Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Hey. I'm here," Feng Xin says after nervously clearing his throat.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "I would've never noticed," he grumbles.

He's standing by the other side of the room, and between them the bed waits like a sacrificial altar, like an executioner's block, like an open grave waiting for its promised meal.

His eyes have grown used to the shadows enough that he sees Feng Xin's shoulders heave with the force of the deep breath the man takes to reign in the worst of his character, and it only serves to make him tense up further.

It would be so much better if he was angry instead of merely reluctant, if he looked at Mu Qing with disgust instead of- instead of that look that isn't quite pity but that Mu Qing doesn't want to classify as concern.

But instead they're here, and Feng Xin is oh so generously doing him this favor, and Mu Qing feels disgusting enraged at the turn of events that has led him here.

It starts like this.

They have been at war for the better part of two months, and they are losing.

What should've been no more than a single paragraph in the history books, the suppressing of a rebellion comprised of famished, sickly farmers has dragged on, and with unforeseeable effects.

People that should be safe are falling dead by the hundreds inside the walls- women, children and their younger soldiers dropping like flies, tearing open the skin of their faces where the horrifying boil pop out.

At first they thought the rebels had poisoned the wells, but their healers could find no trace of anything harmful in their water. Everyone who'd set foot in the battlefield was carefully screened and quarantined before being allowed back into the city, but still day after day, their people died.

On the first week of the third month Xie Lian leaves for the heavens, intent on asking the Heavenly Emperor for an answer to their plight. Mu Qing isn't too hopeful- he trusts but one god, and it's the one that guards his back in battle.

"He'll find the truth, you'll see," Feng Xin says as the two of them wait in the Crown Prince's chambers, and his voice is so determined it sparks a flash of jealousy in Mu Qing's stomach- what wouldn't he give, to have the easy, unshakeable trust Feng Xin has for the prince he's known his whole life?

"There is only one god on Xianle's side," he says quietly. He's the best they could have anyways, but it doesn't change the fact that no one else will come to their aid, and they should focus their efforts on ending the war quickly so that their time may be better invested in finding a cure for the disease.

"Hmph," Feng Xin grunts, glaring at him from across the low table where Mu Qing has poured them each a mug of tea. "Whatever do we need another one for? If we have His Highness, then have the best."

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. Leave it to Feng Xin to announce what they all know already as though he's made an outstanding discovery.

"What's that eye roll for?" Feng Xin grunts again. "Do you think any other god could care for the people of Xianle more than His Highness does?"

"That's not what I said," Mu Qing says, rolling his eyes again. "Other gods won't come to our aid, and our time would be better invested actually fighting the war than asking for help we won't get."

"Hm. Other gods could help. They are friendly with His Highness, though I understand you might not know what that word means." Feng Xin's last words are punctuated by his thin lips curling into a smirk, the way they always do when he thinks he's delivered a good verbal blow.

"Actually, I reckon I know what a lot more words mean than you do, but we all have our own talents," he retorts, bringing his cup of tea to his lips for a sip and watching Feng Xin's face redden in his peripheral vision.

"And what's your talent?" Feng Xin asks, grabbing his own cup with a lot more strength than necessary. "Being a stick in the mud?"

"Being a realist," Mu Qing shrugs. "We can't fight the war and the disease at the same time. We have to finish one before we tackle the other."

"And how do you suggest we finish the war, when people are dying from the sickness?" One of Feng Xin's bushy brows raises in challenge.

Mu Qing looks down at the swirling tea in his cup, before he heaves a heavy sigh. He doesn't like the answer and he knows Feng Xin won't like it either, but he knows it to be true.

"People die during wars," he starts, his voice low and thoughtful. He waits f the angry objection he's sure he'll receive, then continues when, surprisingly, none comes. "We need to make sure the infected are kept away from the healthy people, to try and slow the spread down. After we win the war- then we try to save the ones that are left. It's the only way to not lose both fronts."

Feng Xin still hasn't said a word, and Mu Qing looks up warily, expecting him to be so angry he simply hasn't found his voice yet. Instead, the man is watching him like a particularly hard puzzle -which knowing Feng Xin, would be pretty much any puzzle-, his eyebrow still raised and the rim of his cup pressed against his bottom lip.

"You would condemn them all? For the sake of winning the war?" he asks.

Mu Qing scoffs- of course Feng Xin would immediately accuse him of being callous and cruel. He feels his shoulders tensing up in preparation for a fight.

"It's either that, or we forfeit the war and hope the invaders will allow us to treat our ill," he says, and he hates the defensive edge to his voice. He doesn't have to justify his opinions to anyone, much less Feng Xin.

"What if it was your mother that was sick?" Feng Xin asks again.

"My mother is already sick," Mu Qing averts his eye. "Just not this particular disease."

"What if it was you?"

"If you're trying to accuse me of cowardice then just say it." Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "I'm not afraid of dying for Xianle, on one front or the other."

Feng Xin is still watching him, his auburn eyes below his solemn brows almost searing with their intensity.

"What?" Mu Qing hisses after a moment, annoyed. Feng Xin's lips twitch, and Mu Qing bristles when he realizes he just gave the man the reaction he was looking for.

"Nothing," Feng Xin shrugs, grinning now that he's gotten under his skin. "It's just that I would've thought someone as vain as you would be deathly afraid of such an ugly illness."

"Vain?!" Mu Qing sputters angrily. "Who's vain?"

"Come on- in three months of war I haven't seen a single hair out of place in that scheming little head of yours," Feng Xin smirks. "Are you hoping to kill the enemy soldiers, or woo them into surrendering?"

Mu Qing feels his mouth twist around unsaid words, as his face heats up.

Of course Feng Xin would think him vain for worrying about his appearance. Not everyone was born with the alluring air of royalty; Mu Qing has to spend hours every morning just to look adequate standing next to them, with Xie Lian's effortless beauty and Feng Xin's naturally proud gait.

"Excuse me for wanting to look the part of one of His Highness's deputies," he hisses.

"I'm just saying," Feng Xin laughs, "if you spent as much time with the sabre as you do with the comb, we might've won the war already."

"You-!"

"Are you fighting again?" Xie Lian asks from the room's threshold, just as Mu Qing is preparing to launch himself over the table.

"No, Your Highness," both of them say in unison, their eyes still fixed on tbe other. Mu Qing can still feel the blood beating in his ears, and he wants to throw his remaining tea on Feng Xin's stupid smug face.

"Good. We do not have time to deal with that right now," Xie Lian speaks again, and Mu Qing realizes now just how tired his prince sounds, how defeated he looks as he makes his way towards the last remaining cushion on the other end of the table.

"...Your Highness?" Feng Xin asks, all smugness and amusement gone from his face as he leans towards Xie Lian. "Did the Heavenly Emperor not have an answer?"

Xie Lian sighs. "He did. But- but Feng Xin, it's worse than we expected."

"Is there no way to prevent it?" Mu Qing arches an eyebrow.

Xie Lian shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. Or rather there is, but it's unthinkable," he sighs again. "It's more of a curse than an illness, and the Heavenly Emperor thinks the White No-Face released it as a way to mock me, because of how it chooses its victims."

"To... to mock His Highness?" Feng Xin repeats dumbly. "Because it targets the people of Xianle?"

"Because it targets the unsullied, Feng Xin," Xie Lian says at last, bringing up a delicate hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "That's why it affects children, maidens. It goes for those that are like me. Those that have not known any carnal vice."

"I- but that makes no sense," Mu Qing scowls. "His Highness has been out there in contact with the diseased dozens of times. If that was the criteria, surely it would've affected you already?"

"I'm not a mortal anymore," Xie Lian shakes his head again. "It cannot touch me, but it can touch the most innocent amongst my people- and those closest to me. Not even those at the Holy Royal Pavilion are safe."

Mu Qing bites down on his bottom lip as he considers the implications stemming from the reveal- it makes sense now, why the younger in their army have been falling prey to the curse. The only way to protect them against it would be-

"What about him?" Feng Xin's voice gestures at him with a hand, and Mu Qing looks up, confused.

"Huh?" he asks. His scowl deepens, when Xie Lian shoots him a concerned look. "I'm not sick."

"No, of course you're not," Xie Lian says. "But Feng Xin is right- I cannot be infected anymore, but Mu Qing, you're still mortal."

Oh.

Oh.

Mu Qing swallows nervously. "If it hasn't hit me by now-"

"Nonsense," Xie Lian shakes his head. "We've been lucky so far, but I will not place you in anymore unnecessary risk. You will go and stay with my parents and cousin at the palac-"

"No!" Mu Qing cuts him off, rising on his knees. Sure, the prospect of having to look after Qi Rong is unappealing, but the thought of being pushed away from the battlefield like a mere child is infuriating. "Your Highness, I am a soldier under your charge, I'm supposed to be by your side, protect-"

"You're only going to distract him if you get sick," Feng Xin interrupts.

"I just told you I don't mind dying," Mu Qing snarls. "I'm not-"

"Mu Qing, this is not a request," Xie Lian speaks then, his eyes gentle but firm as he stares Mu Qing down. "I do not doubt your skill, your strength, or your commitment to the people of Xianle, but you're too important to me. I will not let one of my most trusted deputies fall to this curse."

"There's a difference between risking yourself for your people and throwing your life away uselessly," Feng Xin has the gall to speak. "You won't be of any use to the city with faces sprouting all over. Don't be stubborn."

"No," Mu Qing straightens up, taking in a deep, challenging breath. "I will not abandon the front. I will not leave His Highness's side; we must find another way."

"Mu Qing, there is only one way," Xie Lian says, and it's the sad look he sends his way that sparks the fire in Mu Qing's chest and spurs him into speaking.

"Well, I'll do it, then!" he snarls; silence blankets the room after his words, both men looking at him like he's lost his mind, like Mu Qing himself doesn't understand the gravity of what he just proposed. Mu Qing clenches his fists by his sides, determined. "I'll do what it takes. If it keeps me on the front lines, I will-"

"Throw away your cultivation?" Xie Lian asks, not unkindly. Mu Qing still flinches. "Mu Qing, I can't keep you from it, but are you sure?"

"I won't go hide inside the walls," Mu Qing says simply.

"You're kidding me," Feng Xin says. He's crossed his arms over his chest and he's looking at Mu Qing like he doesn't know him, the distaste clear in his face. "You're so stubborn that you would just bed down with whoever wanted you instead of being safe?"

"Feng-"

"If I'd taken His Highness's first offer you would've called me a coward, don't pretend you wouldn't have," Mu Qing snaps. "I don't care what I have to do."

"Mu-"

"Fine! Let me go bring you someone then, since you're so set on it," Feng Xing rises to his feet. "Anyone will do, won't it? If you don't care?"

"F-"

"And what is it to you anyways?!" Mu Qing shoots to his feet as well. "Shouldn't you be ecstatic that you get to mock me for this?"

"Mu Qing, no one is-"

"I just thought you were at least honorable enough to respect your vows instead of breaking them on a tantrum," Feng Xin's glare is making something boil inside him, and Mu Qing thinks he might just end up throwing himself across the table anyways.

"Do you think this is easy for me?!" He snaps instead. "You bumbling idiot have no idea how hard I've worked to even be here, of course I don't want to- do you honestly think I want to walk out and see if anyone will- will f-"

"Mu Qing, that's enough," Xie Lian cuts him off before he can humiliate himself further. "And Feng Xin, you too. I know you don't think that lowly of Mu Qing, and this is already hard enough for him."

The imbecile at least has enough decency to look away under Xie Lian's disappointed stare.

"He's your deputy god," Feng Xin grumbles. "He should at least have some more respect for his position. It won't look well, if one of your officials just goes and throws his vows away like they're trash."

"If anyone has something to say about Mu Qing making such a sacrifice for me and our people, they can talk to me," Xie Lian says, his golden eyes gleaming dangerously and betraying the steel that hides under the fair silk. Mu Qing has a spare second to feel honored that his prince would step in for him, before the same disappointed stare is aimed at him and he has to keep himself from flinching. "But Mu Qing, Feng Xin is right too. You- this is not a decision to be made lightly. Do you at least have anyone in mind?"

And he does, of course he does, he's had someone in mind even before taking the damned vows, and it's been his saving grace every single time because it's very easy to keep yourself from carnal vices when the only man that makes you feel that way hates your guts and thinks you're unworthy of even serving by his side.

Besides, it's not like he's swimming in options- Mu Qing is far from stupid and he knows most of the people around him would rather spit at him than bed him, the snarky, insolent servant that dared trying to ride above his stature.

"...I don't," he admits after a long, tense moment. "I will just go to a brothel, I suppose."

Feng Xin makes a weird noise then, like a coughing dog or an irritated horse, and even Xie Lian is looking at him in shock.

"What?" Mu Qing crosses his arms over his chest, feeling weirdly defensive. "It doesn't matter. I'd much rather pay for someone to do it kindly; I know I'm not well-liked by many around here."

"Mu Qing-" Xie Lian starts, his face contorted into that worried, pitying look again. "I don't think-"

"Don't even try, he's worse than an old mule," Feng Xin cuts him off, glaring back as though Mu Qing just insulted his mother rather than merely stated a fact. "I'll do it."

What.

"What?" Mu Qing asks, and Xie Lian's voice echoing his own is a relief- if it's the two of them, he won't look as affected. "I don't want-"

"Oh, I'm sorry." A nerve is jumping in Feng Xin's jaw, and Mu Qing would be delighted if he wasn't so on edge himself. "Is there a line now?"

"... You're an imbecile," Mu Qing snarls, before he spins on his heel and stomps his way to the door.

"Mu- ah, please don't do anything yet," Xir Lian's voice is enough to make him slow his step, but he doesn't stop. "I wish to speak to you, please wait for me in the gardens?"

Furious enough to not trust his tongue, Mu Qing gives a vague grunt before sliding the door shut behind himself with a lot more strength than is needed, and heads for the gardens.

Who the fuck does Feng Xin think he is, making that choice for him?! Like- like Mu Qing is still just a servant, his property- ugh!

And- and what is he even going to do? Guoshi will kick him out the moment he finds out how the sickness works, and why Mu Qing is not affected by it, and then it will be back to the streets with him, with a sick mother and a war to juggle with.

And the alternative is even worse! Going to hide behind the king and queen and playing babysitter to Qi Rong while the other wo risk their lives at war- what difference would there be then, between him and one of the dainty maidens that hoped to one day enter the royal harem? He's not a coward, and he doesn't fear giving his life up for his prince and his people and his city, but this-

"Mu Qing?" Xie Lian's gentle voice snaps him out of his downward spiral, and Mu Qing realizes he has no idea how long he's been out here, lost in his own head. "How are you feeling?"

Mu Qing grunts. He's not about to lie to Xie Lian, not when said lie would be so painfully obvious.

"Listen- you don't have to do this," Xie Lian tries again, resting a gentle hand on Mu Qing's shoulder. "I know how much it means and how hard you've worked- no one will think less of you for choosing to keep your vows."

Mu Qing lets out a laugh that leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

"Really? Your loyal dog won't think me a coward for choosing to save my own skin instead of spreading my legs for him?"

Xie Lian winces at the crudeness of the statement, then releases Mu Qing's shoulder to wipe his hand down his face, sighing.

"He will not; he's worried about you too," the prince says, ignoring Mu Qing's incredulous, unimpressed stare. "But Mu Qing, even if you choose to- it doesn't have to be him. I know- it wouldn't be fair for it to happen like that. I know how you feel, and-"

Mu Qing straightens up on his seat, his shoulders tensing as his pulse speeds up.

"I apologize, but His Highness must be mistaken- there is nothing for him to know," he says, his voice sharp.

On his peripheral vision he can see Xie Lian arch an unimpressed eyebrow of his own.

"I swear the two of you are my second tribulation," the prince whispers to himself, before nodding again, his face tired. "Alright, then. Are you sure? Like I said, it doesn't have to be Feng-"

"I am not afraid of him," Mu Qing snarls. He's. Not. "I will see him tonight, at my chambers."

And he shoots up to his feet without another word, stomping away for the second time today.

Now they stand on opposite ends of Mu Qing's darkened room, illuminated only faintly by the glow of a lone candle behind a paper screen, and Mu Qing feels as though he's about to crawl out of his own skin.

"You look... Nervous."

"I'm not," Mu Qing replies far too quickly, his hands clenching on the fabric of his robe. "Shut up."

"You're okay," Feng Xin's voice is a careful, almost gentle whisper, but it practically thunders in the deep, tense silence of the darkened room.

"I don't need you to tell me that," Mu Qing hisses. "Let's get it done, then. I don't want to have to see you any more than necessary."

"... You're aware you will be doing a lot more than just 'seeing' me, aren't you?" Feng Xin arches an eyebrow, and Mu Qing fights the urge to groan. "I'm just saying! I mean- I'll do it as easy and quick as I can, but-"

"Oh, so I'm getting the special treatment," Mu Qing says, his voice sardonic and mocking. It's almost enough to ignore his racing pulse, but not quite. "I'm honored."

Across the bed, Feng Xin letz out something that sounds like a mix between a groan and a sigh.

"I- alright, listen," he says, sitting heavily on the edge of Mu Qing's carefully made bed. "I'm sorry, okay? For how I acted before."

Mu Qing blinks. Did he actually get infected with the disease and now he's hallucinating from the pain?

"What?"

"I'm not going to repeat it," Feng Xing crosses his arms. "I... Know. That this isn't an easy choice for you."

Mu Qing merely stands there like an idiot, looking at the other man in shock.

What is he pretending to be all kind for? He's here to humiliate him, either by taking away the thing Mu Qing has worked so hard for, or to disregard him as a spineless coward.

Repeating those thoughts to himself, Mu Qing pushes down on the disgusting, pathetic flutter of hope in his stomach and moves to lay down on the bed.

"Just- just do it already," he says as steadily as he can when his throat feels like it's closing up. "I want to be alone."

He can feel Feng Xin's eyes on him, and when he darts a glance at him he finds the man looking down at him with a concerned look in his stupid, stupid face.

"You can start another cultivation path, can't you?" Feng Xin asks. "Besides, it's not as though- we're already His Highness's deputies, whatever do you need to keep cultivating for? It's not like you're planning on ascending."

Aaaand that does the trick to smother any careful flicker of anything that still remained in his chest, Mu Qing thinks as he feels himself tense up, and narrows his eyes at the other.

"Oh? You don't think I'm good enough for that?"

"I didn't say that!" Feng Xin exclaims, raising his hands before his chest in surrender. "Fuck, why do you have to try and find insults where there are none?"

"What else would I be cultivating for, you idiot?!" Mu Qing sits up, enraged. "Did you think I had no ambitions asides from being His Highness's servant for the rest of my life?"

"...Huh," Feng Xin says after a moment, his brows furrowing in thought. It makes him look like a constipated dog, and Mu Qing hates him. "I never thought about that. I've never wanted to ascend. I guess I just assumed it would always just be us by His Highness's side."

Mu Qing throws a forearm over his eyes, and feels like crying- of course Feng Xin, who has never wanted for anything in his life, would be happy to just follow Xie Lian for the rest of eternity. And he- did he think Mu Qing wanted the same? Or is he just so accustomed to thinking of him as just another of Xie Lian's possessions, that it never occurred to him to think Mu Qing might have plans and ambitions of his own?

He can hear Feng Xin's uncomfortable shuffling by his side.

"Well- well, like I said... you can start another path no? You started after His Highness did, and you've advanced a lot," Feng Xin speaks at last. It's truly the closest the man has ever come to paying him a compliment, which would be nice if it wasn't in these circumstances.

"I'm not His Highness," Mu Qing says quietly, and the words leave him feeling hollow and dull. He's not Xie Lian with his otherworldly abilities and skill, with that righteous, kind temper that pleased the gods enough to turn their gazes to him. "He was kind enough to give me my only chance."

Starting another cultivation path, if he ever found someone willing to take someone of his status as an apprentice, would take years if he even was able to learn it, let alone mastering it to the point of ascension. He fought so hard to be more than just a servant boy, but in the end all his efforts can be undone on a bed in the dark, and it's a cruel irony that this is the option he chose, because the other one-

"Mu Qing- I-" Feng Xin sighs, and clears his throat before continuing. "Just go to the palace. His Highness would never think less of you."

Feng Xin is unfortunately right, and worse of all he's being sincere and gentle, and it scalds Mu Qing like salt in a wound.

"I know he would not," Mu Qing says. "But others- you would be quick to dub me a coward, I just know it."

"Fuck, stop saying that, I would not!" Feng Xin snaps. "And- and even if I did, who gives a shit what I think?! It's your cultivation, not- I wouldn't- if your only choices are staying safe and losing everything you have, why the fuck would you base your decision on what someone like me thinks?! I don't even cultivate, you idiot!"

But Mu Qing cares, he cares so much about what he thinks, how could he not? How could he consider taking the offered way out and still hope to stand with him by Xie Lian's side as an equal, when he knows Feng Xin wouldn't hesitate to do anything that was needed for their prince?

The least he can do to stand on equal footing with him is to offer anything and everything he has, so-

"Are you- fuck-," Feng Xin curses, and then Mu Qing stiffens on the bed, because the other teen is crawling towards him, leaning over him in such a way that all Mu Qing can see in the semi-darkness of the room is his dumb, concerned face. "Don't- ahh. Listen, I- I'm going to touch you..."

Mu Qing snaps his eyes shut.

This is it, it's going to happen now. He silently thanks this brute for at least having the decency to warn him beforehand, and he tries to relax his muscles and mind as much as he can while he waits for the touch of.

When it comes, he doesn't expect it to be gentle or hesitant, or to come in the shape of a soft silk kerchief pressed against his cheek.

"Just- don't move, alright?" Feng Xin mumbles as he dabs at his face with the cloth, and it's just at that moment that Mu Qing catches on to what happened and stiffens again, mortified.

Just when did he start tearing up and why on Earth is this idiot not only not mocking him, but wiping the wet trails off his cheeks?!

This is it, this is the humiliation that will kill him. Now he might as well fuck Feng Xin and throw his cultivation away, because there is no way he will ever be able to look him in the eye again, much less serve under Xie Lian together.

"Please, just go to the palace," Feng Xin mutters again. "His Highness would prefer it, and- and I agree, alright? It's just dumb to- I don't even care, alright? I don't, why-"

Mu Qing opens his eyes, and Feng Xin stops talking so suddenly it's as though he's bitten his tongue off. His face looks almost hyper-defined now that he's shed the tears that would blur his vision, and Mu Qing is momentarily struck silent by that stupid, stupid handsome face of his.

His features look almost soft in surprise, his full lips partly open as though he's about to form a word that just won't come out, his eyes wide and fixed in on Mu Qing's own.

Mu Qing's heart is racing and his stomach feels queasy, and his worried for a moment that his dinner is about to make a surprise reappearance- he hates that he can recognize the signs of nervousness, but the only other thing he can focus on is Feng Xin, still looming over him and smelling so strongly of the sweet sandalwood oil he uses for his bow.

"M- Mu Qi-" Feng Xin starts carefully-

"MU QIN!" Xie Lian exclaims a second before the door to Mu Qing's room is hastily shoved open. "DON'T- DON'T DO ANYTHING YET, I FOUND SOMETHING!"

The prince is holding a bright blue silk pouch in one hand and holding the other one over his eyes, which is a little bit of a blessing because he doesn't see the two of them flinching away from each other.

"We're- we're not doing anything," Mu Qing speaks up after a moment, clearing his throat in a weak attempt to fix his strained voice. "His Highness may look."

He should feel a bit offended, that instead of immediately taking hand away Xieian merely parts his fingers to peek at them, before deciding that yes, they are indeed decent. What the fuck was the prince expecting?!

"Your Highness? What did you find?" Feng Xin asks.

Mu Qing looks at him out of the corner of his eye and finds that he looks just as shell-shocked as he does, and that his fist is still tightly clenched into the white fabric of the kerchief.

"Aah, good, I got here on time," Xie Lian sighs in relief. "I- Mu Qing, I told Guoshi about the situation, I was hoping he'd have some advice for us-"

"Your Highness, Guoshi hates me," Mu Qing says, rolling his eyes. "I'm assuming he was delighted knowing he'd have the perfect motive to kick me out."

Xie Lian bites down on his lower lip, uncomfortable. Hit it right on the head, then.

"I- anyways, I insisted," Xie Lian says a moment later, after recovering his composure. "And he gave me this! It's his personal amulet, Mu Qing. It- he said it will keep you safe from the disease, and he will go to the palace instead!"

He offers the blue silk pouch, and Mu Qing takes it in a shaky hand. After loosening the draw strings, he finds a single silver medallion carved with characters in a language he cannot recognize. The design looks old and outdated but still beautifully and exquisitely made, and Mu Qing knows instinctively that this is something precious to their mentor, so much so that he wouldn't have given it away even in such a serious scenario, except for Xie Lian's sake.

"I don't- is this okay?" he asks, his voice strained. "Will it really repell the disease- even if I'm still- even if I stick to my vows?"

Xie Lian nods. "Guoshi seemed very confident about it. He told me 'no disease or harm has come to the owner of that medallion in hundreds of years, and it never will'. I don't know who he inherited it from, but it must be incredibly powerful. And- well, you'll have to give it back of course, but Mu Qing- you can stay with us!"

Xie Lian's bright smile illuminates the room more than the weak candle ever will, and Mu Qing feels something expanding on his chest, and his eyes burning again.

He can stay.

"What are you thinking?" Feng Xin asks, and Mu Qing blinks his way back into the present.

They're at his private gardens, comfortably seated at a low table on the veranda. Mu Qing's private courtyard is planted with carefully tended cherry trees, and the gentle breeze of the rebuilt Heavenly Capital swirls delicate pink petals around.

Gods as old as them measure time in centuries, but even after just two years of Crimson Rain's return it still feels weird, to sit in silence with Feng Xin as they have a cup of tea. Nowadays they're still more likely to solve their disputes with their fists, but the property damage has been kept to a minimum, and words are no longer used to hurt, at least not intentionally.

It's a weird new reality, but one Mu Qing has settled quite comfortably into despite the underlying tension that neither of them dares to acknowledge.

"Do you remember?" Mu Qing asks, bringing a hand up to his neck to pull an old silver medallion out of his collar. Guoshi disappeared after the fall of Xianle, and Mu Qing never gt the chance to return it to him. He guesses he could give it back now, but he somehow doubts those two want any other reminder of the Kingdom of Wuyong that is not each other's presence. "When Xie Lian gave me this?"

Feng Xing calls back his errant gaze, lost in the depths of the gardens, and turns to face him. His eyes are just as bright as they were when they were young, and Mu Qing has a sudden flash to that moment at Mount Taicang, when they both swung from Xie Lian's spiritual tool, and the glowing orange lava brought out the breathtaking golden specks in the deep, reddish brown.

The Southern Sun, mortals call him, and they have no idea that to be pinned under his gaze is to burn.

So lost in his thoughts is he that he very nearly misses the way Feng Xin's face colors, before he averts his eyes again with a little cough.

"Of course I remember," he says finally. "Why are you thinking of that right now?"

Mu Qing shrugs.

"It just occurred to me, the reason why Guoshi was so sure whoever bore this amulet would not be touched by the disease, despite its means for spreading," he says. "By then it had been so long since he fled from Jun Wu's side, but he was still so sure he wouldn't let any harm come to him."

Feng Xing huffs. "You're speaking in circles again. What is it that you want to say?"

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "Nothing, you brute. Just that it must be comforting, to never doubt your place in someone's life."

Feng Xing rolls his eyes right back at him, and Mu Qing bristles- who the fuck does he think he-

"You've always had the same place in my life, idiot," the man says, immediately pulling Mu Qing back from rightful indignation and into pure, unadulterated shock.

"Wh- what place is that?" Mu Qing asks. He hates the stutter in his voice, and he hates the way Feng Xin's lips twitch in amusement. "Stop it. Answer the question."

"No need to get yourself worked up," Feng Xing raises his hands before his chest in surrender, his smile coming in full now. "A constant, if you must know."

"... A constant?" Mu Qing blinks. A constant annoyance? A constant enemy?

Feng Xing shrugs.

"A constant. Except for when- you were always there," he says. Mu Qing appreciates him not clarifying what that 'when' means- they both know it far too well. "I'll admit- when I realized you'd ascended I was actually relieved. It meant there would always be someone in the heavens that remembered him. What we went through."

Mu Qing rolls his eyes again. "Did you ever stop to think maybe I wouldn't care to remember you?"

Feng Xin snorts. "As if you'd ever forget me."

It's the pleased smile and the pedantic, arrogant confidence in his voice that gets under Mu Qing's skin- it'strue, but Feng Xin had no way to know it back then, and he has no right to bring it up now, before they've acknowledged the- the something that seems to fill any space they're both in.

"Fuck you," he grunts, irritated. Feng Xing merely shrugs again.

"You know I'm right. And it's not like I could've forgotten you either, is it?" he asks. "It was always just us, even after His Highness went missing."

"Unfortunately," Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "Do you ever remember that day?"

Feng Xing blinks. "When His Highness went missing?"

Mu Qing sighs. "Of course not, you idiot. I meant- that day."

He takes the medallion off, and places it on the table to make his point. Much to his delight, Feng Xin appears to lose all his arrogant bravado at the sight of it.

"Ah. Well- no, not much," he says. The tips of his ears are red, Mu Qing notices with a raised eyebrow.

"You're lying," he observes.

"I'm not," Feng Xin grunts.

Mu Qing leans forward on the table, resting his chin on a hand. "Why were you so angry that day? At Xie Lian's rooms?"

Feng Xing turns to look at him again, puzzled. "What do you mean why?"

"Usually that means someone is asking you to provide a reason for something, General," Mu Qing says in his kindest, most condescending voice. "Were you really so angry that I had decided to break my vows?"

"I- no! I mean, yes, but it was not," Feng Xing stops wrestling his words for a second, running a hand through his hair and making a terrible mess of the already loose bun. "what bothered me was when you said you'd just go to a brothel and it didn't matter who it was."

Mu Qing scoffs. "I told you back then, I wasn't about to risk my skin asking someone at the Holy Royal Pavilion to do it, I knew they despised me."

"Well, of course," Feng Xing shrugs. "They had to actually deal with you, but there were plenty of people who would've jumped at the chance and I was not about to let any of them do it."

"...What?"

"What?" Feng Xin repeats, arching an eyebrow. "Mu Qing, a lot of people only knew you as His Highness's deputy god, not everyone had to endure your charming personality like me or the servants at the Royal Holy Pavilion."

"What does that even mean?" Mu Qing arches an eyebrow of his own; across the table, Feng Xing is growing more and more irritated, as though Mu Qing were being deliberately obtuse.

"It means if you'd stepped out there and asked the soldiers if any of them wanted to take your virginity, I would've had to beat them back with sticks," Feng Xin groans, "and you were acting like you were so miserable and out of options-"

"So you offered to do it to keep me from-"

"I offered to do it to keep anyone else from offering," Feng Xin snaps, cutting Mu Qing's question short and looking away again. "If you were going to- if someone was going to do it, it had to be someone that- well, someone who actually- not just someone who knew nothing about you other than that you were pretty."

Mu Qing realizes right then that he hasn't been breathing, and when he finally does, the air smells softly of cherry blossoms, and sandalwood oil.

He feels dizzy.

"Someone who actually what?" he asks. His voice is a lot quieter than he'd like, but it's already a little miracle that he managed to push it out there, so he's not in a position to nitpick.

Feng Xin gives him a sideways look, like a dog that chewed up a shoe and is checking to see just how mad its master is.

"Are we doing this?" he asks after a moment, his usually so boisterous voice just as soft.

Mu Qing thinks his heart might just beat a hole through his chest and land on the table between them, a pathetic, gullible thing so willing to lay itself out in the open for a single silver of hope.

"I could do this," he manages to push through his dry throat. The words are mostly for his benefit, a lame attempt at convincing himself that as the General of the Southwest Xuan Zhen, he has nothing to fear, much less another god's feelings or lack thereof. "Can you?"

The challenge works like a charm. Feng Xin seems to find strength in the familiar feeling of competition and turns to face him full, running his eyes up and down Mu Qing's form once as though he wants to memorize every detail of him.

"I offered to do it," he starts at last, his voice quiet and deep as though he's entrusting him with a secret worth the world, "because I really, really wanted to, General. Because I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else getting to touch you that way."

Mu Qing swallows, trying to push the nerves and fear down with the thick saliva that leaves his mouth dry.

"And what made you the right person?" he asks, making sure to keep that thrice-damned stutter out of his fucking voice.

"I knew you," Feng Xing says. Then, much to Mu Qing's terror, the man climbs to his feet, and walks around the table to sit next to him, his auburn eyes burning a hole on the side of his face as Mu Qing stubbornly refuses to look at him. "I knew you were nitpicky and insolent and dramatic, with a tongue like a whip and a mind like a jealous concubine. I knew you were smarter than you let on and also kinder, which honestly wasn't saying much considering how much of an asshole you were to everyone. And-"

"Get to the point," Mu Qing growls, clenching his fist around his tea cup.

"-I still liked you," Feng Xin continues as though he'd never been interrupted. "Mu Qing, it made me so angry back then because we couldn't stand each other, but I just couldn't bear the thought of you being just another notch in some soldier's bedpost-"

"But I could be one in yours?" Mu Qing asks.

Feng Xin shrugs. "I won't pretend things would've worked out perfectly, but you would've been a lot more than a notch for me."

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. "Ju Yang is such a romantic. You should go and teach old Pei some tricks."

Feng Xin grumbles at the hated title, then shakes his head a little. "I don't know that it was about romance back then. It just felt wrong to imagine you with someone else," he explains, or whatever passes for an explanation with this idiot. "I don't think I realized I was in love with you until I saw you there on the bed."

Mu Qing feels his eyes shoot open, and his face heat up like a kettle in the fire. "You're a pig-"

"Wh- no!" Feng Xin cuts him off with a fierce scowl. "Mu Qing, you were crying, it was the least arousing thing I'd ever seen!"

"That's not any better!" Mu Qing exclaims; he doesn't need a mirror to know his cheeks are cherry-red as he remembers the absurdity of that night- he must've looked ridiculous, his face scrunched and with tears and snot running down like a child mid-tantrum.

Feng Xin pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"Mu Qing," he starts, his voice patient as though he's explaining a hard subject to that demon child of his. "Your crying face is beautiful, just like any other of your stupid faces is beautiful. I didn't find it arousing not because I didn't find you arousing, but because you were clearly feeling terrible. There, is that clear enough to keep you from twisting what's supposed to be my fucking confession into some sort of insult?!"

Mu Qing takes a long sip of his tea.

"I could still find a way, if I tried."

"Please don't."

Despite himself, Mu Qing feels his lips twitch. "Well? Weren't you confessing to something?"

"I was," Feng Xin nods to himself. "Let me- give me a second. I need to make this Mu Qing-proof."

Mu Qing finds himself thinking that he looks resolute and single-minded, as though this task demands all of his attention and nothing else may have it until he's done with this. He's always been like a dog with a bone, his stupid one-track mind one of his most infuriating traits- Mu Qing realizes that he doesn't quite know what to do, when he's the target of said focus.

"Alright, I've got it," Feng Xin says after a moment. "When I saw you there and I understood how sad and desperate you felt, I decided I couldn't do it. I couldn't- I didn't want to destroy something that was worth so much to you, not even to save your life. And then I felt... afraid. Because if we didn't- then there was nothing keeping you from getting sick. And I just knew you wouldn't go to the palace, but I was ready to beg because- well, because I just wanted you to be safe because even though you were a colossal, stubborn asshole, I couldn't imagine being without you, and I didn't want to be without you, no matter that you despised me."

"Was that supposed to be romantic?" Mu Qing arches an unimpressed eyebrow, and Feng Xin shrugs.

"Nah. It was just supposed to be heartfelt, and it was. You may do whatever you want with it," he says, and leans across the table to pick up his discarded cup of tea, leaving Mu Qing to mull over his words.

Of course Feng Xin would leave the final decision for him after dropping this bomb, the asshole. Mu Qing downs the rest of his tea in an attempt to drown the fluttering in his stomach- he's far too old to be feeling like this.

He lays the cup on his open palm, and focuses on not closing his fist and shattering it to pieces, just to have something to distract himself as he tries to fight the words out of his throat.

"B- back then," he starts. It's a beautiful cup, a particularly devout artisan offered the whole set at his biggest temple, and it's delicately painted with scenes of his grandest battles, and he will not crush it. "I- when Xie Lian asked if I had someone in mind, I said it didn't matter, because-"

His voice breaks with a very undignified squawk when he catches Feng Xin looking back up at him.

"Because?" he asks.

The cup. The cup is beautiful, it's his favorite, it's the one depicting him laying the ghosts of Xianle to rest, and if he could do that, then he can do this, he's certain he can.

He takes a deep breath.

"Because I w- wanted it t- to be y- you," he forces out, watching his fingers twitch nervously around the delicate container. "And I knew you didn't like me, so it really didn't matter who it was, because it couldn't be y- you."

The second part is thankfully a lot easier to spit out than the first, a fact he grew accustomed to with the centuries.

Silence stretches between them; Mu Qing focuses on the fluttering cherry blossoms and the steady, constant presence of the other man beside him. He wonders if this is what Xie Lian meant all those years ago when he said the two of them were his second tribulation, the fact that they could've laid their differences to rest -or at least allow them to make them stronger rather than tearing them apart- and instead they were both too lost in their own heads to notice.

"Hey, Mu Qing," Feng Xin says by his side. His voice sounds like he's smiling; Mu Qing can imagine the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as clearly as though they were facing each other.

"Hm?" he asks, setting the precious cup back on the table. When he looks at Feng Xin out of the corner of his eye, he can see the boyish smile that makes him look like a teenager again.

"It could still be me, you know? If you wanted it?"

Mu Qing feels his own lips curl into a little smirk of his own, and he turns to face the man. "If I ask someone else, will you beat them back with sticks, general?"

"Ha fucking ha," Feng Xin brings his hand up to cup Mu Qing's face. "Just promise me you won't cry this time, alright?"

"Stupid," Mu Qing grunts, rolling his eyes. He doesn't lean back or move away to dislodge the hand, though.

"Is that a no?" Feng Xin arches an eyebrow. He's still smiling though, only now it looks smug and far too pleased with himself.

"Finish your fucking tea and take me to bed, or I will make you cry," he says, turning his head the slightest bit to bite at the man's hand.

Feng Xin laughs, Mu Qing feels his face warm up and he rolls his eyes again as he turns to rest on the archer's hand again.

It's constant, it's safe, and it's all he wants.