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Mu Qing stared at the tiled palace floor in mute horror. His eyes were rounded, mouth gaping like a fish, and limbs frozen in place at his sides. He just said—
And to Feng Xin’s face?!
Oh no. Oh no no no!
Mu Qing paced just so he had something to do other than focus on what this curse made him say.
It didn’t work.
He had scoffed when the mortals pleaded for help in breaking such an insignificant curse. It only forced them to say kind words instead of vicious insults or snarky remarks—hardly a life-or-death matter. There were far worse, fatal curses.
But now, standing here, words betraying him at every turn—he understood.
It was horrible and horrifying. The curse made him choke on the words fuck you, Feng Xin, and forced him to say, Love you, Feng Xin!
Out loud! To his fucking idio—beautiful face!
Mu Qing froze mid-step, jaw clenched, arms crossed. Wait.
He couldn’t even say mean things in his own head?! The curse had changed idiot to beautiful just now!
He tested it. Fuck y—Love you, Feng Xin!
He tested it again. Idio—beautiful, Feng Xin.
What. The. Fuck?!
Feng Xin wasn’t even here! Mu Qing had fled the moment those words left his mouth, abandoning the other god on the Avenue of Divine Might.
And Feng Xin definitely couldn’t hear his thoughts.
So why was it in effect?!
He resumed pacing outside his study, mind whirling, heart pounding. He needed an immediate solution. A way to break this hellish curse. And afterward? He would raid Ling Wen’s shelves for a spell to erase Feng Xin’s memory.
Yes. That was the only logical course of action. Break the curse, erase the bastar—sweetheart’s memory, and pretend none of this ever happened.
Reinvigorated, Mu Qing nodded approvingly to himself. The plan was foolproof!
…Except he still didn’t know how to break the curse.
No matter. After a lifetime spent battling vicious curses, vengeful ghosts, disgusting beasts, and grotesque creatures no mortal had ever heard of, one measly little curse was child’s play.
Mu Qing paused in his pacing once more and reexamined his last train of thought. Disgusting, grotesque… Maybe he could still think of insults if they were accurate.
Quickly, he tested his hypothesis and thought, Hua Cheng dresses like a wedding threw up on him.
A devious grin stretched across his lips. So he could still insult someone if it was true. Immediately, he leapt at the chance to insult Feng Xin in his thoughts.
After training, Feng Xin smells like a wet do—meadow.
His palm smacked against his forehead. Perhaps his hypothesis was wrong.
Mentally, he ran through the list of every god and ghost he knew and savagely insulted them. He tested the curse with lies and truthful insults. Every cruel thought was crafted with sharp precision, each one striking a satisfying blow, even if its target would never feel it.
The curse didn’t choke him off or force him to think something kind. Why could he insult everyone except Feng Xin?
Was it because Feng Xin was the first person he ran into after returning to heaven to research the spell?
That had to be it.
That better not mean the curse wouldn’t break without that assho—kind-hearted man…
Mu Qing pinched the bridge of his nose. For fuck’s sake.
Breaking this curse couldn’t happen soon enough.
He marched into his study and began combing through the prayers he’d received regarding it. Perhaps something in them would reveal a solution, something he’d overlooked before descending.
As he read, his mind kept drifting back to his accidental declaration of love. He intentionally never developed romantic love for anyone due to his cultivation path, including Feng Xin. It was pointless.
Besides, with a name like his, he was cursed in more ways than one. Doomed to forever yearn for affection that would never come even if he could give a partner that piece of himself.
A sudden commotion sounded outside of the study, near the palace entrance.
Speak of the devi—angel. That all-too-familiar noise only meant one thing: the idio—ray of sunshine had barreled past his palace guards in pursuit of him.
Feng Xin stormed into the study and slammed the door shut with such brute force that the room trembled. Yet, he didn’t look angry, he looked… desperate?
That couldn’t be right.
Without hesitation, Feng Xin shoved aside the desk and grabbed Mu Qing’s shoulders.
“I was working, dimw—handsome.“ Mu Qing’s eyes widened in horror as he heard the curse transforming his words again. Feng Xin’s brows shot up.
He really needed to break this curse before Feng Xin got the wrong impression.
“You love me?!”
Fuck.
“No! I was cursed.”
Concerned shadows covered Feng Xin’s face. “Curse?”
“Yes. Cursed. I can’t be mean. Unfortunately, it forces out nice words instead.”
“So it’s a truth-telling curse?”
Mu Qing swatted his hands away and straightened his robes, glaring at the wrinkles Feng Xin caused.
“No. It seems I can’t say or think anything mean. I know thinking isn’t your— is one of your strengths, but try to keep up.”
A growing, infuriating smirk stretched across Feng Xin’s face. “You think I’m smart?”
“That’s the curse changing my words! Not me. And it’s not a truth curse! Everything it changes is a lie,” Mu Qing huffed indignantly, turning up his nose, but Feng Xin’s grin only widened. “I will throw you out.”
“You can’t be mean to me, Mu Qing. How are you going to throw me out?”
“It only works on words.”
Feng Xin wiggled his brow. “You’re sure about that, my love?”
Mu Qing’s eye twitched. He sneered and leaned in. “Only one way to find out”
A moment later, Feng Xin was sailing out of Xuan Zhen Palace, landing in the capital streets. What a relief it didn’t work on actions. Mu Qing didn’t want to imagine what it could do when it was capable of turning fuck into love.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
The prayers and inspection report conducted by Mu Qing’s deputies before the mission were insightful but failed to offer any new information.
The curse had started shortly after a middle-aged man passed away several days prior. Following the funeral, a handful of villagers in attendance found themselves forced to declare things they would never admit, no matter how inappropriate the timing.
A few days after the funeral, more villagers were also affected. It spread far and wide like wildfire, consuming the town in relentless affection.
The butcher could only compliment his neighbor as he served him the freshest selections of the day.
A nobleman whispered sweet nothings to his concubine in front of his wife—a situation made infinitely more complicated when the concubine recited love poems to the wife.
A princess whispered adoration to the stable boy she played with as a child, despite being promised to a local general.
One prayer after another depicted an intentional pattern involving pre-existing connections, linking the speaker to the listener. Some were romantic, some were platonic, and some blurred the line between the two.
Sitting behind his desk, Mu Qing leaned back in his chair, fingertips drumming thoughtfully against the armrest.
It made sense.
Sort of.
There was still no clear answer on how to break the curse, but this was better than nothing.
“General?” His attendant stepped into the study. “It’s time for today’s meeting.”
Mu Qing nodded and quickly stowed away the scrolls. If he had to deal with Feng Xin at the meeting, he could carefully choose his words so they wouldn’t be affected by the curse.
And yet….
The meeting was a disaster. It was time to switch out Heaven’s guard posts. After a month of his deputies patrolling alongside Nan Yang’s, he was eager for them to return to the palace so he could put them to better use.
Primarily, finding a way to break this curse.
Except the Nan Yang deputies did nothing but complain about the Xuan Zhen deputies‘ incompetence during the entire debriefing.
Incompetence? What a load of garbage! If anyone was incompetent it was the Nan Yang deputies!
And he would let them know as much.
“If my deputies appeared incompetent, it’s only because they were too busy picking up your slack.”
Feng Xin spun toward him and shoved a finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare accuse my deputies!”
“It’s not an accusation when they weren’t trained properly to begin with!”
“Properly trained?! Fuck y— Love you, Mu Qing!”
The hall went eerily silent as every god and deputy’s attention snapped to Feng Xin. His cheeks blazed bright red as he stared at Mu Qing in stunned disbelief, his pointed finger slowly falling.
It was so quiet only the birds singing outside could be heard. They chirped melodically as if chaos wasn’t unfolding inside the Hall of Divine Might.
In the next instant, Feng Xin shouted, “Why is your curse affecting me?!”
“How would I know?!”
“It’s your fucking curse!”
“And you interrupted my research into it just like your deputies interrupted my deputies‘ duties, idi—gege!”
Everyone’s attention instantly shifted to Mu Qing, brows raised and eyes alight. He ignored the way Pei Ming’s lit up like this was the juiciest gossip he’d heard in centuries.
Mu Qing wanted to die on the spot.
That hot-headed moro—hot genius charged ahead, caring more about the fight than their onlookers.
“My deputies were the only ones who prevented catastrophe! They had to redraw every fucked up array your deputies made. So go fuck yourse—kiss me, Assh—beautiful!”
Blood boiling, Mu Qing didn’t hear the curse twisting his insult into something horrifyingly affectionate. From Go fuck yourself, asshole to Kiss me, beautiful. He just heard the accusations.
Redraw? Redraw?!
“Your deputies had to redo the arrays after stepping on the ones my deputies drew. Your clumsy oafs destroyed them in the first place, you gigantic dic—you have a gigantic di—!”
Mu Qing’s hands clamped over his mouth before he was forced to finish that sentence, but the damage was already done.
A muffled, mortified shriek escaped from behind his palms.
Quan Yizhen, glancing back and forth at the bickering gods, leaned toward Pei Ming. “What’s going on?”
Pei Ming, thriving at this moment, was grinning so wide his mouth was hanging open. He made no attempts to smother his delight. “My favorite conversation ever.”
Mu Qing and Feng Xin stared at each other, chests heaving, faces blazing, realizing how their argument must have sounded in this very public setting.
“We’ve gotta break this fucking curse, sweetheart!” Feng Xin shouted, which only made Pei Ming dissolve into a fit of cackling laughter.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
The curse worsened.
After their very public fight, Mu Qing returned to his palace and barely had time to process his humiliation before a string of affection spilled from his mouth like word vomit. But Feng Xin was nowhere near him. He hadn’t said or thought anything insulting either.
His stomach dropped.
Determined to avoid further embarrassment, Mu Qing locked himself in his study, intent on avoiding every heavenly official. Naturally, Feng Xin ignored all social conventions and barged in anyway.
“What don’t you understand about personal space, darling?” Mu Qing snapped, then grimaced as more words tumbled out. “You look nice today.”
Feng Xin, halfway to slamming the door behind him, froze. His brows crept up. “Uh… thanks. You too?”
“Just—sit down.”
He shoved a stack of scrolls and relevant prayers across the desk, contemplating how to will himself out of existence as he settled in his desk chair.
As Feng Xin read, Mu Qing stared out the window. Night was falling. If his theory was correct, the ghost responsible for this disaster would emerge somewhere near the village. A perfect chance to kill it and put an end to this madness.
Feng Xin must have reached the same conclusion because he set the scrolls aside with a nod. “We have to visit the village tonight.”
“No shit, my love.”
Feng Xin blinked.
Mu Qing rubbed his temples. He wasn’t going to call him a name that time but the term of endearment slipped out anyway.
“It’s getting worse.”
“You think?” Mu Qing snapped. “Your freckles look like Xianle constellations.”
“My freckles?” Feng Xin’s fingertips grazed the golden dots across his cheekbones. The skin beneath them turned pink.
“Don’t read into it. It’s just the curse.”
A frown creased the space between Feng Xin’s brows, his hand dropping into his lap. “Fuck y—love you too, then, Qing’er.”
Qing’er?
His heart skipped a beat.
Feng Xin let out a short, uneasy laugh. “It’s just the curse.”
“R-right…A-Xin.”
Feng Xin visibly tensed. His hand clenched over his heart.
Silence stretched between them. They couldn’t quite meet each other’s eyes, but neither of them looked away either. It was uncomfortable. Awkward.
Worse, it felt like they should have been saying each other’s name like this all along.
Mu Qing swallowed hard and forced himself to stand. “W-we should go find the ghost.”
“Yeah… right. The ghost.”
Feng Xin shot to his feet and nearly tripped over himself bolting for the door while Mu Qing followed close behind, ignoring the way his pulse refused to settle.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
They didn’t find the ghost.
Instead, when they descended as Fu Yao and Nan Feng, they found a village full of mortals who couldn’t stop praising each other or boisterously declaring their love on every street corner despite the late hour. Those who were cursed first had experienced its terrible progression.
It no longer affected just their words, but their actions as well. Thankfully, nothing horrendous had occurred yet.
The butcher compulsively hugged his neighbor, and it turned out the neighbor had needed that hug. The concubine, the wife, and the husband—well, Mu Qing didn’t want to think about that again.
Feng Xin had already made fun of how red his face turned when he learned of their, erm… polyamorous union.
The princess and the stableboy were found wholesomely holding hands, but it had stirred a ruckus with the General who was intent on marrying her.
The entire community was spiraling into chaos in the least deadly way possible. It was bizarre, and oh hell—did this mean the curse would force him to hug Feng Xin soon?
Not that he would hate it.
Wait—he wouldn’t?
Mu Qing ducked into a secluded, dark alleyway and slid down a building’s exterior wall into a squat. He pressed his palms against his eyes and tried to breathe.
This curse was messing with him in ways he didn’t anticipate. First the names, and now he wouldn’t mind hugging Feng Xin? What actual hell.
Feng Xin walked up to him and nudged his ankle with the toe of his boot. “Hey, Qing’er.”
Mu Qing’s heart definitely didn’t flutter at the name. It did not!
But he did glance up at Feng Xin and found him offering cherry tanghulu. A crash echoed nearby, but he couldn’t look away from Feng Xin’s gift to determine the cause.
“Where did you get that?”
Shrugging, Feng Xin simply stated, “A street vendor was giving them away after professing his love for the woman who runs the pancake cart.”
“Oh.” Mu Qing accepted the skewer and munched on a sugary cherry. “How did she react?”
“Surprisingly well. Turns out she was in love with him, too. The cabbage guy wasn’t thrilled, though. Flipped his cart in his fury then cried ‘My cabbages’.”
“Idiot.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes.
Feng Xin slid down beside him and thoughtfully ate a scallion pancake. Slowly, cautiously, as if trying not to spook Mu Qing, Feng Xin commented, “I’ve noticed… Everyone affected by the curse is in love… and the person they’re in love with is affected by it too.”
Mu Qing mulled over the thought as he bit down on another cherry. The curse affected couples in love… And the curse was placed on Mu Qing which somehow affected Feng Xin.
Awkward silence stifled the alleyway as he understood the insinuation while they quietly ate their treats. Thank the heavens for silence too because Mu Qing wasn’t sure what lie the curse would force out of his mouth if Feng Xin asked—
“So um… does this mean you’re… you know… since it’s affecting me, too?”
Goddamnit!
Of course, the answer was n—yes.
Mu Qing squinted and tried to answer it in his thoughts once more. N—yes.
N—yes, always!
N—YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES!
Stupid fucking curse. He beat around the bush instead.
“Don’t be ridic—insightful.” Damnit! Mu Qing charged ahead. “We haven’t confirmed the curse’s requirements. The butcher and his neighbor aren’t in love. We can hardly jump to conclusions.”
Feng Xin frowned at his pancake. “Whatever. We can conclude it’s a strong possibility… Especially since that’s the butcher and the neighbor over there.”
Whipping his head toward the opposite end of the alleyway, Mu Qing found the source of the earlier crash. The butcher pinned his neighbor against the butcher shop’s backdoor, wrapping the other’s legs around his waist and kissing him as though their lives depended on it.
Mu Qing felt his entire face heat and hurriedly turned away only to be met with Feng Xin expectantly staring at him. There were no straws left to grasp.
Without another word, Mu Qing rose and marched into the street, intent on returning to heaven, half-eaten cherry tanghulu skewer still safe in his grasp. As much as he wanted to hurl the damn thing, he couldn’t. His hand refused to obey as he instructed, clenching Feng Xin’s gift instead.
And that idio—love of his life stormed after him. “You can avoid it all you want, Mu Qing, but we both know the curse’s real purpose! One way or another, we’re talking about this!”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” He barked over his shoulder, escaping to the outskirts of town so he could ascend without being seen.
He abandoned his Fu Yao disguise and summoned the ascension gate. Before the gold light of heaven surrounded him, Feng Xin gripped his forearm and yanked him back, pinning him against a tree.
“Just tell me, Qing’er!” Nan Feng faded away, leaving behind a god who desperately sought an answer Mu Qing wasn’t prepared to give.
“Knock it off, A-Xin!”
Mu Qing moved to shove him away, but the curse forced the hand not holding the tanghulu to grasp the front of Feng Xin’s robes and drag him closer. And he hated how nice it felt to be so close to him, to smell his soap, and feel his breaths hitting his cheek. It made him still, made him take a deep breath, and feel grateful he had this chance to appreciate Feng Xin’s intoxicating scent when they weren’t exchanging blows.
Calmer, Feng Xin cupped Mu Qing’s cheek and for some reason, Mu Qing suspected it wasn’t the curse’s doing.
There was no hesitation, no resistance in that touch. It moved with free will and touched so softly that a butterfly’s wings were violent by comparison.
“Please tell me what you really feel, Qing’er. Blame it on the curse if you want. But tell me. Please.”
Words flooded up his throat and pressed behind his teeth. He bit them back and slowly shook his head, eyes pleading with Feng Xin to stop before he said something he didn’t intend.
Whispering, Feng Xin pleaded, “Why can’t you tell me?”
And then the word vomit spilled out. “Because of my cultivation. I can’t give a partner what they want.”
They both fell silent. Feng Xin leaned back to look at him with a mix of confusion and concern, quickly shifting eyes silently studying him.
However, Mu Qing blinked, not expecting that to be the answer that tumbled out. It wasn’t untrue by any means. He never bothered with feelings of love because what would be the point? He couldn’t perform one crucial aspect expected of relationships and would inevitably be left bitterly alone in the end.
Consequently, he didn’t bother with romance. He buried every feeling associated with love and forgot where he left it.
“So?” Feng Xin broke the quiet.
“‘So?’” Mu Qing scoffed. “‘What do you mean, ‘so?’”
“I mean, I already know about your cultivation’s restrictions. You… you do know there’s more to love than sex right?”
“Obviously.”
“And you know there’s so much more to physical intimacy than sex, too?”
Leaves rustled in the forest, scattering in the wind. Mu Qing’s hand tightened around Feng Xin’s robes.
There… was?
Feng Xin’s thumb stroked his cheekbone. Mu Qing almost shut his eyes from the sheer, aching tenderness. However, he forced them to remain open, to keep looking at Feng Xin.
“Qing’er… Your cultivation isn’t a dealbreaker.”
His voice came out broken, quieter than he intended, “It…It’s not?”
“Not with me. Not now, not ever.”
Something tore in Mu Qing’s chest, something old he didn’t dare examine too closely before. A scar on his heart ripped open, revealing every feeling he had buried there like an X on a map. But at the same time, those words stitched him back together, too.
Feng Xin’s thumb stroked his cheek again, and this time, Mu Qing closed his eyes. It felt—he had no words for how good it felt to be touched.
To be touched by Feng Xin.
A whisper sounded against his ear, “For the record, the curse didn’t make me say that.”
Mu Qing’s breath hitched.
“Qing’er, do you love me?”
And Mu Qing didn’t need to think about it. Didn’t need the curse to force him to say it. The truth was already there, waiting for him to acknowledge it.
“Yes.”
He could feel the way Feng Xin relaxed against him, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Lips brushed against his temple, and Mu Qing could feel the smile in them.
Feng Xin’s hand shifted from Mu Qing’s cheek, sliding along his jaw to his chin where he lifted it so they could meet each other’s gaze.
That smile was still stretched across his lips as he whispered, “I love you, too.”
There was a sudden, sourceless pop, and a whoosh of midnight wind that danced around them. They had broken enough curses to know the cause.
But more surprising than the curse breaking, were the feelings they just confessed. The curse’s end didn't make the emotions disappear, didn’t dull them, or feel less real.
Even more shocking was the knowledge that the curse didn’t make them say those things. If anything, it dug up what was already there.
As Feng Xin smiled at him, melty and hopelessly in love, Mu Qing clutched the tanghulu skewer and decided the curse might not have been such hell after all.
· · ────── ·☾☼· ────── · ·
Mu Qing dropped a report on Feng Xin’s low desk. The god looked up at him and shifted aside to make room on the floor beside him. “You found the ghost?”
“I should be insulted by that tone of surprise.” He sat beside Feng Xin and stole a sip from his teacup before making a face. “It’s cold.”
“Dianxia visited while you were ghost hunting. That was Hua Cheng’s cup.” Mu Qing turned green and gagged, earning an amused belly laugh from Feng Xin. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! It was mine.”
Slowly, Mu Qing turned to face him, glowering. He pounced on Feng Xin, tackling him to the ground and straddling his hips.
“Maybe we should’ve kept the curse so you can’t be mean to me.”
Feng Xin flashed a smile. “Where’s the fun in that… asshole?”
Rolling his eyes, Mu Qing shot back, “Idiot.”
“So, what happened with the ghost, baobei?”
“He died before telling his beloved of his feelings. The curse was created from his grief. He and the curse are now gone.”
He said it emotionlessly like it was a hard fact, but his chest ached as his gaze dropped to the floor. Ghosts rarely lingered for anything good, and their reasons for creating curses were always tragic.
As he sat on Feng Xin’s hips, he felt two strong hands lace their fingers together and tug him forward.
Mu Qing exhaled and relaxed on Feng Xin’s chest as strong arms encircled him. This, he recently learned, was one of the ways Feng Xin enjoyed nonsexual intimacy.
He was clingier than Mu Qing imagined, but he didn’t hate it. Actually, he was surprised by all the little ways Feng Xin surprised him with gentle touches.
Feng Xin touched him all the time. From anticipated hugs, kisses, and hand-holding. To less expected fleeting shoulder caresses when he would pass by. He touched even if he was only getting up to reach something on a shelf or maneuvering around him during a spar..
What Mu Qing never saw coming was the way Feng Xin traced Mu Qing’s facial features with the tip of his finger when he woke up first or the way he would distractedly curl the ends of Mu Qing’s ponytail around his fingers whenever it was within reach.
Who knew such a powerful deity could be so soft?
Even now, his fingers slid up and down Mu Qing’s spine, sending a shiver over his back.
“So it was a type of truth curse, except the curse dragged out hidden affection.” Feng Xin paused before adding, “I’m glad we didn’t end up like the ghost, Qing’er.”
Mu Qing had always thought his name was its own curse, but as he lay in Feng Xin’s embrace, he finally understood what a blessing it was to yearn for affection.
To yearn for Feng Xin’s affection, which was given freely—without demand, without expectation. He only wished it hadn’t taken a real curse to show him what had always been there.
“Me too.” He buried his face in Feng’s neck. “Love you, A-Xin.”
“Love you, Qing’er.”