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It had been half a week since Mu Xiyan stepped into her brother’s life again, and in that short span of days, it felt as though time itself had folded strangely around them, too fast in some moments, unbearably slow in others. She and Mu Qing had become nearly inseparable, moving through his quiet residence in the mortal realm like two people trying to relearn a language they once spoke fluently. The house itself was modest, almost austere, nothing like the grandeur one would expect from the General Xuan Zhen, yet to Xiyan it felt… precious. There were clean floors, a sturdy table, carefully arranged offerings, and a bed that did not belong to the cold ground or abandoned ruins. It reminded her, in an aching, distant way, of the home they once imagined as children before Xianle fell, before everything broke apart.
And yet, even in that fragile peace, something strained quietly between them.
“You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” Mu Qing said one morning, not unkindly, but with that familiar sharpness that never quite left his voice.
Xiyan, who had been trailing half a step behind him as usual, paused. “…I’m not following,” she replied softly. “I’m just… walking in the same direction.”
Mu Qing stopped, turned, and gave her a look that said he did not believe a word of that. “You’ve been ‘walking in the same direction’ for three days.”
“…Oh.” She lowered her gaze, fingers curling into her sleeves. “Then I will walk… a different direction.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, irritation flickering at himself. “You can stay. Just- stop acting like I’ll disappear if you look away.”
Xiyan didn’t answer. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t. And there were other things she couldn’t seem to stop doing either.
Mu Qing discovered it by accident. A bundle of food tucked beneath her bedding. Another is hidden behind a loose panel near the wall. Dried fruits, leftover buns, even offerings she wasn’t supposed to touch, all carefully stored, untouched, as if waiting for a day when nothing else would come.
“Mu Xiyan.”
Her name, spoken sharply, made her freeze. He stood in the doorway, holding one of the hidden bundles in his hand. His expression was tight, but his eyes burned. “What is this?”
Xiyan stared at the floor. “…Food.”
“I can see that.” His voice rose despite himself. “Why are you hiding it?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
“…In case,” she murmured.
“In case of what?” patience growing thin, Mu Qing thought to himself if he had any shortcomings in the way he took care of her. He tried very hard to give his younger sister a house she can stay in and food she can eat, but why does she feel the need to hide things as if she were threatened by things he would do?
“In case there isn’t any later.” Xiyan answered in a matter-of-fact manner.
And somehow, that only made something in Mu Qing snap harder.
“There will always be food here,” he said sharply. “You don’t need to hoard like some—” He cut himself off, but the damage was done.
Xiyan flinched anyway.
“I’m not saying you’re—” He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. “Just stop doing this. It’s unnecessary.”
“…I’ll try,” she said.
But trying was not the same as succeeding.
Over the next few days, it didn’t stop. If anything, she only became more careful and subtle. And when Mu Qing noticed again, his frustration only grew, until his voice carried more often than he intended.
And Xiyan… simply grew quieter.
She stopped walking beside him. Stopped lingering in the same rooms. Stopped reaching for things in front of him at all.
It took Mu Qing longer than it should have to realize that she wasn’t correcting the habit,
She was avoiding him.
—
By the time he sought out Xie Lian, his patience was already worn thin.
“I told her to stop,” Mu Qing said, arms folded tightly. “It’s not a difficult instruction.”
Xie Lian blinked at him gently. “Mn… habits like that usually aren’t about difficulty.”
“She has no reason to do it anymore.”
Xie Lian hesitated, then smiled faintly. “I think… sometimes the body remembers things even when the situation has changed.”
Mu Qing frowned. “That makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” Xie Lian tilted his head. “Even now, I still… pick up scraps that others would throw away. San Lang has told me many times I don’t need to, but—” He laughed softly. “It’s hard to stop.”
Mu Qing went very still.
“…That’s not helpful,” he said flatly.
From the side, Feng Xin let out a short snort. “Of course it’s not. You’re asking the wrong person.”
Mu Qing shot him an annoyed look. “Then enlighten me, General Nan Yang.”
Feng Xin crossed his arms. “You yelled at her, didn’t you?”
“That’s not the point.”
“That is the point.” Feng Xin’s voice sharpened. “You think she’s hoarding because she doesn’t trust you? She’s hoarding because she’s used to not having anything.”
Mu Qing’s jaw tightened. “I provide everything she needs.”
“Yeah, now you do.” Feng Xin stepped forward slightly. “Where were you before?”
The words landed harder than intended.
Silence stretched.
Mu Qing looked away first. “…That’s not fair.”
“No,” Feng Xin said bluntly. “It’s not. But neither is her situation.”
Xie Lian watched them both, concern soft in his expression, but didn’t interrupt.
Feng Xin exhaled, tone easing just slightly. “Look. You don’t fix that kind of habit by ordering it away. You fix it by making her feel like she doesn’t need it anymore.”
“And how, exactly, do I do that?”
Feng Xin shrugged. “You talk to her. Without sounding like you’re scolding a soldier.”
Mu Qing scoffed. “I don’t—”
“You do.”
“…I don’t.”
“You do,” Feng Xin repeated. Then, after a pause, added, “I’ll come with you.”
Mu Qing blinked. “…Why?”
“Because she looks like she’d rather run away again than say anything to you right now.”
“That is an exaggeration.”
“Is it?”
Mu Qing didn’t answer.
-
They found Xiyan in the courtyard that evening, curled into herself at the base of the stone steps, her knees drawn close to her chest as if trying to take up as little space as possible. The fading light cast long shadows across the ground, and she sat right at the edge of them, half-hidden, half-exposed. In her hands was a small bundle, loosely wrapped but held with quiet protectiveness, like something she wasn’t ready to let go of. She wasn’t doing anything in particular, just sitting, watching the ground as if listening to thoughts no one else could hear.
The moment she sensed their presence, she looked up and immediately stiffened.
“…Gege.”
The word came out soft, careful, like she was testing whether she was still allowed to say it. Her eyes lingered on Mu Qing for only a second before shifting away, instinctively cautious. Then her gaze flickered toward the other figure beside him, posture tightening just a fraction more.
“…General Nan Yang.”
Feng Xin waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing the title aside. “Just Feng Xin is fine,” he said, his tone easy, unceremonious.
Xiyan gave a small nod, though the uncertainty didn’t quite leave her expression. She didn’t look away completely, but she didn’t hold his gaze either, caught somewhere in between, unsure what was expected of her.
Behind Feng Xin, Mu Qing opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. The sharp, immediate responses he always had seemed to fail him now, leaving him standing there in uncharacteristic silence, tension drawn tight across his shoulders.
Feng Xin let out a quiet breath through his nose, already recognizing how this would go if left alone. “I’ll handle it,” he muttered, stepping forward without waiting for permission. He jerked his chin slightly. “You— stay there. Don’t interrupt.”
“I was not going to—” Mu Qing started, bristling instantly.
“Stay.”
The single word cut him off cleanly.
Mu Qing’s expression darkened, irritation flashing across his face, but… he didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, arms folding tightly across his chest, as if restraining himself from stepping in.
Feng Xin crouched down in front of Xiyan, lowering himself to her level instead of looming over her. He rested his forearms loosely on his knees, posture relaxed but attentive, like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. For a moment, he just looked at her, not scrutinizing, just… observing.
Then he said, plainly, “You’ve been avoiding him.”
Xiyan’s fingers tightened instinctively around the bundle in her hands. “…No,” she replied, though the denial came too quickly, too quietly.
“Yeah,” Feng Xin said, not unkindly, but without backing off. “You have.”
She hesitated, shoulders drawing in slightly, her gaze dropping to the ground between them. “…I didn’t want to make him angry.”
The honesty of it settled heavily in the air.
Behind them, Mu Qing flinched, subtle but unmistakable, as if struck by something he hadn’t been prepared to hear.
Feng Xin glanced back briefly, catching that reaction, then turned his attention fully to her again. “He’s already angry,” he said bluntly. “Avoiding him just makes it worse.”
Xiyan lowered her head further, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to stop.”
“I know.” His tone softened, not enough to make a show of it, but enough to be felt. “But trying doesn’t erase habits like that.”
She didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, not empty, but heavy with thoughts she was trying to sort through. Then, slowly, carefully, she spoke again.
“…When there’s food,” she said, her voice distant, as if recalling something ingrained too deeply to question, “you take it. Even if you’re not hungry. Because later…” Her fingers tightened again, almost unconsciously. “…there might not be any.”
Feng Xin nodded once, immediate and certain. “Yeah,” he said. “Makes sense.”
Xiyan looked up at him then, startled, her expression flickering with something fragile and uncertain. “…It does?”
“Of course it does.” He shrugged one shoulder, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You survived, didn’t you? That’s not something to be ashamed of.”
Something in her grip loosened.
Behind them, Mu Qing stood utterly still, every word landing whether he wanted it to or not.
“…But gege doesn’t like it,” Xiyan whispered, her voice small again, caught between understanding and fear.
Feng Xin glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s because he’s bad at explaining things.”
“I am not—” Mu Qing snapped immediately.
“Stay quiet,” Feng Xin cut in without even turning, his tone sharp enough to halt him mid-sentence. Then, calmer, he added to Xiyan, “He’s not angry because you’re hoarding. He’s angry because he thinks you don’t trust him to take care of you.”
Xiyan blinked, the words clearly not matching what she had expected. “…That’s not true,” she said softly.
“Then tell him that.”
Her gaze dropped again, uncertainty creeping back in. “…I don’t know how.”
Feng Xin exhaled, pushing himself upright from his crouch, though he didn’t step away. “Then start small,” he said.
“…How?” she asked, looking up at him again.
“Ask for something,” he replied simply. “Something simple. Something you want.”
Xiyan frowned slightly, as if the concept itself was unfamiliar. “Ask…?”
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms loosely. “Not what you think you’re allowed to have. What you actually want.”
She fell quiet after that, her eyes drifting down again, thoughts turning inward. For a long moment, she didn’t speak, and neither of them rushed her. Even Mu Qing, tense as he was, stayed silent. “First…”
Then, she said very softly, “…Can you come visit more often?”
Feng Xin blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”
She nodded once, small but certain. “When you’re here…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “…it feels less tense.”
Behind them, Mu Qing’s expression darkened instantly. “Absolutely not—”
Feng Xin grinned before he could finish. “Sure.”
“Feng Xin—”
“I’ll come by,” Feng Xin continued casually, completely ignoring him. “Make sure you’re not starving yourself or hiding food in the walls.”
“I wasn’t—” Xiyan started, reflexively.
“You were.”
“…Only a little.”
Feng Xin huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I figured.” He gave her a brief, approving nod. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”
For the first time since they had arrived, Xiyan smiled. It wasn’t wide or bright, but it was real. Unforced. Something small and genuine that softened her entire expression.
And Mu Qing, watching it from where he stood, felt something shift in his chest, something complicated, layered, and unfamiliar in its weight. Annoyance, sharp and immediate. Relief, quieter but deeper.
He wouldn’t want to admit but he felt a bit glad that Feng Xin was here, decades away from each other; he had forgotten how to treat his sister with more care and affection. Last time he felt her presence was spent mourning over her death, and words that carry promises: to make it up to her, to hold her close, and cherish her when they meet again. And now, he decided to screw it up by not understanding her situation, so if she decided to have Feng Xin as a company, he’s ready to set aside her grievances, because for once, he felt that he came at the right time.
That maybe—
just maybe—
he didn’t have to figure this out alone.
-
The change in atmosphere didn’t happen all at once; it crept in slowly, in the small, ordinary moments that filled the days after Feng Xin began visiting more often. By the time it became noticeable, it was already established: the house was no longer just Mu Qing’s, and not just Xiyan’s temporary shelter. It had become something… noisier.
And on one particular afternoon, the usually quiet house was once again disturbed when the door slid open without warning.
“I brought food,” Feng Xin announced, already stepping inside like he owned the place.
From within, Mu Qing’s voice came sharp and immediate. “I told you not to come so often.”
“And I told you I’d ignore that,” Feng Xin replied easily, setting the bundle down. “You’re welcome.”
“You are never invited.”
“And yet I’m always here.”
“That is a flaw in my security.”
“That is a flaw in your honesty.”
Xiyan, seated quietly at the table, watched them with growing curiosity as Mu Qing appeared, already frowning, already arguing, but not, notably, pushing Feng Xin out.
“…Should I leave?” she asked softly.
“No,” Mu Qing said at once.
“Yes—no,” Feng Xin corrected. “Stay. This is normal.”
“This is not normal.”
“It is for us.”
Xiyan nodded slowly, as if accepting that explanation for now. She watched as Feng Xin unwrapped the food, pushing it toward her without ceremony.
“Eat,” he said.
And that she did.
“…You didn’t have to come,” Mu Qing muttered after a moment.
“I know.”
“Then why did you?” he spat as he rolled his eyes towards the man.
Feng Xin shrugged. “Because you’d forget to take care of things properly.”
“I do not—”
“You reorganized the same shelf three times yesterday.”
“That was for efficiency.”
“That was because you were nervous.”
Mu Qing went still. “I was not nervous.”
“You were.”
“…Gege,” Xiyan spoke up again, tilting her head slightly. “If he stopped coming… would you mind?”
“I would not,” Mu Qing said immediately.
“That’s a lie,” Feng Xin said just as quickly.
“It is not.”
“It is.”
Xiyan looked between them, then asked, “…Would you stop coming?”
Feng Xin shrugged. “If he actually meant it.”
Mu Qing crossed his arms. “Then leave.”
Feng Xin didn’t move.
“…You didn’t mean that,” he said.
Silence.
Xiyan lowered her gaze, thinking, then nodded to herself, amused.
“…I understand,” she said before taking a bite.
“You do not,” Mu Qing replied.
“I do,” she said. Then, looking up at them both, a teasing smile displayed on her lips, “You like each other.”
Feng Xin choked.
Mu Qing went rigid. “That is incorrect.”
“Very incorrect,” Feng Xin added more loud than intended.
“…Then why are you still here?” she asked.
Neither of them answered.
Xiyan then let out a hearty laugh, seeing a blush both crept into their cheeks, she continued to eat for now.
They were not very convincing.