xin shot back, grinning. “Besides, you’ll thank me when summer hits.”

Mu Qing shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips that Feng Xin noticed and filed away.

The days carried on, Feng Xin carefully weaving his plans into their routine. One evening, as they sorted through their purchases, Feng Xin casually remarked, “We should plan a day off together soon. Just to relax.”

Mu Qing paused, folding a sweater. “You’re not a ‘relax’ kind of person.”

“Maybe I’m trying something new,” Feng Xin replied smoothly.

Mu Qing gave him a long look but didn’t press, continuing his task.

A week later, while on another errand, Feng Xin steered them toward a travel store under the guise of picking up something for work. While there, he casually lingered near the luggage section, his gaze landing on a sleek suitcase.

“Look at this,” he said, motioning to it. “Wouldn’t this be useful?”

“For what?” Mu Qing asked, his tone suspicious.

“Trips. Work conferences. Whatever,” Feng Xin replied, keeping his tone light.

Mu Qing frowned but examined the suitcase anyway. “It’s… practical, I guess.”

“Exactly. Practical,” Feng Xin said with a nod, watching Mu Qing’s expression carefully.

The apartment gradually became stocked with subtle additions: new toiletries, guidebooks, and a few snacks Mu Qing liked that Feng Xin had quietly stashed away. Everything was coming together, but Feng Xin kept it casual, knowing that Mu Qing’s sharp intuition wouldn’t miss anything overt.

One night, as they settled on the couch after dinner, Mu Qing sat in his lap as usual in search of cuddles. “Seriously, what’s with all this mystery?” he said, his tone curious rather than accusatory.

“What mystery?” Feng Xin asked, keeping his voice neutral.

“You’re up to something,” Mu Qing replied, his eyes steady in Feng Xin’s. “But you won’t tell me what.”

Feng Xin shrugged, smirking. “Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

Mu Qing narrowed his eyes but didn’t press further. Instead, he shifted closer, letting his head rest lightly against Feng Xin’s shoulder.

Feng Xin’s heart stuttered for a moment before he relaxed, his arm around Mu Qing’s waist in a hug. The tickets were safe, the plans were in place, and the reveal was still a couple of days away. He only had one thing left to do, something Mu Qing, under any circumstances couldn’t become aware of.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Mu Qing was on a hospital guard shift.

As much as Feng Xin hated when Mu Qing had these shifts—because it meant not seeing him for at least two days, except for the brief moments when he dropped off food—this time, it was unexpectedly helpful.

He had kissed his boyfriend goodbye earlier that morning, their usual routine laced with an extra hint of affection. “I’ll drop by tomorrow during lunch,” Feng Xin promised, brushing a strand of hair from Mu Qing’s face.

“Don’t forget the rice this time,” Mu Qing teased, his lips curling slightly.

Feng Xin laughed softly, leaning in to press another kiss to his temple. “Rice. Got it. Just don’t overwork yourself.”

They parted with smiles, though Mu Qing didn’t know that before delivering lunch tomorrow, Feng Xin would be doing something far more nerve-wracking. 

That night was anything but peaceful. Feng Xin had tossed and turned, finally giving up on sleep around three in the morning. Anxiety gnawed at him as he thought about the woman who had given him a place to sleep when he was exhausted, who had handed him the keys to her home without hesitation, and who had treated him like a second son. He was going to tell her that he planned to propose to Mu Qing.

It shouldn’t have been terrifying—he knew Mama Mu would be overjoyed. She had watched them grow up together, from the awkward teenagers with secret crushes at thirteen, to the stubborn pair who started dating at fifteen, and eventually to the devoted partners they were now. She had seen it all: their fights, their reconciliations, the way they danced around each other before confessing.

But despite knowing all of this, Feng Xin couldn’t shake the irrational fear that she might disapprove.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, Feng Xin finally got out of bed. He had work that day—it was the weekend, but as one of the company’s key leaders, he rarely took full days off. Still, he figured starting a bit late for once wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Or yes.

But he honestly didn’t care. 

He glanced at the clock. Mama Mu would be home by now. She always seemed to have an unspoken schedule, one Feng Xin had memorized after years of knowing her. She was the kind of woman who never hesitated to take care of those around her, a trait she had passed down to Mu Qing, though he’d never admit it.

After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, he dressed carefully, grabbed some documents, and left the house. He had visited this new apartment of Mama Mu’s several times, what she didn’t know is that Mu Qing bought her a home for her birthday, but that was something he couldn’t say.

When he arrived at the building, he hesitated, staring at the door for a moment. Memories of his past cowardice flashed through his mind—how it had taken him two years to confess to Mu Qing, who had ended up confessing first.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he entered the elevator. “I can do this,” he muttered.

 This wasn’t just about proposing to Mu Qing. It was about showing the woman who had always treated him like family that he was ready to take care of her son for the rest of their lives.

When he reached her door, his knock echoed in the quiet hallway. Moments later, Mama Mu opened the door, her familiar warm smile greeting him.

“Feng Xin!” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “What brings you here today? Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” Feng Xin said quickly, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Her curiosity sparked as she gestured for him to sit. She handed him a cup of coffee before settling into her chair. “You’ve got my full attention. What’s on your mind?”

Feng Xin hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he smiled sheepishly. “I’ve been planning something for a while now, and… well, I wanted to tell you first. I’m going to propose to Mu Qing.”

Mama Mu’s eyes widened, her surprise quickly melting into a soft, affectionate smile. Tears welled up as she stood, crossing the room to hug Feng Xin tightly.

“Oh, Feng Xin…” she murmured, her voice trembling. Pulling back slightly, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek, her tears spilling over. “I always knew this day would come. You’ve made my son so happy, and I couldn’t ask for a better person to take care of him.”

Her heartfelt reaction made Feng Xin’s own emotions swell, and he let out a shaky laugh. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

She squeezed his hands, her tears now accompanied by a wide, joyous smile. “You’ll make a wonderful husband. I have no doubt about that.”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of emotions. On his way back home, Feng Xin made another stop—this time at the hospital. He parked and headed inside, carrying a bag of homemade food.

He found Mu Qing in the breakroom, sitting at a small table and scribbling on a clipboard. He looked up when Feng Xin entered, his expression softening immediately.

“You’re here,” Mu Qing said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I told you I’d bring lunch,” Feng Xin replied, setting the bag on the table. He pulled out the containers, revealing rice, vegetables, and Mu Qing’s favorite chicken dish.

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t forget the rice this time.”

Feng Xin smirked. “I’m not completely hopeless.”

They shared a brief moment of quiet as Mu Qing started eating, Feng Xin watching him with a fond expression.

“You’ve been busy,” Feng Xin said, glancing at the papers on the table.

“Always,” Mu Qing replied, his tone light. “Thanks for this. I needed it.”

Feng Xin leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Anything for you.”

The following evening, when Mu Qing finally returned home after his shift, Feng Xin was waiting for him.

“Hey,” Mu Qing greeted, dropping his bag by the door. He looked exhausted but happy to see him. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Feng Xin replied, grinning. “Better now that you’re back. Sit down—I have something to tell you.”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, suspicious but intrigued. He followed Feng Xin to the couch and sat beside him.

“So,” Feng Xin began, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an envelope. “I need you to do me a favor.”

Mu Qing narrowed his eyes playfully. “What kind of favor?”

“Ask for two weeks off work,” Feng Xin said, handing him the envelope.

Mu Qing opened it, revealing two plane tickets. His eyes widened as he read the destination. “Italy?”

“Yeah,” Feng Xin said, smiling nervously. “I thought we could use a vacation. Just the two of us. No work, no stress. What do you think?”

Mu Qing stared at the tickets, his lips parting in disbelief. “You… you planned this?”

Feng Xin nodded. “Yeah. I just wanted us to have some time together. You deserve it.”

Mu Qing’s expression softened, and he leaned over to press a kiss to Feng Xin’s lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a yes?” Feng Xin asked, his grin widening.

“Of course it’s a yes,” Mu Qing replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

The weariness from his 24-hour shift was evident in the slight sag of his shoulders, but there was a warmth in his gaze that softened the sharp edges of his exhaustion. Without a second thought, he leaned in and kissed Feng Xin again—deeper this time, with a tenderness that made Feng Xin’s heart ache.

Pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, Mu Qing let out a soft sigh, the tension melting from his body. “You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

Before Feng Xin could respond, Mu Qing shifted, draping himself over Feng Xin’s lap like a cat finally finding the perfect sunbeam. “I’m too tired to keep pretending I’m not thrilled,” Mu Qing said, burying his face against Feng Xin’s chest. His voice was muffled, but the contentment was unmistakable.

Feng Xin blinked in surprise, his hands instinctively coming to rest on Mu Qing’s back. “You’re lucky I like it when you kiss me,” he said, his voice soft, a hint of amusement dancing in his tone.

Mu Qing huffed, his breath warm against Feng Xin’s neck. “You better,” he muttered. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Feng Xin chuckled, the sound low and warm as he tightened his arms around Mu Qing, holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Mu Qing’s head. “Because I don’t want you to stop either.”

They stayed like that for a while, the world outside their small apartment fading into the background. Mu Qing’s breaths grew slower, steadier, and Feng Xin realized he might have fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, he traced soothing circles on Mu Qing’s back.

“You deserve this, Qing,” Feng Xin whispered softly, his voice full of quiet determination. “Every bit of it. And I’ll make sure you always have it.”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Mu Qing sat cross-legged on their bed, scrolling through his phone with a calm detachment that only fueled Feng Xin’s urgency as he folded clothes into neat piles. His boyfriend’s casual demeanor made him both endearing and utterly infuriating.

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice you dragging me to a million stores?” Mu Qing’s voice carried a teasing edge, his eyes flicking up to meet Feng Xin’s flustered expression.

Feng Xin huffed, trying to keep his cool as he neatly placed a shirt into the suitcase. “You needed new clothes! Half your wardrobe is older than—well, older than us.”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down as he smirked. “And you just happened to need a whole new wardrobe too, right? Convenient.”

“That’s different!” Feng Xin retorted, his voice rising slightly before softening. “Look, it’s going to be hot during the day and cooler at night. We should be prepared, okay?”

Mu Qing leaned back, clearly enjoying the show. “Prepared, huh? You’ve checked the weather in Italy every day for the past week, haven’t you?”

Caught, Feng Xin hesitated, then mumbled, “Just making sure we don’t forget anything important…”

Sweetly exasperated, Mu Qing tugged him up by the wrist and sat him down on the bed. “Feng Xin, you need to relax. It’s a vacation, not a military operation.”

Feng Xin sighed, his hands running through his hair. “I know, but I want it to be perfect. For you.”

Mu Qing softened, brushing his hand over Feng Xin’s. “It will be. You being there is enough.”

Feng Xin leaned into the touch, his nerves easing as he smiled at Mu Qing. 

“And I am the sap?” Though his voice meant to tease, his eyes, soft and full of endearing towards him, said otherwise. 

“You’re always sappy,” his tone was as full of love as his boyfriend’s eyes, “now, let me help you with our bags.”

The dawn turned into dusk when they finally completed their task and, since Mu Qing didn’t have to go to work, they could finally share a dinner together and a good night of sleeping together properly after months.

All of their friends always said they were a strange couple, sweet but always full of teasing, be that as it may, they could be really clingy to each other. Both of them. To the surprise of practically everyone.

The hugs, kisses, cuddles and sweet words never failed to fill their relationship. 

“Come on, A-Xin put me down.” His tone is far from being annoyed. Feng Xin left him at the counter of their kitchen as many times before. “We could order some food; we can relax for once.”

Feng Xin chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter beside Mu Qing. “Relaxing? You? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I can relax. I just don’t get many chances to.”

“Well, you’ve got one now,” Feng Xin said, pulling out his phone. “What are you in the mood for? Italian, Chinese, maybe pizza?”

“Anything but pizza. We’ll be drowning in it for two weeks,” Mu Qing quipped, kicking lightly at Feng Xin’s leg.

Feng Xin swatted at his shin in retaliation, his grin widening. “Fine. No pizza. Let me—” He paused as Mu Qing’s foot rested gently on his, their playful kicks shifting into something softer.

“Stop overthinking,” Mu Qing said quietly, his voice losing its teasing edge. His hand reached out to brush over Feng Xin’s arm. “Just pick something.”

Feng Xin stared at him for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. Mu Qing’s ability to shift from playful to tender with just a look always left him reeling. “Alright. I’ll order... something good.”

As Feng Xin scrolled through the options, Mu Qing tilted his head, watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. “You’re really excited about this trip, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Feng Xin replied without looking up, his fingers swiping across the screen. “It’s not every day we get two whole weeks together.”

 “We have been living together since university.”

Feng Xin paused, setting his phone down. He looked at Mu Qing, his expression softening. “I know; I just miss when we had more time.”

Mu Qing blinked, his lips parting slightly before he quickly looked away, feigning disinterest as his cheeks warmed. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered, but the faint smile on his face betrayed his words.

The food arrived shortly after, and they shared an easy meal, the soft hum of conversation filling the space. By the time they were done, the exhaustion from the day began to weigh on both of them.

Feng Xin wrapped an arm around Mu Qing as they made their way to the bedroom. “You know,” he began, his voice low and teasing, “you’re going to miss me annoying you when we’re old and wrinkly.”

Mu Qing snorted, leaning into him. “If we make it that far without you accidentally smothering me with your affection, sure.”

Feng Xin laughed, the sound warm and genuine as they settled into bed. As the lights dimmed, Mu Qing cuddled in his chest has they have been doing since they started to live together, a habit he was pretty much aware of and one he has no intention of stopping. 

The shrill alarm cut through the early morning silence, and Feng Xin groaned, reaching over to silence it before it could wake Mu Qing. He turned to find Mu Qing already stirring, his face still buried in his chest.

“Five more minutes,” Mu Qing mumbled, his voice muffled but firm.

Feng Xin smiled, brushing his fingers through Mu Qing’s hair. “We don’t have five minutes, Qing-er. Planes don’t wait.”

Mu Qing groaned dramatically, burying himself deeper into Feng Xin’s naked torso. “This is an inhumane hour to be awake.”

“You’re the one who insisted on being in the airport early,” Feng Xin reminded him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Come on, I’ll make your tea.”

With a reluctant sigh, Mu Qing finally pulled himself away, his hair a mess and his eyes half-lidded with sleep. “You better.”

As Feng Xin headed to the kitchen to brew tea and coffee, Mu Qing shuffled into the bathroom. By the time he emerged, slightly more awake and marginally less grumpy, Feng Xin had two steaming mugs ready on the counter.

“Drink up,” Feng Xin said, sliding one toward him.

Mu Qing took a sip, his expression softening. “You’re lucky this is good tea.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Feng Xin teased, grabbing their bags and setting them by the door. “Finish up, or we’ll be late.”

The drive to the airport was quiet, the streets still dark and empty as the city slowly stirred to life. Feng Xin’s hand rested on the gear shift, steady and warm, while Mu Qing leaned against the window, sipping the last of his tea from the thermos Feng Xin had insisted they bring.

“You know,” Mu Qing began, his voice still laced with sleep, “you could’ve just let me pack the bags last night.”

Feng Xin snorted, glancing at him briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. “And risk you forgetting half your stuff? Not a chance. Besides, I like making sure everything’s ready.”

Mu Qing tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You mean you like fussing over me.”

Feng Xin grinned, unashamed. “Maybe.”

The truth was, Feng Xin had decided to hide the ring box in his bag. He knew Mu Qing was particularly fond of exiting hotels with a bag every time they traveled, but there was one bag Feng Xin owned that Mu Qing didn’t like. Banking on that, Feng Xin chose to hide the ring in the bag his boyfriend hated the most. He couldn’t risk Mu Qing digging through his things and ruining his plans.

By the time they reached the airport, Mu Qing was more awake, though his usual sharp demeanor had yet to return. Navigating the check-in and security was as chaotic as always, with Mu Qing over-prepared clashing with Feng Xin’s laid-back approach.

At security, Feng Xin tensed as his hand luggage went through the scanner, his eyes fixed on the conveyor belt. Mu Qing, noticing the sudden shift in his expression, raised an eyebrow.

“What’s with you?” he asked, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“Nothing,” Feng Xin said quickly, offering a too-casual smile. “Just making sure everything’s fine.”

Mu Qing gave him a skeptical look but let it slide, deciding it was too early to press the issue. Instead, he grabbed Feng Xin’s hoodie from the top of his bag and slipped it over his shoulders.

“Hey, that’s mine,” Feng Xin protested, his voice more amused than annoyed.

“Yours is mine,” Mu Qing replied smoothly, the teasing glint in his eyes making Feng Xin shake his head with a laugh.

At the gate, they settled into seats by the window. Mu Qing leaned into Feng Xin’s side, his head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

“You’re quiet again,” Mu Qing murmured, his voice low.

Feng Xin smiled, wrapping an arm around him. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How much I love you,” Feng Xin said simply, his voice soft but steady.

Mu Qing’s cheeks flushed, though he hid it by nuzzling into Feng Xin’s shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you have remained my boyfriend for thirteen years,” Feng Xin teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

As the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, Feng Xin grabbed their bags, his excitement bubbling beneath the surface. The trip had barely begun, but for him, it already felt like a dream.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The airport buzzed with the early-morning crowd, a mix of hurried footsteps, announcements over the PA system, and the faint hum of rolling luggage. Feng Xin walked beside Mu Qing, their bags in tow, his face calm despite the flurry of activity around them. Mu Qing, on the other hand, looked slightly more awake, though his grumbling hadn’t entirely ceased.

When they finally made their way onto the plane, Mu Qing naturally headed for the economy section, glancing at their seat numbers. But as he walked down the aisle, he realized Feng Xin wasn’t following.

“Feng Xin?” he called, turning back.

Feng Xin stood a few rows behind, placing their bags in the overhead compartment in the first-class section.

“Uh… wrong section?” Mu Qing raised a brow.

Feng Xin smirked, gesturing to the seats. “Nope. These are ours.”

Mu Qing froze, staring at him for a moment before narrowing his eyes. “First class? Since when are we flying first class?”

“Since I booked the tickets,” Feng Xin replied casually.

Mu Qing settled into his first-class seat, his fingers tracing the soft leather armrests as he took in the spacious cabin. He didn’t say anything, but the faint crease in his brow suggested he was still processing the unexpected upgrade.

Feng Xin, storing their carry-ons, pretended not to notice. He slid into the seat beside Mu Qing and buckled his seatbelt, his expression as casual as if they were on any other flight.

“You know…” Mu Qing began, pausing as a flight attendant handed him a welcome drink. He accepted it with a polite nod and then turned to Feng Xin, one brow raised. “This is… nice.”

Feng Xin laughed softly, relieved by the lack of sharp teasing. “Yeah. You deserve nice, don’t you think?”

Mu Qing tilted his head, sipping the champagne as his gaze wandered over the cabin. “I guess.” He didn’t press further, but the slight flush in his cheeks betrayed his thoughts.

He glanced at the champagne flute in his hand, fidgeting slightly. It wasn’t just the luxury; it was the fact that Feng Xin had gone out of his way again. No matter how many times Feng Xin assured him that he wanted to spend money to make him happy, a part of Mu Qing couldn’t entirely shake the old instincts that whispered such gestures were wasteful. Worse, that he wasn’t worth it. Even after years together and countless conversations about it, the thought still lingered in quieter moments like this.

The plane taxied, and as the engines roared to life, Mu Qing leaned back, his features softening with the lull of motion. “First class, though,” he murmured, more to himself than to Feng Xin.

Feng Xin just chuckled, leaning back and pretending to focus on the flight attendant’s safety demonstration. “You work too much, Qing-er. Thought you could use some pampering for once.”

Mu Qing huffed, but there was a faint blush creeping across his cheeks as he glanced around the luxurious cabin. “You really didn’t have to do all this though.”

As Feng Xin glanced over, he caught the way Mu Qing’s gaze lingered on the champagne flute in his hand, the way his fingers fidgeted on the armrest. He knew that look—hesitation, guilt, and something unspoken. Feng Xin had seen it before, whenever he did something extravagant for Mu Qing.

“Hey,” Feng Xin said softly, his tone coaxing Mu Qing’s eyes to meet him. “I know what you’re thinking, but stop, alright? You’re worth every bit of this.”

Mu Qing blinked, caught off guard. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” Feng Xin interrupted gently, his hand resting lightly on Mu Qing’s. “And you don’t have to feel bad. I wanted to do this for you—for us. You didn’t know because it’s a surprise, but if you had, you’d be just as thoughtful in planning something like this for me. I know you, Qing-er.”

Mu Qing swallowed, his fingers tightening briefly on the champagne flute. He wanted to argue, to downplay his feelings, but the sincerity in Feng Xin’s voice disarmed him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” he muttered. “It’s just… you’ve always done so much, and I—”

“Have done just as much for me,” Feng Xin cut him off again, his voice firm but full of affection. “Stop keeping score. That’s not how this works.”

Mu Qing’s cheeks flushed deeper, and he turned his gaze to the window, unable to completely hide the small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re annoying when you make sense.”

Feng Xin chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Mu Qing shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “Don’t push your luck.”

Feng Xin smirked, satisfied. “Just enjoy the flight, alright? I’ll handle the rest.”

Mu Qing hummed, his eyes closing as he let the comfort of the seat lull him. Feng Xin watched him, heart thrumming in his chest. There was something about seeing Mu Qing so relaxed, so content, that made all the planning worth it, making him feel like his decisions were on the right trail.

Later, when Mu Qing stirred awake mid-flight, he found Feng Xin flipping through the entertainment options.

“You didn’t pick anything yet?” Mu Qing asked, his voice low and still thick with sleep.

“Nah, I was waiting for you,” Feng Xin replied easily.

Mu Qing blinked at him, his expression softening. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know.”

“I don’t mind,” Feng Xin said with a shrug, finally selecting a movie they both liked.

The flight passed quietly, with Mu Qing resting his head against Feng Xin’s shoulder as the movie played. By the time they began their descent into Italy, Mu Qing was fully awake, his gaze fixed on the coastline below.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, almost to himself, as the sun glinted off the water.

Feng Xin smiled, unable to tear his eyes away from Mu Qing. “Yeah, it is.”

Mu Qing glanced at him, catching the tone in his voice, but said nothing. Instead, he reached over to adjust Feng Xin’s necklace, his fingers brushing the edge of his shirt.

“Let’s hope you didn’t overpack,” Mu Qing teased lightly, his earlier sleepiness replaced by a playful glint in his eyes.

“Me? Overpack?” Feng Xin snorted, shaking his head. “You’re the one who brought half your wardrobe.”

Mu Qing’s laugh was soft, genuine. “Touché. But that, may I remind you, is also your fault.”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The cab pulled away from the airport, merging onto the highway as the city of Rome gradually unfolded before them. At first, it was just stretches of roads and scattered buildings, but soon, the landscape shifted—old stone walls lined the streets, historic structures peeked out between modern ones, and the density of the architecture grew richer with every passing kilometer.

Mu Qing sat by the window, watching as the scenery transformed. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm golden light, making the terracotta rooftops glow. The closer they got to the city center, the narrower the streets became, winding through a patchwork of pastel-colored buildings adorned with wooden shutters and wrought-iron balconies overflowing with greenery.

Feng Xin smirked. “I thought you’d be exhausted after the flight, but you look more awake than ever.”

Mu Qing barely spared him a glance. “You think I’m going to sleep through our arrival in Rome?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Feng Xin teased. “You sleep through important things all the time.”

Mu Qing shot him a glare but was too preoccupied to argue. Outside, the streets grew narrower and livelier; motorbikes zipped past their cab, people strolled along cobblestone sidewalks, and the energy of the city was infectious.

At one point, they stopped at a light near an open square, and Mu Qing’s gaze caught on a group of tourists excitedly throwing coins into a massive, beautifully carved fountain. He blinked.

“…Is that—”

“The Trevi Fountain?” Feng Xin finished for him, leaning slightly to look. “Yeah, looks like it.”

Mu Qing turned fully to him. “We’re stopping by later.”

Feng Xin huffed a laugh. “I thought you weren’t the type to care about that stuff.”

“I don’t,” Mu Qing said immediately, then glanced back at the fountain. “…But I’m already here, so I might as well.”

Feng Xin grinned. “Sure, sure.”

A few minutes later, as they turned a corner, the Colosseum suddenly came into view. Mu Qing’s reaction was immediate—he sat up straighter, his gaze locked on the massive, ancient structure.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

Feng Xin leaned back, watching him. “Cool, right?”

Mu Qing didn’t even look at him this time. “We’re going inside, right?”

Feng Xin laughed. “Yes, Qing-er, we have tickets. Relax.”

Mu Qing crossed his arms, still staring out the window. “I am relaxed.”

“Sure,” Feng Xin drawled, amused.

The ride continued through Rome’s winding streets, passing charming piazzas, towering cathedrals, and rows of cafés where locals sat with espressos and tiny pastries. At one point, a street performer dressed as a Roman centurion posed dramatically for a group of tourists, and Mu Qing exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

“This city is so extra.”

Feng Xin snorted. “And you love it.”

Mu Qing didn’t respond immediately, but when the cab finally pulled up to their hotel—a gorgeous historic building with elegant balconies overlooking the city—Feng Xin caught the rare, unguarded excitement in his expression.

“…Yeah,” Mu Qing finally admitted, stepping out of the cab. “I do.”

Feng Xin grinned, following him inside.

As they stepped in, the cool air of the lobby provided a welcome contrast to the warmth outside. The place was exactly what Feng Xin had hoped for—elegant but not flashy, with warm lighting, polished wooden floors, and vintage furniture that gave it an intimate, refined feel. The scent of fresh flowers mixed with something faintly sweet, like pastries just out of the oven.

Mu Qing glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the tasteful decor and the small lounge area where a few guests lingered, sipping coffee. Feng Xin didn’t miss the way his fingers brushed lightly against the marble check-in counter, taking in the details without a word.

“Welcome,” the receptionist greeted them with a pleasant smile. “You must be Mr. Feng. We have your suite ready.”

Mu Qing’s head snapped toward him. “Suite?”

Feng Xin smirked as he handed over his ID. “What, you thought I booked us a broom closet?”

Mu Qing narrowed his eyes, then turned back to the receptionist. “How big of a suite?”

“Quite spacious,” she answered with a practiced, polite tone. “It comes with a private balcony and a lovely view of the city.”

Mu Qing exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course it does.”

Feng Xin chuckled, nudging him toward the elevator. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

The suite was exactly as described—spacious, with tall windows that let in soft afternoon light, an elegant seating area, and a king-sized bed that looked ridiculously inviting. But it was the balcony that caught Mu Qing’s attention first.

He stepped outside, leaning on the iron railing as he took in the view. Below, Rome stretched out in a tangle of terracotta rooftops, narrow streets, and historic landmarks visible in the distance. The noise of the city was a soft hum beneath them, blending with the occasional ring of church bells.

Feng Xin leaned against the doorway, watching him. “Not bad, huh?”

Mu Qing didn’t look at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “It’s decent.”

Feng Xin snorted. “Liar.”

Mu Qing shot him a sidelong glance but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back against the railing, stretching slightly. “Alright. First class flight, boutique hotel, balcony view—what’s next? Private tour of the Vatican?”

Feng Xin grinned. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

Mu Qing groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Feng Xin—”

“Too late, it’s booked,” Feng Xin said, laughing.

Mu Qing let out a long sigh but didn’t seem upset—if anything, he looked… pleased. Not that he’d admit it.

Feng Xin stretched his arms over his head, looking out at the city. “Alright, we’ve got some time before dinner. What do you wanna do first?”

Mu Qing tilted his head, considering. Then, with a small smirk, he said, “You promised the Trevi Fountain, didn’t you?”

Feng Xin grinned. “That I did. Let’s go make some wishes, then.”

By the time they stepped back onto the streets, the sun had started its slow descent, casting the city in golden hues. The air was warm but pleasant, filled with the scent of fresh bread from nearby cafés and the distant hum of street musicians.

Mu Qing adjusted his sleeves as they walked, taking in the surroundings with quiet interest. Feng Xin, hands in his pockets, glanced at him every so often, amused by how Mu Qing’s gaze lingered on the little details—the intricate facades of old buildings, the flower pots on windowsills, the way the cobblestone streets curved unexpectedly.

“Never took you for the sightseeing type,” Feng Xin teased lightly.

Mu Qing huffed. “I’m not. But I can appreciate a place that isn’t drowning in divine bureaucracy for once.”

Feng Xin snorted. “Fair.”

They navigated the winding streets with ease, following the flow of tourists toward one of Rome’s most famous landmarks. As they approached the Trevi Fountain, the distant rush of water grew louder, mingling with excited chatter from the crowd.

Then, there it was—the Trevi Fountain. Grand, illuminated by the evening light, its cascading waters shimmered against the marble sculptures.

Mu Qing slowed, eyes narrowing slightly as he took it in. The sheer scale of it was impressive, even for someone who had seen divine structures firsthand. The way the water flowed under the soft lights, the way the carvings seemed almost alive—it was enough to make him momentarily forget the crowd.

Feng Xin watched him carefully. “What do you think?”

Mu Qing was quiet for a moment before exhaling. “…It’s beautiful.”

Feng Xin grinned. “High praise coming from you.”

Mu Qing shot him a sidelong look, but his expression had softened.

Feng Xin dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Alright, stand there.”

Mu Qing blinked. “What?”

“Photo,” Feng Xin said simply, tilting his head toward the fountain. “For Mama Mu. You know she’s going to ask.”

Mu Qing exhaled sharply but didn’t argue. He turned slightly, positioning himself where the glow of the water reflected behind him. Feng Xin took the picture, checking it before nodding in approval.

“Now one with me in it,” Feng Xin said, handing Mu Qing the phone.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes but obliged, snapping a picture of them together. He handed the phone back without looking at the screen. “There.”

Feng Xin chuckled. “You didn’t even check.”

“I trust my own photography skills more than yours,” Mu Qing deadpanned.

Feng Xin let out a laugh, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Alright, fair.”

He pulled out a coin, flipping it between his fingers. “C’mon, you gotta make a wish.”

Mu Qing gave him a flat look. “You actually believe in that?”

Feng Xin rolled his eyes. “It’s just tradition. You toss a coin in, make a wish, and supposedly, you’ll return to Rome someday.”

Mu Qing hesitated. It was silly. A superstition. But Feng Xin was already casting his first, the soft plop barely audible over the water’s rush.

With a small sigh, Mu Qing reached for his own.

They turned their backs to the fountain, the coins cool between their fingers. Mu Qing flicked his wrist, his throw precise.

Feng Xin smirked. “Bet you wished for more vacation time.”

Mu Qing scoffed. “Bet you wished for me to actually relax.”

Feng Xin chuckled, nudging Mu Qing’s shoulder. “Not telling?”

Mu Qing smirked. “Not telling.”

Feng Xin shook his head, but there was warmth in his gaze as they stood there, the sounds of the city swirling around them. Rome was beautiful, but at that moment, watching Mu Qing’s expression soften under the evening glow, he thought nothing in the world could compete.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

After leaving the Trevi Fountain behind, they continued down the streets, letting the city guide them. The night was warm, the streets glowing under golden lamplight. The air carried the scent of fresh bread, roasted garlic, and simmering tomatoes—tempting even to someone like Mu Qing, who prided himself on not being easily swayed by food.

Feng Xin stretched his arms over his head, exhaling contentedly. “Alright, next mission—food.”

Mu Qing arched his brow. “You didn’t research a place beforehand?”

Feng Xin scoffed. “What’s the fun in that? We’re in Italy, we should just find something good.”

Mu Qing hummed, glancing at a small, tucked-away trattoria with checkered tablecloths and flickering candlelight in its windows. It looked cozy, intimate, the kind of place he’d normally choose—but he wasn’t about to make this too easy for Feng Xin.

“I’m not eating at a tourist trap,” he said instead. “You have to pick wisely.”

Feng Xin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Trust me.”

Mu Qing did, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

They walked past lively squares, where people gathered around street performers, and down quieter alleys, where the murmur of conversation drifted from open windows. The search wasn’t rushed, and neither of them minded the extra time spent wandering. It felt… nice.

Eventually, Feng Xin slowed, eyeing a small restaurant tucked between two old buildings. Its sign was unassuming, just the name written in neat, elegant script. But the smell—that was what got him. Rich, slow-cooked sauces, fresh herbs, something baking in a wood-fired oven.

“This one,” Feng Xin decided, nodding toward it.

Mu Qing glanced at him, amused. “Based on what? Smell?”

Feng Xin grinned. “My instincts are never wrong.”

Mu Qing gave him a look but followed him inside.

The restaurant was small, intimate. The kind of place that clearly had regulars—an old couple sat near the back, speaking in low, affectionate murmurs; a group of friends laughed over wine at another table. The atmosphere was warm, inviting.

A waiter greeted them in Italian, and Mu Qing, without hesitation, responded smoothly in the same language.

The waiter nodded, smiling as he gestured for them to follow him. Mu Qing barely reacted, just thanked him politely before turning to Feng Xin as they walked. “Window seat or—”

Feng Xin blinked. “What—” Feng Xin cut in, narrowing his eyes. “You speak Italian?”

Mu Qing gave him a blank look. “Obviously.”

“Since when?”

Mu Qing sighed, as if this wasn’t a big deal. “Since I had to start working with Italian officials. Did you really think I’d go unprepared?”

Feng Xin stared. “Thirteen years, Mu Qing. We’ve been together for thirteen years—how did I not know this?”

Mu Qing sat down, unbothered. “You never asked.”

Feng Xin groaned, rubbing his temples. “I knew you spoke other languages for work, but I thought it was just basics! You never told me you were fluent!”

Mu Qing smirked, taking the menu with infuriating ease. “It never came up.”

Feng Xin let out a dramatic sigh, slumping in his seat. “Unbelievable.”

Mu Qing barely held back a chuckle. “Do you need me to translate the menu for you, baobei?”

Feng Xin scowled. “Shut up.”

But he still let Mu Qing order for him.

Their food arrived shortly after—handmade pasta, fragrant with fresh herbs and slow-cooked sauce, along with a rich, velvety wine that the waiter had recommended. As they ate, Mu Qing gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders melting away with each sip of wine and each quiet moment of contentment.

At some point, Feng Xin took out his phone and aimed the camera at Mu Qing.

Mu Qing caught him instantly. “Don’t.”

“For Mama Mu,” Feng Xin said innocently. “She’ll want proof you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

Mu Qing huffed, but he didn’t hide his smile behind his wine glass fast enough.

Feng Xin grinned and took the picture anyway.

A few minutes later, Mu Qing subtly lifted his own phone, angling it just right before snapping a quick picture of Feng Xin when he wasn’t looking.

Feng Xin caught him.

He smirked. “Oh, so you do care.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Shut up and eat.”

By the time their plates were nearly empty and the bottle of wine had dwindled to its last drops, the trattoria had settled into a cozy quiet. The soft clinking of cutlery and distant hum of conversation blended into the warm atmosphere, making it easy to relax.

Mu Qing swirled the last sip of wine in his glass, watching how the candlelight caught the deep red color.

Feng Xin, watching him with a lazy smile, leaned his elbow on the table. “So? Better than that fancy wine you always insist on ordering at home?”

Mu Qing huffed. “That’s an entirely different category.”

“So that’s a no?” Feng Xin teased.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes but let a small smile slip through. “It’s good.”

Feng Xin grinned, satisfied. “Knew it.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them before Mu Qing spoke again. “You really have been planning this for months, haven’t you?”

Feng Xin blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Mu Qing tilted his head, studying him. “The flights, the hotel—you’re usually this detail-oriented. But this, everything has been too… thought-out.”

Feng Xin rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, yeah. I wanted it to be good.”

Mu Qing didn’t say anything right away, just rested his chin on one hand, eyes still fixed on him. After a moment, his voice softened. “It is.”

Feng Xin felt something warm settle in his chest. “Good.”

Mu Qing let out a quiet breath, gaze shifting toward the window. Outside, the streets were still alive with soft music and laughter, the golden street lights reflecting off the cobblestone.

Feng Xin watched him, taking in the rare moment of stillness. Mu Qing suddenly caught his gaze, “let’s head back.”

Feng Xin laughed, shaking his head as they stepped out into the cool night air.

They stepped out into the cool night air, the soft sounds of the city still lingering around them. Rome at night was different—quieter, calmer, but still alive in its own way. Streetlights cast a golden glow over the cobblestone streets, and the distant hum of laughter and music carried through the air.

Mu Qing walked slightly ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze flickering toward shop windows and street musicians. He wasn’t in a rush, but he wasn’t dawdling either—just moving at his usual pace, focused on his surroundings.

Feng Xin watched him for a moment before quickening his steps. He reached out, slipping his fingers around Mu Qing’s wrist before sliding down to intertwine their hands.

Mu Qing stiffened slightly, glancing at him with a look that was more surprised than annoyed. Public displays of affection weren’t really his thing—but tonight, he didn’t pull away. Instead, after a beat of hesitation, he adjusted his grip, lacing their fingers together properly.

Feng Xin tried not to grin too obviously, but the warmth spreading through his chest made it difficult.

Mu Qing sighed, turning his head away like he hadn’t just willingly let Feng Xin hold his hand. “It’s just for tonight,” he muttered.

“More than enough,” Feng Xin said, squeezing his hand just a little tighter.

Mu Qing huffed, but the pink dusting his ears gave him away.

The walk back to the hotel was slower, unhurried, their steps in sync. By the time they reached the entrance, Mu Qing finally let go—but as soon as they stepped into the elevator, Feng Xin could feel the warmth of Mu Qing’s fingers ghosting over his wrist again, lingering there like a quiet thank you.

Mu Qing stepped inside their room first,  immediately shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. Feng Xin followed, stretching his arms over his head before loosening the collar of his shirt. They fell into their usual routine without thinking—Mu Qing heading to the bathroom first, Feng Xin sitting at the edge of the bed to scroll absently through his phone as he waited.

When Mu Qing returned, he looked the same as always—comfortable, dressed in a loose shirt that suspiciously looked as if it belonged to him and sleep pants. But then he reached up and undid the tie in his hair, letting the strands fall loose around his shoulders in one graceful motion.

Feng Xin had seen it a thousand times, but for some reason, tonight felt different. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the quiet, intimate atmosphere, or maybe it was the thought lingering at the back of his mind—the small velvet box tucked away in his luggage, waiting for the right moment.

His heart did something stupid in his chest.

Mu Qing caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Feng Xin said, looking away a second too late.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes but didn’t push. Instead, he climbed onto the bed and, instead of sitting back against the headboard, he shifted close—resting against Feng Xin’s chest without hesitation, his head tucked beneath Feng Xin’s chin.

Feng Xin blinked, momentarily thrown. Not that Mu Qing wasn’t affectionate—he was really clingy actually—but it was rare for him to move in first sometimes, just like that.

Feng Xin let out a quiet breath, wrapping an arm around him. “This trip was a good idea.”

Mu Qing hummed softly, shifting to get comfortable. “For once, I’ll agree with you.”

Feng Xin chuckled, feeling warmth settle in his chest. He reached up without thinking, tucking a strand of Mu Qing’s hair behind his ear. The moment stretched between them, quiet and soft.

“You’re relaxed,” Feng Xin murmured.

Mu Qing exhaled. “Maybe.” He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Feng Xin’s collarbone, then his jaw, lingering for just a moment before resting against him again.

Feng Xin’s fingers curled slightly against Mu Qing’s waist. His mind drifted, just for a second—to the ring, to everything he had planned.

“…I should take you on vacation more often,” Feng Xin murmured.

Mu Qing huffed. “Don’t push your luck.”

But when Feng Xin reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, Mu Qing didn’t move away. He stayed close, steady against him. Mu Qing exhales quietly, his fingers brushing against Feng Xin’s arm before settling there. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he relaxes against Feng Xin speaks louder than words.

Feng Xin pressed a lingering kiss to the back of My Qing's shoulder, then another near his nape, not expecting a response. But then, Mu Qing shifts slightly, tilting his head just enough to let Feng Xin kiss the side of his neck.

“…Goodnight,” Mu Qing murmurs, voice quieter than usual.

Feng Xin smiles against his skin. “Goodnight.”

Yeah. This was exactly how their trip should be.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The morning light filtered softly through the hotel curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. Feng Xin blinked awake, stretching slightly before glancing to his side. Mu Qing was still resting, his hair slightly tousled against the pillow, breathing slow and steady.

Feng Xin smiled to himself before carefully shifting out of bed, letting Mu Qing wake at his own pace. It wasn’t long before Mu Qing stirred, blinking blearily before turning his head toward Feng Xin.

“Morning love,” Feng Xin murmured, watching as Mu Qing stretched lazily before sitting up.

“Mm,” Mu Qing hummed, running a hand through his hair. “Morning A-Xin. What time is it?”

“Not too late. You slept well?”

Mu Qing gave a small nod, then threw a look toward the window. “We should get ready. We’re in Rome, after all.”

Feng Xin chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Want to eat here or find something outside?”

Mu Qing didn’t even hesitate. “Outside. We’re not wasting a meal indoors.”

Feng Xin grinned. “Figured. Let’s go, then.”

A little while later, they stepped out into the crisp morning air, the city already beginning to stir with life. Mu Qing’s gaze flickered across the streets, the blend of old architecture and modern life setting an unmistakable charm. Feng Xin, walking beside him, watched him out of the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He had a café in mind—one he had researched before the trip, thinking Mu Qing might like it. But for now, he let them walk at their own pace, letting the morning unfold naturally.

Feng Xin had planned the trip carefully, ensuring he had thought of every detail, including every special surprise for Mu Qing. Though he had never been to Italy before, he knew that Mu Qing loved exploring new places and discovering hidden gems.

However, the bakery he researched was no other than a famous one in his family, his dad and mom used to bring to their home some of their pastries, though Feng Xin hadn’t been in Italy before, since he was a teenager he knew Mu Qing would love to try it personally and not only handed by Feng Xin’s family. 

“Baobei, we have two weeks, there is a place I wanted us to go this time”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “A place? What kind of place?” He nudged Feng Xin lightly with his elbow, his usual playful tone making Feng Xin smile.

“Not saying just yet,” Feng Xin replied, giving him a teasing look. “You’ll see soon enough. But it’s something special.”

Mu Qing’s gaze softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You really are a hopeless man.”

Feng Xin shrugged casually, though the warm feeling spreading in his chest betrayed him. “Baobei, I really love you, of course I'm hopeless when it comes to you.”

Mu Qing’s smile grew, a soft laugh escaping him as he shook his head slightly, clearly touched. His hand brushed against Feng Xin’s, the simple contact enough to make his heart flutter. He leaned in a little, his voice almost a whisper. “I think I might be just as hopeless.”

Feng Xin looked over at him, surprised by the tenderness in Mu Qing’s eyes. There was something so genuine in his gaze that made the whole world feel a little more still, as if this moment—this feeling between them—was the most important thing in the world.

They continued their walk through the lively streets of Rome, the sounds of chatter, footsteps, and the occasional clink of a coffee cup filling the air. The city felt alive with possibility, and Feng Xin couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as they approached their destination.

As they neared a charming corner of the city, the aroma of fresh pastries and rich coffee wafted through the air. Mu Qing’s eyes lit up as he took in the sight of the bakery in front of them—a small, unassuming place, yet with a welcoming atmosphere that seemed to pull them in.

Feng Xin grinned, stepping toward the entrance and holding the door open for Mu Qing. “After you,” he said, his voice light.

Mu Qing’s smile deepened as he entered first, the bell above the door jingling softly. “You really know how to pick them, A-Xin.”

Inside, the warmth of the bakery enveloped them, the soft glow of the lights contrasting with the chilly air outside. The shelves were lined with an array of tempting pastries—some familiar, others more exotic. Mu Qing took a deep breath, savoring the scent, before turning to Feng Xin with an intrigued look.

“This is it, huh?” Mu Qing asked, glancing around. “Your family’s favorite?”

Feng Xin nodded, his gaze lingering on the familiar items behind the glass display. “So you noticed. Remember how we used to part the exotic sweets to share them in High School?”

Mu Qing’s eyes softened with the memory, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I do. It’s funny to think we used to sit together with those pastries, all of us laughing and trying to figure out which one was the best. I never thought I’d be here, having them fresh.”

Feng Xin chuckled, his heart warming at the thought of their younger selves. “It’s different, huh? But I’m glad you’re getting the full experience now.”

Mu Qing’s expression softened, touched by the sentiment. “Thank you, A-Xin,” he murmured, his voice quiet but full of meaning.

Feng Xin’s heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in Mu Qing’s eyes. “I’m just glad we’re here together.”

The barista at the counter smiled warmly as they approached, offering them a friendly greeting in Italian. Feng Xin responded with a smile, slipping into the language he had picked up from his parents, while Mu Qing simply watched, a small chuckle escaping him at the way Feng Xin tried to switch, a bit roughly between languages.

“One cappuccino and lotus blossom black tea please,” Feng Xin ordered, with a knowing glance at the pastries. “It's up to you which ones we will be trying Qing-er.” 

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked over the display. “Hmm, I’ll take my time with this,” he said, his tone playful. His fingers hovered over the selection, inspecting each pastry with exaggerated thoughtfulness. After a few moments, he smiled and pointed to a delicate portion of blackberry Ruffled Milk Pie and a rich-looking chocolate tart.

“I’ll go with these two,” Mu Qing decided, his voice light with amusement. “You’ll have to try the chocolate one too, A-Xin. I know you have a soft spot for anything with chocolate.”

Feng Xin grinned, leaning closer to Mu Qing with a teasing look. “Well, you know me too well. But I’ll take that as a challenge.” He turned to the barista, confirming the order with a smile.

As they waited for their drinks and pastries, a wave of nostalgia swept over Feng Xin. He glanced at the pastries behind the glass, remembering the days when his parents would bring treats from their trips and he would sneak some of them in his bag to bring treats for his friends from this very bakery to school. They were just kids then—Thirteen, fourteen years old—sharing pastries with friends, laughing and arguing over which one was the best. And later, when they were fifteen, and their bond had deepened, he’d sneak a pastry just for the two of them, sharing quiet moments and stolen smiles.

Now, standing here with Mu Qing as adults—28 and still just as close, if not more—he couldn’t help but feel how much had changed, and yet how much remained the same.

Mu Qing must have sensed the shift in his mood, as his voice softened when he spoke again. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How many years have passed, but I feel like it was just yesterday we were picking out pastries at school, only we were arguing over who would get the last piece.”

Feng Xin chuckled, his heart swelling with affection. “Yeah, I remember you always trying to take the last one,” he said, playfully nudging Mu Qing. “But now I think you’ve earned the right to pick whatever you want.”

Mu Qing smiled at the gentle tease, his eyes softening as he looked at Feng Xin. “Guess so,” he replied, a touch of nostalgia in his own voice. “Some things never change.”

Feng Xin smiled back, feeling the weight of the moment—how they had come full circle, from those carefree days of friendship and when they hadn’t fully understood the depths of their feelings, to the life they shared now, stronger and more certain than ever.

 Their pastries and drinks arrived soon after, the warm scent of fresh coffee filling the air. Feng Xin took his cappuccino with a grateful smile, savoring the first sip, while Mu Qing carefully tasted his lotus blossom tea, his expression thoughtful.

“Not bad,” Mu Qing said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think I’ve had better, though.”

Feng Xin laughed, teasing him. “Don’t tell me you’re already judging Italy’s finest.”

Mu Qing shrugged, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. “I’m just saying, there’s always room for improvement. But the pastries…” He paused, taking a bite of the almond croissant, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, these… These are definitely worth the trip.”

Feng Xin watched him, feeling a quiet warmth spread through him. Moments like this, when everything felt right and Mu Qing was genuinely happy, were the ones he cherished most. There was something about the way Mu Qing’s eyes softened when he found something he liked, how he allowed himself to savor the simple things. It reminded him of their younger selves, the way they used to share everything—everything except their true feelings for each other.

“These little sweets hold a lot of memories, don’t they?” Feng Xin asked, his voice low, almost to himself.

Mu Qing glanced up, his expression softening as he looked at Feng Xin, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, they do. Especially the blackberry one. I never would’ve let you win over this one,” he said, teasing but with a touch of fondness in his voice while looking at the delicate blackberry dessert.

Feng Xin grinned. “You always did get the last piece, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Mu Qing replied, his smile widening. “But I think we both knew I’d give a portion to you eventually.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, savoring the pastries and each other’s company. The bustle of the café, with its mix of tourists and locals, felt distant, as though time had slowed just for them. Feng Xin’s mind drifted, thinking about all the places they still had yet to visit, all the adventures they still had ahead of them.

The proposal he still had ahead of him. 

After leaving the bakery, they strolled through the winding streets, the sun casting a warm glow over the city. Rome, alive with history and bustling energy, seemed like a dream, the blend of ancient ruins and modern life creating a backdrop to their day.

Mu Qing was always a little quieter as they walked, his eyes scanning the surroundings with curiosity, but it wasn’t the typical tourist gaze. It was a deeper kind of attention—an appreciation for the details. He paused to look at a small corner shop selling hand-painted ceramics, his fingers brushing over a delicate vase, and for a moment, Feng Xin couldn’t help but smile everytime he caught his boyfriend with that soft gaze over something he finds amazing or remarkable. It was like every step they took together was another stitch in the tapestry of memories they were weaving.

Mu Qing’s voice broke the quiet, his tone thoughtful. “These vases… they remind me of the ones my grandmother used to have. The kind she would put flowers in during the summer.”

Feng Xin chuckled, stepping closer to him. “I thought you didn’t care for flowers. Too much of a hassle to keep them alive.”

Mu Qing gave him a sideways glance, a faint smirk on his lips. “It’s not the flowers, A-Xin. It’s the idea. The… simplicity of it, I guess. It feels like home, even in a place like this.”

Feng Xin nodded, his gaze lingering on Mu Qing for a moment. It was these quiet, fleeting moments that always made him feel like they were growing closer, not just in love, but in understanding. He reached out, gently brushing Mu Qing’s hand with his own, the gesture simple but meaningful.

“I think you’ve got a point,” Feng Xin said, his voice softer. “Sometimes it’s the simplest things that feel the most real.”

Mu Qing glanced at him, his expression momentarily unreadable before it softened, and he gave a small nod. “Yeah… it’s not the big gestures that matter, is it? It’s just… being here, together.”

The sounds of the city hummed around them, but for a moment, it felt like they were in their own little world. They resumed walking, the pace slower now, savoring the stillness between them. As they passed a small fountain, Mu Qing stopped again, eyes fixated on the soft ripple of the water.

Feng Xin followed his gaze, noticing the peaceful serenity in Mu Qing’s expression. “You know,” Feng Xin said, his voice teasing but warm, “we really should be taking more photos of you. You have this ‘thinking deep thoughts’ look every time you pause.”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Are you implying I look like an ancient philosopher?”

“Maybe. Or just… a brooding artist,” Feng Xin teased, nudging him lightly.

Mu Qing shook his head, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed the fondness he didn’t quite express in words. “If you say so. But I’ll take a picture if you promise not to make me pose.”

Feng Xin grinned. “Deal. You’re perfect just as you are.”

They continued their stroll, their pace falling into an easy rhythm, each lost in their own thoughts yet somehow completely aware of each other. In a city full of history and wonder, it wasn’t the grand landmarks that captured them; it was these quiet moments, these small exchanges that wove together the story of their day.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Their trip continued with quiet moments of wandering through Rome’s quieter streets, getting lost in the charm of the city while stumbling upon unexpected gems. Mu Qing, ever observant, found a small corner shop selling handcrafted vases, and Feng Xin could barely hide his smile each time Mu Qing’s eyes softened with fascination at something simple.

One afternoon, they could be wandering through the Roman Forum, their footsteps echoing through the ancient ruins. Mu Qing’s gaze lingered on the weathered stones, his hand brushing over the surface, and for a second, they shared a silence that felt heavier than any words could carry.

And later in the week, they could be strolling through Trastevere’s cobblestone streets, pausing to take in the vibrant atmosphere of the neighborhood. Mu Qing laughed at something Feng Xin said, a fleeting moment of comfort that felt like a soft reminder of their younger selves—full of messy energy, but equally full of wonder.

Before either of them could fully process it, their journey was nearing its end. Only three more days remained. For Mu Qing, there was a sense of sadness at the thought that their time spent discovering new places together was quickly drawing to a close. But for Feng Xin, it meant that the day of his proposal was drawing nearer.

They spent their third day, just before returning home, exploring a town they had arrived in the night before, determined to make the most of their time. For their final day, they would return to Rome to collect their luggage from the hotel before heading to the airport. And in between, on the day before the last, Feng Xin would finally propose to the love of his life.

As night arrived, Feng Xin’s ability to be rational began to give way. His brain cells really started to malfunction whatsoever.

A-Xin, you alright? I know we’ve walked quite a bit today, but between the two of us, you’re the athletic one. So what’s wrong? You look… off.”

Mu Qing’s gaze softened, a mix of joy, tenderness, and concern in his eyes. His long black hair, loose and untamed, fell over his shoulders, with a few strands brushing against the soft, pale skin of his face.

How was he supposed to propose to such an ethereal human being without forgetting all his words? It wasn’t like he had planned a speech—he learned long ago that those never worked. But now, with Mu Qing in front of him,  he was indeed afraid of not being able to speak at all! 

He was already at a loss for words. And he wasn’t even proposing yet—he wasn’t even close—and still, his mind was blank just from looking at him!

Mu Qing tilted his head slightly, still watching Feng Xin this time with a mix of curiosity and concern. “A-Xin? What’s going on? You’re usually so focused, but now… you’re zoning out on me.”

Feng Xin blinked, snapping back to the present, but his heart still raced. He couldn’t find the right words, and that was terrifying. How was he supposed to express what he felt when his emotions were tangled up in knots?

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too quick, and Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

Mu Qing took a step closer, his hand brushing against Feng Xin’s. “You sure about that? You’re acting strange, even for you.”

Feng Xin forced a smile, the warmth of Mu Qing’s presence calming his nerves slightly. “Yeah, I’m just… thinking about everything we’ve been through.”

Mu Qing’s expression softened. “I get it now,” he said gently, squeezing Feng Xin’s hand. “I was really worried just now. You’re usually distracted, but that… was on a whole new level. I thought something was wrong.”

Feng Xin returned the squeeze of Mu Qing’s hand, his gaze deepening as he met his boyfriend’s eyes. “Well, there is something wrong.”

Mu Qing frowned slightly, his voice filled with concern. “What is it?”

Feng Xin’s smile turned fond as he held Mu Qing’s gaze. “You’re unimaginably more gorgeous every day that passes. It’s unfair. Imagine being me, and finding your boyfriend more ethereal every day.”

Mu Qing’s expression softened, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks as he playfully rolled his eyes. “You really know how to flatter a person.”

Feng Xin chuckled, his heart lightening. “Come on now Qing-er, you know I'm serious. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Mu Qing gave him one last smile before stretching and lying down beside him in bed, pulling the blanket up. Feng Xin followed, pulling him closer to his body, his mind still a little preoccupied but content nonetheless. They turned off the lights, and the room fell into a peaceful silence.

The weight of the upcoming days—especially tomorrow—lingered in the back of Feng Xin’s mind, but for now, with Mu Qing’s steady breathing beside him, everything else faded into the background. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

The morning of their last day in the town, Feng Xin was unusually energetic, a certain excitement buzzing beneath his usual calm exterior. As they ate breakfast, he couldn’t help but glance at Mu Qing every now and then, his mind focused on what was to come.

“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin started, his tone casual, “I was thinking… Maybe today we could take it easy, just enjoy ourselves. How do you feel about dressing up a bit? You know, comfy but still looking nice. I have a place I want to show you later.”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, glancing at his boyfriend in mild surprise but not questioning it. “Dressing up? Well, if you say so, A-Xin. You’re the one who’s usually dragging me into these things.”

Feng Xin laughed softly, trying to hide the nervous flutter in his chest. “I promise, it’ll be worth it. Just trust me.”

By the time the evening rolled around and the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, they found themselves climbing up a hill, the scent of wildflowers filling the air. Mu Qing’s hand was in his, as it had been the whole day, their steps light as they ascended toward the quiet spot Feng Xin had picked out.

As they reached the top, Mu Qing paused for a moment, his eyes taking in the breathtaking view. The hill overlooked an isolated beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore beneath them, the entire scene bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

“It’s beautiful,” Mu Qing whispered, his voice full of wonder as he stood there, taking in the scenery.

Feng Xin’s heart pounded in his chest, but he could hardly hear the sound of the waves anymore, his thoughts consumed by the moment. He stepped closer to Mu Qing, his usual teasing smile replaced with something softer. “It is… but,” he faltered, his words catching in his throat as the weight of what he was about to do began to settle in. “It’s… it’s really beautiful.”

Mu Qing turned slightly toward him, his brow furrowing as he noticed the change in Feng Xin’s demeanor. “A-Xin? Are you okay? You look…” Mu Qing’s words trailed off as he saw the unease in his boyfriend’s face, a look so unlike his usual self. “What’s wrong?”

Feng Xin’s hands trembled slightly as he reached for Mu Qing’s, intertwining their fingers. He met Mu Qing’s gaze, his own eyes soft but full of emotion, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but unsure of how to express it. “I…” He struggled to find the right words, his usual confidence slipping away. “Mu Qing, I… I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time, about us, about everything.”

Mu Qing’s face flushed a bit, still oblivious to what was unfolding. “A-Xin, what—?”

Feng Xin pulled one hand away, his other still holding Mu Qing’s tightly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. His heart raced faster as he opened it, revealing a simple but elegant ring.

Mu Qing’s eyes widened, his mouth parting in shock as he finally understood. Feng Xin’s voice cracked as he began to speak, though his words stumbled over each other. “Mu Qing, I… I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. You’re the man I want to spend my life with, more than we already have. I’ve thought about this for years, and now… here we are. So… please, just relax, okay? I’m nervous, too.”

Feng Xin stopped himself, cutting off his rambling speech. He took a deep breath, his fingers still holding the ring box as he stared into Mu Qing’s eyes, his voice steadying as he finally asked, “Mu Qing… will you marry me?”

Mu Qing stood frozen, his face flushed with a mix of shock, joy, and disbelief, his hand still tightly held by Feng Xin. For a long moment, he couldn’t speak, his mouth moving as if trying to find the right words but failing to make any sound.

“A-Xin…” Mu Qing’s voice cracked, and the next thing Feng Xin knew, his boyfriend’s arms were around him, pulling him into an embrace so tight it felt like the world had just shifted into place. Mu Qing buried his face in Feng Xin’s shoulder, his voice muffled but trembling with emotion. “Yes. Yes, of course, I will marry you!”

Feng Xin stood frozen for a second, stunned by the sudden outpouring, and then he laughed, his own eyes welling up as he wrapped his arms around Mu Qing, holding him just as tightly. Mu Qing pulled back slightly, his face flushed with tears, his eyes brimming with love and disbelief.

“I can’t believe this,” Mu Qing whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve dreamed of this, but I never thought it would be… real. You… you’re incredible, A-Xin. How did I get so lucky?”

Mu Qing’s laugh was shaky but full of joy as he cupped Feng Xin’s face with his hands, leaning in to kiss him softly, the world around them disappearing into nothing but the warmth of their shared moment.

Feng Xin couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of Mu Qing’s tear-streaked face, his heart soaring. “You really didn’t expect it, huh?”

Mu Qing wiped at his eyes, trying to smile through the tears. “Of course not, you idiot,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his words. He was still holding on to Feng Xin tightly, as if afraid he might wake up from the dream. “You scared me half to death. I thought something was wrong, that you were… I don’t know, giving me a lecture or something.”

Feng Xin chuckled, his hands trembling a bit as he reached the ring in the small box. “Well, I wasn’t giving you a lecture,” he said with a smirk, taking Mu Qing’s hand and gently slipping the ring onto his finger. “This is how I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, idiot.”

Mu Qing’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the ring, his heart pounding even harder as Feng Xin’s words sunk in. He stared at the ring for a moment, then at Feng Xin, his face flushed with a mixture of love and embarrassment. “You… You actually had this ready? You’ve planned the trip to do this, haven't you?” 

Feng Xin shrugged, but there was a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Maybe. You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about our future, Mu Qing.” He leaned in then, pressing a soft kiss to Mu Qing’s lips, his heart full of all the things he hadn’t been able to say.

When they pulled apart, Mu Qing was smiling through his tears, his cheeks still flushed. “You idiot,” he whispered again, but there was nothing but tenderness in his voice now. “You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Feng Xin laughed, a soft, happy sound that only Mu Qing would ever hear. “I know, but you love me anyway.”

Mu Qing leaned in, kissing him once more, slow and full of meaning. “Yeah, I do,” he murmured against his lips, a contented sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes. “I love you, my fiancé. More than you could ever know.”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Later that evening, as the sky deepened into twilight and the air grew cooler, Feng Xin couldn’t help but smile at the thought of sharing the news. He slipped his phone from his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled up the group chat. With a deep breath, he snapped a picture of their hands,  the rings gleaming softly in the dim light.

He typed quickly, his thumb pausing only for a moment before pressing send.

20h15

Feng Xin has sent a photo to the group, when are they going to marry?

My A-Xin: My fiancé and future husband. Officially going to marry. 

Aying-ma: Omg! I can’t even see properly because of the tears! I’m so happy for you two, congratulations my dears, and good luck to you, Qing-er, for putting up with this stubborn man you now call fiancé.

Sire. Xhang: It was about time. All my best wishes for you two my dear sons! 

Mum: Omg! I told you he was going to say yes, son! Congratulations, you two! 

Mu Qing chuckled, glancing over at Feng Xin. “You told everyone about your plans?”

Feng Xin grinned, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Of course, my dear fiancé. My parents needed to know, and Mama Mu… well, she’s like my second mother. What if she hadn’t given me her blessing?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth in his expression. “What an idiot man you are, A-Xin.”

Feng Xin gave him a playful smirk. “Nuh-uh, fiancé. I love ‘A-Xin,’ but I’m not just ‘A-Xin’ anymore. I’m your fiancé.”

Mu Qing couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head fondly. “You’re hopeless,” he said as he closed the distance to kiss his now fiancé again.