Work Text:
When a god reached one thousand years of age, a special ceremony was to be held in their honor. To reach such an age wasn’t an impossible feat, but only so many managed to preserve their cultivation and gain a loyal following to maintain their positions in Heaven. It was an achievement in and of itself.
Of course, even with the concept of a birthday, there was favoritism. Not all gods were liked. Some were viewed as obnoxious, causing more problems than they solved, and their presence was generally considered unpleasant. There were those who would rather see another god on that holy pedestal; perhaps even themselves.
A ceremony for such a nuisance of a god was considered a waste of precious time and resources. Nevertheless, one thousand years was one thousand years, and must be acknowledged according to heavenly tradition. At least that was how Heaven was operated ever since its reconstruction following the dethronement of Jun Wu.
There were many gods throughout Heaven—some young, and some very old—but a god’s 1000th birthday was a rare enough occasion to send everyone into a collective excited frenzy. And this time around, the ceremony was going to be held for a high-ranking heavenly official.
The martial god of the Southeast with nearly ten thousand temples dedicated to his palace—General Nan Yang.
The day that would mark a millennium’s worth of his existence was fast approaching. He was admired by many, his accomplishments coveted, his reputation garnering him a great amount of praise and respect. His name was a famous one known throughout the heavenly, mortal, and ghost realms.
Feng Xin was dreading the arrival of his birthday.
Despite his numerous contributions to important missions and his prominence in Heaven, Feng Xin felt like there had been some mistake. A ceremony being held for him alone didn’t feel correct. He disliked all the clamor from the planning and preparations being made. Meetings were held daily between various teams; people were stressed, and emotions were high. Amidst the disorder that typically occurred in Heaven, this was a different kind of chaos, and it was all directed at Feng Xin in the end.
If Feng Xin had his way, he would call off the entire thing. He didn’t like being the center of attention, especially when it wasn’t due to him calling out orders on a battlefield. Teaching archery to his junior officials was one thing—that was a circumstance where watching and listening to him was necessary.
But this... this was all being done in order to celebrate his godly accomplishments; things that were already finished and in the past. It was a celebration of the many decisions he’d made over the centuries, the alliances he’d forged, the battles he’d won. It was a celebration of... him.
Why did he deserve that? What had he done that was so special? He’d only ever accomplished as much as what was expected of any other god. And he hadn’t even done it all without a misstep. He’d fumbled so many opportunities, made grave errors that led to the downfall of an entire nation. Even with the amount of time that had passed, he would never forget the things he'd done wrong.
He wasn’t used to everyone’s eyes on him, judging him, ogling him, regarding his appearance and surely making silent assumptions about him. This was his new normal whether he liked it or not. A mere few weeks were left before the ceremony, and Feng Xin himself was probably the most stressed-out god in Heaven.
Everyone was aware of his anxious state. He was in an especially irritable mood lately, barking orders at his deputies and demanding privacy as he worked through stacks of forms and letters in his study. Even his number of prayers had surged, likely due to his followers’ awareness of his impending 1000th birthday, and were throwing their own celebrations down in the mortal realm.
It wasn’t like Feng Xin wanted to treat his deputies in such a rude manner. It was never his intention to upset anyone, despite rumors of him being constantly angry never seeming to dissipate completely. He just happened to be straightforward and blunt with his words, lacking patience and tending to lash out when he was driven too close to the end of it.
The current state of Heaven didn’t help. People sought him out for every little thing in regard to the upcoming ceremony. If a curse word or several rolled off his tongue, that could only be attributed to his frenzied state. Most considered cursing to indicate hostility. It was quite the inconvenience for Feng Xin, who viewed it as more of an ‘embellishment’ to the points he was trying to make.
He knew most people didn’t see it that way. It was most unfortunate for anyone who happened to be at the receiving end of his endless frustration toward any and everything. It was even more unfortunate that he only realized the weight of his snappy responses and crass language when the person was gone, and the damage was done.
He would apologize the next time he saw one of his junior officials, but it was much too rushed as he stumbled over finding the right words. And it was evident that his reassurance didn’t go very far when he observed everyone quietly moving in his presence, hesitant to approach him, and jumping at the sound of his voice. It was as if they were afraid of setting him off.
They were right to be afraid because as much as Feng Xin wanted to let go of his irritation, his worries about the ceremony, his insecurity... he simply could not. There were many expectations of him; things that needed to be done quickly and accurately to ensure the event would run smoothly. Feng Xin didn’t want to mess anything up. He didn’t want to be the reason things went wrong.
But of course, as if the universe was mocking him, he made yet another mistake.
He couldn’t help it. The doors to his study were opening again, creaking in that noisy way that rang in his ears and caused his blood to boil. His fists clenched around the parchment in one of his hands, a quill in his other. He didn’t even look up before the words surged from his mouth.
“If you’re here to ask about that document, you’re going to have to wait. I haven’t finished the ten other tasks I was given this morning. Will you just let me be, and I’ll call you when it’s done!”
There was no response. Feng Xin registered that it was a bit strange in the fogginess of his mind. Usually, his deputies would acknowledge his complaints with rushed apologies and even quicker departures. This time, the doors merely closed, and Feng Xin’s ears were met with the sound of heavy boots thudding across the wooden floor.
Feng Xin really did look up this time because who would be so reckless as to approach him after hearing his rude tone?
“I don’t think I deserve to be spoken to that way,” the visitor spat back.
Feng Xin’s eyes widened as they landed on the familiar face, the response meeting his ears simultaneously. Mu Qing was glaring daggers at him as he stalked toward Feng Xin’s desk with something draped over his arms—a lumpy bag of some sort that was hardly worth addressing at the moment.
It was one thing for Feng Xin to yell at one of his deputies, and fighting with Mu Qing was just part of a normal routine, but some part of him recognized that it was the wrong move.
“I’m sorry,” Feng Xin said immediately. There was no hesitation, and his voice was laced with every ounce of sincerity that he could muster.
Mu Qing seemed surprised, pausing in his approach with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t every day that Feng Xin offered an apology to Mu Qing. But he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Mu Qing when it came to this. He’d tried his best to avoid inflicting any of his own anxieties onto the other man. Sure, Mu Qing had noticed his recent behavior like everyone else, but Feng Xin had been determined to not let it affect them.
A flurry of emotions crossed Mu Qing’s face. He didn’t say anything.
“Why are you here?” Feng Xin said once the silence became unbearable.
Mu Qing looked at him for a long moment, then he lifted his outstretched arms with the bag draped over them.
“I did tell you I would be coming by sometime this week to check the measurements of your ceremonial robes. We need to make sure they fit properly so I can make the necessary adjustments.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t tell me you forgot.”
When Feng Xin didn’t answer, he sighed and moved to place the long bag down across a low table. Then he turned to face Feng Xin, arms crossed over his chest with his hands inside his sleeves.
“I’m sorry I forgot,” Feng Xin said. “There’s just been a lot on my plate. It slipped my mind.”
“That’s not the issue here,” Mu Qing said.
Sensing a conversation, Feng Xin tried to direct their attention toward the bag on the table. He stood up from his chair.
“Look, I can take a break and try on the robes.”
“That can wait. But this can’t.” Mu Qing stepped closer to the front of his desk. Feng Xin swallowed hard as the other man’s eyes traveled around his face and posture, as if analyzing him. “I know you’ve been stressed over all the preparations, but I feel that something else is bothering you lately. What is it?”
It was surprisingly blunt coming from Mu Qing. They often danced around topics involving emotions, waiting until things clashed together and a fight broke out. They’d been working on communicating better over the last few centuries, but it was still an old habit they hadn’t yet kicked.
“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed,” Feng Xin said. “Everyone needs me, and I’m busy answering prayers and writing shit all day.”
Mu Qing placed his hands on the desk, leaning over it and closer to Feng Xin. His gaze was fixed on Feng Xin, unwavering and determined.
“I know that. Everyone knows that. But I know that it’s something more. You can put on a face for everyone else, but you can’t fool me.”
Of course he couldn’t fool Mu Qing. Feng Xin knew that. The two had a rocky history that spanned back to their days in the Palace of Xianle, after all. They knew each other like the backs of their hands, as familiar to one another as the saber and bow.
Still, Feng Xin hesitated to open up. It suddenly felt so hard to talk that he simply didn’t, instead looking back at Mu Qing as if that might make him change the subject. Mu Qing’s eyes softened, and he reached out a hand to lightly touch Feng Xin’s arm.
“You can tell me how you’re feeling, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing said, his words soft and gentle. “I won’t judge you.”
Warmth prickled over Feng Xin’s skin, easing him a bit.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” Feng Xin said. “This is just something I need to get through, and then it’ll be done.”
That was all this ceremony was—something to get through. It was just a heavenly tradition. Nothing more, and nothing less.
“I know the planning is stressful, but it should be a fun occasion. Are you not at least looking forward to it?”
“There’s just so many expectations. A lot of things are supposed to happen. It just seems like too much.”
“It can’t be much more frightening of an experience than our wedding.”
Mu Qing ran his hand up along Feng Xin’s sleeve, and Feng Xin automatically lifted his own hand to place it over Mu Qing’s. There was a clink of metal from their matching rings bumping together. The sound stirred something in Feng Xin’s heart. Something laced in comfort, warm and inviting, reminding him of one of the most important things he had.
Sometimes, Feng Xin couldn’t believe he’d managed to obtain something so precious.
“That was so long ago,” Feng Xin said. “I haven’t been this nervous since then.”
Mu Qing smiled fondly, as if he were recalling a fun memory. “You were very nervous. I remember. It’s only been a century since then. That’s not very long.” His gaze sharpened, a more serious expression taking over again. “And my point still stands. This is meant to be a joyful occasion.”
“But that was to celebrate us. Our love. This... this puts all the attention on me alone. Everyone wishes to gather to acknowledge all that I’ve done. Why should I receive that?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“I don’t deserve it. What have I done that other gods haven’t? I’ve only accomplished what’s expected of me.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Mu Qing said incredulously. “Feng Xin, do you seriously believe your achievements are insignificant?”
“Are they really so important that they need to be celebrated throughout Heaven?” Feng Xin said. “And all because I reached a certain age.”
“One thousand years of age. Not every god makes it to that age. They either get killed or lose their cultivation and return to being mortal. It isn’t easy to make it this far.”
Feng Xin still felt apprehensive about the whole thing. He considered opening his mouth to counter his point by insisting that age alone didn’t increase someone’s worth. Mu Qing took one look at Feng Xin’s face, and whatever he saw there made him close his eyes and breathe in deeply before exhaling heavily.
“Need I remind you of your own history?” Mu Qing said. “Becoming a bodyguard to His Highness at such a young age was not a small feat. Xie Lian considered you important enough to keep you by his side even after he ascended.”
“That may be so, but I still fucked it all up. Things weren’t always perfect. We all suffered when things went to shit. I have to take some of the blame for that.”
Mu Qing’s eyes widened. “Is that what this is about? We’ve talked about this many times before. What happened to Xianle was beyond anything we could prevent. We did what we could to keep things afloat, but we couldn’t fix what was broken beyond repair.”
Some of the weight lifted from Feng Xin’s shoulders, but Mu Qing’s words weren’t enough to heal his scars completely. That kind of trauma would never fully dissipate no matter how much time passed, and no matter how many reassurances were offered his way.
Feng Xin stared down at the sleek wooden surface of his desk, imagining a hole being burned into it. He supposed if he gathered enough spiritual energy and directed it properly, he could mar its surface. At least it would distract him from his racing thoughts.
A hand on his face brought him back into the present moment, and he found himself looking up into obsidian eyes wrinkled in concern.
“I know you will never fully move on from that dark time. But I need you to remember that you have someone right in front of you who understands everything that you are feeling right now. I have made enough peace with my own actions in order to properly function. My only hope is that you will allow yourself as much grace.”
“I can... try,” Feng Xin said. “I’m just not sure how I feel about being made a spectacle to be praised.”
“You are valuable, Feng Xin. If this is getting to a point where I have to be the one to tell you this, then I fear you are in need of some deep reflection.”
Feng Xin couldn’t argue with that logic. He truly needed to sit down and consider the positive occurrences over his lifetime, but he struggled with simmering in his emotions for long periods of time. It made him feel vulnerable; exposed in a way that made him anxious.
Mu Qing’s hand on his cheek was something that anchored him in such a moment of vulnerability, however. He knew that even if he were to fall, Mu Qing would be there to catch him.
“I could also remind you that it was you who brought us together,” Mu Qing said. “We’re both bad at baring our feelings, but I can admit that I would have never been the one to confess being in love first.”
“That’s because you’re the only thing I’ve ever been so sure about,” Feng Xin said a bit too easily.
“Oh? Is that so?”
Mu Qing sounded amused, a hint of smugness in his tone. But there was also something shy in his expression, and he glanced away as pink bloomed across his cheeks. Feng Xin didn’t get a chance to address his obvious shyness, however, because Mu Qing chose to pull away from him at that moment, black robes trailing behind him as he moved toward the table with the long bag on top.
“Why don’t we have you try on your ceremonial robes?” Mu Qing said, pulling the flaps of the bag apart. “Come here and let me dress you.”
Feng Xin shook away whatever nerves were rooting him to the spot behind his desk and made his way around it. Mu Qing instructed him to remove the robes he was currently wearing, and once he’d stripped down to his inner layers, only then did Mu Qing approach him with the first robe.
Mu Qing worked slowly, his dexterous fingers placing the fabric across Feng Xin’s body in a precise, calculated manner. His hands were clearly familiar with this fabric, and he seemed highly focused on making sure the knots were secure and that the hems draped properly. Feng Xin tried to look down at himself, but he couldn’t fully see how the robes appeared on his body from his limited angle. That, and Mu Qing would swat his hands away whenever he offered to help lay them, insisting that it was his responsibility to dress his husband now as well as for the ceremony.
It wasn’t Feng Xin’s first time seeing his ceremonial robes, but this was the closest they’d ever been to being finished, and he could hardly contain his curiosity. Mu Qing finished putting on his last layer, took a step back to assess his work, and then led Feng Xin over to a large floor-length mirror propped near the far wall of the room.
When Feng Xin stepped in front of it, he felt his breath catch in his lungs. He stared at his reflection, entranced by the crimson silk swathing his form. Embellishments of gold and orange weaved together, creating an elegant blend of warm colors. He couldn’t help moving closer to the glass to examine the various small golden suns woven into the red material. His eyes trailed a bit higher to the guan holding his bun in place, and that was when he noticed its gold metal linking together intricately with the shape of a sun at its center.
Feng Xin had never worn all of the pieces together, and this was his first time seeing the result of Mu Qing’s finely detailed handiwork.
He looked radiant. Beautiful, even.
Feng Xin was still admiring all the details when he noticed another shape embroidered onto the lapel across his chest. Beside the largest golden-threaded sun was a crescent moon in deep blue. Feng Xin felt his eyes starting to sting, and when he met Mu Qing’s equally teary gaze in the mirror, he smiled.
Mu Qing had been standing quietly behind him, only speaking when he noticed Feng Xin’s attention.
“My beautiful husband. My wonderful sun who shines as bright as the stars.”
Feng Xin turned around to cup Mu Qing’s face and wipe away his tears.
“Your sun who would be nothing without his moon,” Feng Xin said.
Mu Qing’s eyes lingered on Feng Xin’s, a small smile forming on his own lips. Feng Xin leaned forward to kiss him, no longer feeling a need to share words. The upcoming ceremony didn’t feel like much of a threat anymore, his fears having been quelled. But there was no need to voice as much.
A millennium of worth, and a millennium of words, shared in a single press of lips, a silent message that only they could understand.