Work Text:
The morning sun in Heavenly Capital shone soft and golden over the courtyard where three familiar figures were gathered.
“Careful, Your Highness,” Feng Xin said, wiping clay off his arm for what felt like the tenth time. “You’re getting it on your arms again.”
“It’s alright,” Xie Lian replied cheerfully, squinting in concentration as he shaped a lump of clay with delicate fingers. “It will wash off. Look, it’s finally holding shape!”
Beside him, Mu Qing stood with arms crossed, unimpressed. “You’re supposed to collect scrap, not make it.”
“Mu Qing,” Xie Lian said patiently, “it’s a pot.”
“It’s crooked,” Mu Qing replied flatly.
Feng Xin chuckled. “At least it’s better than that time he tried to make-”
“That was centuries ago!” Xie Lian protested with mock offense, though his grin gave him away. “Besides, this one will be beautiful once it’s painted.”
And indeed, after some hours, and much muttering from Mu Qing, the god in white had crafted something… recognizably pot-like. The surface was uneven, the handle slightly lopsided, but there was a gentleness in its imperfections, a warmth only sincerity could shape.
When the clay dried and Xie Lian painted it, he smiled softly. The colors were faint and simple, white, gold, and a hint of crimson, his fingers stained with the hues of care.
Feng Xin looked at the finished pot and sighed. “Not bad, Your Highness.”
Mu Qing blinked at it. “…It’s still crooked.”
“That gives it character,” Xie Lian said with bright satisfaction. He cradled the pot like a small treasure. “I’ll show it to San Lang. Maybe he’ll like it.”
“Maybe,” Mu Qing murmured, tone unreadable.
Xie lian smiled as he used the last bit of water in a pot to wash his hands and wipe them clean.
Seeing that the water was over, and feng xin was still dirty, xie lian looked in the other pots for water. Mu Qing held the pot carefully, though not without some grumbling. Feng Xin leaned nearby, trying in vain to remover the dried clay from his hands and sleeves.
That was when the air rippled.
A faint red glow shimmered in the courtyard, and in a heartbeat, Hua Cheng appeared, tall, composed, and radiant in crimson.
“Gege,” he greeted warmly, smile lighting up his face as he approached.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian beamed, genuinely delighted.
Hua Cheng’s expression softened into adoration, though his eye flicked sideways, briefly, sharply, toward Mu Qing and Feng Xin. His smile didn’t waver, but his gaze carried a silent message clear as a blade: Why are you two here?
Both heavenly generals met that look with equally silent exasperation.
Xie lian asked them all to stay here as he quickly went outside to grab water from the well. Normally Feng Xing would have gone on his own, but xie lian didn't trust the general not to break his pot, especially with Mu qing around. Hua Cheng’s attention drifted to the pot in Mu Qing’s hands. His gaze narrowed slightly. The pot was… crooked. Lopsided. A few painted strokes bled unevenly across the rim.
Hua Cheng gave a polite, if thin, smile. “Ah. I didn’t realize General Mu Qing and General Feng Xin had taken up pottery.”
Mu Qing arched a brow. Feng Xin stifled a grin.
“It’s… unique,” Hua Cheng continued smoothly, tone dipped in velvet but lined with ice. “The structure is questionable, but I suppose it could serve as, a practice attempt. Perhaps the two of you were testing your limits?”
Feng Xin coughed. “Testing, sure.”
Hua Cheng’s eye glinted faintly. “The glaze is uneven, the base is unbalanced, and the design is, well, ‘experimental.’ How brave of you both to display it.”
Mu Qing’s mouth twitched. “Brave?”
“Mn,” Hua Cheng said with a faint smirk. “To make something so… unsightly and still hold it openly - truly admirable.”
That did it. Feng Xin snorted, and Mu Qing rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t stick.
Before Xie Lian could turn back around, Mu Qing said, perfectly calm, “That ‘unsightly’ pot was handmade by His Highness.”
Hua Cheng blinked. “…”
Feng Xin added with a grin, “We told him not to make it, but what kind of husband can’t even appreciate their partner’s work, huh?”
The silence that followed was glorious.
Xie Lian turned, holding a potjof water in one hand, and blinked between them. “What’s going on?”
Hua Cheng’s mind blanked.
He had just insulted - no, obliterated - his gege’s creation.
He looked at the pot again. The lopsided curve, the faint brush marks, the uneven glaze, each one now screamed precious. This wasn’t an ugly pot. This was art. This was a divine treasure. This was-
He exhaled slowly. “Gege… made this?”
“Yes,” Xie Lian said, puzzled. “Does san lang not like it?”
Hua Cheng’s world shattered and reassembled in an instant. His expression turned reverent, solemn. “Like it? Gege… it’s beautiful. The finest craftsmanship I’ve ever seen. Truly one of the top treasures in all realms.”
Mu Qing snorted audibly. Feng Xin covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said, cheeks faintly pink, “it’s just a small pot I made for practice-”
“No,” Hua Cheng interrupted gravely, taking the pot from Mu Qing with both hands, as though handling sacred relics. “This pot holds your divine aura. It’s priceless. It deserves to be cherished for eternity.”
Feng Xin muttered, “Eternity might be shorter than you think if youbknew what he sa-”
He didn’t get the chance to finish. A silver flash of energy bloomed under their feet.
“-aaaaaaaaaaaaiid..."
And both generals vanished through a sudden portal, landing unceremoniously in a random village pond somewhere far, far away.
"Uh, san lang of you really liked the pot that much, you can have it"
Hua Cheng turned back, all smiles again, as if nothing had happened. “Gege,” he said softly, stepping closer, “thank you.”