Work Text:
Mu Qing knocked twice on the rickety door, half-expecting the wood to splinter beneath his knuckles. He waited several minutes but there was no answer. As he turned to leave, wondering again what he was even doing there, he heard movement inside the little house. Of course he was being ignored. He reached for the door latch and found it unlocked, so with a steadying breath he entered.
The person seated at the table was not the one he had been expecting. Quan Yizhen, face and hands still bandaged and hair a frazzled mess, turned to give him a wary look, which Mu Qing returned. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.
There was something small and dark sitting on a white cloth on the table in front of Quan Yizhen, but Mu Qing couldn’t tell what it was from the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he finally asked, tone blunt and forbidding.
“I’m waiting for Xie-xiong.”
Mu Qing winced. “Does he know you call him that?”
“He suggested it,” Quan Yizhen answered simply.
He tried not to imagine that conversation as he stepped properly into Xie Lian’s little house on Mount Taicang. He glanced again at the object sitting on the cloth and felt a shiver of disgust when he realized it was a cursed shackle.
“You shouldn’t have that thing sitting out,” he said, voice stiff as his spine.
“But I need Xie-xiong to look at it,” Quan Yizhen replied, expression taking on the slightest hint of desperation.
Mu Qing gestured around the quiet little room. “It can wait until he gets back. Put it away.”
“Do you think it looks strange?” Quan Yizhen asked, clearly not listening. “I think the color might have changed or something.” When Mu Qing only stared at him, he went on uncertainly but insistently, “Or, maybe not the color, the energy or something?”
“What are you even talking about…” he muttered, not wanting to know. “Just save it for when His Highness gets back. Actually, you shouldn’t even be in here if he’s not here. Did he not lock the door again?”
“He says he doesn’t have anything worth stealing.”
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that.
“Why are you here?” Quan Yizhen asked then.
“That’s not any of your business,” Mu Qing snapped. “Maybe I just came by to make sure the place hasn’t burned down yet. The fire would probably spread all the way to our camp on top of the mountain. Now come on, pack that thing up and—”
“Stop calling it that,” Quan Yizhen nearly shouted. “My shixiong’s soul is in there.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mu Qing asked, out of sheer annoyance.
Quan Yizhen’s eyes widened in alarm. “It has to be!” he cried, with the manner of someone who would go straight into hell to get that soul back. “Can you check? Can you make sure?!”
He’d brought this on himself. With a sigh, Mu Qing approached the shackle with extreme distaste. The first thing he noticed was all the blood, an almost absurd amount of it. “It’s there,” he said, seeing the way Quan Yizhen’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Where’s the rest of him?” he asked.
“I have his— his ashes,” Quan Yizhen mumbled, eyes lowered. “The Rain Master helped me with that. And Xie-xiong’s helping me with the shackle, even though he has his own worries about Crimson Rain.”
Mu Qing raised his eyebrows. It looked like Yin Yu, this nobody, this embarrassment, was worth something to someone. To a kid off the streets that was told he was family but was always treated like he was ‘other.’ “I never cared much for your shixiong,” he said.
Quan Yizhen clenched his jaw, his fists. “A lot of people don’t,” he ground out.
“Why do you care about him?” It seemed like Quan Yizhen was the one who should have had the most grievances against him.
“Because he’s strong,” Quan Yizhen answered immediately. “And kind, and beautiful. He works hard and always does the right thing. He listened to me, he looked after me.”
Mu Qing fought the sneer that wanted to form on his lips. “Has he done any of that lately?” he muttered.
“No, because he’s dead,” Quan Yizhen replied, looking at Mu Qing like he was a fool.
“I meant the last time you saw him,” Mu Qing countered, emphasizing his words sarcastically.
“It doesn’t matter,” Quan Yizhen said. “He was all of those things once and that doesn’t change.”
He felt an irrational surge of anger at those words. “What if he’s none of those things ever again?”
“Then I’ll love him the way he is now.”
Mu Qing stared at Quan Yizhen. This was the brat who beat up his own followers, never showed up for meetings, couldn’t be contacted through the communication array, slept all day, and only cared about a good fight. He mustered up the worst insult he could think of: “You sound like Hua Cheng.”
Xie Lian entered the cottage at that moment, and with a ridiculous chill up his spine Mu Qing actually prayed that he hadn’t heard any of that.
Their eyes met and he threw Xie Lian an unpleasant smile as he nodded in Quan Yizhen’s direction. “Collecting more strays?” he asked.
“Everyone’s welcome here,” Xie Lian replied with a peaceful look on his face as he set his heavy basket down. “But Mu Qing, you really shouldn’t call yourself that just because your palace hasn’t been reconstructed yet.”
Quan Yizhen interrupted anxiously before Mu Qing could respond. “Xie-xiong, can you look at Shixiong’s cursed shackle? Does it look strange to you?”
Did his word not count for anything here, Mu Qing wondered bitterly.
But Xie Lian forced a smile and came over to the table. He observed the cursed shackle for a moment and Mu Qing looked with disapproval at the lines of fatigue that showed on his face.
“No, Yizhen, it’s fine,” Xie Lian assured him, voice soft, “there’s nothing wrong. You might just be giving it too much spiritual power.”
“I’m not good at controlling that,” Quan Yizhen admitted without any shame or embarrassment.
Xie Lian nodded. “It takes practice. You have to think of that shackle as something delicate, like a baby bird.” He laughed lightly. “Though that might seem strange, considering.”
“I’ll try,” Quan Yizhen replied, nodding as if he understood any of that. “Shixiong was always strong, so I thought more spiritual power would be better.”
The smile Xie Lian gave him was a little crooked. “It’s still best to be gentle for now.” He folded the cloth back around the shackle and handed it to Quan Yizhen. “These things take patience.”
Quan Yizhen put the bundle carefully into the pouch at his waist without another word.
“Would you like to stay for a meal?” Xie Lian asked, tone perfectly innocent as he headed to a corner of the room and got out a knife and some vegetables.
Shaking his head frantically, Quan Yizhen quickly made his way toward the door. “I’m not hungry, Xie-xiong.” As he passed Mu Qing, he threw him a look, like he either wanted to warn him or perhaps save him, but something about his expression must have changed his mind. He simply nodded at him before he made his escape.
Xie Lian looked towards the door. “Oh, Mu Qing,” he said, affecting surprise, “you’re still here?”
He fought the eye roll. He wasn’t going to scare him away that easily. “How’d you get mixed up with those two?” he asked, gesturing behind.
“Yin Yu is a friend,” Xie Lian replied with a placid smile. “So is Yizhen. I’d like to help them if I can.”
Those two were probably beyond help, Mu Qing thought, but he held his tongue. “You think he can do it?”
Xie Lian cut vegetables thoughtfully for a moment. “He’s very determined, and that’s something that’s served him well. I want to believe that he can do it.”
Of course it was one thing to bring Yin Yu’s spirit back. How things went from there was another story and neither of them chose to clarify.
Mu Qing didn’t stay long enough to see how the meal turned out. Xie Lian gave him a knowing look as he made an excuse. The kindness only grated a little.
~
He started noticing Quan Yizhen around the heavens’ temporary settlement more often after that, though he didn’t know if it was because he was suddenly more aware of him. Quan Yizhen didn’t say or do much, looking a little lost among the cramped, busy tents. Mu Qing himself was too busy to bother with him until Feng Xin brought it up.
“Have you taken Qi Ying on as an apprentice or something?” he asked.
Mu Qing stared at him. “A what?”
“He’s been following you around, hasn’t he? I thought maybe you’d taken him under your wing or something.”
“Why would I do that?” Mu Qing asked, horrified by the idea.
“I wondered that myself. Didn’t seem like something you’d do. So why is he following you?”
~
“Xie-xiong said I should talk to you,” Quan Yizhen explained when Mu Qing confronted him near his small tent, set away from the commotion of the main hub. “He said you were worried about whether Shixiong and I would be able to make up, once he’s back.”
Mu Qing didn’t reply. He was going to kill Xie Lian.
“He said you might be able to understand— what happened between us,” Quan Yizhen went on. “Me and my shixiong, I mean.”
“Why would I understand that?” Mu Qing snapped. “You think I know or care what happened between you two?”
“So you weren’t worried?” Quan Yizhen asked, unfazed.
“‘Worried’ is a strong word,” Mu Qing ground out. “I wondered. Out loud. Which was a mistake.”
“Why do you think my shixiong hates me?” Quan Yizhen pressed him, not getting the hint.
This was really testing his patience. “What does your Xie-xiong think about that?”
“He said he’s too personally involved to comment.”
What did that mean? “And what about you? Are you too personally involved? Why do you think he hates you?”
Quan Yizhen actually took the time to consider his answer. Mu Qing watched him, arms crossed. This ought to be good.
“I didn’t support him the way I should have,” he finally said, voice soft with regret. “He was struggling, he hated it there, and I was just doing my own thing. I left his side because I became a god and they all told me I had to leave him.” He clenched his fists. “I never should have left him. I hardly ever got to see him anymore, and when I did he was like a different person. So he—”
“Your shixiong hates you because you made a fool out of him,” Mu Qing said, interrupting the disturbingly familiar train of thought, furious at the reminder, furious with himself for being reminded. “You became a god and surpassed him, and instead of fighting back he gave up. He blamed you for his failures and hated you so he wouldn’t have to hate himself.”
Quan Yizhen clutched the pouch that hung at his waist. His wide eyes had gone distant as he took those words in. He looked devastated and Mu Qing felt like he had just kicked a puppy. Then Quan Yizhen seemed to come to a decision and he threw himself at Mu Qing, fists first.
Caught off guard, Mu Qing took one hard hit to the face. “What, you think I’m wrong?!” he shouted furiously, lunging forward before he could be struck again. He was able to fend off the rest of Quan Yizhen’s strikes but it was a near thing; he was furious and hard to predict. They grappled for a while before several gods came rushing over to break it up.
“Woah, hey!” Feng Xin shouted, pulling Quan Yizhen off of Mu Qing. “Qi Ying, what are you doing?!” Quan Yizhen hadn’t made a sound and didn’t reply or lash out at him now. “What happened?!” Feng Xin asked, turning to Mu Qing.
Mu Qing huffed out a sigh, ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth, checking for blood. “He couldn’t handle the truth, apparently.”
Quan Yizhen was still glaring at Mu Qing, angry tears in his eyes, but he let Feng Xin pull him away, gently reprimanding him for fighting while he was still injured.
Mu Qing headed back to his temporary palace. He had more important things to deal with.
~
He tried not to feel guilty about it. As far as he knew, that was Yin Yu’s reason, and Quan Yizhen had asked. He had just corrected the wrong idea he’d had about who was to blame.
He didn’t see any sign of Quan Yizhen for days after but he still had to focus on damage control anyway; the mortal realm’s faith had been shaken by the Heavenly Emperor’s fall and every official needed to assure their followers that they could still be counted on. Though maybe there was one god who didn’t have that particular problem; he just needed that one faithful believer to come back already. When Mu Qing eventually found himself with some free time he ended up back at Xie Lian’s cottage where he was working in the garden. It still didn’t look like much, but he seemed pleased with it.
Xie Lian smiled at him as he wiped his face, spreading dirt across his cheek. “Mu Qing, I’m glad you’re here!” he said. (Mu Qing still felt rankled by that, not sure if Xie Lian meant it but wanting him to and hating that he wanted it.) “Can you go turn that soil at the end of the row for me?”
Without a word, he grabbed a shovel and headed to the edge of the plot.
From the corner of his eye he noticed Quan Yizhen training in the yard but he ignored him, focusing on his work. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps approaching. He stood to his full height and stuck the blade of the shovel into the ground, looking imperiously at Quan Yizhen. “If you want to try hitting me again, good luck,” he said. “I’m prepared this time.”
Quan Yizhen just looked at him, face solemn. “I thought about what you said, about my shixiong. One of the last things he said was that he couldn’t compare to me, but that was okay, because he wanted to earn what was his on his own.” He squared his shoulders as he went on. “So I think you’re wrong. About why he hates me.”
Mu Qing shrugged, went back to turning the soil. “Fine. You think I care about understanding your shixiong?”
Xie Lian came over then, looking vaguely anxious. “Is everything all right, you two?”
“Sure,” Mu Qing replied with false brightness, leaning on the shovel’s handle. “Qi Ying’s been thinking. Maybe he should get a prize or something.”
Quan Yizhen narrowed his eyes at him, looking like he was pretty sure that wasn’t praise.
Xie Lian suppressed a smile and shook his head, but the amusement and fondness was there.
Feeling inexplicably generous, Mu Qing nodded at Quan Yizhen. “It looks like you’ve warmed up. How do those burns feel? You think you could handle a spar?”
That made Quan Yizhen perk up slightly, though his overall attitude was still wary. He followed Mu Qing back to the yard anyway, watching him intently. The undivided attention sent a prickling sensation up Mu Qing’s spine that made him smile grimly despite himself.
Quan Yizhen was fast, which Mu Qing knew, but it was another thing to actually experience it. It kept him on his guard and forced him to focus. And he was strong, almost ridiculously so, but he was also reckless. It made him hard to counter until Mu Qing realized that he fell for feints, almost every time. That’s what came of being too honest and trusting. He wasn’t a match for Mu Qing, the centuries’ worth of experience between them glaringly obvious, but the session was surprisingly satisfying.
Xie Lian had of course been watching the entire time. His expression was hard to read, the mask of a pleasant smile firmly in place as he applauded them both. But something about him seemed unspeakably lonely as he pushed away from the fence. “Well done, both of you,” he said cheerfully. “I hope you’re not too tired now to help, there’s still a lot of work to do in the garden.”
~
“I didn’t mean to make a fool out of him,” Quan Yizhen mumbled as he placed an armload of stones down and started adding them to the growing wall around the yard. Xie Lian had unearthed countless stones as he cleared this little space for himself on the mountain, and now they had to be put to good use.
Mu Qing sighed, working on his own stretch of fence. “Are we still talking about this?”
“You’re the one who said my shixiong gave up,” Quan Yizhen replied, voice accusing.
“Didn’t he?” Mu Qing shot back. “And then his worshipers went to you instead. It doesn’t matter if you meant to do it or not, it still affected him.” He set another heavy stone at the base of the wall, shifted it slightly to make it secure. “Anyway, this kind of thing builds up over time. It reaches a point where nothing you do can make it right.”
Quan Yizhen sat down, gaze distant. “What if I talk to him when he comes back?”
“There’s a pretty good chance that he’s not going to want to talk to you.”
“But then how can I fix it?”
Mu Qing gave him a long look. “You probably can’t.” He didn’t let Quan Yizhen’s horrified face stop him from going on. “And the fact that you’re bringing him back is only going to make it worse.”
His horrified expression turned confused. “But it’s not like he wanted to die. Wouldn’t he want to come back?”
“That’s why I said that you bringing him back is a problem,” Mu Qing said, shaking his head. “You think he wants to owe you something like that?”
“He doesn’t owe me anything,” Quan Yizhen cried, leaping to his feet. “He saved me. He helped me so many times. This is the least I can do.” His voice grew tight. “I have to make things right. It’s my fault he died.”
Mu Qing felt the anger surge under his skin. “What, you mean you forced him to break into your palace and confront Jun Wu like that? You forced him to start a fight he knew he would lose? Is that what you’re saying?”
Quan Yizhen clenched his fists. “If I had been stronger—”
“Oh please. And then the two of you would have held hands and defeated the Heavenly Emperor with the power of love and friendship?” He was almost shouting now, but he didn’t care. “Your shixiong made a choice. It was a stupid choice, but he made it himself.” He tossed a pebble against the wall, let out a frustrated sigh as Quan Yizhen stared at him. “His pride’s already a fragile thing,” he muttered. “If you want to talk to him again, you’d better think a little harder about how he feels.”
They finished with the rocks in silence, then went to help Xie Lian with weeding on the other side of the yard.
~
“Thank you, both of you, for your help today,” Xie Lian said as they entered the shadowy cottage that evening. He lit a lamp and headed to his tiny kitchen. “Let me make you something to eat.”
Mu Qing took him by the shoulders and steered him away from the counter and over to the table on the other side of the room. “Qi Ying and I will take care of that,” he said, pushing him into a chair. “We need it to be edible. Go sort your trash or something.”
Xie Lian shook his head with a good-natured smile and relaxed in the chair, lighting another lamp and pulling a small book from a shelf.
To Mu Qing’s shock, Quan Yizhen had already found the rice and was washing it in the kitchen’s little sink. He kept one eye on him to make sure there were no surprises as he turned his attention to the rest of the meal, gathering meat and vegetables.
“I was thinking more about Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen said as he lit the stove, shattering Mu Qing’s hopes that they could get through the rest of the evening without mentioning Yin Yu. “I know he hates me, and he probably hates himself, but I don’t think that’s all he’s feeling.” He crouched down to get a closer look at the flame. “It’s more complicated, it’s like the way you look at Xie-xiong sometimes.” He glanced up at Mu Qing. “I’ve seen him look at me like that.”
Mu Qing didn’t respond to that, only threw Quan Yizhen a glare and started chopping the meat more aggressively.
Not noticing, Quan Yizhen went on. “I don’t think he wants to let go of what we used to have any more than I do. He didn’t have to protect me when I was stuck as that wobbly doll, he didn’t have to help me deal with those resentful spirits from the volcano.” Seeming satisfied with the strength of the flame, he went to fill the water kettle. “He said that just because he hated me didn’t mean he wanted to hurt me, but those times were more than just making sure I didn’t get hurt.” He opened a cupboard, then called across the room, “Xie-xiong, is the tea not here?”
Xie Lian looked up. “I moved it,” he said apologetically. “It’s in the container on the counter, just in front of you.”
“And I think that goes all the way back to when we were still in the heavens together,” Quan Yizhen went on, as if he hadn’t interrupted himself, unconcerned with Mu Qing’s lack of response. “Things were changing, he was starting to hate me, but… he didn’t really want to let go. There just wasn’t a good choice.”
Without a word, Mu Qing slid the chopped meat and vegetables into the hot pan, giving it a few firm shakes. After the hissing of the oil subsided he said, “So he’s a coward.”
“He isn’t!” Quan Yizhen cried. “He stood up to the Heavenly Emperor, he’s not a coward!”
“I mean he’s an emotional coward. Happens to the best of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he made sure not to look in Xie Lian’s direction, “that sometimes it’s just too hard to tell someone the truth.”
Quan Yizhen took the whistling kettle from the stove and filled the chipped teapot, looking thoughtful. “…My shixiong couldn’t tell me how upset he was with me until it was too late.”
“Probably,” Mu Qing replied simply.
“But I don’t think it’s because he was a coward. It’s because he wanted to be kind.”
Mu Qing clicked his tongue. “Misguided kindness.”
“Maybe,” Quan Yizhen agreed, voice soft. “Mu-xiong is like that sometimes too.” Going dangerously still, all that Mu Qing could muster was a withering glare, but it had absolutely no effect on Quan Yizhen. “Especially around Xie-xiong and General Nan Yang,” he went on, oblivious. “You give them a hard time, but it’s because you care about them.”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Mu Qing said, voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm and loathing, “you figured it out.”
“It wasn’t hard,” Quan Yizhen replied, lifting the lid to check on the rice.
“Then save the brain power for figuring out how to talk to your shixiong,” Mu Qing grumbled, putting a hand out to push Quan Yizhen’s head down, playfully but just barely, until he flailed with protest. “That’s for calling me Mu-xiong,” he said when Quan Yizhen threw him an injured pout.
There was an awkward silence in the tiny kitchen after that, while the food cooked and they tried to stay out of each other’s way.
“Let me help you serve that,” Xie Lian said once the food was ready, appearing suddenly with his pleasant smile, bowls in hand. “Yizhen, will you pour the tea?”
Mu Qing allowed the diversion, the grace Xie Lian offered him, and as the three of them sat down for a pleasant meal, he found himself hoping that Yin Yu would see the effort that Quan Yizhen was making and do the same for him.
~
“Has he been up there all morning?” Feng Xin asked, peering up into the leafy branches.
“Yes,” Mu Qing replied. “And I’m telling you, you should just give up.”
He knew that wouldn’t work, but he’d said it anyway. He let out a weary sigh as he saw Feng Xin put his hands on his hips and frown up at the tree.
“Qi Ying!” he bellowed. “Come down from there! You’re all healed up, so it’s time you helped out a little!”
The branches rustled slightly as Quan Yizhen turned his back to them.
Arms crossed, Mu Qing threw Feng Xin a look that asked him what exactly he had been expecting.
Not to be deterred, Feng Xin tried again, voice cajoling. “Come on, Qi Ying! I bet your shixiong would be proud of you for helping with the rebuilding of the Heavenly Capital.”
“Are you kidding?” Mu Qing blurted out. “His shixiong would probably be glad to know the place burned to ash!”
Feng Xin gave him a confounded glance. His brow furrowed as he considered this. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said slowly. “Should we really be letting another heavenly official get involved with the ghost realm this way? Seems like a bad influence on Qi Ying.”
Mu Qing stared at him. Was he hearing himself? “Listen,” he said, “whether we like it or not, once Hua Cheng is back we’re going to need the ghost realm as allies.” He shrugged. “So we might as well start here. Let me try talking to him.” When all he got was a doubtful look from Feng Xin, he started shoving him away.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he muttered. “Don’t know how you’re going to talk him into anything, but good luck, I guess.”
Mu Qing waited until Feng Xin was completely out of sight, then settled down at the base of the tree, resting back against its trunk. “All right, he’s gone,” he called up. “You can relax.”
A moment passed before Quan Yizhen leapt down from the high branches. He didn’t sit down until Mu Qing offered him some freshly-baked pastries from the temporary kitchens. They ate together for a while in silence. The sun was hot but in the shade of the trees it was comfortable.
“Don’t listen to Feng Xin,” Mu Qing said eventually. “I doubt your shixiong would fall for anything so performative. It wouldn’t hurt to at least think about the impression you give others though. Even if you don’t care about what they think.” He couldn’t help but add a bit bitterly, “Must be nice.”
“It’s not that I don’t care,” Quan Yizhen replied, having the nerve to sound annoyed. “I just don’t want to be someone I’m not. Doing that made Shixiong so unhappy.” He let out a long sigh. “And it confused me and made him resent me.”
“Welcome to the real world.”
“I hate it.”
“Well, what’s your alternative?” Mu Qing asked carelessly.
Quan Yizhen’s hand unconsciously went to the pouch at his waist. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Good luck with that,” Mu Qing muttered, only to realize he’d half-meant it.
~
He hadn’t realized that he’d fallen asleep until he was being startled awake by Feng Xin’s unnecessarily loud voice. “Maybe we don’t have to worry about the ghost realm,” he was saying, tone full of disapproval. “You’re the bad influence here.”
Mu Qing looked around blearily to find that Quan Yizhen had also fallen asleep; his head was resting lightly on his shoulder. No wonder Feng Xin had been able to sneak up on them. He shoved him awake and Quan Yizhen yawned, stretched, and blinked sulkily up at Feng Xin.
“Don’t give me that look,” Feng Xin said, voice stern. Mu Qing had to stifle a laugh. “There’s still a lot of work to do up there.”
“Leave him alone,” Mu Qing said with a sigh. “He’s been helping out His Highness most days. It’s better for both of them to stay away from the capital.”
Feng Xin was still looking down at them both like a disappointed father, but Mu Qing could tell that he was wavering. Eventually he mumbled, “You could have just told me that he was helping out His Highness in the first place.”
Mu Qing shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Instead of replying, Feng Xin sat down on Mu Qing’s other side, nudging him slightly aside. He stretched out his legs and put his arms behind his head as he got comfortable.
“You’re sitting on my cloak,” Mu Qing muttered, nudging him back roughly.
“Yeah, I know,” Feng Xin replied, not budging.
Quan Yizhen meanwhile had fallen back asleep, his head once again resting on Mu Qing’s shoulder.
Resigned, Mu Qing closed his eyes, listened to the breeze in the leaves and the sounds of his companions’ steady breathing.
Xie Lian came back from a long, solitary walk on the mountain to find the three of them there, fast asleep. He couldn’t help but laugh. Then he clapped his hands twice, loudly, startling them all awake. Feng Xin looked a bit embarrassed, Mu Qing was seething, and Quan Yizhen blinked in confusion as he looked around.
“Since you’re all so well-rested now,” Xie Lian said brightly, “you can help me with turning the compost piles!”
~
“Mu-xiong!” Quan Yizhen called out as Mu Qing was leaving his newly-constructed palace. He ground his teeth, glad that there had been no one around to hear that.
“No,” he said, reflexively, as Quan Yizhen rushed to his side.
“Can you help me with something?” he asked anyway, keeping pace as Mu Qing walked away.
“What is it.”
“You’re good with handcrafts, right? I saw what you did with Xie-xiong’s spiritual weapon.”
“Get to the point.”
“You know those braided bracelets? The ones with the charms woven into them? Can you help me make one? I don’t want to just buy one.”
Mu Qing had seen them. The knotwork could be complicated, but he had a general idea of how they went together. “What do you want to make one of those for?” he asked, tone disinterested but knowing that he was stuck with another project now.
“I heard that sometimes those who die violent deaths come back as ghosts bearing the wounds that killed them,” Quan Yizhen said, voice soft with grief. “So I wanted to make something for Shixiong in case, when he comes back, he wants to cover his wrist.”
He couldn’t help but imagine how it must have felt to actually die that way. He felt the chill up his spine, tried not to think of the very faint scar he still had on his wrist from his own close call. “I still think you’re being too optimistic,” he said. After all, Yin Yu was still just ashes and a soul trapped in a shackle. And who could say if he’d be willing to accept anything at all from Quan Yizhen when (or if) the time ever came?
Quan Yizhen just shifted restlessly, looking stubborn and defiant.
Mu Qing sighed. “Let me see what thread you got.” Because he had undoubtedly done that already. “If it’s poor quality it’ll just make things worse.”
It was the best stuff he’d ever seen; midnight blue silk with a faint shine to it, perfectly smooth and not too thick. He gave Quan Yizhen a long, considering look. “Let’s head back to your palace,” he said. “I don’t want people seeing us here.”
“Can we go to Xie-xiong’s house instead? I like it better there.”
Somehow he wasn’t surprised.
~
Mu Qing was not a patient teacher. Showing someone how to do something once should be good enough. But Quan Yizhen was still struggling after several demonstrations.
“What’s wrong, you got it right a second ago,” Mu Qing ground out. He would never understand how someone with such control in a fight could be so clumsy with their hands.
“I don’t know what I did!” Quan Yizhen cried, elbows on the table, face red with frustration. He was stubborn and he was going to get it right, but they might just kill each other over it first.
Impatient, and without much choice, Mu Qing got behind Quan Yizhen’s chair and reached around him to point at the threads in his hands. “This one goes under,” he said, grabbing Quan Yizhen’s hand to move it correctly, “then around. And don’t pull it so tight,” he added, “you’re twisting it.”
“But it’ll fall apart!” Quan Yizhen protested.
“No, it won’t. Don’t be so afraid of it.”
“I’m not afraid of it,” Quan Yizhen grumbled, repeating the step on his own as Mu Qing pulled away, though he still leaned close to watch him.
He was just considering the way Quan Yizhen seemed to be holding too tight to the idea of Yin Yu as well when he heard a soft laugh from the cottage doorway. He threw Xie Lian a dangerous look, but when all he got was a fond smile in return, he just rolled his eyes. “Not so tight,” he muttered again to Quan Yizhen, who nodded and loosened his grip.
~
Hua Cheng made his return with at least as much drama as everyone expected. And he helped Quan Yizhen with far less fuss than anyone expected.
Mu Qing saw very little of either Xie Lian or Quan Yizhen in the following months. But when he did see Xie Lian, Hua Cheng was always by his side, and when he saw Quan Yizhen, he always had a soul lantern in hand. They both had the one they’d been waiting for back, and Mu Qing decided to treat it as a relief from exhausting company. Feng Xin had other ideas though, and kept inviting him to see shows with him in both the heavenly and mortal realms. Eventually Mu Qing gave in. If Feng Xin was that desperate for company, he supposed he could indulge him.
Seasons passed and it seemed like Quan Yizhen would be carrying that lantern around forever. Cruel rumors spread that Yin Yu’s soul had moved on or had been shattered beyond repair; that his ghost was unwilling to return and face his former shidi; that Quan Yizhen was simply incapable of successfully nurturing a soul.
Mu Qing ignored most of the rumors, but when he heard that Quan Yizhen was neglecting his health and his duties for the sake of an empty soul lantern, he decided that he had to check on him.
To his vague annoyance, Quan Yizhen seemed the same as ever. He looked healthy and strong, and his generally unreadable expression even brightened a bit when he saw Mu Qing at his palace entrance and invited him in for tea.
When Mu Qing asked about his worshipers, Quan Yizhen just shook his head. “It’s fine. They’re still giving me more offerings than I need, and I still fight the strong monsters when I find them.” He was quiet for a moment. “I might have taken this from Shixiong without meaning to, but I’m not going to lose it that easily. I have to protect it for both of us.”
Mu Qing glanced at the soul lantern, sitting on the little table by Quan Yizhen’s side. He doubted Yin Yu could hear any of this, but if he could, he had better be listening now.
“Crimson Rain said it looks like it might be soon,” Quan Yizhen said, following Mu Qing’s glance. “I’m getting kind of nervous. I hope Shixiong is at least willing to talk to me.”
He’d be crazy not to at least give you a chance, Mu Qing didn’t say out loud. He sighed. “I know you said you’ll love him no matter what, but make sure you give him space if he needs it. Give him time. Don’t unload all of your revelations on him at once. He hasn’t had the chance to think about all of this the way you have.”
Quan Yizhen nodded, expression solemn. “Oh, that reminds me,” he said, getting up and automatically grabbing hold of the lantern. “I have something for you.”
“Something for me?” Mu Qing asked, incredulous. “I don’t need gold bars, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Quan Yizhen replied simply, digging through a drawer. He came back over, setting the lantern down carefully, and handed Mu Qing a small box.
There was a braided bracelet inside, made with rich dark green silk the color of summer shade, a coin meticulously woven in at the center. “You made this?” Mu Qing asked, eyes fixed on it.
Quan Yizhen nodded.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Mu Qing muttered, looking at it more closely. “There’s a mistake right here.”
“What?!” Quan Yizhen cried, leaning forward in alarm. “Where?!”
Mu Qing just smirked at him.
Sitting back with a huff, Quan Yizhen scowled. “Not funny,” he grumbled.
~
The heavens eventually grew bored with speculating on Quan Yizhen’s chances of success and Yin Yu’s fate. And when Yin Yu finally returned to the world of the living, it went almost unremarked on by those who didn’t know him well. It felt appropriate if one thought about it, which most people didn’t.
Mu Qing was glad that he didn’t have to ask how things had gone between them. The next time he saw Quan Yizhen, on the main avenue of the Heavenly Capital, Yin Yu was at his side.
He waved his deputies off when he saw Quan Yizhen notice him and excitedly grip his shixiong’s sleeve. Soon they were both heading in his direction.
Quan Yizhen looked like he was about to burst from joy, while Yin Yu looked decidedly uncomfortable but with a determined air that Mu Qing was surprised to see.
“Mu-xiong, I’m glad you’re here!” Quan Yizhen exclaimed. “Shixiong finally agreed to visit the Heavenly Capital with me.”
Yin Yu cupped his hands and offered Mu Qing a respectful bow. A dark blue bracelet peeked out from one sleeve. “General Xuan Zhen,” he greeted, voice low.
“Your Highness Yin Yu,” Mu Qing replied with a nod, wondering if he sounded sarcastic.
“Thank you for helping my Yi—” He cut himself off, blushing scarlet. “My shidi,” he amended. “He tells me that you gave him invaluable advice and often kept him company.”
“Well,” Mu Qing said dryly, crossing his arms, “he needed looking after.”
Yin Yu smiled at that, but it was brittle with guilt. “Indeed. I left him unprepared.”
“Shixiong, no,” Quan Yizhen murmured, taking his hand. “You did your best.”
Mu Qing allowed a nod. “And he turned out all right.”