☰

Welcome to FengQing Celebration,

an amateur digital zine dedicated
to our current favorite ship
from Tian Guan Ci Fu by
Mo Xiang Tong Xiu.

The elaboration of this

collection came to be on the
Nan Yang Xuan Zhen Temple
discord server.
This is the first part of
our humble celebration:
FengQing Scriptures.
 Psst, this PDF is full of hyperlinks,
the page numbers in the table of
content as well as the work credits.
Lastly, the circled arrows ⦽ kindly
take you back to the table of content.

Enjoy your browsing!

 Contents & Credits
⬥ Cover by Nanzhen 1
⬥ The Vows of Xuan Zhen by Airawyn 6
⬫ Story Illustration by Utopia

⬥ Cherish Memories by Utopia 26

⬫ Story Illustration by Delurianne

⬥ Late Night Whispers by Paljuresji 38

⬦ Animated Illustrations by Muqingshusband 44
⬪ Inspired Poem by ArcherFucker

⬥A Mid-Autumn Night's Dream by Baobeibaobae 48

⬫ Story Illustration by Nanzhen
⬫ Inspired Photography by Vera

⬥A Delicate Taming by Vera 62

⬦ NanYao Digital Sticker by Nanzhen 66
⬥ For You by ArcherFucker 68
⬦ The Tower Reversed by Kyuuxi 92
⬥ Fuck me, we're famous - Chapter 1 by Autheane 94
⬥ Corrupted Heart (NSFW) by ArcherFucker 104
⬥ Nut The Truth (NSFW) by Autheane 128
➥CREDITS
The Vows of
Xuan Zhen
By Airawyn
Find her on Tumblr and AO3 ⦽
 His Highness sent Feng Xin and Mu Qing into town with a heavy purse
of coins to pick up an exquisitely embroidered belt that he'd ordered from
a gifted tailor. It required both of them, Xie Lian explained, because Mu
Qing's eye could judge the quality of the handicraft and Feng Xin could
serve as a guard for the large amount of coin.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing knew perfectly well it was a ploy. Xie Lian had
been urging them to spend more time together, hoping that closeness
would spontaneously breed friendship, despite previous evidence to the
contrary. Xie Lian gave them the instructions and went off to private
lessons with Guoshi, feeling pleased that he'd finally found a way to make
his friends get along.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing, having no other option, trudged down the
mountain in sullen silence. Mu Qing couldn't help feeling a lack of trust,
especially when Feng Xin had counted the coin carefully and then
insisted on carrying it himself. Once again, Feng Xin was treating him like
a thief.

Feng Xin, for his part, didn't see why he was needed to escort Mu Qing.
Feng Xin had his own lessons to attend to when His Highness didn't need
him, and time going down the mountain was time he would have to make
up later.

The tailor's small shop was on the far side of the marketplace. Feng Xin
glared at anyone who came close to him, which was quite a few people,
since it was the most popular marketplace in the capital city. Mu Qing
could have strangled him.

The tailor had the belt ready when they arrived. Mu Qing examined the
belt. It was beautifully made, and Mu Qing said so. Feng Xin fidgeted with
the coin purse.
"Thank you, thank you," the tailor said, pleased. "Quite a compliment
from Mu-taitai's son. Is your mother well?"

"As well as she can be," Mu Qing said.

"Ah, she's a good woman," the tailor said. "She's fortunate to have a son
such as you."

Mu Qing's cheeks reddened and he avoided looking at Feng Xin. "I-" he

began, but Feng Xin leaned over and dropped the coin purse on the
counter.

The tailor suddenly remembered they were customers. "Thank you,

gongzi! Should you need anything more, come by day or night, and I'll be
here."

Outside, Mu Qing wrapped up the belt to tuck it away in his robes.

"You didn't have to be rude."

"I've got other things to do than gossip like an old lady," Feng Xin said.
He held out his hand. "I'll take that."

"I can carry it," Mu Qing snapped. "No one here is going to steal it."

"You have faith in the honesty of your fellow..." Feng Xin looked
around, "... citizens?

"I have faith that they're not idiots," Mu Qing stepped away from Feng
Xin and stuffed the belt inside his robes. "This is a one-of-a-kind item.
Anyone found selling it would be immediately arrested and executed. No
fence would touch it."

Feng Xin gave Mu Qing a suspicious look. "How do you know so much
about fences?"

Mu Qing stared at him, then pivoted on his heel and marched briskly
away from him. Feng Xin scrambled to follow.

A ragged child ran up to them, and Feng Xin threw an arm out to keep
the child away from the place where Mu Qing had hidden the belt. Mu
Qing shot him a dirty look.

"Mu-gege!" the child gasped, out of breath. "Help, please!"

Mu Qing crouched down to her level. "Shan'er, what's wrong?"

"Come quick! Please!" She ran off through the crowd, and Mu Qing
followed, so Feng Xin had to follow as well, dodging merchants and
shoppers and pilgrims.

"Princess?" The cruel, taunting voice cut through the noise of the
market like shattering glass, and Feng Xin's heart sank. "That filthy thing
thinks she's good enough for the Crown Prince's harem?"

Mu Qing and Feng Xin broke through the crowd. A vegetable seller was
pointing a knife at Qi Rong! A little girl huddled behind the man, her back
pressed against the wall of the booth.

A woman crouched near the child, holding her hand. "It was just a
game!" she protested.

Qi Rong switched his furious gaze to her.

"No!" the vegetable seller yelled. "Don't touch them!" He struck.

Feng Xin didn't have time to think. He threw himself between Qi Rong
and the vegetable seller, ignoring Mu Qing yelling his name and the
woman behind him screaming for her husband. Hands out, fingers
splayed, Feng Xin became a shield between Qi Rong and his potential
victim.

Then the knife hit his ribs.

That's going to be a bleeder, Feng Xin thought, as the shock of the

attack hit him. The ring of onlookers went deadly silent. Feng Xin sucked
air between his teeth and faced Qi Rong. "Your Highness," he said, as
blood soaked his robes and slid down his leg. "Please allow me to deal
with these offenders. They are not worth your time."

Qi Rong stared at Feng Xin for a moment, and the darkening spot on
his side. The vegetable seller behind Feng Xin was frozen. He stood there,
knife in hand, too terrified to move. Qi Rong laughed. He slapped Feng
Xin's wound with a "playful" backhanded blow. Feng Xin gritted his teeth
and refused to show how much it hurt. "Your Highness-"

"Fine," Qi Rong said. "I guess you deserve a little fun for that. You
should string up the man and cut up the girl's face," he suggested. "She's
ugly now, but she could be uglier." He whistled as he sauntered away.

Feng Xin waited until he was sure that Qi Rong wouldn't turn back,
then let out a slow breath. The onlookers remained silent. Some slipped
away, trying not to be noticed, but the rest kept their eyes on Feng Xin.

Feng Xin turned to the man behind him, who dropped the bloody knife
and prostrated himself. His wife did the same, and dragged their daughter
down with her.
 He was a royal bodyguard injured in an attack on a member of the
royal family, and the attacker was a man of no notable name. Feng Xin
could retaliate personally, if he liked, or he could drag the man to the
nearest magistrate, where the vegetable seller would likely be sentenced
to death.

Weariness pressed on him. He'd seen the damage left behind by Qi

Rong much too often. He couldn't fault the vegetable seller for protecting
his family. He could only fault him for bad aim, and if that were a crime
worth of death, the Royal Holy Pavillion would have a lot less disciples.

He looked over at Mu Qing, and saw the word on his lips. Please.

Feng Xin pressed his arm against his wound in an attempt to staunch
the bleeding. Mu Qing signaled to him, Guard, and waited for his
response. Feng Xin looked over and saw that several guardsmen were
moving in on them. He gave Mu Qing a quick shake of the head. Mu Qing
exhaled, and nodded, and went to send the guardsmen away.

"Stand up," Feng Xin commanded the vegetable seller. The man drew
himself unsteadily to his feet. "Accidents happen," he said, and the man's
chin jerked up, hope in his eyes. "Once," Feng Xin cautioned. The man
nodded frantically. "Tell your daughter to find a different game. One that
doesn't involve the Crown Prince." Xie Lian would be saddened if he ever
heard of it, but if he couldn't rein in his cousin, Feng Xin would have to
find another way to protect the child. "And-" The man needed to do some
kind of penance. Accident or no, he'd still stabbed Feng Xin, and it was
really starting to hurt. "Take an offering to a Temple of the Heavenly
Emperor once a day until the Mid-Autumn Festival."

The man nodded frantically, his topknot bouncing. "Yes, gongzi. Thank
you, gongzi!"

Mu Qing joined them, and Feng Xin saw that the guard was dispersed.
"Can you walk?" he asked Feng Xin softly. The onlookers were drifting
away now that the show was over.

Feng Xin snorted. "Please. I've had worse injuries during training
exercises."

"You once broke your leg in three places during a training exercise." Mu
Qing reminded him. "You had bone sticking out through the skin. It was
incredibly disgusting." Feng Xin wove carefully through the crowd, trying
not to jostle his injury. Mu Qing walked on his injured side, keeping
anyone from bumping into him.

"Exactly," Feng Xin said. "That was worse."

 "Thanks," Mu Qing said, once they were safely back in Feng Xin's room.

Feng Xin shook his head. "No thanks needed. The man shouldn't pay
with his life for a moment's mistake. Besides, it's barely a scratch."

"Let me see," Mu Qing said, reaching for his robes. Feng Xin stepped
back and twitched his hips so his clothes shifted out of reach. "You're
bleeding all over the place. Let me see."

"It's not that bad," Feng Xin said, but he gingerly stripped down to his
trousers and sat down on the bed. Mu Qing sat beside him and examined
the wound.

"You need to see a doctor," Mu Qing decided.

Feng Xin shook his head. "It's nothing. Besides, I don't want to draw
any attention to what happened. Qi Rong could still stir up trouble."

"You can't just tape it up. It'll open up the moment you move," Mu Qing
said.

"You stitch me up," Feng Xin said.

Mu Qing blinked. "I'm not a doctor."

"It's just sewing. You're great at sewing," Feng Xin said. "Or sometimes
the doctors use glue. I've got some fish glue I use for arrows-"

"No," Mu Qing said firmly. "That's idiotic. You'll probably get your
fingers stuck. Don't touch the glue. I'll get supplies." He left, and returned
an incense time later with a box of bandages and a gourd.

"I'm stuck," Feng Xin said. His fingers were covering the wound.

"What?!" Mu Qing dropped the box and the gourd on the bed and knelt
next to Feng Xin. "By all the gods - I can't leave you alone for a single
moment. There are toddlers with more sense than you. We can find
something to dissolve the glue. Let me see." Mu Qing leaned in close to
look at Feng Xin's fingers, and Feng Xin smacked him with the back of his
hand.

Feng Xin cracked up laughing. Mu Qing wiped the spatters of blood off
his face with a handkerchief. He picked up the gourd and tossed it at Feng
Xin.

"What is this?" Feng Xin asked.

 "Poison," Mu Qing said dryly. "I want to put you out of my misery."

Feng Xin popped the cork out of the gourd. He sniffed the contents and
grimaced.

"It's wine," Mu Qing said. He laid out the bandages and stitching tools
on the bed. "It's medicinal. Drink it." He tapped the bottom of the gourd.

Feng Xin squeezed his eyes shut, tipped the gourd up and swallowed
half the liquid. "Gah!" he exclaimed, shaking his head.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. "It's the same sort of thing you drink for fun."
He filled a bowl with water and set it on the table next to the bed.

"It absolutely is not, and I guess we've just confirmed that you've never
broken your cultivation vows," Feng Xin said.

"I have tasted wine. I just don't indulge in it," Mu Qing said. He wet a
cloth in the bowl, squeezed out the excess water, and gently started
cleaning Feng Xin's side.

Feng Xin hissed when the cloth touched his wound. "It's nothing!" he
said, when Mu Qing paused. "Water's a little cold."

"Mm-hm," Mu Qing said, but he used a touch of spiritual energy to

warm the water. Once he'd cleaned the wound, he sewed it closed, with
careful, neat stitches.

"Another set of robes ruined," Feng Xin said mournfully, mostly to

distract from the needle being shoved into his skin repeatedly. "I'm going
to get in trouble if I keep asking for new clothes."

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. "Cold water and soap for the blood, needle
and thread for the tears. Even you can handle that."

"Maybe you could-"

"No."

"If I do the washing and you-" Feng Xin began.

Mu Qing paused his stitching and looked Feng Xing directly in the eyes.
"I don't work for you."

"I'd pay you," Feng Xin offered. He knew Mu Qing picked up odd jobs
here and there so he could send money to his mother.

"I don't want to work for you," Mu Qing said. He resumed stitching the
wound. He scowled at it, though his hands were steady and gentle.

Feng Xin felt oddly guilty, though he couldn't identify why. "What about
a trade?"

Mu Qing was quiet for a moment, and Feng Xin was afraid he'd
offended Mu Qing again, but then Mu Qing said, "What kind of trade?"

"Labor for labor," Feng Xin said. "What do you need done?"

"My arrows," Mu Qing said quickly. The armory handled major repairs,
but they were expected to take care of basic maintenance on their own.
"The fletching's stripped, some of the tips are missing, and a couple of
nocks are broken."

"I could do that," Feng Xin said. "How many need to be fixed?"

"All of them," Mu Qing said.

Feng Xin gaped. "All of them?"

"I've been busy!" Mu Qing protested.

"So you've been using damaged arrows?" Feng Xin asked. "No wonder
you can't shoot for shit."

"Hey!" Mu Qing objected.

"It's a compliment. Kind of," Feng Xin. "It's your equipment, not your
skill."

"Doesn't feel much like a compliment," Mu Qing muttered. "That's the

offer. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," Feng Xin said instantly. "I'd rather fletch than sew any day."

"It's a deal, then," Mu Qing said. He tied off the last stitch and clipped it
carefully. He dabbed around the wound with the damp cloth one last
time, then gently laid a clean dressing over the wound and wrapped a
bandage around Feng Xin to hold it in place. "Is it going to shift?" he
asked Feng Xin, who carefully stretched out his arms and wriggled a
little.

"No," Feng Xin said, when his bandages stayed in place. "I said you
were good at this," he smiled.

"Better than archery?" Mu Qing asked dryly.

 "There are many people worse at archery than you," Feng Xin said, as
diplomatically as he could.

"Still not a compliment," Mu Qing said. "No, wait," he said, as Feng Xin
started to get up. "I can give you a little spiritual energy to help you heal."
Feng Xin nodded. Mu Qing stroked along the bandage, two fingers spread
wide to avoid touching the wound. He shared spiritual energy as he
stroked Feng Xin, letting it pool in the wound and begin the healing. Feng
Xin closed his eyes and took even breaths. The energy tingled and
cooled, dampening the pain.

"How's that?" Mu Qing asked quietly. His fingers stilled against Feng
Xin's stomach. Feng Xin opened his eyes.

"Good," he said. "Thank you."

Mu Qing nodded and started to pull his hand away, but Feng Xin
grabbed it and held it in his own. "What's wrong?" Mu Qing asked.

"Nothing," Feng Xin said. He cupped his other hand around Mu Qing's
cheek and kissed him. It was an awkward, inexperienced kiss, with
battered teeth and noses.

The boys pulled apart and stared at each other for way too long of a
moment.

"Wow," Mu Qing said, finally. "That wine really is terrible."

Some of the tension went out of Feng Xin's shoulders. "Oh, fuck you."
He flicked a tongue over his lips.

Mu Qing picked up the gourd, popped the cork, and took a sip of the
contents. He gagged. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'll get you some water."

"You don't have-" But Mu Qing had already darted out of the room.
Feng Xin groaned and dropped his head into his hands. A moment later,
Mu Qing pushed a bamboo water bottle into his hand and sat down
beside him. Feng Xin took a drink just for something to do.

"You know, the cultivation method that we - that I follow, it excludes

indulgences and worldly pleasures," Mu Qing said.

Feng Xin winced. "I know. I'm sorry." He offered the bottle to Mu Qing,
who took it, but didn't drink yet.

"Indulgences are forbidden," Mu Qing said. "But, uh, tasting? Tasting's

okay."
 Feng Xin lifted his head and stared at Mu Qing.

"It can never be more than that," Mu Qing said quickly.

"I think that's okay," Feng Xin smiled. Their second kiss had a lot less
teeth and just the right amount of noses.

Art by Utopia, find her on Twitter and AO3

They never had time to take anything further, anyway. They stole
kisses when they could; between lessons and practice and running
errands and when Xie Lian was studying privately with Guoshi, but most
days all they had the energy to do was to fall asleep next to each other,
though waking up with a kiss was its own sort of sweetness.

Until one morning, when Guoshi barged into Mu Qing's room while
both boys were sleeping on his bed. "Mu Qing, I need you to-" He froze.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin woke abruptly and stared at the intruder in shock.
Guoshi recovered first. He strode to the bed, grabbed Mu Qing by the ear,
dragged him across the room, and threw him to the ground. Mu Qing hit
the ground hard, but immediately prostrated himself.

"Master," he gasped.

"You are no longer my disciple," Guoshi roared. "If you will not follow
our cultivation method, you will find another master."

Feng Xin scrambled out of the bed and kowtowed next to Mu Qing. "We
were only sleeping," he said. "He didn't violate any vows, I swear it!"

"I did not ask you," Guoshi said coldly. To Mu Qing, he said, "I want you
packed and gone before His Highness returns." He turned on his heel to
go.

"Wait!" Mu Qing said. His forehead was pressed against the bamboo
floor.

"I told you-" the Guoshi said.

"If you're kicking me out, I have nothing to lose. Please, listen," Mu

Qing said desperately.

The Guoshi hmphed, but stayed where he was.

"Yes, I have had impure thoughts," Mu Qing admitted. Feng Xin raised
his eyebrows, but as he also had his face pressed to the floor, the other
two did not see them. "But the sutra says it is not the absence of impurity
that makes us strong, but facing our impurities. I chose poorly, but it is
part of my journey to enlightenment to face this mistake and grow from
it, and it is part of your journey as my master to guide me." He held his
breath and waited.

Guoshi was silent for a long, terrible moment. Then he said, "Go to the
Temple of the Heavenly Emperor. Prostrate in front of the altar for three
days. No one may speak to you, touch you, or bring you food or water. If
you cannot sustain yourself with inedia, you have learned nothing.
Should you complete this task... we'll talk."

"Thank you," Mu Qing said, into the floorboards. He drew himself to his
feet and left the room without looking at Feng Xin.

"You," Guoshi said, looking down at Feng Xin, still prostrating himself.
"His Highness's robes need washing."

Feng Xin lifted his head. "That's not my-" He saw Guoshi's expression.
"I guess just this one time," he muttered, getting up.
 It was a week before Feng Xin saw Mu Qing again. He spotted Mu Qing
in the orchard and jogged over to talk to him. Mu Qing's eyes darted
around, as if looking for an escape route, but he stayed in place.

"What happened?" Feng Xin asked, keeping his voice low. There were
several disciples around. Feng Xin figured it was good to have witnesses
in case Guoshi tried to throw Mu Qing out again, but he didn't want them
to overhear.

"I spent three days in the temple and I'm going to be copying
manuscripts for the rest of my life," Mu Qing said gloomily.

"But you're staying?"

Mu Qing nodded. "I'm staying."

Feng Xin smiled in relief. "Good."

"But you and I can't be like that anymore. Like we were," Mu Qing said
soberly.

"Oh," Feng Xin said.

Mu Qing tugged awkwardly at his own sleeve. "If I stay with you, I lose
everything. The cultivation, the training, my entire future, my ability to
support my mother."

"You'd have me," Feng Xin said.

Mu Qing was quiet for a moment, then said, "You're not enough."

Feng Xin flinched, as if he'd been struck by a fist. "No," he said,

recovering quickly. "Of course not. I'll give you some money so you can
help your mother."

"I don't want your pocket money," Mu Qing hissed.

"Okay," Feng Xin said, thinking quickly. "My uncle could get you a job.
He's in the military and he's always saying they need people to help clean
and mend..." Feng Xin saw Mu Qing's expression and his voice trailed off.
"Uh... forget that. Maybe you could-"

"No," Mu Qing said firmly. Feng Xin reached for his hand and Mu Qing
pulled it away.

Feng Xin let his hands fall to the side. "Don't you even want to try?" he
asked, eyes prickling.

Mu Qing shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Feng Xin, but this," he
gestured around them, "is what I've wanted since I was little. You have no
idea how hard I've worked to get where I am."

"I know a little," Feng Xin muttered.

"No, you don't," Mu Qing said, "or you wouldn't be asking me to give it
up. Feng Xin, if I could have it all, it's you I'd want by my side, but that
can't happen. I'm sorry."

Feng Xin felt a tear creep down his cheek. "Are you, though? Sorry?"
he asked bitterly, looking at Mu Qing's dry eyes.

"Yes," Mu Qing said. He rested his palm against Feng Xin's chest and
Feng Xin felt the warmth of it through the leather. For a moment, Feng
Xin saw Mu Qing's eyes grow damp, but Mu Qing pulled back his hand
and looked away. "We'll always be together, by Xie Lian's side. We'll
always be brothers. Can't that be enough?"

Feng Xin nodded. "Yeah," he said, forcing a smile. "Brothers. Nothing

can come between us."

Eight centuries later

It wasn't uncommon for Feng Xin to find Mu Qing in a mortal inn.

Many gods had been spending time in the mortal realm while the
reconstruction of the Heavens was going on. The unusual thing was that
Mu Qing was drinking. And not just politely sipping, either. As Feng Xin
watched, the innkeeper took away an empty wine bottle and placed a
fresh one in front of Mu Qing.

Feng Xin hurried over and slid into a seat next to Mu Qing. "What are
you doing?" he demanded. It seemed Pei Ming had been right to be
concerned.

Mu Qing poured a cup of wine, locked his eyes on Feng Xin, and
downed it. He held up the empty cup in front of Feng Xin, shook it, and
said, "Guess."

"But your cultivation!" Feng Xin exclaimed.

"Mn," Mu Qing said. He gestured for the innkeeper to bring wine for
Feng Xin. "Shut up and drink some wine." He downed another cup. "But
wait. I forgot you can't do that."

"I can drink," Feng Xin scowled, as the innkeeper placed the wine in
front of him.

"But you can't shut up," Mu Qing said.

Feng Xin glared at him. He deliberately, silently, poured a glass of wine

and held it up to Mu Qing in a toast.

"All right, all right," Mu Qing said, hitting his consonants precisely to
keep his words from slurring. "Do you know why I've been so careful
about my cultivation for all these years?"

Feng Xin pointed at himself, then at his mouth, and shrugged.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. "You can speak."

Feng Xin huffed out a breath, then said, "I thought it was to raise your
spiritual power and keep your followers."

"It is," Mu Qing said, "And it works, but there are many other paths that
work as well. More than once over the centuries I've considered taking a
different path, but do you know what stopped me?" He gestured at Feng
Xin with a full cup of wine, which sloshed a little over the edges.

"Can I speak, or-"

"Guoshi!" Mu Qing tossed back the cup of wine and slammed it down
on the table. "I could always hear his voice in my head, telling me I wasn't
good enough. That I would bring shame on the Royal Holy Pavillion. And
now what? Shame the Heavenly Emperor? I couldn't sink that low if I
tried." He picked up the wine bottle with a wobbly hand and tried to refill
his cup.

"Let me," Feng Xin said, carefully taking the bottle from Mu Qing's
hand. He filled both their cups and drank from his own.

"I am not a powerless teenager. I depend on no one. I am General Xuan

Zhen!" Mu Qing declared loudly. He lifted his cup in a toast to the
heavens and poured it down his throat. "I make my own vows." He set his
cup firmly on the table.

Feng Xin looked around quickly, but no one in the innhouse took more
than a moment's notice of the drunk man declaring himself a god. He
refilled their cups. "And you decided to get drunk?"
 "No," Mu Qing said, as Feng Xin took a drink. "I decided to have sex." As
Feng Xin choked on his wine, Mu Qing added, "I thought the alcohol
might help."

"Are you all right, gongzi?" the innkeeper rushed over to help Feng Xin.

"Fine," Feng Xin gasped. "Fine. Water?" The innkeeper dashed off to get
water.

"Stop being dramatic. It's just a bit of wine," Mu Qing said.

"Still hurts when it goes up your nose," Feng Xin wheezed. He shook
his head like a dog with wet fur, and accepted a drink of water from the
innkeeper with thanks. "Why are you here, then? Why not a brothel?"

Mu Qing shook his head. "I don't want to go to a brothel. Once I worked
out what to do about my cultivation...," he tapped the table with a single
finger, "Moonlight," he said, thoughtfully, "Has to be moonlight," his words
slurring slightly, "For the yin energy. And...," he patted his robes. "I wrote
it down. I worked it all out."

"That's okay," Feng Xin said quickly.

"Right, right," Mu Qing said, nodding his head. "I wrote it down." He
shook a scroll out of his sleeve. Feng Xin unrolled it, to find sketches of
the human body and extensive notes about spiritual energy. "And I asked
Pei Ming."

Something twisted in Feng Xin's stomach. "You asked Pei Ming to have
sex with you?" he hissed.

"No! No no no no no," Mu Qing waved his hands frantically and

knocked over a wine bottle. It hit the floor and shattered. "I asked Pei
Ming to find me someone. Strong spiritual power. Good yang energy. He
said he knew someone. Sent me here to wait for them."

"Oh." Feng Xin looked around the room again, evaluating each one as a
potential partner for Mu Qing. None of them looked right at all, and if
they had any spiritual power, they were hiding it well. "When are they
supposed to get here?" Feng Xin asked.

"Don't know," Mu Qing said. He teetered sideways. Feng Xin put his
arm around him and Mu Qing rested his head on Feng Xin's shoulder. "I
don't think I like being drunk," he declared.

The innkeeper came over to pick up the shattered wine jar. "Your room
is ready, gongzis. Do you want me to show you?"
 "Room?" Mu Qing lifted his head.

The room had thoughtfully been reserved for Mu Qing by Pei Ming.
The full moon reflected off the lake below and lit up the room so
completely there was almost no need for lanterns. A wooden box with
dyes and oils sat next to the bed. Feng Xin flung open the doors to the
balcony and breathed in the cool night air.

Mu Qing let out a long breath. "I need to be sober for this." He plopped
down on the bed in lotus position and Feng Xin could see a faint glow of
spiritual energy. A moment later, Mu Qing stood up. "Better," he said, no
slur in his voice or wobble in his stance. "I don't think I need to do that
again." He walked over to the balcony doors. "It's perfect," he said softly.
"The moonlight, the water, the land itself. It's exactly what I need." He
shut the doors. "I'll come back here on the next full moon. Once I find
someone."

Feng Xin folded his arms over his chest. "Pei Ming sent me here for
you," he said.

Mu Qing nodded. "Looks like. Sorry. I should have known he'd play it as
a prank. I'll find my own partner."

"I don't think it was a prank," Feng Xin said. "I think Pei Ming knows
that I've always had feelings for you, no matter how much I tried to bury
them."

"Oh," Mu Qing said. He opened his mouth to say something,

reconsidered it, then asked "Because he's a God of Love?"

"Maybe," Feng Xin said. "But also we went drinking together a few
years back. I got a little, ah, emotional over a roadside cherry tree and I
ended up telling him about you and me back in Xianle. Mu Qing." He
rested his hand on the other man's arm. "What if you'd had different
cultivation vows from the start?"

Mu Qing leaned, just slightly, into his touch. "Feng Xin," he said quietly.
"You wouldn't like my answer."

Feng Xin felt as though his insides had turned to lead. "Oh," he said.

"I had my studies, and Xie Lian to clean up after," Mu Qing said. "My
mother to take care of. And there was already gossip that I'd slept with
Xie Lian to get my place."

"Wait, what?"

"You." Mu Qing jabbed his finger at Feng Xin's chest. "You never knew
even half of the politics happening right under your nose. You and Xie
Lian both. If I stood behind his name, I was his puppet. If I tried to stand
alone, I was the floor sweeper. I had to watch my image all the time. I
couldn't let my guard down, even though every time I saw you, I wanted
to do this." Mu Qing grabbed the front of Feng Qing's robes and kissed
him. Feng Xin, startled, froze for a moment, but when Mu Qing made to
pull away, Feng Xin wrapped his arms around Mu Qing's waist and pulled
him back.

"What if there was no vows, no politics, no malicious gossip, none of

any of that, and don't tell me if I will or won't like your answer, just tell
me true; would you choose me?" Feng Xin asked.

Mu Qing said, "In eight centuries, only one person has ever made me
truly reconsider my vows."

"Then I'm yours," Feng Xin said. "If you want to have sex, just tell me
what you need. I'll take care of you."

Mu Qing had an odd look on his face. "Tonight?"

"We can start with tonight," Feng Xin said. Then he frowned, afraid he'd
misunderstood. "Or is the one person in eight centuries someone else?"

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He cupped Feng Xin's face in both
hands and kissed him deeply. After a minute, he dragged Feng Xin to the
bed. He stripped Feng Xin between kisses, then brought out the scented
oils and painted them at points along Feng Xin's meridians with warm
fingertips.

Feng Xin hadn't had a whole lot of sex himself, but he thought this was
probably not a very common way for people to lose their virginity. Mu
Qing stripped them both down and painted them with oils and dyes to
make sure the yin and yang energy all flowed properly. Mu Qing kept
checking the scroll with his notes to be sure everything was correct. It
turned out that Mu Qing muttering calculations while stroking Feng Xin's
skin with oil was incredibly erotic, even before Mu Qing removed his own
clothes. Feng Xin hoped Mu Qing appreciated that he had enough control
of his yang energy that he lasted until Mu Qing allowed him his release.

They lay entwined on the bed afterwards, naked, the oils smeared and
the dyes sunk into their skin. The moon set, and the lake glowed with the
first light of dawn, and still Feng Xin laid awake with Mu Qing in his arms.
Mu Qing was asleep with his nose pressed just under Feng Xin's ear. Feng
Xin thought he was probably drooling a little, from the dampness on his
neck, but he wouldn't have moved him for the world. "I don't want to stop
holding you," Feng Xin said quietly.
 "I can't believe you're such a sap," Mu Qing said into his neck.

Feng Xin started. "What the fuck. You're awake? I was just talking to...
uh..."

Mu Qing braced his arms on either side of Feng Xin's chest and lifted
himself up so he could look directly down on Feng Xin's face. "Who?" he
asked innocently.

Feng Xin stammered for a moment, red-faced, and finally said, "You,
okay?" He wrapped his arms around Mu Qing and tugged Mu Qing
off-balance so he dropped back down on Feng Xin's bare chest. "I like
holding you," he muttered into Mu Qing's hair.

"Oh," Mu Qing said. "Well. All right." He rested his chin just above Feng
Xin's collarbone.

Feng Xin lifted a hand and stroked Mu Qing's hair. "Are you okay? I
mean, did everything work properly?"

"Yes," Mu Qing said. He cleared his throat. "Thank you. I'm sorry for-
for most of the things I've said over the years."

"'Most' of the things?" Feng Xin asked.

"It's been a long time. I don't remember all the things I've said about
you. I'm sure some of them were deserved," Mu Qing said.

"Some of the things I said about you were deserved," Feng Xin shot
back.

Mu Qing scowled at him. "Why do you always have to be so... so..." He

glared at Feng Xin, and then without warning, he kissed him. Feng Xin's
hands tightened on Mu Qing's hips as he kissed him back.

"Mu Qing," Feng Xin said finally, breaking away from the kiss. "I love
you. I've loved you since I was sixteen years old. Even when I was so
furious with you I didn't want to see your stupid face, I still loved you."

Mu Qing stared at him, blinking wordlessly.

"J-j-joke," Feng Xin said weakly. "You should see your-"

Mu Qing stopped him with a kiss. "I love you, too. Not a j-j-joke."

"Oh," Feng Xin said, then added, "It wasn't really a joke."

"Say it again, then," Mu Qing said. He folded his hands on Feng Xin's
chest and rested his chin on them, waiting.

"I love you," Feng Xin said, his face lighting up with a grin. "I loved you
even when I hated you."

"That doesn't make any sense." Mu Qing laughed.

"I know," Feng Xin said. "These last eight centuries have been really
confusing."

"I know exactly what you mean," Mu Qing said. He stroked Feng Xin's
hair. "I love you," he said softly. "I love you."

"Can I hold you for a while?" Feng Xin asked.

"As long as you want," Mu Qing murmured, resting his head back
against Feng Xin's shoulder.
⦽
Cherish
Memories
By Utopia
Find her on Twitter and AO3 ⦽
Art by Delurianne, find her on Twitter, Tumblr and AO3
"General Nan Yang, actually..."
When he heard this news from Ling Wen, he was somewhat puzzled.

"He was poisoned by a demon while on official business and is suffering

from memory impairment. According to our investigations, it is
temporary and will return when the poison is out of his system."

She said that it would be better not to let him know too much and if he is
to be taken into someone's care, then the most suitable person would be
Feng Xin (since Hua Cheng wouldn't let go of Xie Lian).
Feng Xin had no choice but to agree, but he did not really understand the
situation until he stepped into the bedroom of the palace of Xuan Zhen,
where Mu Qing was resting.
He was sitting up on his bunk, looking out the window, when he turned
his head to look.
"............"
Silently, Mu Qing's gaze turned to Feng Xin.
It was like a stray cat staring at you from afar, wary and expecting
something.
When he called him, he gave a small nod with a hard look on his face.
"You don't remember me either, do you?"
Instantly a shadow fell over Mu Qing's face. Then he nodded again.
According to Ling Wen, he had been briefed and understood his
situation.It is understandable to be scared and anxious, and this is a
natural reaction. However, for Feng Xin, who had been constantly
bad-mouthed by Mu Qing and had grown accustomed to his sarcastic,
twisted and bullish responses, it was a disconcerting feeling that made
him uncomfortable.
"What is my relationship with you?"
If not clad in sarcasm and malice, Mu Qing's voice is very elegant and
soft.
How can he answer that when he was emotionally disturbed by even
that? "I have known you for a long time now, but we don't get along, we
fight all the time, and we are not the best of friends. However, we have
lived and died together, we can help each other in times of need, and in
fact, we might be able to get along a little better."ーーwhat kind of
relationship is that?
Feng Xin was puzzled and choked on his words.
"Well...um..."
Mu Qing looks at him suspiciously. In the end, Feng Xin opted for a
simple one-liner.
"...friend?"
As Feng Xin raised his end of the sentence tentatively, Mu Qing raised his
eyebrows even more suspiciously and let out a sigh.
''You seem...very unsure.''
Then he looked out the window again.
''...but I don't ...... feel bad when I look at you. I'm sure ...... I don't hate
you."
Feng Xin was struck by these words as if struck by lightning.
ーWhat did he say?
For a moment, he suspected he was hearing things in his head, but that
couldn't be true.
"Oh, um..."
Feng Xin was also upset and scratched his head.
"General Nan Yang…"
"So...anyway...I'm going to take care of you until your memory comes
back. Feel free to... rely on me."
"I understand."
Mu Qing turned to Feng Xin again and nodded so, his eyes so clear and
pure that Feng Xin finally could not bear it.
"You want some tea? Wait a minute..."
As soon as he said this, he ran out of the bedroom, grabbed a junior
official, instructed him to prepare tea, and instead of returning to the
room immediately, he sent a spiritual message to Ling Wen.
"Ling Wen?"
'What's the matter,General Nan Yang?'
"When one loses one's memory… does one's personality change as well!?"
'No...? I've never heard of anything like that.'
Hearing Ling Wen's reply, Feng Xin let out a low grunt. Perhaps sensing
this, Ling Wen continued.
'It's just that... for example, if he was consciously acting that way... then
that attitude could go away with a lapse in memory...'
"Consciously...?"
ーNo. Can't process it at all.
Feng Xin moans again.
'...can you handle it?"
Feng Xin nodded reluctantly when he saw the junior official who had just
brought the tea.
''...I'll see what I can do. Appreciate it..."

When Feng Xin returned to the bedroom, Mu Qing had gotten off his
bunk and was sitting in a chair beside it. Naturally, he was lightly dressed,
his hair was loosely tied, and even his appearance was different from the
Mu Qing with whom Feng Xin had always been in contact.
Feng Xin placed the tea cups and confections from the tray received
from the junior official on the table in front of Mu Qing, pulled up
another chair a short distance away, and sat down on it.
"Thank you."
Feng Xin did not miss Mu Qing saying this in a quiet voice.
"Uh…yeah…"
He clammed up and sipped his tea.
A subtle silence passes, which was unexpectedly long, and Feng Xin is
inwardly impatient when he loses his temper.
He does not recall a long silence between him and Mu Qing.
There were many times when Feng Xin thought it would be better if he
did not speak, but Mu Qing would break the silence and complain, which
would then get on Feng Xin's nerves and start a conversation called a
fight.
"...name"
It was still Mu Qing who broke the silence, but his one word was not one
that irritated Feng Xin in the least.
"I want you to tell me… your name."
Mu Qing says this without making eye contact and with a somewhat
gloomy tone. Feng Xin was surprised.
Wasn't the old Mu Qing just like this? When they had just met.
Mu Qing was a boy who lacked self-confidence, was reserved, and spoke
in a muffled, small voice.
ーIf only we could start over from that time.
The thought suddenly occurred to him.
Though misunderstandings and differences sometimes get resolved, their
relationship that had been built up will not change so easily.
What if he had realized what he really was from the beginning?
"Feng Xin."
When he replied, Mu Qing repeated "Feng Xin" in a small voice without
changing his expression.
Feng Xin hoped that the mention of his name would cause a surge in his
emotions, but that was probably too much to hope for…
"Feng Xin…"
This time he called out to him, and his eyes met Mu Qing's.
"I'm so bored."
His lips pouted a little and his expression of discontent was not so
different from usual.
"Oh..."
"You can... tell me anything you want... anyway..."
"Well...I'm not such a good talker...you're much more chatty than I am.......
Oh...well...do you want to practice idioms?"
When Feng Xin said this, Mu Qing was stunned once and then giggled.
"Word-chain-game?"
Feng Xin could only return a bitter look as Mu Qing continued to giggle.
"Don't laugh...really, we used to do that a lot..."
And he couldn't look directly at Mu Qing.
Whenever Mu Qing laughed, it always contained sarcasm or mockery,
and when he laughed genuinely like this... it was bad for the heart.
Feng Xin scratched the back of his head and carefully returned his
averted gaze.
"... tomorrow. Shall we go down the mortal realm? It would be a little bit
of a distraction for us, and it wouldn't be a problem."
"Down the mortal realm?"
Mu Qing tilted his head slightly, and a small smile lingered on his face.
"Ah, anyway, it's a different place from here."
Feng Xin said so.
"...if it doesn't bore me. That's better."
He nodded honestly.
"Yeah, well, I promise you, tomorrow. Today... you can go to sleep."
Not too early for sleep, Feng Xin got up from his chair and turned to
leave.
Mu Qing followed Feng Xin's figure, leaning his head back and looking up
at him. Upward glance.
Looking down, Feng Xin's heart throbs.
"I'm not sleepy at all."
The color of his eyes was melancholy, which suggested anxiety or
loneliness.
Feng Xin had seen this look many times in his long life. But they were not
Mu Qing's. Never.
"Ah...being an official, you don't need so much rest. But there's nothing
wrong with sleeping. You will sleep soon."
When Feng Xin said this in an admonishing manner, Mu Qing nodded his
head an looked downcast, but still opened and closed his mouth as if he
wanted to say something.
Just before Feng Xin was about to ask what was wrong, a muffled voice
finally said.
"If it's possible... I wish you were here."
"............"
"I'm sure you don't need to sleep either, do you? Then you wouldn't need
a bed..."
Mu Qing, speaking weakly, looked somewhat young.
Feng Xin said after a while, "Okay."

Mu Qing lay on the bed with his back to Feng Xin and pulled the thin
comforter over him.
Feng Xin, who was dressed lightly, sat zazen on a rush mat laid out in one
corner of the room, took one look at Mu Qing, and then closed his eyes.
Even with his eyes closed, he was really just in the same space, although
he could still sense the slightest presence through his years of practice.
When silence fell, the smell of the incense burning in the room became
very clear.
It was unmistakably the scent of Mu Qing, and Feng Xin realized for the
first time this day that he had known it long before coming here.

The next morning, Feng Xin stopped meditating when he felt Mu Qing
getting off his bed. He felt him getting ready, and when he opened his
eyes, their gazes met, and a relieved smile greeted Feng Xin, and he was
confronted with another strange phenomenon.

That day, they went down the mortal realm as promised.

Mu Qing, who had lost his skills as well as his memory, could not change
his appearance, so he at least stopped wearing his usual warrior god
attire, chose modest clothing , and dressed inconspicuously. Of course,
Feng Xin followed suit.
Feng Xin chose a very average-sized village, but there was a local festival
that day, and it was busy there.
No matter how old one got, the food stalls and the traditional music
coming from somewhere always lifted one's spirits.
Feng Xin glanced at Mu Qing standing next to him.
The up lifting spirit seemed to be the same for him, and although he was
not obviously excited, he had a small smile on his face.
Feng Xin looked at it, half in relief, half in awe. It was obviously Mu Qing
next to him, but obviously not the Mu Qing he knew so well.

Feng Xin stopped at a stall selling steamed meat buns, told Mu Qing to
wait, and returned to buy one.
When he broke it in half, it became distorted to look at, and Mu Qing gave
a small laugh.
He then pointed to the smaller one which looked like more dough, but
actually had less filling.
When Feng Xin presented him with other one, he blinked and then smiled,
saying thank you.
​It was Feng Xin's turn to be surprised, and heat gathered on his cheeks
despite himself. Mu Qing himself, who was watching, gradually turned
away, with his ears flushed red, but Feng Xin, who had already started
walking away, did not even notice.
A little further down the street, a man was shouting in front of a stall
selling some kind of entertainment. A woman standing next to him,
looking very glamorous, must be a prostitute of some sort.
The original Mu Qing would rather assess the situation before deciding if
he needed to take action, but Feng Xin was not so sure. If a problem
arose in front of him, he could not just overlook it. He waded through the
circle of onlookers and approached.
The man shouted,"This is definitely a scam!".
The stall was a shooting gallery with toy-like bows. The target was lined
with several items, among which a beautiful gold-worked and painted tea
cup stood out. Apparently, this was the man's goal as well.
"I've thrown so much money into this, and when I finally hit it, it doesn't
even budge! How could it possibly be taken down! Who can do it⁉︎ Hey,
owner, let's see it!"
The man was making accusations with a terrible swagger.
"Well, let me try."
The single upraised hand from among the onlookers caused both the man
and the owner to roll their eyes.
Feng Xin leapt into the center of the circle as cheerfully and smilingly as
possible.
"What are you? Do it if you can!"
The man scoffed and offered Feng Xin his toy-like bow. But Feng Xin was
a rare master of the bow. He was so skilled that he did not even choose
the tool he used.
Feng Xin looked at the owner, who gave him an anxious glance. "Don't
worry."
Just like that, Feng Xin knocked down the gold-worked tea cup with his
first shot.
The crowd of onlookers cheered, and the man who had been giving him a
hard time turned flush, yelled a few profanities, and ran away.
To be honest, Feng Xin could probably take down the targets one by one
with his two remaining arrows. However, when he saw the owner in front
of him turn pale with a complicated expression on his face, he chuckled
and returned the bow and arrow.
"I really want that one..."
Feng Xin points to a gold-work tea cup that he felled.
"Yes, yes, of course!"
Nodding broadly, the owner hurriedly wrapped it up and brought it to
Feng Xin.
"Thank you. You can keep this."
Feng Xin put several times the price of each try in the owner's hand and
gestures for him to keep it a secret. The owner's pallid face brightened
and he nodded his head again and again.
Feng Xin returned to Mu Qing's side with the loot in hand.
On the way, he shook his head as the onlookers cheered again, but still
they called out to him and he felt annoyed, so Feng Xin took Mu Qing's
arm and left quickly.
"...surprised."
After moving away far enough to be out of sight, Mu Qing mumbled
something like that, and Feng Xin released his arm from his grasp as well.
Mu Qing's eyes shone with pure interest and admiration, and Feng Xin
chuckled.
"You're good with the bow, aren't you? It's such a toy-like tool, and yet...
well... it's so beautifully poised... and..."
Mu Qing said that much, then covered his face with one hand and
muttered, "Nothing."
Feng Xin, who had never heard a word of praise from Mu Qing's mouth,
felt happy, embarrassed, and uncomfortable.
Then he simply replied, "I'm good with a bow."
Mu Qing only replied, "So," and then the two of them walked in silence
for a while.
As they were passing a stall selling farm produce, Feng Xin did not miss
the way Mu Qing's gaze rested on one spot for a moment.
It was bright, glossy, plump, and fully-ripened cherries.
Feng Xin stopped first, then Mu Qing. Then Mu Qing looked at Feng Xin.
"I think you probably like that one."
Following the gaze of Feng Xin, who scratched his head, Mu Qing turned
his gaze to the basketful of cherries.
"... maybe."
The owner noticed them and brought another basket of cherries from the
back of the store and offered it to them.
"They are very sweet! Try some. Don't hesitate!"
At his suggestion, Feng Xin reached out first, and Mu Qing followed suit,
taking a piece.
Feng Xin watched the glossy red ball being sucked between Mu Qing's
lips, and gasped at the sensational sight.
If the sarcasm and sneer were removed from Mu Qing, so much more —-
beyond that, don't even think about it right now.
Mu Qing blinked widely as he took a cherry in his mouth, and Feng Xin
thought he was probably satisfied with the taste.
"Can I have a basket of them, please?"
Mu Qing's hand reached for Feng Xin's arm as he offers payment.
Feng Xin returned that gaze with a small smile.
"Don't worry about it. I'll take it as a souvenir for today. Let's eat it when
we get back."
Mu Qing frowned slightly and then nodded.

That evening at The Palace of Xuan Zhen.

After a walk in the down the mortal realm, a meal and a bath, Mu Qing's
bedroom was filled with a gentle fragrance of incense, and a peaceful
time was about to pass.
On a small table were a gold-worked tea cup and cherries, today's loot,
and a different teacup is filled with tea.
Mu Qing is not the same Mu Qing that Feng Xin knew, with his still-not
dry hair tied in a loose knot, and the kind of man who would only be
sarcastic if you met him, but he remained silent and watched without
touching his cup of tea.
Feng Xin, who had somehow lost the opportunity to leave and was still
accompanying him, finally sat up to leave.
Mu Qing looked up at the sign and his eyes followed Feng Xin.
"Today..."
When their gazes meet, Mu Qing looked away bashfully.
"Thank you. ...I had a… good time."
Not loudly, Mu Qing speaks quietly.
Feng Xin's chest is full with a tantalizing sensation, and he gently shook
his head in reply.
He was Mu Qing, but not the Mu Qing Feng Xin knew, but the words he
spoke were unmistakably what "Mu Qing" felt.
Mu Qing did not conclude the day spent together with an hour-long
complaint, but instead threw in a word of thanks. It was truly, truly
amazing to Feng Xin, and he couldn't find the right response.
"...again…tonight."
Mu Qing says awkwardly.
"I wish you were here."
His voice was hard and somewhat reserved.
Feng Xin was about to leave, and even last night he was here, and didn't
think he didn't have things to do in his own palace. Still, he nodded
quickly, not wanting to let go of this strange experience just yet.
"... yes, no problem."
Mu Qing smiled, really. Oh my God, Feng Xin could not help but think.
Also that he smiled back at him.

When one meditated in zazen meditation, one sometimes tasted the

world of dream-realization.
"I like you, maybe."
That voice, those words, were lost in the moment when one's
consciousness is pulled back.

As the morning light streamed into the bedroom, Mu Qing sat up and
looked around the room.
In the corner of the room, standing zazen on a rush mat, was a man.
Lightly dressed, hair untied, but otherwise a fearless face, ever-frowning
eyebrows, and tightly knit lips, the very image Mu Qing knew.
As Mu Qing quietly got off the bed and approached, Feng Xin's eyes
snapped open.
Mu Qing was as annoyed and terribly reproachful as possible.
"...Why are you here!"
Feng Xin looked up adoringly with a surprised expression, blinked widely
a few times, and said, " You are Mu Qing?" He called out.
"Of course...are you insane?"
Irritated, Mu Qing retorted, and Feng Xin stood up and made eye contact
with Mu Qing.
Feng Xin stood up and looked at Mu Qing, "Are you insane? Was my line.
Are you back to normal?"

Feng Xin looked at Mu Qing seriously, his expression seeming somewhat

relieved.
"What about?"
"You, haven't your memory of the last few days slipped? During the
mission..."
Feng Xin begins to give a series of explanations.
Mu Qing listened with furrowed brows.
He knows.
When the cherry popped in his mouth. It all came back to him.
He still remembered everything, even the period of time during which he
had lost his memory.
The kindness that Feng Xin had shown him. And his smile.
"It sucks. I would rather have been left alone in jail than be taken care of
by you."
Mu Qing gives Feng Xin a big scowl and a swear word.
"Fuck, it sucks too that I feel a little more comfortable with your hateful
face and the way you talk."
Feng Xin also furrowed his brow as much as he could, but it was not the
look of irritated anger that Mu Qing knew.
His mouth was smiling, a little.
Mu Qing let out a big sigh and turned his back to Feng Xin.
Ahead of him, on the table, there were still some cherries and gold-work
tea cups left on the table.
He decided to keep this sweet and sour thought in his memory for a little
while yet.
With those treasures that Feng Xin gave him.

Fin.

Special Thanks: BAE (Providing a great plot!)

Art by Delurianne, find her on Twitter, Tumblr and AO3

⦽
Late Night
Whispers
By Paljuresji
Find her on Twitter and AO3 ⦽
In the same way all the beautiful things in this world have a meaning and
purpose, Feng Xin's skin also tells a story. When Mu Qing sees the
roughness of his hands, there are years of archery practice there.
Thousands of arrows shot to protect those Feng Xin cared about, those
he swore loyalty to. When Mu Qing sees the little wrinkles next to his
eyes he sees thousands of smiles. Feng Xin would always laugh at
everything, always walking through life with positivity—or at least trying
to. Mu Qing will never be able to deny how much he admired him for
being that strong. But not everything was always bright for them,
because when Mu Qing sees the little scars decorating his body, he sees
hundreds of battles, losses and victories.

Mu Qing loves to see him—to admire him, he may add. He hadn't realized
just how much but on nights like this, while Feng Xin sleeps and he lies
awake cuddled by the moonlight filtering through the windows of his
palace, he allows himself to stare. Of course, there's magic in seeing Feng
Xin smile, seeing him laugh. There's also charm in seeing him battle,
moving his muscles expertly as he fights in combat, Mu Qing can't
possibly take his eyes off him when he happens to catch him training.

However, this is probably the sight he loves the most. When he is able to
see him very up close. So close that he can count the freckles on his face
and the moles around his neck. Close enough to single out everything
that makes him beautiful, everything he loves about him. As close as no
one else is allowed to be.

If he's allowed to be honest, Mu Qing had never been reluctant to the

idea of love. In fact, he always wondered how it felt to be in love.
Especially after seeing Xie Lian with his Ghost King husband, he has to
admit he felt curious. He wanted to know what it felt like to give all of
himself to someone, to expose even the deepest of his secrets, to allow
himself to be seen bare—and not just for the lack of clothes.
He never thought he would learn all of those things from Feng Xin
though. From someone who he thought was a rival, an opposite, a lost
friend. But now, as his finger slowly traces along the contour of Feng
Xin's sleeping face and his feet instinctively get tangled with Feng Xin's
under the covers, he thinks he would've never discovered love in anyone
else.

Mu Qing gets the urge to move slightly closer, but he is afraid of waking
up his beloved and breaking this reminiscent moment. His heartbeat
accelerates slightly as he softly thumbs Feng Xin's cheek. There's a little
scar there too, one caused during the battle of Xianle. Mu Qing
remembers it very well. It was the first injury he treated for him and the
first time they were able to have a conversation without arguing. Their
energy to fight needed to be reserved for the war they were engaged in,
even though that night they both agreed they'd lose.

Mu Qing can no longer resist the impulse to press a delicate kiss to that
scar. It is soft, but it manages to stir Feng Xin awake. Mu Qing watches
him closely. The way his eyelashes flutter as butterflies' wings, the way
his eyes are unfocused for the briefest of seconds before they land on
Mu Qing. The way Feng Xin's lips slightly curve upwards when they do.

He feels a strong hand on his waist, bringing him a bit closer, space
between them becoming impossibly tight. "Can't sleep?" Feng Xin asks
calmly. Mu Qing had initially thought that if he woke him up, this fragile
moment he created for himself would be lost, but when his sleepy but
sweet melodic voice reaches him, nothing is broken. Rather, it seems
better than it was before.

"I woke up just a few minutes ago," he whispers back. Long ago, Mu Qing
decided to have his bedchambers in the most secluded part of his palace
so that he was not disturbed. Now, adding to that purpose is the desire to
trap these memories with Feng Xing here, as if it was a treasure vault.

Feng Xin, now more awake, moves a little. He rests on his back and pulls
Mu Qing to lay on his bare chest. Mu Qing, who always took pride in
being a strong and willful individual, is surprised by the way he goes
pliant and allows Feng Xin to do as he wishes.

"Is there something in your mind?" Feng Xin strokes his hair calmly. Mu
Qing closes his eyes.

"Just you…" he replies with more honesty than what he ever thought
himself capable of. Feng Xin just makes it so easy. "Us."

"What are you thinking about us?"

Mu Qing turns to see him, a hand still around Feng Xin's middle while
their eyes lock. Feng Xin is the weak one this time, it seems, because he
loses no time pressing his lips against Mu Qing's forehead.

"This," Mu Qing hugs him a bit tighter. "I wonder why we spend centuries
apart when we could've been doing this—a part of me feels like we lost
so much time."

Feng Xin sighs heavily. Mu Qing feels the arm around his middle press a
little tighter. "I've felt that too a couple of times," he confesses. "I think of
so many things I could've done differently, of situations I could've
addressed better."

"But we chose to fight instead," Mu Qing chuckles, happy to see how his
remark also makes Feng Xin smile.

"Did I ever tell you I was sorry for punching your cheek?" Feng Xin's
hand presses softly against his face. Mu Qing smiles.

"The same day I apologized for blackening your eye."

Truly, that conversation never happened, which is why it makes them

laugh a bit now. "I love you, you know?" Feng Xin says once the
atmosphere gets quiet again. "I know we can't make up for what we lost,
but I promise you eternity from now on."

Mu Qing is really not the best with words, he might be too vague or he
might be too blunt. It's something he might struggle with for a long time,
but he is no longer afraid of it. Because Feng Xin understands him—he
can see through him.

So when Mu Qing presses a kiss on his lips, with his hand tangling with
the hair under his neck, he knows Feng Xin is understanding his devotion.
The way in which he is not only saying I love you too, but also I am here
as long as you want me. Which he hopes is a really long time—as Feng
Xin said, an eternity.

"If you don't feel sleepy, we can go take a walk around," Feng Xin says,
pressing a kiss on the corner of mouth. Gods do not need to sleep, after
all. But Mu Qing shakes his head.

"I'd rather stay here with you," he says, kissing Feng Xin's jaw softly
before claiming back his spot on Feng Xin's chest, legs tangled, arm
around his waist.

Feng Xin brings the covers to their shoulders, stroking Mu Qing's hair.
Mu Qing nuzzles against the exposed skin of his lover, occasionally
kissing it softly. Silence settles but intimacy reigns.
They had never before addressed their past. Probably too afraid that it
might ruin their present. There's something about the night though, that
pushed them to be a bit more sincere, to show their hearts a bit more
unveiled.

Mu Qing waits until Feng Xin's breath has become even again to close his
eyes. An eternity is what they are promising to each other—an eternity to
spend like this. What else could Mu Qing possibly ask for? As long as he
is able to be in Feng Xin's arms, as long as he is the sole owner of his
heart, as long as they get to cease the day in each other's embrace—eight
hundred years are nothing compared to what's coming ahead.

A life together—the one they have chosen to share.

⦽
Click here and here to see the animations

How dare you lay and rest beneath my precious trees?

You are no darling, just a stripped violent thing
Big lazy tiger, lusting after my cherries
A luxury I don't remember allowing.
 Art by Muqingshusband, find them on Twitter

Your bright fur is an eyesore within my hues

A sunny stain among the venerable pink
Aren't you done recovering? What's the excuse
For you to stay instead of leaving me to think?
 I guess I'll suppose
that it's good to have you now

My unchanging animal,
the sun of my prose

I called you mine,

but I'll make sure you never know

I crawl and you growl,

this way
we'll always be close.
⦽
A Mid-Autumn
Night's Dream
By Baobeibaobae
Find her on AO3 ⦽
There's a little shrine in the deepest part of Mount Taicang's woods and
Xie Lian wonders why he's never noticed it before.
The bright red pillars and glazed blue tiles give it a striking appearance,
but it's the familiar bickering inside that stops him in his tracks.
Mu Qing is grumbling about something. "You got the crumbly ones – with
nuts!"
"Yeah, so?"

"I told you specifically to buy the ones with lotus paste."

"They're boring."

"You're boring."

"Says the one who eats the same ones every year," Feng Xin retorts. "But
have you ever wanted to try the new mooncakes, like the pretty purple
ones with taro inside?"
"What's wrong with the lotus paste ones? They're big and filling and not
too sweet. I like them. They make me happy. Why do we have to try
something else?"
"All right, all right, I hear you." Feng Xin's voice rings out clearly from
inside the shrine, but it's soft in a way Xie Lian has never heard before. "I
like them too. I've always liked them, you know? And I don't think I can
ever like anything else."
Xie Lian frowns at the wooden doors that separate him from the baffling
scene inside. What he would give to know what they were talking about,
but he doesn't feel good about eavesdropping and he can't quite barge in
and demand to know if they're really fighting over mooncakes.
Sighing, Xie Lian makes a move to leave, but his (bad) luck causes him to
step on a twig and the resulting crack is so loud that every critter on
Mount Taicang must have heard it and jumped.
"Your highness?"
When Xie Lian turns around, both of them are standing at the door. Mu
Qing is leaning against the frame with his arms crossed in front of him
and Feng Xin is already making his way over.
Xie Lian gives them a sheepish greeting and an awkward wave. "I was
just passing by and I thought I heard voices. I'm sorry if I interrupted
something."
Feng Xin takes his arm and leads him towards the entrance of the shrine.
"Of course not. Come in," he insists while guiding him over the threshold.
"We were just about to get you."

"And would have long ago if this idiot hadn't spent the whole afternoon
buying the wrong pastries."

Feng Xin glares. "What did you call me?" he asks, in a dangerously low
voice that reminds Xie Lian more of his usual self.
"I called you an i-di-ot," Mu Qing says, enunciating each of his words like
they're at court, "because you were an idiot when you decided to buy the
– mmpf!"
Folding his arms, Feng Xin smirks as an indignant Mu Qing is forced to
eat his words - while trying not to choke on the mooncake stuffed inside
his mouth.
"Lotus paste - mooncakes ," Mu Qing sputters, with a mouth all full of it.
"Oh god, it's so good."
"Happy now?" Feng Xin smirks. "Because I can think of a hundred other
ways to fucking shut you up."
"You – shut up." Mu Qing swallows the last of the pastry and looks
around the room for something to toss at Feng Xin's head, which
prompts Xie Lian to insert himself between the two.
"Where are we?" Xie Lian asks, going for the distraction, even though
he's now genuinely curious about the paintings on the walls and glazed
pottery sitting on shelves that are crafted in the elegance of a bygone
era.
But Feng Xin and Mu Qing are already walking inside.
Xie Lian follows them inside and admires the rosewood shelves with
birds and flowers carved on them, slowing down to run his fingers over
the spines of ancient books, before his footsteps grind to a halt in front
of a wall covered with swords from floor to ceiling – and not your
regular ones too.
"These swords…"
Feng Xin squeezes his arm. "They're yours."
"We never found Bei Xing (悲星) and Can Yue (残月)," Mu Qing informs
him regretfully. "Hen Xing (狠硎), Ba Dao (霸刀) were also destroyed
during the siege of Yong An, but these should be the rest."
Xie Lian blinks back the pressure gathering behind his eyes. He never
thought he'd see his precious swords again. And as much as he pretended
not to have cared back then, parting with each one had felt like he was
giving away a part of himself.
"It must have been a lot of work - looking for them," Xie Lian remarks
quietly as he recalls how these prized swords had been sold to serious
collectors, many of whom were the nobles and dignitaries of faraway
kingdoms halfway across the world.
"It took a while," Mu Qing admits. "But it's not like we were actively
looking. They just kept turning up in our search for –" He breaks off
abruptly when his eyes fall on Xie Lian. "For whatever it was that we
were trying to find – so we picked them up and kept them here."
Nodding, Xie Lian turns his head to the other side and pretends to study
the embossing of a helmet, but as he traces over the intricate flowers and
leaves, he recognises it as one of eight pieces in a ceremonial set for his
first ascension.
"Do you want to put it on?" Mu Qing asks casually when Xie Lian picks
up one of the shoulder pauldrons.
"No," Xie Lian laughs. It's probably the last thing he wants to do. He might
have ascended as a heavenly official for the third time, but the armour
already feels like it belongs to someone else.
"All right then," Feng Xin says, as he exchanges a look with Mu Qing.
"Whenever you're ready, we'll just be outside," he adds, before turning to
follow Mu Qing out.

Xie Lian doesn't know how long he spends inside. Time slows to a crawl
as he takes his time with the swords and tries to recall which ones had
been his first, the most deadly, his most cherished, reliving the joys and
sorrows as the hazy memories associated with every sword in his vast
collection wash over him in waves.
It gets too much after a while, so he takes a break by looking at the
paintings depicting Xianle's eminence and gets nostalgic and teary-eyed
about their markets and teahouses, where citizens would gather to
exchange gossip under the pretext of watching a play or listening to
music.
In search of something more light-hearted, Xie Lian picks up several
books on the shelves that interest him and makes himself comfortable on
one of the rosewood chairs as he loses (and finds) himself in the legends
and folktales that had once inspired him as a youth.
When he finally emerges from the shrine, his eyes are weary and his
heart is heavy at the reminder of all that he's lost, but the glorious view
of the thick maple forests raise his spirits.
The tall trees have long traded their coats of green for new ones in red
and gold and bathed in the last of the sun's rays, the whole mountain is
ablaze with some of its former glory – back when it had been home to
more than three thousand disciples.
Xie Lian remembers this place now. He hadn't recognised it at first
because it had only been a dilapidated shack for storing firewood back
then. Who knew that it would one day be transformed into a secret
museum housing all that remained of Xianle's treasures?
While this particular summit had always offered some of the best views
of the mountain's forests, it was fairly deserted back then, so the three of
them often gathered here to celebrate festivals and birthdays away from
the other disciples.
And tonight is the night of the harvest moon, where families reunite to
admire the moon and pray for blessings. It's always been one of Xie
Lian's favourite celebrations, but if he hadn't run into his friends tonight,
he would probably have forgotten about it.
Xie Lian, however, would never forget the circular stone table and its
four stone seats. It's where the three of them would gorge themselves on
the mooncakes that Feng Xin went down the mountain to buy and under
the flickering lanterns that Mu Qing painted himself, they would sip tea
and play games through the night.
How many evenings did they spend this way, laughing away the hours till
sunrise?
"Not enough," Mu Qing decides, echoing Xie Lian's thoughts, even though
he hasn't quite noticed Xie Lian yet, not with Feng Xin hovering over him
as he leans against the trunk of a tree with brightly-lit lanterns hanging
from its low branches.
"It's a full moon night," Feng Xin says, one hand beside Mu Qing's face
while the other reaches to cup his jaw. "You know I can see you well
enough."
"Since when was it ever about that?" Mu Qing sighs and rolls his whole
head back in a show of extreme exasperation. "These are auspicious
lanterns. They're the beacons lighting our paths to prosperity and
happiness and all our desires!"
"Xuan Zhen," Feng Xin says, dragging his words, leaning so close to Mu
Qing their noses have to be touching. "Are you, by any chance, praying
for something tremendous tonight?"

"Go away!" Mu Qing says and pushes lightly against Feng Xin's chest, but
Feng Xin only holds on to his hand and brings it to his mouth – and bites.
"Fuck! That hurts!" Mu Qing yells, as he roughly shoves Feng Xin aside to
soothe his knuckles.
Feng Xin is still laughing when Mu Qing charges at him with so much
force they crash violently into an adjacent tree. One of the lanterns falls
onto a clump of dry leaves, sending sparks flying around them. Still,
neither of them takes their eyes, or their arms, off each other.
A sudden burst of brightness around them offers Xie Lian some
illuminating insights. One - they're not fighting. Two - they stopped
fighting a long time ago. Three - what looks like a wrestling hold is only
moments away from a loving embrace, but Feng Xin soon says something
to rile Mu Qing up, and it prompts the martial god to extinguish the fire
with a wave of his arm.
And they're back to sparring again.
Glowing with divine aura, they resemble a pair of fireflies dancing around
each other against the darkening sky. Centuries of spiritual cultivation
have made them increasingly formidable, but they're just as evenly
matched as they had been 800 years ago.
Any advantage one gains over the other is brief and fleeting. "Yield!" Mu
Qing yells as he sits on top of Feng Xin, who's lying on the grass to catch
his breath.
Feng Xin raises his hand, as if to surrender, but it's a feint, and he only
reverses their positions to flip Mu Qing onto his back. "Never!" he yells.
Those who don't know Feng Xin and Mu Qing that well often think of
them as polar opposites, but Xie Lian prefers to think of them as
opposite sides of the same coin – molten in the same furnace and cast in
the same set of unique circumstances that make them stubbornly loyal
and completely inseparable – from each other.
Xie Lian is pretty oblivious when it comes to affairs of the heart, or so
he's been told, but even someone like him can see that there is so much
more to this insane rivalry that's lasted more than 800 years.
How is it that they haven't noticed it themselves?
The only thing they do notice some time later is Xie Lian standing there –
watching their antics fondly with a bemused smile. And in the blink of an
eye, they pull apart like tufts of dragon beard candy.
Feng Xin clears his throat loudly and informs them he's going to light the
rest of the lanterns (which was what Mu Qing was telling him to do in the
first place) while a visibly-flustered Mu Qing mumbles something about
fetching water for tea.
Xie Lian almost offers to go in Mu Qing's place to give them more time
together, but he now recognises a truth that their worshippers
acknowledged the day they began to build their temples side by side –
Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang were always together, so this might be his only
chance to talk to Feng Xin alone.
While waiting impatiently for Mu Qing to disappear into the forest, Xie
Lian listens with fond amusement to the obnoxiously cheerful melody
that Feng Xin whistles until he can stand it no more. "Feng Xin."
"Hmm?"
"Do you think that Mu Qing is happier these days?"
"Is he?" Feng Xin asks absently, preoccupied with lighting one of the
lanterns with his palm torch.
"He smiles a lot more now and…" Xie Lian steals a quick glance. "He's
very pretty when he smiles, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
Xie Lian blinks. "Do you really think so?"
"Do I really think – what?" Feng Xin asks, with a blank look on his face.
"That Mu Qing is pretty?"
"Sure," he answers easily, but stops what he's doing and narrows his eyes
when he catches sight of Xie Lian's smile. "What is this all about?"
Xie Lian takes a deep breath. "Feng Xin, we've been friends for a long
time, haven't we?"
"Yes?"
"Then, tell me the truth – have you ever thought of asking Mu Qing out?"
Feng Xin does a funny thing with his face. "Have I ever thought of asking
Mu Qing out?" he repeats, slowly, as if trying to make sense of what he's
just heard.
"Yes."
Xie Lian was prepared for a flustered denial, maybe even a violent
response, but Feng Xin defies all of his expectations when he throws his
head back and barks, howling raucously as he rolls around on the soft
grass.
During his long years of isolation, Xie Lian had really missed the sound of
Feng Xin's laughter and after 800 years, it hasn't changed. It's still loud
and carefree and so infectious that it doesn't take very long before Xie
Lian is laughing along.
"Of course, you don't have to. It's just a suggestion," he manages to say
when he gets a bit of a break.
Feng Xin doesn't stop, but he sputters out a few words between what
feels like neverending laughing fits. "Forgive me, your highness. I just –
humour me please – suppose I ask Mu Qing out, and he says yes, what
exactly do you imagine us doing together?"
Xie Lian pauses to think. "You can go on boat rides, or long hikes, visit
the country fairs? I don't think it really matters, although with someone
as shy as Mu Qing is, it's probably best to take things slow."
Feng Xin heaves himself into a sitting position, but he's still clutching his
sides, which must be cramping by now. "Mu Qing? Shy? Your highness,
do you even know him at all – hahaha – I'm just – hahahaha – this is
hilarious – I haven't laughed so much in years!"
Xie Lian wonders how he's somehow managed to misread the situation
so badly. He's always prided himself on being a fairly good judge of
character and these were his oldest friends for heaven's sake!
When Mu Qing returns with fresh spring water in a wooden pail, Feng
Xin is still heaving on grass, and clumps of dry leaves are stuck to his
robes.
"What's that idiot laughing about now?" Mu Qing asks as he tops up the
water in a small kettle that's been brewing over a fire.
"Uh – " Xie Lian hesitates. "It's nothing."
Feng Xin somehow pulls himself to his feet, but he's still doubled over in
laughter. "Mu Qing – His highness – hahaha – his highness thinks – I
should ask you out. Hahahahahahaha!"
Mu Qing doesn't join in the hysterics, but the hand over his mouth barely
conceals the amused smile spreading across his face.

"Is it that funny?" Xie Lian wonders.

"Yes!" they chorus.

Xie Lian lets out a soft sigh. Even old married couples didn't share this
kind of connection. Why were they still in denial?
"Mu Qing," Xie Lian says, trying his luck with the other man this time.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't like Feng Xin."
Mu Qing lifts his head and squarely meets Xie Lian's gaze. "I don't like
Feng Xin," he says without missing a beat.

Feng Xin stops laughing. "Hey! That's not what you said in bed last night
when you – and I – never mind," he trails off as two spots of pink appear
on his cheeks.
Xie Lian's brain screeches to a halt. "In bed? Last night? Are you both – "
"Sleeping together," Mu Qing deadpans.
"But then – you still fight?"
"Of course, we still fight," Mu Qing says proudly. "It's what we do best."
"And how else will we get to have makeup sex?" Feng Xin adds. "Which is
the best kind of sex – not that sex with you is ever bad – but uh –
makeup sex is something else."
Mu Qing shoots Feng Xin a look that is somehow exasperated and fond at
the same time. "Why did I ever agree to marry you?"
"Married," Xie Lian says breathlessly, and reaches out for Mu Qing's arm.
"Huh?"
"You're married."
"Unfortunately," Mu Qing grumbles as Feng Xin nods enthusiastically
beside him.
"And neither of you thought it was important to mention it – to me?" Xie
Lian asks, feeling like the fool who's had the rug pulled from under his
feet.
Feng Xin shrugs. "We thought you might have already figured it out –
since you knew about Nan Feng and Fu Yao."
Xie Lian hides his embarrassment in his hands. And here he was trying to
set them up with each other, when they've been married for god knows
how long. "When?"
"Four – or five centuries ago?" Feng Xin guesses and turns to Mu Qing to
back him up.
"672 years, 8 months and 25 days."
"Holy shit," Feng Xin whispers. "Has it been that long?"
"Yes."
Feng Xin cups his hands around Mu Qing's small face and gently runs his
thumbs across his high cheekbones. "You haven't aged a day."
"And you," Mu Qing says, with a teasing smile, "haven't grown up at all."
A deep ache blooms in Xie Lian's chest. "I missed your wedding," he
mumbles, and doesn't even bother to hide the pain in his voice.
Feng Xin's arm feels warm around his shoulder. "Your Highness, it's okay.
Don't be upset. We'll just get divorced and married all over again."
Mu Qing makes a sound like he's dying. "We will do no such thing."
Feng Xin laughs. "We had the wedding right here, you know?" he says,
and reaches for Xie Lian's hand to take him back inside the shrine. "And
this is where he kept me waiting for one shichen, because the one event
Mu Qing decides to be late to is our wedding."
Xie Lian turns back to look at Mu Qing, who's walking towards them with
some refreshments in his hand. "The hairpiece wouldn't go on right."
"Who cares about the hairpiece?"

"You did – you said it was the prettiest hairpiece you've ever seen."

"Because it was on your head!"

"I also had to sew one of the beads that fell off my robes"

"His wedding robes – that he made himself," Feng Xin tells Xie Lian, as
his eyes take on a faraway look. "So beautiful," he adds dreamily.
"Watch where you're going," Mu Qing teases, "or you're going to trip –
again."
"I did trip," Feng Xin informs Xie Lian as he points out the spot to him.
"Right here – and pretended to hurt my leg so Mu Qing would carry me
inside the prayer hall, where we did the bows and said our vows."
"Which you forgot."
"Which I forgot," Feng Xin admits. "But I still made you cry," he teases,
peering closely at Mu Qing's face. "Wait, are you - "
"No," Mu Qing sniffs and walks so far ahead of them they cannot see his
face.
Xie Lian sighs heavily. "It sounds like a beautiful wedding."
"It was the best wedding," Feng Xin confirms.
"And the only one we're going to have," Mu Qing yells over his shoulder.
"All right, all right," Feng Xin says ruefully. "There is just one small thing
we didn't get to do, you know? We never really had a tea ceremony."
The tea ceremony is when newlyweds would serve tea to their seniors –
grandparents, parents, elder siblings, who would welcome them with
blessings and gifts, but long before they married, both of their families
had already passed on.
"Come," Feng Xin tells Xie Lian as he gently takes his arm and guides him
towards the rosewood chairs at the back of the shrine, where he'd just
been leafing through the ancient books not too long ago.
"My best friends are married," Xie Lian says quietly, letting the words
sink in as he sits back down on the same chair. Overwhelmed by emotion,
he watches absently as Mu Qing pours tea into little cups.
"Yes," Feng Xin says.
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
"What do you think we're doing right now?" Mu Qing softly asks.

"Mu Qing! What are you doing?" he exclaims and would have jumped out
of the chair to help the kneeling man up had it not been for Feng Xin
holding him back.
"Serving you tea." And he really is – holding a cup of tea cradled in his
hands, but it's not like any of the other times he'd done that before.
"Feng Xin," he gasps, when Feng Xin picks up the other cup and takes his
place beside his – his husband.

"But this – it's for family…"

"Yes," they tell him quietly and are looking at him with so much sincerity
and raw emotion that it's impossible to speak around the lump that's
growing in his throat.
Xie Lian can barely see the cup of tea through the hot tears that blur his
vision, but he accepts the drink from Mu Qing and gulps it all down
before he can ruin the moment.
His hands are still shaking when he takes the other cup from Feng Xin,
but this time, he's calm enough to sip it more slowly, tasting the longan,
red dates and lotus seeds meant to bless this long-lived marriage with
sweetness and harmony.
Xie Lian dabs his eyes with the corner of a sleeve. "I should give you
something," he mumbles, looking around the room for the ceremonial
armour he was admiring not too long ago.
It's not quite jewellery, but neither of them are brides, and Xie Lian
doesn't think there can be any gift more fitting for this pair of hardened
warriors who somehow managed to find love in the middle of war.
Xie Lian tries to reach for it but Mu Qing's arms have found their way
around him, making it impossible to move. "Your highness," he says, as he
hugs him tightly. "I promise – we have everything that we need."
Xie Lian's breath hitches in a chest that feels unbearably tight and it feels
like Mu Qing's embrace is the only thing that's keeping him from falling
apart. Then, there's Feng Xin, who somehow manages to take both of
them into his extremely long arms and they're soon on the floor together
– laughing and crying at the same time.

Art by Nanzhen, find him on AO3

By the time they leave the shrine, the sky is dark and the stars shine a
clear path for the rising moon. The lanterns hanging from the trees are
still burning brightly and there's a magical glow around the little clearing.
Together, they unwrap all the food and the drab stone table is soon
covered with trays of beautifully-decorated mooncakes and platters of
fruit. Over tea and all their snacks, they chat and laugh together, as
moonlight beams on their happy faces, just like when they were young
boys. And when the moon's reflection appears in their teacups, they look
up into the sky and agree it's the biggest and brightest one they've seen
in centuries.
Watching Feng Xin feeding Mu Qing some pomelo from his hand, Xie Lian
cannot help but wonder aloud. "How does everyone else not know about
you two?"
"That's easy," Feng Xin says. "Every time someone gets close to finding
out our secret, we just punch a few pillars and break a wall – or two."
"Isn't that a huge bother, not to mention very expensive? Why not just tell
them?"
"Well, back then, we couldn't. There were rules against having a
relationship with a heavenly official, so we had to keep everyone in the
dark," Feng Xin reminds him.
"But right now?" Xie Lian presses, turning to Mu Qing this time.
"Of course, it's not forbidden anymore. Otherwise, we'd have to banish
more than half of us," Mu Qing remarks. "But I guess some habits are
hard to change. It's not like we're that different behind closed doors.
Besides, we didn't want anyone else finding out before our very best
friend."
Xie Lian's breath hitches in his throat and he feels like crying all over
again, but he takes a deep breath and a couple of moments to take this all
in. "Does no one else know?"
Feng Xin shrugs. "Crimson Rain, maybe. He has a way of knowing things
– ow!" he yelps, when Mu Qing smacks his arm, but goes on talking
anyway. "Your highness, Crimson Rain is a whole bunch of things I will
not say out of respect for you, but he's not a liar. If he says he'll be back,
then he will."
"And till then, we'll be here – sharing in your joys and woes," Mu Qing
promises, as he casually pinches the mooncake on Feng Xin's plate.
"Mu Qing!" Feng Xin yells. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Sharing!" Mu Qing yells, but he's already running off.
"Give that back!" Feng Xin yells as he chases him behind a tree. "I was
saving it. It is the very last one with lotus paste!"
"Serves you right for not buying more!" Mu Qing retorts, right before he
pops it into his mouth.
"You're unbelievable," Feng Xin grumbles, shaking his head as he watches
Mu Qing swallow his ill-gotten snack with great longing in his eyes.
Mu Qing laughs at his sorrowful expression, but decides to show him
some charity. "There's still some, if you hurry," he informs him, as he
points at his mouth and licks his lips.
In a heartbeat, Feng Xin tackles the other man to the ground and goes for
the kiss.
A gust of wind sends the maple leaves dancing and a large one, especially
vibrant, lands on his open palm. Gently, Xie Lian closes his palm around
it. Some days, it feels like he's missing a huge chunk of his heart. On
other days, it feels like a deep ache that seeps into his bones.
Xie Lian gazes at the mooncake Mu Qing had earlier placed on his dish
and gently runs his fingers over the message embossed on it – 花好月圆.
Lovely flowers, round moon. Everything is wonderful. All is well. It's a
wish so simple, but beautiful, that Xie Lian is reluctant to take a bite, for
fear of inviting misfortune.
Xie Lian reasons that it won't be safe for long anyway, not with Feng Xin
and Mu Qing around, so he picks it up and takes a small bite, appreciating
the chewy texture and savouring the somewhat familiar sweetness that
rolls down his tongue and brings tears to his eyes.
Even when he was living on his own, Xie Lian always made it a point to
have a mooncake to mark the festival. Depending on what year it was and
where he found himself, the mooncakes had always tasted different.
Some were sweet while others were savoury. Some were flaky while
others were chewy. They were filled with lotus paste and beans and nuts.
But none of them had ever tasted quite like the one he's clutching tightly
in his hands.
It tastes like family.
It tastes of home.

Picture by Vera, find her on AO3

The End

⦽
A Delicate
Taming
By Vera
Find her on AO3 ⦽
I.

A hundred years after his ascension, Feng Xin leaves offerings at General
Xuan Zhen's altar. It starts as an apology.

There are cherries, widely known as the heavenly official's favourite

fruit. But along with them are strange pastries no one's ever seen before,
confusing the other worshippers who pass by with their own oblations.
Some wonder if this is another of the gracious Xuan Zhen's favourites,
known by some supplicant from another township somewhere. A curious
matron almost picks one up before stopping herself, mortified at almost
stealing something that belongs to a god. But the cakes are so roughly
made. Would their General even like them? If she could see what's inside,
she could make something better.

Feng Xin tops up the oil for the lights that burn through both day and
night in each temple he passes through. He racks up quite the tally of
visits during his time in the mortal realm. Even so, he never goes as far as
to hold a joss stick and do so much as pray. He doesn't have the words
with which to speak to Mu Qing, so he maintains these quiet actions
instead.

The ugly pastries keep showing up. They become better made, though
surely not up to General Xuan Zhen's standards.

II.

Passing Mu Qing on the streets of the heavenly capital, Feng Xin makes
sure to at least nod at Mu Qing. Sometimes he would simply say,
"General Xuan Zhen," as he strides past. Sometimes he would smile. It is
an attempt at reconciliation.

Mu Qing takes a while to see it that way.

Feng Xin isn't completely sure about whether Mu Qing knows about his
offerings. For one thing, the Mu Qing he knows would have come banging
at the door of his temple or intercepted him in the middle of the street.
That Mu Qing would not have let things go until they were both panting,
bleeding, voices hoarse from shouting at each other.

Then again, Mu Qing wouldn't respond to his feeble stabs at interaction if

he didn't know. Mu Qing is a calculative creature, Feng Xin has always
known this. His sense of propriety and that horrible pride means that he
always keeps score, for the good and the bad.

Perhaps Feng Xin should feel more morose that his overtures are being
returned out of a sense of obligation, but he can't bring himself to.

One day, Mu Qing ends up being the one to greet him first. The next
week, Mu Qing invites him over to Xuan Zhen Palace for tea. The next
month, Mu Qing provokes him, a roundabout way to challenge him to a
friendly spar.

Feng Xin doesn't need to nod anymore. These days, they wind up next to
each other as they walk anywhere, as if they have a standing agreement
for it.

III.

They become friends, and then Feng Xin starts sending deputies to Mu
Qing's door with gifts. It was never meant to be serious, except it always
was.

He starts with hair oil, knowing that it can be played off as a joke if Mu
Qing reacts badly to it. Teasing, but in a much more harmless way than
they used to mean it. Everyone else knows not to poke at Xuan Zhen's
vanity, even if they mean it as a vicious scheme.

When that is accepted not only with thanks but a reciprocal present after
a suitable amount of time, Feng Xin escalates. Next, he crafts a
meticulous knot out of thick red string to be hung on Mu Qing's
zhanmadao as an accessory. It is imbued with spells of protection and
prayers of safety, along with his affection.

Later, Feng Xin picks out the brightest, clearest jade pendant he can find.
It becomes an item so closely intertwined with Mu Qing's presence and
being that it appears hanging from the belt of Mu Qing's statues in the
mortal realm.

The latest gift to Mu Qing is simple. It is a booklet written in Feng Xin's

most careful calligraphy and delivered by hand. The booklet is bound in
red and contains Feng Xin's very hopes and dreams. It has both their
names at its heart.

Mu Qing doesn't leave Feng Xin waiting in the receiving hall of Xuan
Zhen Palace for long.

+1

Mu Qing has given Feng Xin so much. His ire, his vitriol, the sting of his
blade. His time, his thoughts, the full breadth of his heart.

Tonight, in a darkened room lit only with flickering red candles, Mu Qing
leans forwards and bestows upon Feng Xin's warm lips a kiss. Their
palms meet and fingers clasp together. The rest of the night passes
without words.

It is the culmination of a promise they made to each other long before.

⦽
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For You
By ArcherFucker
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Feng Xin isn't dumb; he just doesn't play mind games. His easy anger
speaks of sensitivity but this emotionality isn't void of rationality. His life
taught him that nothing is simple, especially not feelings. However, his
tenacity makes him hold on to the fact that one can look at a complex
situation and come up with a simple answer.

Mu Qing loves and desires him, but he also despises him. The firsts don't
always prevent the last.

It's fine.

The martial god can take it.

Holding his partner is an honor, being allowed to please him even more
so. Feng Xin always wants the best, but he can make do with less.
Indulging himself in this is a weakness that he willingly gives to his
nemesis. Because if there is one thing Feng Xin knows to do, it's to give.

He gives because he can. He gives because he wants to. He gives because

he cannot do otherwise. He has never expected anything back… until
now. Discovering how deep the root of his affection for Mu Qing digs has
apparently enabled a foreign concept to crawl into his mind.

Reciprocity.

Actually, it isn't that foreign, Mu Qing has always reciprocated in most

things.

Insult and be insulted.

Fight and be fought.
Protect His Highness and protect His Highness.
In the end, though, Feng Xin holds but is not held.

Pathetic.

He hates himself for… feeling fucking hurt every time he initiates

closeness with the other, fully knowing the reverse will never happen. He
doesn't blame Mu Qing a bit, but he wishes he was given more than once
spoken consent to hug and kiss him. Sometimes, he feels like he is
nothing but an annoying dog who is only meant to be tolerated. If he ever
gave something Mu Qing didn't feel like receiving, he would tell him,
right? Maybe punch him, whatever, but he would let Feng Xin know…
right?

Feng Xin has worked hard on braving his insecurities to be intimate with
Mu Qing, whether it be sexual or not, by trying his best to read the signs
and hold on to those costly sincere words he earned at some point.
That's why he doesn't doubt his partner's love for him, not officially, at
least. However, laying with his arms wrapped around his lover's waist as
he currently is, he wonders if he's simply being indulged or if it's actually
wished for.

Is it good?
Are you comfortable?
Do you feel safe?
Do you wish you were alone right now?

Should I let go?

Should I let go?

There is no blush to be seen in the dark.

Anyway, that's how it happens. That's when he steps back.

The bold archer, now unable to dare. Blind to the trembling of fingers,
deaf to a racing heart. His eyes do not see the fear in the others', his ears
do not hear the hitched breaths of the grand Xuan Zhen Jiangjun who
starts missing him.

Were you ever mine enough for me to lose you?

Were you ever mine at all?

They're walking side by side, Feng Xin acts normal, but nothing is.
Something has changed. Mu Qing's hand grazes his and he jumps away,
as if that slight touch burnt him.

"Sorry!" he even dares to say.

Mu Qing glares at him, not because he's unhappy about their hands
touching, but because his 'lover' avoided it.

"Sorry?" Mu Qing snaps questioningly.

"I…" Feng Xin looks away. "My hand touched yours…"

"You…"

He had wanted to be wrong about this feeling.

"Don't apologize," he grits. "The fault is mine!"

And with that, Mu Qing is gone.

Gods don't need to sleep, but they still get tired. Especially after working
non-stop for days if not weeks like Feng Xin tends to do when he's down
in the mortal world. At least, things are settled now and should keep on
being so for a little while, unless another considerably ranked ghost
decides that stealing and eating rich folks' boots is fun… The southern
deity enjoys being busy though, enjoys having an excuse not to meet up
with a certain someone despite the ache it brings into his chest.

Feng Xin didn't even find the courage to enter his palace. He does not
want to work on reports so he's lying on top of a nice patch of heavenly
grass beneath the shade of a celestial tree. The sun is warm and his
eyelids drag heavily over his eyes, dimming the reality around him.

Sigh.

The wind is as loud as his breathing.

You have been avoiding me.

Has he been found or is he dreaming? The hand in his hair is gentle and
the lips on his forehead are soft.

Sigh.
Sigh, sigh.

Feng Xin's consciousness jolts. His nerves jump and he can only think in
blurs. The world around him does not make sense, it's made of
nothingness… but then—

"This was a mistake," Jian Lan tells him before breaking free from his
arms and disappearing into the night. He is powerless. He has no right to
his child.

"How come you are still here?" Xie Lian's voice startles him into turning
around. The Crown Prince is giving him a blank stare from where he sits
on the floor, covered in dust and rice. It's as much His Highness as it is
not His Highness.

"Sometimes I wonder why I stay with you," Mu Qing's voice says…

He's nowhere.

Hah...

Feng Xin chuckles.

Me too.

"We shouldn't have…"

"Didn't I order you to leave?"

"Why I stay with you…"

"With you…"
"You."

This time, Feng Xin wakes up for real. Mu Qing is above him and he
almost knocks their heads when he rushes to sit up.

"You're back," his lover greets.

Back from your dream,

back from any other realm,
back to me.

Mu Qing reaches a hand out to him, Feng Xin shakes his head.

"Do I have something in my hair? Grass?"

"No," the outstretched fingers retreat. "I put your head on my legs, so
there isn't anything."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Were you having a nightmare?"

"No, why?"

"You were acting strange in your sleep."

You cling to my body, usually.

Just earlier,
you were so still.

"Your face is strange!" Feng Xin tries to laugh away. It does not work, Mu
Qing keeps staring at him.

"Okay," he replies simply.

I should get going.

"I should get going! Reports and all…"

"..."

I'm sorry.

"I'll see you later…"

"..."

Will you?
I wonder what is it that
died inside of you.

"His love for you? Oh, Mu Qing…"

His Highness isn't done speaking, but Mu Qing doesn't hear. It's not even
the real Xie Lian, anyway. It's his personal Mind Dianxia with whom he
imagines discussing things a thousand times before, or if, he actually
does so.

(Nine times out of ten, he doesn't.)

Curse His Highness for being so… inspiring.

"Maybe he still loves me," Mind Dianxia says with an innocent smile.
Wow.

That insecurity is old. He shakes his head and in his imagination, Xie Lian
pats it.

"Talk to him."

It's obviously what they need to do but they… aren't the best at talking,
are they? Especially him, because, if in the mood, Feng Xin can blabber
on for days while it seems that snapping is the only thing Mu Qing can
do! How did they even get 'together'?

He reached out to me, that's how. He held on.

Feng Xin held on to him despite his acidic personality, despite his
inability to take in the good sides of things, despite the fact that he has
nothing to give. Sure, he can swallow his pride– his fears, from time to
time, he can surrender to the other's care.

Why did he?

Why does he?

Because of the fact that they've been acquainted for so long? Sometimes,
it all makes sense, the 'why' of their joining. When they fight side by side,
when their arms are entwined and their breaths mixed. But what of the
times when their insults are louder than the beating of their hearts and
their legs brought up to bruise each other instead of mingling to remain
close? Mu Qing has no peace to give to Feng Xin, there will always be
screams and kicks… Hah! Why is he wondering why he's being avoided?

But… it's been a while since they had a real fight, hasn't it? Mu Qing
watched himself so hard so it didn't happen, made so much effort! Could
it be about an old disagreement? An old insult? Feng Xin isn't a resentful
person though, he doesn't hold grudges the way Mu Qing does. He
doesn't hold shit against people like Mu Qing was so convinced he did for
centuries. He is forgiving.

If this isn't about grievance then… maybe it's just about regrets.

Should he ask Feng Xin if he wants to go back to just being… not… what
they are right now?

"I am in love with you."

"I love you…"
"I love you!"
He said it so many times! Still… maybe things changed, perhaps, he was
mistaken and is only realizing it now.

"We've been… a thing for months now…" Mu Qing thinks aloud. "I wish he
realized it sooner."

Or acted on it sooner. Kind as he is, there are chances that Feng Xin has
been feeling like this for a while, but still hasn't gotten around hurting Mu
Qing.

The idiot.

The coward.

Mu Qing's fists tighten and shake, anger instantly rising in his chest. Oh,
how he wants to rush to wherever Feng Xin is and confront his dishonest
ass—

Alright,
Deep breaths.

Wait a little bit more before ruining everything.

Wait, wait, wait…

"Mu Qing?!" Feng Xin yells his name in surprise as he slashes through the
heads of the weak monsters standing near him. "What are you doing
here?!"

Mu Qing lands at his side flawlessly.

Can't I just come over to see my boyfriend?

He grits his teeth.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm giving you a hand."

"Did Ling Wen send you?" Feng Xin cuts down another wave of ghosts. "I
told her not to call you!"

"What?"

We were supposed to be together?

This doesn't help his anger issues. At all. However, he manages to take it
all out on the disgusting creatures that sway around them. Mu Qing feels
so, so mad at Feng Xin, but he manages to keep it to himself while they
fight together. They don't even need to discuss their strategies, when he
spots the heart of it all, he knows Feng Xin will have his back while he
jumps to hit it with all his strength. Finally, the chaos literally melts away.
Mu Qing ignores the environmental disaster his unnecessary
all-killing-blow caused and turns to his partner.

"Why did you not want me to come?" he asks him.

"Because I knew I could do it on my own," Feng Xin replies dismissively.

"So you'd rather waste your time rather than be efficient with me?" Mu
Qing quirks an eyebrow at him.

The other has the nerve to look apologetic.

"I didn't want to bother you…" he says, looking away and scratching the
back of his neck.

"Liar."

Whoops, he didn't mean to let that come out of his mouth.

"It's true!"

"Whatever."

"Do you… hum, let me treat you to dinner? As thanks for helping me
out?"

Mu Qing quickly crushes the fluttering bird of hope the invitation

prompts in his stomach.

He is only covering for himself.

Yet he finds himself accepting and they start moving toward the nearest
town. The silence between them is painful and heavy, not blissful. Neither
of them know what to make of themselves. Mu Qing looks at the way
they walk next to each other and finds himself waiting for something.
Usually, by that point, Feng Xin would have grabbed his hand and given
him a boyish smile. However, seeing as how last time, Feng Xin couldn't
even bear the brushing of their hands… he knows better than to hope for
it.

Gods, he misses it stupidly. His big fingers around him, the impossible
warmth he knows they emit, even the sweat they'd produce.
He should take it, take it while he can before he gets dumped. Mu Qing's
hand twitches at the thought and he decides to go for it—

"We're there," Feng Xin startles him. "It's a small village, I'm afraid we can
only eat at the inn at this hour."

"I don't care."

They take on their alternative forms to interact with the mortals and get
their food.

"What was this mission exactly about?" he blurts out when they're
served.

Feng Xin tells him about it, it's generic and basic. That's good, they can
blabber about it and nothing has to mean anything. They're done eating,
but they're still talking, it feels miraculous. It's hard not to stare at the
other's unoccupied hand because he wants to hold it so badly, he feels
like it's eyeing him.

Take it, take it, take it.

Take it and keep it.

When Mu Qing's hand brushes against his, full of purpose, Feng Xin
jumps but does not withdraw. His eyes widen for a second, so not used
to being the object of initiative, and his cheeks blush a little when their
fingers intertwine. Finally, Mu Qing takes a grasp of his courage and
opens his mouth.

"Do you… not like holding hands anymore?"

Do you not like me?

The idiot looks baffled.

"Why do you think that?"

He dares ask!

"You–" Mu Qing takes a subtle breath to calm himself down and not yell
at him. "You just–, it's been a while since you held mine…" he continues
before lowering his stare, clearly embarrassed. "You used to take it all the
time."

From one of confusion, through Nan Feng's face, Feng Xin's expression
turns sorry. Sadly, it's for all the wrong reasons again.

"About that… I apologize,"

"What for, this time?" Mu Qing scoffs angrily and tightens his grip when
his partner attempts a retreat.

"For never asking if you wanted to first," Feng Xin replies with a wince, as
if it's the most logical thing. "And for doing it so much."

He suddenly looks so uncomfortably guilty it's painful to see.

"What makes you think I wouldn't have told you that I didn't want it? You
think I'd let you do anything to me that I don't want you to?"

His answer seems to shock his partner.

"O–of course not! I didn't mean to imply that…"

"Then please, do tell, what the fuck did you mean to imply?"

"I mean that, maybe, sometimes, you're too tired of me to properly tell
me off…"

"Too tired of you?"

Aren't you the one getting tired?

"Yes?" the other blinks. "I wouldn't blame you."

Their hands part.

Indeed, why would Feng Xin blame him for getting tired when he is
getting bored 'too'. Mu Qing has spent lifetimes projecting his own
feelings and insecurities onto his pairs, especially Feng Xin, convincing
himself that he was constantly being judged and despised... Realizing that
he now is the target of such reckoning is… quite humbling. It polishes his
anger with a sandy bitterness.

"I see," he sighs.

It hurts.

How noble of Nan Yang Jiangjun, not faulting his lover for eventually
losing interest. How understanding! Mu Qing isn't that good of a person,
he wants Feng Xin to look at him forever. So… selfish! He abhors that side
of him.

His fists, smaller in this form, slightly tremble on the table, Feng Xin
notices and recognizes the look, recognizes the eyes.

Hatred.
 Hah. Here it is today.

Mu Qing is indeed tired of him, he just wasn't aware before now because
he loves him too.

"Whatever," he mumbles. "You don't need to be sorry about that. If I don't

like something, I'll just tell you."

"That's good," Feng Xin appears relieved but still sounds unsure.

"What about you?" Mu Qing thus decides to challenge.

"What about me?"

"Do you intend to let me know when you resent my company?"

"What—"

"Actually," he cuts in before Feng Xin can keep going. "You keep
apologizing when, truly, I'm the one who's sorry. You clearly did not want
to see me tonight and just earlier, you pulled your hand back."

He takes a deep breath and his voice dies a little.

"But I came anyway, and I did not let go…"

This whole scene… is about Feng Xin making sure to respect Mu Qing in a
way Mu Qing has failed to respect Feng Xin. He's mirroring his
discomfort because… because Mu Qing doesn't give him the space to
express it, not even to himself.

Mu Qing isn't well placed to assert any judgment on the matter of

projecting feelings instead of facing them, but… but still–! After
everything he surrendered to him? The words, the touches… although
admittedly shy and few, he cannot have them forsaken to indulge
defensible cowardice.

He doesn't know when he left the inn, but he did, and his eyes sting.

"Mu Qing—!" Feng Xin calls behind him. "Wait!"

"Just let me get out of your hair," he replies without looking backward.
"That will give you some time to think."

Think about the way you'll leave me.

"Mu Qing!"
Feng Xin runs after his retreating back, even changes back to his initial
form so he can take wider steps. It's useless. His legs are heavy and
dread is crawling up his throat like a snake exiting his stomach. It's
useless. He can't catch up to him even though Mu Qing isn't running.

"T–time to think of what?!"

To think about why you're leaving me?

"Mu Qing…" he pleads, strained.

The other god freezes and, at last, turns back. His dark eyes widen when
he notices how pale Feng Xin is.

It's not just the moonlight.

Mu Qing doesn't know what to do so he stares at him while biting his lip.

He wants to run back to his side and make all the pain he sees on his
lover's face go away. How to do that, though? He knows how to take care
of an open wound, he knows how to stitch a tear, but he has no idea how
to be of use in this situation, he doesn't know how to give…

Give more than he already did.

All that Feng Xin is neither seeing, nor hearing.

Is it truly not worth being taken?

"...Do they not matter?" he manages to mutter.

Then, louder.

"The words I said. Do they not matter to you?"

Feng Xin's steps are finally efficient. He is nearer, though not closer. His
hands, hesitant, hover in the air, clench at the empty space in front of
him.

The undaring archer, filled with doubts.

It feels so wrong.

"What do you mean?"

In the end, to his own eyes, Mu Qing has to be a hypocrite.

"You keep acting like I'm… Like I'm p–pushing you away," he braves out.
"As– as if I don't want to hold your hand. It's so…" his fists shake, his
voice raises. "–So unfair after all I said to you!"

Of course, thunder must strike as he says this. The sky has been
rumbling for a while now but they had yet to listen, although it is not for
lack of trying.

A drop of rain lands on Feng Xin's cheek.

"If you want to leave me then just leave me! Don't insinuate that I am the
one who wants out, damn it!"

"I–I don't—"

"I told you I loved you! Didn't I?!"

Once, or twice. A few given breaths, nevertheless filled with immense,

vulnerable intent. Should it matter… should it be a concern… should it
mean anything to one.

"I know! I didn't forget or anything!"

"Do you?!" Mu Qing's feet break the swaying strands of grass in between
them as he shoves his lover. "Do you know?! Did you hear?!"

Lightening. Water starts to seep through their clothes.

"I did!" Feng Xin catches his wrists before he can push him again then
immediately lets go. "I love you too! It's just–, it's just, I understand
that…"

Another burning touch?

Dark clouds crowd the moon, too-telling beads remain unseen as they
drip down shadows. A god indulges in silence.

What to do, as a lover?

How to give?
How to take?

When both feel wrong,

And you're good at neither?

"I understand…" is repeated weakly.

"Understand what? Feng Xin?" Mu Qing asks bitterly, face held high
despite his wounded state. "Understand that I'm no good? That I'm too
much?!"

The storm briefly illuminates the world and his pain catches in the light.
It is now Feng Xin's turn to wince and long to ease his beloved's aching.
"N–no–," his hands twitch and reach up again, but they still fail to dare
touch. "Mu Qing I–, I can never get enough of you…"

It feels like Fu Yao's face is harder to control, so Mu Qing grows back into
his proper divine body. His emotions are too jumbled to maintain his
other appearance, anyway.

"Your words do not fit your actions," he tries to reply with an even tone.

It's not quite a success.

"I–, that's–..." Feng Xin struggles. "Look, you… kind of agreed earlier,
right? I'm the one who's too much, I can tire people out. Even back then,
with His Highness, and… and you, obviously…!" he keeps going, making
wild gestures.

Under the rain.

He even smiles comprehensively, the pull of his lips seems exhausted

under his desperate eyes, traits painfully saying 'right? right??'.

Whatever he is attempting to say, it's too big to fit through his mouth. It
can only fume and hurt, stuck in his stomach. A tangled collection of
mangled feelings. Sharp, broken pieces he picked up after every single
disaster, melted and assembled into thorny vines to tie up his guts.

He calls it the harsh truth.

"I'm… just trying not to be too much."

"Who told you you were too much?"

Mu Qing knows he has said a lot of things, but not that.

Another awkward, sadly benevolent smile.

"It's not something people outright say, but… I simply know. That's why
I'm careful, I don't want to get too close and… I try to give you space
before it's too– before it gets too much and you want me to leave… I'm
trying to balance—"

"Feng Xin."
He grabs one of his hands.

It's startled and fragile, the way the other looks down at their joining.

Feng Xin is surprised, but Mu Qing is astounded.

Yet calmed.

Finally, the thunder is louder than his anger.

Those past few months, they have been ascending the steps of what
being in a romantic relationship means. Together, ever so slowly. Feng
Xin has been nothing but confident about his love. The enamored gleam
in his eyes has tranquilized Mu Qing's heart so many times...

It's also made him feel inadequate.

Unenough.

A lacking mouth,
kissing a sleeping face.

How can a night be this long?

Feng Xin is afraid too.

Feng Xin is lonely too.

It's not a matter of projecting.

"Feng Xin," he repeats, tongue heavy and conscientious as it curls around

the syllables of his name. "Let's get out of the rain."

Just like that, Mu Qing takes him away from the raging storm.

The skies that bear the weight of the new Heavenly Capital are clearer,
even if night prevails.

The gods are not immune to the cycles of Earth.

Nor are they above mortal heart woes.

"Is it okay if we go to your palace?" Mu Qing inquires as he leads them

there.

His poor drenched partner has yet to catch on what is happening.

"My palace?" he parrots dumbly.

Usually, they meet at Mu Qing's. Feng Xin go finds him there. That is,
when he's not avoiding him.

"Lead the way to privacy," Mu Qing gestures forward when they arrive.
"We need to dry up."

Indeed they are wet, however, a little bit of spiritual power would
suffice–

"I want to do it myself," Feng Xin's thought is cut in and his arm pulled
again.

A moment later, he is sitting on a chair and Mu Qing is standing in front

of him, wet sleeves fluttering in the air as he wipes Feng Xin's hair with a
towel.

The man lets himself be handled in his chamber, although he's still
confused about pretty much fucking everything.

"Mu Qing…"

"Hm?"

"Are we done… talking?"

"Not really."

"I see…"

"Is it true that you can't get enough of me?" Mu Qing asks out of the blue.

"Y–yes!" Feng Xin eagerly catches his eyes as he replies.

The other meets his stare and considers.

"Good."

He sounds assured but, somehow, the towel escapes his grasp and falls
on the floor.

"..."

"This is stupid. Why am I even drying your hair right now?"

"—I don't know but–, thank you..?"

"We need an actual bath."

"... I can make that happen," Feng Xin says, and starts moving.

"No!" Mu Qing hushes while pressing his shoulders down to prevent him
from standing up.

There has been enough of walking away today.

"Stay here, I've got this."

Whatever the other replies, he doesn't hear. Blood is rushing in his ears
as he stomps to the nearest clear space in the room and draws a
summoning array on the ground. Feng Xin does have a tub, but it's empty
and up against the wall. He knows one is always filled and ready in his
palace whenever he goes on a mission, so he brings it here. He does not
want to step out and would rather not bother anyone with the task of
bringing and heating water. Really, fetching his own is no trouble and
clearly the better idea.

Soon enough, it appears and the steam spreads a promising smell of

spice in the air.

"You can get in," Mu Qing announces.

"Are you coming with me…?" Feng Xin's finger grazes the back of his
hand timidly.

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course…!"

So bold of this man, to express such surprise and speak obvious words. Is
it that when the boundaries are his own, they do not matter? Pretty
unfair obliviousness, Mu Qing can only bite his lip to hold back a dark
chuckle.

"Then I will, but I'll wash and comb your hair first."

"What–? You… You don't have to do that…"

"What if I want to? Can you stop insinuating that I have no free will? Who
do you take me for?"

"It's not that! I just want to make sure..."

"Then focus on making sure you're not the one forcing yourself!"
"I'm not forcing myself to do anything!"

"Then that makes two of us! Now stop being an overbearing asshole and
get in the bath!"

"..."

"If you want to!" Mu Qing adds with bite.

"I do want to!"

"Great!" comes another sarcastic snap.

Despite the temptation, he does not watch his lover undress, he busies
himself with finding a pitcher and bath beans instead. A useless
endeavor, the sight of Feng Xin's neck and the sighs he lets out when Mu
Qing unties his hair are already too much. Luckily, no one can see the red
on his cheeks nor hear the beats his heart seems to miss.

Feng Xin's hair is thick, yet it yields to his comb and grows wetly soft in
between his fingers. Mu Qing has been wanting to do that for a while, but
they didn't take enough baths together for him to build up the will to
offer it. It's also quite difficult for his mind to… basically amount to
anything after spending a moment in his arms.

Especially when they're both naked.

Mu Qing is a mess every fucking time. Of love and want.
Feng Xin has no idea how hard it is to keep it all in his chest…

Once he's done, his palm comes to a rest on Feng Xin's shoulder. It's
ridiculous, but his breath hitches when the archer's hand joins his.

"Feng Xin…" he sighs, and must ask again. "Is it really true that you can't
get enough of me?"

Feng Xin briefly tightens his hold.

"I can't," he admits freely, even if his voice trembles a little. "I'll always
want more."

"...It's, the s–same for me, you know?"

Saying this out loud is far from easy, but he still does it. He even does it
confidently. Sadly, he must watch as the flower he carved out of his own
flesh gets thrown into a pit of unintentional dubiousness.

Simple mathematics Feng Xin can't seem to decipher, no, he can only
wince out another strange smile.
 You say that now…
You say that now…
You say that now…
You say that now…
You say that now…
You…

"I know…"

And he knows. But he also knows that it's not all.

However, It's not that sophisticated either.
His partner simply both loves and hates him.

"I don't think you do," Mu Qing replies, and steps away.

"I…"

"It's okay."

Thump. His robes and armor slump on the floor.

In another reality, they are still in the mortal realm, under the rain,
fighting about being heard, about being trusted. But they went through
too much horror in this life to waste time at that point. Mu Qing lost
enough of his life and heart to falsely safe loneliness.

"I'll just show you," he says as he steps into the water.

Feng Xin focuses on his face as he sits beside him.

"What?"

"I said it's my turn to show you."

"To show me…?"

Mu Qing meets his eyes as he stabs his chest with the tip of his finger.

"I'll show you that I'll stay. I'll stick around until you can't bear the sight
of me anymore."

I'll be braver than I've been this whole millennium, Feng Xin.
I'll do it for you.

"M–Mu Qing… What, what are you saying…"

He rolls his eyes.

"You told me countless times to stop caring about what other people
think of me! Well? I don't care if you don't believe me!"

"I–I do believe you…!"

"Do you?"

"Yes…! You're the person I trust the most, It's just–"

What about the hatred? The complicated?

"Just what?! Tell me! You're making me crazy!"

"I– I'll just fuck it all up, Mu Qing! And you know it!"

"No, I don't, you fucking dumbass."

"You'll want out at some point!"

"Who are you to decide?"

"It's just how it is!"

"Once again, who are you to decide?"

"I didn't decide anything..! It's just…"

"How things were," Mu Qing finishes for him. "How you defined them and
how you've convinced yourself that they'll always be."

"..."

"Am I wrong?"

"I don't– I… if you say it like that…"

Then I just won't know what to do.

"Well, I don't know if I'm right but I certainly know that you're wrong."

Feng Xin throws him a desperate look.

"I can't–, I can't be wrong about all of it..!

If you don't hate me…

"Yes you can," comes the simple answer. "You don't need to think too
hard on it though, like I said, I'll just show you."
He wraps his fingers around his.

"You think I don't like holding your hands? You're wrong."

His other hand catches Feng Xin's chin and pulls their faces close.

"M–Mu Qing—"

"You think I'm getting tired of you..." he whispers against his cheek.
"Wrong again, good luck trying to get rid of me."

He then sits himself on his knees and looks down at his stunned traits.

"You think I want to leave you? You've never been farther from the truth."

It took us centuries to get here together and you think I'm just going to
let you go?

Although Mu Qing's words are intense, his expression isn't all free of
nervosity and his stance is shyer than he wishes. Feng Xin sees none of
this, he's too preoccupied with trying not to burst into tears for reasons
that evade him.

"Please…" he says, voice even more timorous. "Please, I…"

It's too much, he must lower his stare.

"What is it, Feng Xin?" Mu Qing coaxes uncertainly. "Fuck… You need to
tell me what you want."

Feng Xin suddenly throws his big arms around him and uses his neck to
hide his bashful face.

"Don't let me go."

Mu Qing freezes and his fingers twitch once, twice before he decides to
let his instincts run their course. He hugs Feng Xin back and smashes his
lips against the top of his head while his hands move to soothe. Doing
this feels as awkward as it feels right.

"I won't… You stupid fuck, I won't let you go…! Didn't I just say so? The
way you made me chase after you, I swear…!"

"I'm sorry…" Feng Xin shakes in his arms. "I didn't expect things to go that
way…"

"How did you expect me to react, you idiot?"

"I… I'm not sure."

"You idiot," he repeats, laying another kiss on his forehead.

I–I'm scared too…

"We're the same."

But different.

We're doing this together, though, aren't we?

Lay all your fears on me.

In this instant, two persons hold and are held.

All that is not said is simply not ready to be shed, some words are only
meant to be shared on bared skin.

What is this moment but a glimpse of their eternity?

⦽
Art by Kyuuxi, find him on Twitter ⦽
Fuck me,
we're famous
Chapter One

By Autheane
Find her on Twitter and AO3 ⦽
Pei Ming eyes the documents on his low desk, his fingers tapping slowly
on the rich lacquered surface, one of the paintings unrolled to expose
two figures in a passionate embrace. His mind is already running a mile a
minute. This will be both tricky and delightful. 800 years of unresolved
sexual tension is no joke, but he isn't the god of love for nothing.
A slow smile stretches his lips as he recites the password of the private
communication array.
"Your Highness, you know Generals Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang best. Can
we meet? I need your advice on something."
His smile grows sharper. Oh, this will be good. The cogs will start
spinning soon. They're worn and rusty but Pei Ming will be the oil that
makes this work.

The great newly-rebuilt palace hall is emptying slowly, Feng Xin is about
to follow the other Gods out when Pei Ming calls out to him.

"General Nan Yang, a word please."

Heaving out a deep sigh, he turns on his heel and walks to where the
Head General is standing, trying to suppress the foreboding feeling
crawling up his spine at Pei Ming's ominous little smile.

"General Ming Guang," Feng Xin salutes, bowing respectfully.

"Have you descended lately?"

"No. Not since we cleared up the whole Jun Wu debacle, no."

"So you haven't heard of the FengQing Nation?" Pei Ming asks, his smile
growing larger just as the sense of foreboding down Feng Xin's spine at
the sound of that title.

"Feng… Qing?" he asks slowly.

"Yes, FengQing. You know how General Xuan Zhen and you share the
south? Well, some of your believers have started to… How should I put it?
Unify your territory. And I have to say that, in all my time here, I have
never encountered such fervent and creative devotees," Pei Ming says,
looking genuinely impressed and Feng Xin is lost. What in hell?!

"I… Thank you?" He doesn't even know what to answer to that. What in
the freaking hell?!

"I've brought back some documents for you to study. It will help you to
get a good grasp on the situation. As of now, it does not change anything
for your territory or General Xuan Zhen's but, it's good if you both are
aware of every change happening down there." He grabs a pile of some
bound books and scrolls from a table nearby and hands them to him,
taking his time to pile everything neatly in his arms so nothing will fall.
"Take your time going over them but don't forget to inform General Xuan
Zhen. Perhaps both of you can benefit from exploring things together. It
will be a good thing for your relationship. You two might have to work
together more tightly in the future if this thing spreads and your territory
actually unifies."

"… I will inform him." Feng Xin answers, lying through his teeth, a bit lost
and confused. There is no way he will inform Mu Qing about anything. At
least not yet. This… thing sounded way too strange, and he wanted to
study those documents and dive personally into the matter before
involving Mu Qing.

"Report if the situation gets out of hand," Pei Ming adds looking like he
wants to say more, his stupid smirk still in place.

"Understood," Feng Xin answers, nodding at the other god before turning
and leaving the grand hall.

There is something very shady going on there, Feng Xin thinks as he eyes
the large pile of documents balancing precariously in his arms.

Definitely something shady, he thinks, as he recalls the knowing grin

General Ming Guang directed at him right before he left.

Feng Xin eyes the stack of papers for what is probably the millionth time
in a couple of hours. He put them on his desk when he came back to his
palace to review later, choosing to devote his time to finishing his daily
paperwork. Then he decided to take care of some of the reports, answer
some prayers, and rework the monthly schedule. He's done everything he
can think of to delay the task, dreading what lay in these documents for
him.

He looks at the door and wonders if it would be considered cowardly to

run some drills instead of studying those scrolls and books. He sighs.
He's never been a coward and he will not start now, but now that the
time has come to look through these files, he's almost afraid to do it. Pei
Ming's knowing smirk like a daunting ghost haunting him at the back of
his mind.

The name FengQing Nation resonates in his head and cold dread spreads
through him. The same sense of foreboding he had felt when Pei Ming
had grinned at him is making itself known again. He shakes his head. This
is ridiculous, he's a martial god, not a damned wimp!

He grabs the roll closest to him and lays it flat on the desk to analyze it
and... He yelps, grabbing the paper and throwing it in a very manly way
as far away from him as possible.

WHAT IN ACTUAL HELL?!

His eyes are round as saucers, still glued to the accursed scroll. He's
panting slightly and drags a hand over his face to shake the shock from
his body.

It's a painting. A painting of two martial gods of the south very much
kissing each other.

He's going to kill Pei Ming!

He gets up, fury giving spring to his steps, ready to raze General Ming
Guang's palace to the ground, consequences be damned. He's about to
tear his door open when he suddenly stops. Could he really murder Pei
Ming?

The man has given him the documents. He knows about this FengQing
Nation, he knows about the contents of the documents. Knowing the god,
it's certain he knows even more, perhaps he has even more documents
stored safely in his palace. He must have heard of the FengQing Nation,
went to investigate and thought it was too hilarious an opportunity to
pass having a good laugh at Mu Qing's and his expense.

Well, Feng Xin is not about to play along with his dirty game. He will burn
these documents and Mu Qing will never know anything about their
existence. He will just have to kill Pei Ming to make sure he never speaks
a word about this. Ever. Hide the body, find the rest of the documents
and ignore the fact that the whole affair had ever taken place.

Feng Xin smiles. This is perfect. But then he thinks a little more and his
smile slowly disappears from his face. He cannot kill the Head General.
He's probably told everything to Ling Wen and that means he would have
to kill her too. She may have dubious tastes when it comes to her choice
of friends, but she doesn't deserve to die for that. And frankly, without
Ling Wen, Heaven would just collapse. No, he needs a better plan. He
presses his back against the door. He will just have to pretend nothing
ever happened and those documents never existed. They can continue to
live on peacefully as they did before. It will probably be hard to face Pei
Ming in the next couple of months, but he's faced more difficult
hardships in his life. He will go through this too.

Now, time to destroy the evidence.

He walks back to his desk, grabbing everything in his arms to stride to

the main room, dropping everything by the fire pit. He throws several
logs into the pit, every piece seeming to sport Pei Ming's stupid smirk. He
takes vicious pleasure at summoning fire into his palm and lighting each
log until the demonic grin gets swallowed by the flames.

He kneels down and takes hold of one of the closest scrolls to throw into
the hearth but stops short. Should he really destroy everything knowing
Pei Ming has already seen it all? Shouldn't he at least take a quick glance
at a few of them? He hesitates, eyes fixated on the roll still dangerously
close to the flame. No one will ever know, and this way, he won't be
completely clueless about the whole FengQing Nation thing. If only to
shut Pei Ming up. There is power in knowledge afterall. It's the smart
thing to do, right?

Right.

He moves his hand back from the fire and sits on his haunches, the roll
still clutched in his hand. He looks at it for a long moment before taking a
deep breath, closing his eyes and slowly unrolling it. When the roll
unfolds on his lap, he exhales as he opens his eyes warily.

It's... Not bad. He would even say it's pretty good.

This one looks more like an illustration from a tale of heroes of war than
anything else. Mu Qing and him are back-to-back. Mu Qing, with his
saber in hand, blood dripping from the sharp blade and Feng Xin standing
tall - taller than Mu Qing, he notes with a satisfied smirk - his bow taut
with tension and the arrow ready to fly. They both look fierce, hair
flowing in the wind, blood splattered on their gilded armor, their auras
glowing in the dust-covered horizon. They look like protectors; they look
like saviors. They look like the Gods of the South.

He looks at the painting for a long moment, at every little detail, at the
vivid colors, the brush strikes, amazed by the skill behind it. He really
likes it.

He puts it on the side, apart from the pile and grabs another roll. He
unrolls it quickly, the last painting putting his fears at ease. He looks
down and regrets it immediately. This one is a more simplistic black and
white sketch. Feng Xin only manages to tell the two characters apart
thanks to their different hairstyles. Their limbs are intertwined together
in tender intimacy and Feng Xin wants to gouge his eyes out.

Do people really think of Mu Qing and him THAT way?! No wonder Pei
Ming was laughing in his face. How ridiculous! His relationship with Mu
Qing may be better than it used to be but in no way, no way! They're this
close. Nor do they intend to. This is completely preposterous!

He scoffs as he throws the painting behind him. Maybe he'll have more
chance with a book? He thinks hopefully as he takes the one from the top
of the pile and turns it to the first page, not knowing what to expect as he
starts to read.

The sun had set over Xian Le. Mu Qing was looking up at the sky,
 an infinite canvas painted in a dark shade of blue, the stars and
moon the only sources of light. He leaned against the tall window
frame of the castle's library, his broom abandoned next to him
when a voice tore him from his reverie.
"Aren't you supposed to work instead of staring out the window?"
It was the beautiful Feng Xin, Prince Xie Lian's closest friend and
confidant. Mu Qing felt himself flush under the stare of the young
man, his clear eyes almost piercing in the flickering lights of the
candles, Mu Qing had never seen sight more beautiful.
"I... I'm sorry my... my lord. I... I was... only taking a... a, a short
break." Mu Qing started to blabber wanting nothing more than to
run and hide far away.
Feng Xin didn't answer, he looked at him intently and began to step
closer. Each step resonated in the room as loudly as Mu Qing's
heart was beating in his chest. He stopped very close. Mu Qing
could make out every detail of this beautiful face, of his gorgeous
golden irises. His breath caught in his throat when Feng Xin took
hold of his chin and looked directly into his eyes.
"You have nothing to fear from me, A-Qing," he said, the deep
timber of his voice making Mu Qing's legs quiver.
"You know my name, my lord?" Mu Qing whispered.
"I know everything about you." Feng Xin said before covering his
lips with his own.

The book closes with a snap. It was even more absurd than the last
painting. Mu Qing is a lot of things, but he has never been one to stutter
or stumble over his words. Especially not in front of him. He has never
looked at Feng Xin with anything other than anger and contempt, pride
like steel through his spine, especially back then.

Feng Qing snorts. It was so laughable. Mu Qing thinking Feng Xin is

beautiful with his heart hammering in his chest? They could be the last
two people on this planet and it would still never happen. Mu Qing
doesn't think that way and Feng Xin has never entertained the thought of
kissing him either. Ever.

He takes a moment to remember the last time they were in each other's
company, trying to remember how Mu Qing had looked at him then, if
there was anything in his gaze that should have given Feng Xin pause. He
realizes what he's doing and shakes his head violently. Of course, Mu
Qing doesn't think that way! Feng Xin's brain is just traumatized by these
abominations!

He sighs and gets up, gathering the papers to take them in his
bedchambers, even the godforsaken pieces of art, if they can be called
that. At least, the documents will be safe hidden away there with no
chance of a certain someone ever stumbling upon them.

He's just put everything down on his low desk by the window when a
knock at his door startles him, several scrolls and books falling to the
ground.

"What is it?" he asks sharply, rubbing his forehead and sighing. This isn't
good for his already frayed nerves.

"It's me." Mu Qing's bored voice travels through the door and Feng Xin's
eyes go round, looking frantically around his bedroom for a place to hide
everything quickly.

"Just a minute!" he says, bending down to retrieve the documents from

the desk as well as those fallen on the floor, to hide among his personal
books and scrolls. He curses as panic makes him move clumsily and more
rolls fall on the floor when he tries to shove everything on one of his
highest bookshelves. Stupid documents! Fucking Pei Ming!

He finally manages to hide every scroll and book and straightens up,
taking a deep breath to center himself, willing his heart rate to slow
down. He checks his appearance quickly to make sure nothing is out of
order then goes to the door, not thinking of those stupid papers as he
slides the door open to reveal Mu Qing, arms crossed over his chest and
eyebrows high up his forehead.

"Took you long enough." He tells him and there is the real Mu Qing,
reinforcing Feng Xin's desire not to kiss him, but actually punch him in
his stupid face.

"I was just putting some papers away." Feng Xin tells him, stepping past
him to walk to the main room where tea should be waiting for them.

"Spare me the details. I really don't want to know what you were doing in
there..." Mu Qing sneers, walking next to him. Feng Xin is about to retort
but he feels himself flush, the erotic painting choosing this exact moment
to remind him of its existence. Of course, Mu Qing notices and laughs
mockingly.

"Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything." Mu Qing adds, a smirk on his face, just as stupid
as the one Pei Ming had sported that morning.

They both takes seats on either side of the low table, tea and little
pastries arranged elegantly for them. Feng Xin scowls down at his cup.
It's just stupid documents about their devotees, nothing to get angry
about, he tries to remind himself as he takes a deep breath to quiet his
mind.

"What brings you here?" he asks Mu Qing finally, looking up at him.

"General Ming Guang told me we had some business concerning the

South and I should look for you for details." Feng Xin takes a deliberate
sip of his cup, his frown deepening slightly. Of course, Pei Ming has told
Mu Qing. He has to give it to the bastard. He is more shrewd than he gave
him credit for. But Feng Xin isn't that stupid either.

"It's nothing serious. A handful of our devotees have started to worship

us in unified temples. It doesn't change anything for us. We will just have
to keep an eye on the situation from afar. If it spreads more widely, we
will have to work together permanently. He may have to reorganize our
palaces and deal differently with our junior officials. But it's nothing to
fret over as of now." He leaves his explanation vague enough so as not to
raise any suspicion.

"Together?" Mu Qing asks, frowns, teeth worrying over his lower lip. His
mouth looks redder when he frees it, the contrast with his fair skin more
pronounced. Feng Xin realizes what he's doing and wants to slap himself
for letting these kind of thoughts cross his mind. He does not care about
Mu Qing's lips! He shakes his head slightly before answering.

"Together like martial brothers. All our worshippers know we've worked
alongside each other for centuries despite our different paths of
cultivation. It seems like it's gotten more widespread since the whole Jun
Wu debacle. And since we share a territory, I'm actually surprised this
didn't happen earlier. At least at the borders."
Mu Qing listens to his explanation, seeming to think things over and
nods.

"It makes sense. It would be easier to build one temple rather than two,
less expensive too," he adds pensively, always pragmatic.

"Since it's no big matter, I will keep an eye out next time I go down and
report to you if anything changes. I expect you to do the same." Feng Xin
tells him. Mu Qing just rolls his eyes in answer, his long eyelashes
drawing shadows over his eyelids. And will he stop detailing Mu Qing's
face like he's in a stupid romance novel?! Fucking books!! He will poison
Pei Ming in his sleep even if it's the last thing he does!

They discuss a few minor matters about each of their territories, Feng
Xin managing to keep his thoughts under control through sheer force of
will. Mu Qing soon takes his leave and Feng Xin slumps over the table in a
very ungodly manner, his forehead banging repeatedly on the wooden
surface. He rests his head there, considering his choices. Maybe burning
the damn things wasn't such a bad idea after all... Especially if it's fuel for
razing Pei Ming's palace. No, he can't let Pei Ming get more material to
mock and torture him further with. He will just let the documents sit on
his shelves and rot and never think of them again.

For now, he needs to empty his mind. Training it is then. Losing himself
into the simple movements that are etched into his skin, on focusing on
his breathing and the burn of his muscles feels like the best option right
now. He will train until he cannot think anymore. And if every target he
shoots wears Pei Ming's face and his stupid smirk, well, no one has to
know.

Bonus prank art by ArcherFucker

End of Chapter One

⦽
Corrupted
Heart
By ArcherFucker

Find them on Twitter and AO3 ⦽

Beware...
This work contains
explicit
content.

Proceed at your own discretion.

"Feng Xin."

"…"

"Feng Xin!"

The weight in his arms shifted, and bleary eyes stared up at him.

"I swear to heaven I'm not joking. Get a hold of yourself so we can leave
this shitty place!"

They were stuck in the heart of a lone isle, lost in the sea where General
Xuan Zhen had intended to banish a Savage Ghost which had caused
troubles in the South. Of course, General Nan Yang had forced himself on
the mission, saying that the ghost's misdeeds also concerned him.

"We're both leaders of The South. When will you stop trying to take care
of everything on your own, you fucker? Plus, it's a chanter, so nothing to
scoff at!"

Two Martial Gods. It should have been easy, and it was… at first! They
just hadn't expected the ghost to tear her chest open and reveal a
gruesome blinking eye.

"I cultivated my heart and now it can see what lies deep in your souls—"

The ghost choked out a sob and coughed some vivid blood. Whatever she
had done to herself would end her. Looking at the both of them, a sudden
look of longing crossed her face.
"You two..! You two are—"

"Shut up!" Feng Xin yelled smartly.

It only made the wretched thing cackle.

"It doesn't matter. I used to have a good soul too! But then, but then! She
died at the hands of those manbeast! Haha… hAHAHA! It's no USE! In the
end, lust will consume every single man."

At those words, her heart shed a bloody tear. She caught it with a
crooked, clawed finger, flicked it at Mu Qing and chanted:

"May this heart burn for what it truly craves, only to be freed by the taste
of a virgin at the end of the rising."

Of Fucking Course, Feng Xin jumped in the way of the suspicious drop.
Mu Qing wanted to roll his eyes at the useless heroic gesture but then,
instead of landing in a smart crouch, the other met the ground with a
heavy sound.

"Hah…ha…. Let's see if his heart survive from its true nature."

Another strange sob.

"It won't, I know it. They killed my love, they—"

The Savage Ghost had been about to say more, but General Xuan Zhen
had had more than enough. A vengeful wave of his hand blasted as much
energy as he could gather, despite his stupid state of panic, to silence her
cursed chanting forever.

"...You idiot! She knew you were going to do that!" Mu Qing scolded,
bringing the reader back to the present.

"So… So hot…"

Mu Qing instantly slapped a palm to his forehead. However, he found no

heat.

"You're not feverish," he said.

"No…" Feng Xin sighed, leaning into the touch. "Not here."
"Where?"

The Grand Ever-Frowning General Nan Yang blushed.

"My heart," he slurred, fingers clawing at his front robes.

The other god's hands were quick to spread them open and what he saw
made him gasp. The whole area was red and the veins leading there
looked like they were going to burst; he didn't need to check his
meridians to know that they were affected too.

"Are you okay?!" Mu Qing asked surprisingly sincerely.

He only got a bloody cough for an answer.

"Don't listen to what she said…" Feng Xin gritted out before passing out
for good.

Mu Qing barely held back from shaking him by the collar of his
dishevelled robes, messing them up even further to reveal a sweaty,
toned chest.

The martial god gulped.

"What the fuck did he even mean…"

What the fuck did she even mean???

"May this heart burn—"

Yes. That was some burning right there.

"–for what it truly craves—"

Okay. What. Who. Whichst. Whomst was this dumbass craving? For some
reason, thinking about this mystery deeply annoyed him.

"Is it that runaway wife of yours?!" he snapped at the collapsed archer.

"‒Only to be freed by the taste of a virgin at the end of the rising."

Mu Qing was strangely fast to make his mind up. A blush settled on his
cheeks and he knew it would remain there for a good time.
"You asshole…"

He spent the following few hours tending to Feng Xin. Giving him water
and resting an iced palm on his chest. The damn moans the other let out
when he touched him would forever stay engraved in his memory,
although he would never admit it.

When the sun was at its highest point of the day, Mu Qing pressed his
bitten lips to Feng Xin's.

Here is the fucking taste, bloody ghost!

Just to be sure, he slipped his tongue inside Feng Xin's mouth, mixing
their blood and saliva. The archer was barely responding at first, but
then, his tongue and hands twitched. Mu Qing quickly cupped his cheeks
to hold him still; he had to make sure this would work!

He was giving everything there was to be tasted of him, spit, sweat, blood
and lips. What more? His mind refused to acknowledge anything else and,
of course, his blush was only due to his exhaustion. It had nothing to do
with the noises he was currently pulling out of Feng Xin's mouth.

He only let him go after a good minute and they both gasped for air.

"W–what—"

"The sun is up. You got your virgin taste. Feel better?" Mu Qing answered
him sharply, looking away.

"Yeah…" the other blinked dumbly. "Thanks…?"

Mu Qing simply huffed.

"Let's go back."

The moment he found himself alone in his temple, Feng Xin's shoulders
slumped forward and he grabbed at his chest, wincing.

It burned.

Two days later, General Xuan Zhen had not crossed paths with General
Nan Yang, not even once by accident.

This bastard is avoiding me.

Was it because of the kiss? Was Feng Xin so disgusted, so ashamed? Well,
Mu Qing was disgusted too! It didn't matter that he kept thinking about it.
Feng Xin's stuttering breaths. His moans. His taste…

Fuck.

One week after that, Mu Qing was not surprised to not have seen Feng
Xin. However, the fact that no one else had seen him either was suspect.

"Open up, Nan Yang!" he barked at his doors.

A random junior burst out of the palace, looking behind them as if they
had been forced out.

"G-General Nan Yang isn't here!" they stammered.

"Bullshit," Mu Qing hissed.

"It's true! He descended two days ago!"

Shit! Mu Qing should have guessed so!

Another week went by. Still no news of Dumb X‒, Feng Xin. The Mighty
General Xuan Zhen had been invited for tea at Puqi Shrine.

"Feng Xin? No, I haven't seen him. Why?"

"He's been in the mortal realm for two weeks. He really hasn't visited?"

"No…"

Mu Qing knew Feng Xin couldn't last three days down here without
meeting up with Xie Lian. All gods admired his will to deal with Hua
Cheng.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Xie Lian asked, eyes filling with
worry.

"I took him home after that last disaster of a mission I told you about.
After that, nothing."

"When his heart was cursed?"

…
Oh, heavens.

"That damn idiot! He's still cursed!"

His Highness suddenly seized his fisted hands.

"Tell me what that curse was about, I know you lied when you told me
you didn't remember. I can have my San Lang look into it!"

Have fucking Crimson Rain research this desire shit? Feng Xin would die.
Mu Qing would die too, because he kissed him. No one could know about
that!

"No," he replied.

Xie Lian sighed, apparently having expected that answer. However, Mu

Qing wasn't done.

"If… if I really can't fix this, I will tell you about it, all right? And Feng Xin
can tell you whatever he wants when he's back. I swear to Heaven this
dumbass… hiding from me like that!!"

Everyone was used to seeing General Xuan Zhen angry. But, this time, it
surprised Xie Lian for Mu Qing's face was really dark.

He disappeared with a snarl.

Who is it? the martial god spat in his own mind. Who do you truly yearn
for?

No matter how hard he tried, the storm in his eyes and chest would not
settle.

There wasn't a thing Mu Qing didn't know about Feng Xin. He even knew
him better than himself! If Feng Xin was besotted with someone, surely,
Mu Qing would be aware of it!

…Right.

When he arrived at his destination, his face was twisted in an

indescribable furry.

"General…" he heard from afar.

His heavy steps made no sound as he walked down the cave they had
fought the ghost in. See? It had been no trouble for him to guess where
the idiot had run off to.
"Let it go, Lei Zhi," Feng Xin sighed tiredly.

He sounded weak.

"General, allow me to insist, I spoke of the wording with a famous mortal

poet and—"

Mu Qing was finally able to get a glimpse of the scene: a silver-haired

junior official was on his hands and knees in front of an emaciated Feng
Xin. The fellow god was sitting on the edge of the rock the ghost had
been tied to, shirtless.

His chest… Mu Qing's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. It looked… beautifully

horrifying. The whole area was flaring, the skin an angry red and curving
in the center, digging a swollen crown around Feng Xin's exposed heart.

'Exposed' truly was the word for it. 'Out in the open air' would have
worked too had it not been for the thin layer of glass… of ice(!) which
covered it.

Feng Xin was taking the freezing, spectral energy of the place to cage the
ignited organ.

"Allow me to insist, my general," the shivering junior repeated. "There are

other options… The taste– the taste of a virgin—"

"I don't want this kind of thing from anyone— from anyone else."

"I could bottle it for you… you wouldn't have to–"

"Enough. I'm sorry, Lei Zhi, I know you mean well but—"

If not him then no one.

"–but that's enough."

"General…"

This junior was so bold!

"Keep going, Lei Zhi," Feng Xin said, offering a hand to his attendant.
"We're almost done."

Stubborn, the little official laid his forehead on his hands, flat on the floor.

"Will you be able to unmake this safely?"

Silence.
"I don't know."

"I could talk to him–" Lei Zhi dared raise his eyes, Feng Xin only had to
glare to shut him up.

"Each…" the martial god was interrupted by a series of awful coughs.

"Each heartbeat of mine is destined to him, so we must still it. You heard
the healer, it will stop burning."

Mu Qing's feet were stuck to the ground, frozen, just like his rival's chest.
What kind of shit demonic cultivation was this? Even if you were a god,
could a living one really go on with an unmoving heart?

Lei Zhi whimpered.

"I heard them. They also said that it would hurt. Every day. That my
general would be cold to everything and everyone. That you would
change."

Feng Xin sighed, his lips–, his lips were blue.

"I'm already in pain every day. Every time we talk or fight, knowing I'll
never have him, there is nothing colder than that. At least, like this, I
won't ruin what we have. It took us centuries to—"

That was enough, Mu Qing could not bear to hear more about this
absurdity.

"Whom the fuck are you literally dying for?!" he yelled as he stepped out
of the shadows. "What is the meaning of all of this?!"

Oh, lords, the tremble in his voice.

He gestured angrily at the terrible beauty that was Feng Xin's heart.
Standing closer enabled him to notice its faint pumping motions.

"What the FUCK is this, Feng Xin?! Why didn't you tell me you were still
fucking cursed?!!"

Feng Xin, who had not even jumped at his sudden appearance, turned to
him with a slow blink. His tanned skin was pale, his movements sluggish,
cautious, his eyes– where was the fire in his eyes?! Mu Qing's heart
throbbed.

"This isn't any of your business, Xuan Zhen."

Mu Qing seethed instantly.

"The HELL this isn't my business?! You were cursed in MY stead!"

Feng Xin frowned.

Ice.

"No."

Cold.

"It is as you said. The ghost knew I was going to jump in front of you."

"You don't know that! Why do you speak when You don't know SHIT?!"

"BECAUSE," Feng Xin briefly screamed. "I do know," he continued after

taking a deep, shaky breath. "She looked into my heart."

"Oh yeah? Your dumbass heroic heart? Saving the poor maiden?"

Hurt flashed across the archer god's face, then, his eyes darkened
dangerously.

"Leave," he toned. "Fucking leave!"

"Why would I do that?"

"This doesn't concern you."

Before he could answer, the junior official reminded us of his existence

by running toward Mu Qing, which caused the latter to prepare himself
for a hit—

Thud.

The fool had thrown himself on his knees!

"Please!" he begged. "General Xuan Zhen, help me convince General Nan

Yang to stop this madness...!"

Another stunned silence.

"...Feng Xin." Mu Qing finally growled. "Look at how upset your junior
official is. End this bullshit right now!"

Feng Xin's body spasmed violently, he coughed and grunted painfully, a

hand hovering over his chest.
The glass that was wrapped around his heart now bore a long vertical
crack.

"You..!" he spat. "Are upsetting ME. Making my blood run warm you–, you
are ruining this!"

Mu Qing ignored him, he grabbed the junior official's collar and pulled
him up.

"You. Tell me what those damned poets said."

"I—"

"Lei Zhi, n-no. Don't, don't tell him—"

Another crack, Feng Xin fell on one knee.

"General Xuan Zhen… the– the taste of a virgin might refer to…" the poor
thing said, struggling to continue. He was also blushing quite furiously.

Mu Qing closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"He had a good taste of my blood, sweat, tears and spit. Of fucking
course it wouldn't be enough… that damned savage!"

In front of them, Feng Xin rolled on the ground, pressing his upper body
to the freezing rocks. The ice had melted, the burning was starting again.

"Fuck!" he gritted and hissed as he clawed at the floor.

"We're doing this, Feng Xin."

"No."

"General…"

"Tell me who you're so desperately yearning for, then, even if they're no

virgin, we can find a roundabout way…"

The warning look Feng Xin sent his official was as cold as it was
scorching. Thankfully, he had not let go of the runt.

"Lei Zhi," he spoke his name with great intent. "You want to save your
general, don't you? So you tell me."

Very surprisingly, it earned him no answer. Mu Qing sighed very loudly

and clicked his tongue, finally letting go of the kid in favor of stomping
over to where the other god laid. Said god immediately scrambled
backward.

"Don't come any closer!"

"Or what? You're going to hit me? In your state? I'd pay to see you try!
God fucking damn it, Feng Xin! Look at what you've done to your heart!"

The poor abused thing was now beating madly, it looked like it could
jump out of his chest at any time!

Mu Qing's hands trembled, but his voice was confident, "Mine, or a

stranger's? I'll make sure they have good hygiene."

"...What?" Feng Xin croaked.

"Your… end of rising sun drink."

Feng Xin heaved a feverish laugh, and it brought blood to his mouth. It
was a terrible sight.

"This is not about the fucking dawn… just–, just stay away, please. I'm out
of control around…"

"Around..?"

"F-freaking virgins! What did you expect! Let me cultivate again."

Mu Qing stared.

"No."

He stepped forward, causing him to whimper and clutch at his chest.

"Stop!"

"No."

Mu Qing moved closer, close enough to touch. He kneeled and did so. His
slender hand grazed Feng Xin's breast before another grabbed his wrist.
It was too late, though, he was already sharing soothing qi. Soft,
harvested yin. Only a few seconds of it were needed to make the archer's
breathing easier and for the torn skin as well as the bent ribs to start
mending. Once again, this care earned Mu Qing a lot of interesting
sounds and shivers.

"Stop…" Feng Xin repeated weakly.

It was as if the relief was hurting him too.

"You know this won't last…"

"I know, but it's enough for now," Mu Qing said confidently as he sat on
his heels.

He was wrong. Feng Xin threw his head back and cried out as the
regenerated skin rushed to crumble, with steam rising up his chest. Mu
Qing really, truly panicked for a whole second before he realised…

"Feng Xin you FUCK, you FUCKING IDIOT!!" he yelled, full of rage.

His voice was brash but his handling remained careful.

"This, is what you call out of control, you fucking bastard?! You in pain?
Powerless? Dying?! Why are you such a fucking dramatic bitch?! Out of
control around virgins? You think I'm an idiot?!! A virgin can save you but
you are not doomed to crave them! You–, you're doomed to crave that
person you fuck–, that person you fucking l-love! To die without their
touch! That's why I–, if I—" he placed his whole hand on top of Feng Xin's
heart. Its temperature immediately dropped significantly. "That's why I
can make you feel better because–" the words died on his tongue.

"..."

Mu Qing's eyes widened as he realised the meaning of what he was

saying.

"...because… your heart craves… me. Because you yearn for me…"

In the blurred background of their intimacy, a small silver-haired junior

official slipped out of the cave with a smile.

Feng Xin threw an arm up to cover his face.

"Fuck you," he dared mutter. "It doesn't concern you."

The now known object of his affection was flabbergasted.

"Excuse me? You liking– you liking me doesn't concern me?!"

"Exactly."

Their eyes met.

"Those feelings are mine. You don't have to force yourself to do anything
because of them. I–" he looked away again, making himself incredibly
vulnerable. "I can handle myself."

"What if I don't want you to do that? Handling yourself, I mean," Mu Qing

rushed to say with a little bit of panic. "What if I genuinely want to help
you? Tell me now. Mine or a stranger's?"

"Your fucking vows, Mu Qing!" Feng Xin all but barked. "For fuck's sake!"

"Losing a bit of myself in a bottle won't hurt me. Also, mind your fucking
business."

Feng Xin slapped his hand away, not caring about the pain it would bring.

"Bottling it won't work."

Mu Qing felt his cheeks burn.

"Then–, then what—"

"I told you," the other interrupted. "She made the curse for me, she
worded it in a way that would bind my heart and… desire… so that the
latter can soil the first. What I told you about being out of control… it's
true," he gritted, tightening his fists. "You don't know how hard I'm
holding back right now. Although you were right about the virgin thing."

"You…" Mu Qing's tone darkened, chosing violence above the recognition

of lust. "You've known the meaning of it all since the start, haven't you?"

"...The end of the rising…" Feng Xin let his feverish eyes lower to…

"...! T-the end of my," Mu Qing hiccuped. "You, you have to– want to—"

"Get on my knees and suck your dick? Yeah, I've been thinking about it
for a while. Swallow it all? Not missing a single drop? That too."

"I–, I..!"

"Surely this won't do nothing to your cultivation, huh?"

It would be a bigger blow, he thought.

"Not your fucking business!" he repeated instead, feeding Feng Xin's

bitterness.

"Get fucking lost!" the archer snapped.

"I do what I want!"

"No!"

"No? I don't do what I want? Who do you think you are?"

"No–! You don't do what I want, fucking period!"

"Letting you blow me?"

"Yes!"

"What if I want you to?!" Mu Qing yelled.

"So you can gloat about it afterwards?!"

"Fuck you! Why would I gloat? To whom?!"

"Everybody? That you had the great Ju Yang on his hands and knees?"

It was Mu Qing's turn to be bitter.

"Aren't I supposed to be the superficial paranoid ass here? What if I just

want to help?!"

"I don't want your pity either!"

"Fuck you! I want you to blow me!"

"I don't want to blow someone who doesn't like me!"

"I do like you–! Y-you dumb fuck! Suck my dick!"

That finally made Feng Xin shut the fuck up.

"What..?"

"I like you, asshole! I thought you didn't like me!!"

"I–, I thought you barely tolerated me…"

"For centuries?!"

"You're no better, you ass!"

Now out of breath, they had no choice but to remain silent for a short,
precious moment.
"I…" Feng Xin hesitated. "I don't know what to do– I never expected you
to—"

Mu Qing kissed him. What else needed to be said? He trapped Feng Xin's
thighs in between his and wrapped his free arm around his neck. The
other tried to say something but Mu Qing opted to use that opening to
slide his tongue in his mouth and fuck the sound Feng Xin just made—

Good, good, good, good.

He wanted more, he had always wanted more.

Now that he could take, Mu Qing would. He rolled his hips and buried his
fingers in Feng Xin's messy hair, getting rid of whatever was left of his
signature bun.

"M-Mu Qing–!" the poor soul gasped. "W-wait, my—, my chest!"

Their lips popped apart wetly as they both looked down: the skin was
fully back, but thin and stretched. Mu Qing's eyelids lowered and he bent
his head to have a taste, humming when he felt a strong heartbeat on the
flat of his tongue. Feng Xin cried out again.

"Good."

As he moved around, his lips bumped against a small flesh nib which he
instinctively took in his mouth. Suddenly, he was pushed back and held at
arm length.

"Mu Qing…" Feng Xin exhaled. "Have you forgotten who's going down on
who here?"

Even when facing Jun Wu, Mu Qing's heart did not beat that fast. The
eyes of his life-long nemesis were of the darkest shade he had ever seen,
eating him up.

Lust.

"You…" he swallowed. "You mentioned being on your knees…"

With a soft sound, the Almighty God of the Southeast tried to rise up to
his knees… only to fall back on his ass.

"Fuck…" he swore, expecting the other to laugh at him.

Mu Qing did not laugh, he simply hummed again and pushed Feng Xin's
shoulders so he could rest his back against the rock, but not before
wrapping his outer robe around his charge to protect him from the cold.
The sudden warmth and the familiar scent made Feng Xin shudder.

"–What—"

A hand touched his cheek, he looked up and gulped.

Mu Qing was looming over him, his feet on either side of his thighs. The
only signs of his interest were the trembling of his hands and his furious
blush..

"This is high enough… right?"

"I-, I think so…"

"Then……"

Mu Qing started fidgeting, he knew what should happen now but he

couldn't bring himself to initiate more than that. Feng Xin watched his
own fingers rise up to the forbidden belt, anticipation and awe carving an
expression that the other southern god could not help but gape at.
Luckily for him and this show of vulnerability, the archer was too busy
slipping past the layers of clothes to reveal his…

"Ah."

This hadn't been a moan, nor had it been a scream. Just a neutral,
surprised sound.

They both exhaled. Dark eyes plunged into golden hues.

"Is this– Can I—"

It wasn't every day that one was brought to ask their not-that-much-of-
an-enemy-but-still-a-person-they-wanted-to-punch-a-lot if they could
suck their dick. However, Feng Xin was kind of dying at the moment and,
and he was going to start fucking drooling—

Mu Qing shifted, struggling to find his words.

"...Go on, you–, you don't need to ask, I—"

Who needed to hear more in this situation? Feng Xin seized the pretty
shaft and tongued the already slightly weeping head. He hummed deeply
at the taste and his face relaxed as if in pure bliss.

"Feng Xin!" Mu Qing cried out, hands now buried in the other's brown
strands.
"Humm…" Feng Xin acted as if he didn't hear. "Fuck–," he whispered,
because he was Feng Xin. "Fuck, you taste so—"

He wrapped his mouth around Mu Qing, stopping at the divine crown.

Mu Qing could only shudder, this lewd sight added to the foreign
sensation made him feel hot, hot, hot. And now, Feng Xin was licking his
slit? It was so intense that he spasmed. Then–, then the damned archer
let his dick slide down his throat and swallowed.

Mu Qing let out a sob.

Feng Xin finally stared at him before nuzzling into his groin and
swallowing another time.

The orgasm hit him like a brick, it kicked his soul out of his body. He felt
himself shaking, his spirits floating as he finally indulged in bliss. In this
instant, the world was nothing but a blur, as if cumming had weakened
his eyesight. When he came back to his senses he found himself being the
one sitting against the wall with his nemesis on his knees, licking at his
fingers.

Their eyes met again, nothing had changed in them. Feng Xin simply said:

"Again."

That's when Mu Qing understood: he would die countless times tonight.

"I can't," he sobbed. "Not so soon…!"

Feng Xin didn't agree.

"Yes you can. You can and you will."

"But I…"

"Do I need to pray for it?."

Why did it work? It happened again and again with almost no breaks in
between peaks. Mu Qing was a mess pooling on the wall and floor, Feng
Xin was drinking and drinking from him, quenching his thirst.

They were at their fourth time already, with Feng Xin alternating
between taking him down his throat and lapping away at his gland. He
was beautiful to watch with his gorgeous head bobbing up and down on
Mu Qing.

"Ah." The moan was pulled right out of Mu Qing's mouth.

"You okay?" Feng Xin looked up and his eyes were gleaming with unshed
tears streaking out of the corners of his eyes, darkening the long
eyelashes resting against his flushed cheeks.

"Yeah. I'm all right." He's in heaven. "Keep going. Don't stop now. Don't
you dare stop– Ahh!" he almost-screamed as Feng Xin took him all the
way back down his throat in one smooth slide.

It was as too much as it was not enough, one wanted to give as much as
the other wanted to take.

Mu Qing could feel the coil of pleasure building up again. He never lasted
long… He held on to Feng Xin's hair and tried to resist the urge to thrust
into his mouth and down his throat. The few times he lost control, Feng
Xin just opened wide and accepted the intrusion with a strangled moan
that went straight to his throbbing dick.

I might actually die for good.

At least, with time, the archer god's suction grew less desperate, softer.
His breath was even, his cheeks looked healthily filled. Mu Qing
shuddered and his back curved enticingly as he came once more, making
Feng Xin let out a pleasured, comfortable hum. Then, he laid his forehead
on Mu Qing's thighs and stayed there.

The grip in his hair turned into a combing caress. The air around them
was cold but their unspoken love was warmer. They both opened their
eyes and their surroundings became clear again which reminded them
that peace was never to be taken for granted. The curse had rushed them
into understanding each other's devoted vulnerability, even though it was
the widest step there was to be taken, it wasn't secure.

None of this feels real, Mu Qing thought.

A soft touch on his hip startled him out of his mind. Feng Xin pinned him
with his stare and Mu Qing found it grounded him.

"Why did you stop?" Feng Xin slurred.

"What?"

"Your hands. In my hair. It felt good."

"Oh…"

"It was nice. I liked it. A lot—"

"Okay, okay–" Mu Qing placated, getting back to work. "I get it.."
The other flopped back onto him.

"I like you," he whispered. "I like you," he repeated louder, his fist
tightened. "Mu Qing… Fuck. Mu Qing I–, I can't believe I can say it—"

"Feng Xin—" Mu Qing gasped as Feng Xin buried his face in his stomach,
pressing feverish kisses there. "We need to get out of here…"

The archer god stilled in his hold. Had they reached the end of what they
could tolerate today?

"Come to my palace," Mu Qing quickly added, sighing when he felt Feng

Xin relax against him. "With me."

Feng Xin huffed a laugh.

"I don't think I can go anywhere by myself right now…"

"Just who exactly had a series of orgasms?"

"Fuck you," he bit him. "I came too."

"Hm—! You–, you did? But I—"

"You didn't touch me. I know. But I came at least two times. You are… the
sexiest little shit ever. Like, seriously. What the fuck. Who allowed you to
look so hot when you cum—"

Mu Qing slapped a hand against his dirty mouth.

"Stop!! You should have seen yourself… S-sucking…"

"Sucking you off? You liked the view?"

The other looked away.

"Shut up."

"Ha. You did. Pervert."

"Look who's speaking!" he somehow found the strength to roll his eyes.

Feng Xin looked at him smugly.

"Yes, exactly. You did a lot of that too."

"You—"
"I thought you were going to pass out."

"As if you had any space left for thoughts in that head of yours—!"

"You think your dick is that big?"

"I don't care about that!!

"You're right, me neither. It's beautiful."

"Please, do not compliment my dick."

"You're beautiful."

"Somehow, that's worse," Mu Qing shook his head, but his cheeks were
red and his gaze fond.

"You like me," Feng Xin pulled himself up so they could really face each
other.

"No," his nemesis looked away before braving his eyes back into Feng
Xin's. "I love you."

"Fuck–"

Mu Qing closed his eyes, awfully embarrassed and terribly afraid.

"What the fuck! Mu Qing–! Shit, I—"

'Don't get carried away,' he had been about to reply when Feng Xin's lips
smashed against his.

"I love you too, Mu Qing. I like you, I love you, I adore you. Forever."

Time stilled.

"I'm scared…"

Just who had spoken? Did it really matter when they both felt the very
same?

"I'm scared…!"

"Me too,"

"Me too!"

"I love you…"

"Me too…"

Would things ever cease? Would they ever stop being real at some point?
Would tender words of love turn into tears and blood?

Who knew? Did they have to know to give it a try?

⦽
Nut The
Truth
By Autheane
Find her on Twitter and AO3
This story was inspired by this artwork by Dahliaderouge ⦽
Beware...
This work contains
explicit
content.

Proceed at your own discretion.

"I'm telling you that's not how it happened!" My Qing snaps. He takes a
deep breath, trying to keep the annoyance from overflowing, before
continuing. "You acted like a prideful idiot. You went to the demons' den
ahead of me, on purpose, trying to prove something and that only led to
you getting hurt. When I arrived, I had to carry you over my shoulder out
of there before killing all those demons." Mu Qing says, irritation plain in
his voice, walking faster just for the sole pleasure of seeing Feng Xin
having to jog a little to catch up to him.

"You're wrong. I had already almost killed them all when you arrived and
got yourself hurt because you couldn't watch your back and got freaking
stabbed. I finished the last ones off and dragged your ass out of there to
help with your wounds. I cannot believe your brain is so small that you
cannot even remember properly what occurred that day," Feng Xin
answers, his tone mocking. Mu Qing moves faster again, too annoyed to
look at Feng Xin. An idea strikes him suddenly and he stops dead in his
tracks. Feng Xin collides with his back, nearly toppling them both over.

"What the fuck?! Can't you warn when you stop walking like that?!" Feng
Xin snarls and Mu Qing turns to him, not even bothering to answer him.

"I have an idea," he says and Feng Xin's eyebrows lift as if he's surprised.

"You're capable of thoughts. I'm impressed!" Mu Qing's deadpan

expression is already too much of an answer and he goes on, ignoring the
jab.

"We will go to the archives, look for that day's report and see who's right.
If I'm right, which will be the case, you will refer to me by my title only,
will bow to me and will only address me with the utmost respect. No
cursing, no talking back, no unpleasant remarks. You will treat me as if
you were one of my newly- appointed junior officials and do whatever I
tell you to." Feng Xin's eyebrows rise even higher as Mu Qing speaks.
There's a pause as he considers the offer before he answers. He crosses
his arms over his chest looking back at Mu Qing with a calculating glint in
his eyes.

"Alright. But when I prove you wrong, you will come back to my palace,
to my personal quarters where you will act as my personal manservant.
You will clean every day, help to dress me, tend to my clothes… I'm
merciful so I will spare you from any formalities when it comes to my
name." Mu Qing grits his teeth. The bastard is smirking and Mu Qing
wants to throttle him.

"You're really-!" He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath and shaking his
head. Feng Xin will always push just where it hurts, but he won't win. He
looks Feng Xin in the eye, confident in his memories. "That's a deal. Lead
the way to the truth then," he says, gesturing with his arms for Feng Xin
to go first. Let the man enjoy this while he can. He will soon be groveling
at Mu Qing's feet.

The way to the archives isn't too long, with both gods walking briskly and
in silence through the sparse crowd of the heavenly court, nodding curtly
to the few officials they meet along the way. Mu Qing already has his
mind full of images of Feng Xin gritting his teeth as he bows to him, as he
obeys every order Mu Qing gives him without a bit of disrespect. He's
already tasting the dream on his tongue. It will be glorious.

They soon arrive in front of the Heavenly Archives, the tall imposing
building almost looking gloom compared to the ones around it, as if the
aura from those working within had permeated the walls themselves.
They enter through the huge carved doors side by side, the statues
placed in circle around the large hall and the high colored windows giving
a solemn atmosphere to the room, imposing respect. They climb the few
steps leading to Ling Wen's worktable and the goddess is already waiting
for them, standing before her desk pilled with an impressive number of
scrolls. They all bow to each other respectfully and before Feng Xin can
fully open his mouth, he is cut off by Ling Wen's raised hand.

"I do not want to know. You know your way around the palace. No official
will be disturbed and whatever you take will be put back into place.
Exactly at the same spot," she starts and Mu Qing cannot do anything but
listen attentively. Even if Feng Xin and he are both towering over her,
Ling Wen manages to stare them down, talking with the confidence that
there will be no breaking of her rules or there will be consequences.
"There will be no squabbling, no fighting, nor shouting of any kind within
these walls. You will hold your tongues or you will be permanently
banned from this palace. Unlike some gods here, some of us have a lot of
work to do and work is to be respected. Am I making myself clear?" Mu
Qing feels his face heat up at the assumption that both Feng Xin and him
would not be able to stop from fighting, even in other officials' palaces.
He knows they deserve the warning. Their temper when they're together
always getting the better of them without Xie Lian playing buffer
between them but still, he cannot help feeling like an unruly child being
scolded by his mother as she looks almost accusingly at them waiting for
an answer.

They both bow respectfully, agreeing to Ling Wen's terms before she
nods and lets them pass, climbing more stairs, Ling Wen's glare burning
holes at their back. They traverse the main hall, tall windows illuminating
their path, beams of sunlight pouring through the trees outside like little
dancing flames on the wooden floor. They walk by rooms with high
ceilings, filled with piles of unprocessed documents, haggard-looking
officials working endlessly to sort and send them to be classified. Mu
Qing is impressed by how organized and methodical this place functions,
almost like an anthill. He has to bow to Ling Wen's power. She rules her
palace like a queen her kingdom.

They walk through several smaller buildings, each dedicated to a god and
their territory, separated by beautifully- manicured gardens. The sounds
of birds and water cascading down little streams carry through the
rooms and hallways, accompanying each of their steps like a cleansing
melody. The atmosphere of Ling Wen's domain is so tranquil and
appeasing. Officials work day and night here and yet, it's calm, exuding
an aura of Zen Mu Qing seldom encounters.

They soon reach the building dedicated to them and the South, the
building bigger than most others since they share the territory. They step
inside the hall, with two tall and proud statues welcoming them, each on
one side of the large, illuminated hall. They pass by Mu Qing's statue,
barely reaching its knees, this side of the building dedicated to the
South-west. They walk through the corridors, by several large rooms,
each holding thousands of records covering a hundred years until they
finally arrive at the one they're looking for.

Mu Qing takes a moment to take all the scrolls in. The sheer number of
documents, neatly categorized by years and types of missions makes him
realize the amount of ordeals they have undergone over the centuries. In
this moment, it hits him how long they've already lived, how many ages
they've gone through. He cannot help but feel humbled by it. He turns to
Feng Xin, returning to their task at hand.
"Which year was it?" he asks and Feng Xin scoffs.

"You don't remember the year and you still think you're right about what
happened?" he laughs mockingly and Mu Qing rolls his eyes.

"Pray tell then, oh, Great Ju Yang, when was it?" he asks, sarcasm heavy
on his tongue.

"It was around 350 or 330 years ago," Feng Xin answers like Mu Qing is
the idiot here and Mu Qing has to laugh a little.

"That's a twenty-year gap! I could have told you that much. You do not
remember things much better." Feng Xin makes a vague gesture with his
hand that could mean anything from shut up to whatever and starts to
move in the direction of said years' shelves. "I'll look on this side, you go
to the other," he says, turning to the first year the fight could have
happened. Mu Qing watches him go, rolling his eyes.

What an idiot…

He turns to his side of the shelves, going to the farther end of the row
and begins to look through the scrolls. It is an incredibly slow process but
it's one that he enjoys very much. Mu Qing finds himself more than once
engrossed in one of the reports, not remembering the event or finding
himself thrown back in his memories. He hears a few snorts or sighs
from Feng Xin's side and each time he looks up, Mu Qing sees him just as
engrossed in the scroll in his hands.

He doesn't really know how long they stay here, reliving or rediscovering
parts of their lives but the sun has started to set outside, bathing the
room in soft orange hues. Mu Qing isn't annoyed that they seem to have
spent the best part of the afternoon here. He enjoys rediscovering their
history. He will sometimes share an amusing fact or a particular moment
that he reads aloud to Feng Xin and Feng Xin does the same, exchanging
commentary and reflections on their past battles. Mu Qing realizes then
that so many of their years as gods had been spent in each other's
company, fighting side by side, crossing paths and intertwining. He is
momentarily taken aback because when he thinks of Feng Xin, he thinks
of him as a thorn in his side, an ever-permanent rock in his boot, the
annoying fly that wouldn't leave him be and yet, he doesn't feel like all
those years working alongside him had been a hardship. The first things
that come to mind aren't annoyance and disdain like he would expect but
fondness. There's still the undercurrent of Mu Qing wanting to punch his
teeth but… with a gentle smile on his lips.
So much has changed over the centuries and even if everything hasn't
been all pleasant, Mu Qing is happy about how far they've come, that he
can now count Feng Xin as his friend. He smiles a little as he looks up at
where Feng Xing stands then, just a few meters away from him, lost in
concentration with a frown on his face as he reads through a scroll,
biting on his thumb like what he's reading is particularly enthralling. He
feels warmth bloom in his chest all of a sudden, warmth that he does not
want to examine in anyway. He crushes it down viciously as he hastily
looks back down to the shelves and takes another scroll in his hand,
perhaps with a little more force than necessary. They still have a lot of
documents to sort through if he wants to prove Feng Xin wrong. What he
feels is best left untouched.

It's a while longer, the sun already gone, the whole room illuminated by
the golden hallow of the spiritual torches, before Mu Qing finds himself
on his hands and knees, searching through the lowest shelves just next to
Feng Xin who's looking through the highest ones. He tries to not think too
much about the fact that he's basically just there, looking like he's
groveling at Feng Xin's feet. He will continue to pretend nothing is out of
the ordinary for as long as possible, especially since Feng Xin doesn't
even seem to have noticed his position yet. He will not suffer through
humiliation once again.

Annoyance is quickly coming to a boiling point though after Mu Qing

almost gets kneed in the face twice and has his fingers stepped on for the
fourth time already. He hisses, pulling his fingers close to his chest,
feeling the throb of pain radiating through his hand and wrist and snaps.

"Can't you just pay attention where you stand?! I'm not a ladder for you
to step on!" Mu Qing spits and Feng Xin scoffs down at him.

"Excuse me for paying attention to the precious documents more than

your dainty little fingers that would heal in a matter of minutes if I even
were to actually injure you! Why do you have to be so close! Can't you
grab a document and just scoot away a little?! It's not that complicated!
Even for you!" Feng Xin sneers. Mu Qing lets out an incredulous laugh at
that.

"Well, if your brain wasn't the size of a fish, I would not be here, looking
through billions of documents on my knees while being insulted! Why
don't you kneel on the floor while I walk all over your hands, see how you
like it?!" Mu Qing feels the anger rise anew. Friends?! Is that what he
thought?! Please! He wants to throttle the guy!

"Why do you keep on complaining?! We still have lots of documents to

sort through so stop wasting more time and air. I will be able to prove
you wrong faster that way. Now shut your mouth or I will." Feng Xin
retorts, as if his authority was never to be questioned and Mu Qing
scoffs, looking up at him with a defiant look in his eyes that he knows
Feng Xin hates.

"As if you ever could." He holds Feng Xin's gaze and revels in the way
they widen to reveal the fury contained within. Mu Qing smiles, just a
tiny thing that will annoy Feng Xin even further, knowing he's won. Feng
Xin is always all bark and no bite and this time is no different. When the
only reaction he gets out of Feng Xin are balled-up fists and eyes that
can kill, he laughs a little. "That's what I thought." He's about to turn back
to the shelves when Feng Xin snarls and grabs his ponytail roughly,
pressing Mu Qing's face to his groin, his nose smashed against his upper
thigh, his cheek and ear pressed there. Mu Qing's eyes go wide in
disbelief and outrage and makes an indignant noise, pushing against Feng
Xin's thighs and fighting against his hold with all his might.

And then Feng Xin moans.

It's a small little thing, breathy and quickly bitten off but it has the effect
of thunder, resonating between them in the vast archive like a death toll.

They both stay frozen for what feels like centuries, the silence around
them deafening. Mu Qing feels his heart thundering in his chest, his ears
ringing with the rush of blood. Feng Xing is the first one to move,
releasing his hair like he's been burned and Mu Qing looks up at him
slowly. His face is completely flushed, his eyes round, wild and dark and
his lips slightly parted, looking down at Mu Qing in disbelief and shock, as
if he's seeing him for the first time. Mu Qing stares, his heartbeat loud in
his chest and gulps down, licking his dry lips. He sees Feng Xin track the
movement and inhale sharply. Mu Qing's eyes jump to Feng Xin's crotch,
attracted by the twitch of Feng Xin's cock jumping and beginning to grow
in his pants, his face reddening even more if possible. He cannot hold
back the grin slowly stretching his lips as he looks at Feng's Xin's
mortified expression nor hold back the jab as he eyes Feng Xin's crotch
again.

"The Great Ju Yang unable to contain his lust... How ironic." He keeps his
tone light, just on this side of derisive and watches in dark fascination as
Feng Xin's flush reaches his ears and neck, the slight bulge seeming to
grow even faster inside his pants. He squirms a little in place and scoffs,
his expression shifting to sneer down at him, crossing his arms over his
chest, each of his words sounding as acidic as possible.
"Like hell! You, of all people?! Daring to talk to me about lust?! Please!"
The jab hits Mu Qing straight on and his smile crumbles to be replaced
with a scowl. He feels himself redden and sits a little bit straighter, as if it
could help keep up appearances.

"Just because my cultivation requires purity does not mean I know

nothing about lust!" Mu Qing answers, affronted, and as if to annoy him
further, he sees Feng Xin smirk, like he's just won something. He unfolds
his arms and makes a vague gesture towards his lower body, leaning back
on the shelves behind him.

"Oh? Then why don't you prove it?" Mu Qing's breath hitches. The
bastard looks so smug, so sure of himself, Mu Qing cannot hold his gaze
and looks to the side. He knows the picture he probably makes: him on
his knees, his skin flushed, eyes lowered as if in deference and shyness.
He makes for the perfect picture of innocence, like a young and shy bride
facing her husband for the first time on their wedding night.

He hates it.

Frustration and anger rage inside of him, momentarily eclipsing the

humiliation making him want to hide. If Feng Xin wants to play, then fine!
Mu Qing will show him. Let it be known that he's not a coward.

He looks back at Feng Xin with determination in his eyes, trying to fight
down the blush that wants to ravage his skin as he pushes his hands
against Feng Xin's thighs, as he brushes the lapels of his tunic completely
out of the way and approaches his face to slowly nose over the bulge
tenting Feng Xin's pants, never looking away. Feng Xin's eyes go round as
saucers as his breath leaves him like Mu Qing had just punched him in the
stomach. He makes a strangled sound and it only emboldens Mu Qing
who smirks a little, his lips parting to mouth at the side of Feng Xin's
erection through the cloth, a little sigh escaping him.

His tongue darts out to lick a little stripe over his trousers and Feng Xin
groans softly, bringing one of his fists to his lips and biting on his
knuckles, staring down at Mu Qing with such a raw expression. Disbelief,
surprise and so much lust dancing in his golden eyes, Mu Qing almost
feels drunk at the knowledge he's the one who did this.

He stops mouthing at Feng Xin's erection, gulping audibly as his hands

travel up Feng Xin's flat stomach, as he feels the muscles jump under his
fingers. He moves up and up until he reaches the ties keeping Feng Xin's
belt tight around his waist. He bats his eyelashes innocently, almost
coquettishly as he pulls and watches as the sash falls heavily to the floor,
as layer after layer of the heavy tunic part to reveal beautiful sculpted
muscles and golden skin. Mu Qing drinks his fill, letting his eyes wander
until they rest over the last layer of cloth separating Mu Qing from the
sight of the great Ju Yang in all his wonderful glory.

He feels like a veil has draped over himself, making him feverish with
want. He needs to touch, to taste, to devour. To make Feng Xin beg. He
has no idea of what he's doing, he just needs.

His hands follow the path his eyes have already carved, touching the
burning skin, every ridge of muscle until he reaches there and moans
softly as he presses the flat of one hand to the large erection and feels it
jump under his touch. It's big and Mu Qing is overtaken by the need to
see it, to feel it fully under his hands. He's reaching for the ties keeping
Feng Xin's pants up and pulls until the soft fabric slides down and Mu
Qing stares and stares and stares. His mouth is watering and he has to
take a deep breath and swallow down. He wonders for a second if this is
the work of Feng Xin's power. If he can stoke someone's desire to
devouring flames just through the force his believers' prayers or if his
lust is simply contagious when you're the direct object of his want. This
is the only explanation he has for the need consuming his whole being.
He feels like an idiot for proclaiming to know what lust is. He had no idea.

His eyes flick up to Feng Xin who has his eyes closed, his whole body is
taut as a bowstring and Mu Qing takes a moment to look his fill. Feng Xin
is gorgeous. His golden skin bathed in the soft light of the spiritual fires
around the room, accentuating each curve and dip of his toned body, the
delicious flush of his skin going down to his chest softening his usual
hard exterior, his… That. Mu Qing can admit it in the privacy of his mind:
Feng Xin is a work of art and no painting, no statue, nor song can ever
dream to do it justice.

He licks his lips as he looks at Feng Xin's erection, feeling the burning
need to touch and taste pool low in his belly, stir his own desire hidden
beneath his heavy robes. He moves his hand to caress along the hard
flesh and envelope it in his fist. The skin is burning hot and Mu Qing
takes an instant to wonder if Feng Xin feels as much want as he, himself,
does as he starts to move his hand slowly up the length. Feng Xin groans,
his head thumping on the shelves behind him as Mu Qing shifts his hand
slowly, revelling in the softness of the skin under his fingers. He presses
forward then, flicking his tongue over the tip of Feng Xin's length, a
strangled moan tearing out of Feng Xin's throat, his hand shooting out to
hold Mu Qing's head still, just a hair's breadth away from his cock.

"You don't have to do this," he says, looking down at him, face painted
with want, his voice barely above a raw whisper and Mu Qing squints up
at him. Of all the moments to play the honorable man, trust Feng Xin to
find the worst possible one. Mu Qing bats his hand away irritably.

"I do and I will. Now if you'd just shut up for once." He doesn't give Feng
Xin time to answer. He moves forward again and licks a broad stripe up
Feng Xin's erection, smirking a little as Feng Xin moans and his length
jumps in his hand. He licks around the head, swirling his tongue over it
before pausing and swallowing, hesitating for all but a second and finally
enveloping Feng Xin's cockhead with his lips.

He doesn't know what he expects but it's not as simple as tasting flesh on
his tongue. It's not unpleasant. He sucks a little then twirls his tongue
around the tip in his mouth, playing with what feels right for a few
moments before taking him a little deeper, exploring. The simple action
makes his blood burn hotter, his own erection twitching under his robes,
Feng Xin's shaky exhale only making him want more.

He sucks and licks and starts to move his head, little back-and-forth
movements along Feng Xin's length, enjoying the weight of it, how it fills
his mouth, how soft the skin is. The silence is slowly growing with hums
and soft moans, the noises getting wetter as more saliva pools in Mu
Qing's mouth, making the slide of his lips smoother. He doesn't stop,
taking more of Feng Xin's erection little by little until it presses to the
back of his mouth and both he and Feng groan. Feng Xin's hand comes to
rest on his head, threading gently through his dark hair as Mu Qing pulls
back a little to take him to the back of his mouth again. He makes a little
frustrated noise as his throat blocks his advance, forbidding him from
taking more. Feng Xin is big and there's more than half of his erection out
of Mu Qing's mouth still and he wants it all. His expression must betray
his frustration because Feng Xin's hand is suddenly on his, guiding it to
circle around what Mu Qing cannot take. His warm fingers envelope Mu
Qing's smaller ones as he moves his hips to pull almost fully back out of
Mu Qing's mouth, his erection dragging over Mu Qing's tongue to leave
just the tip inside, their hands following to slide along the length before
Feng Xin slowly pushes in again, so very carefully, shifting their hands
back with the movement.

"Just like that…" Feng Xin's voice is all but a whisper, but it resonates with
a raw, sultry note that makes Mu Qing shiver. He looks up into Feng Xin's
eyes, dark with desire as he swirls his tongue over the head before taking
him in again, pressing the flat of his tongue over the canal under Feng
Xin's length and moving his hand in a slow caress. Feng Xin's eyes flutter
shut an instant and he groans before opening them again "yeah, that's it…
just like that." Mu Qing feels his cheeks and his insides burn but he
cannot look away from the want in Feng Xin's eyes. He moves, letting the
desire lighting up his veins guide him, letting Feng Xin's groans and grip
on his hair move him. He feels like he's in a frenzy, a haze of burning
passion devouring his whole being from the inside out. He could stay like
this forever, worshipping Feng Xin like the god he is. Like he ought to be.

He moves faster, his head and hand moving in what feels like a dance to
the melody of their moans and soon, Feng Xin is moving too, his hips
undulating along Mu Qing's rhythm, his breathing growing labored, more
and more sighs of pleasure escaping his parted lips. Little pleas of more,
yes and don't stop falling from his mouth like fervent prayers from the
lips of the most precious devotee. Soon, Mu Qing feels almost pinned in
place by the grip in his hair and it makes him burn all the more. Feng Xin
is moving in short abortive thrusts in his mouth and Mu Qing is left only
to tongue and suck at the burning flesh. He feels Feng Xin's erection
grow even harder, feels it jump and leak on his tongue. His heart is
beating faster in his chest, knowing Feng Xin is close already, a thrill
running up his spine over the fact that he's the one who pushed him
there.

"Fuck! Mu Qing, I- Fuck!"

Feng Xin's hips stutter, his jaw dropping and groaning deeply, loudly, his
eyes closing in ecstasy as his body goes taut and spills on Mu Qing's
tongue, pleasure painting his every feature. Mu Qing moans in response,
tonguing at the pulsing erection as more and more bittersweet fluid fills
his mouth. He feels hot all over, his own erection pulsing between his
legs, asking for release. His whole being is an inferno of desire and he
never wants it to stop.

Feng Xin is moving shallowly between his lips and Mu Qing can't look
away from how breathtaking Feng Xin looks lost in pleasure. He wonders
if his title has anything to do with this or if it's just a Feng Xin thing, if
he'd look as beautiful if he were a mere mortal. He doesn't have time to
dwell on it too much because Feng Xin's hips still and he opens his eyes,
still dark with lust in the aftermath of his orgasm. He pulls out gently of
his mouth and then he's falling on his knees, kissing Mu Qing deeply with
a groan, his tongue pushing past his lips and Mu Qing moans as Feng Xin
shares his own taste with him, their kiss wet and messy as Mu Qing
swallows what's left in his mouth.

He doesn't realize their hands have wandered until Feng Xin's hand is
there, pressing over his erection and Mu Qing is shouting, pleasure
coursing through his whole body like lightning. He still has enough
presence of mind to grab Feng Xin's hand to stop him.

"Don't. I can't. You know I can't," he says, wanting nothing more for the
very first time to send his vows to the wind. Feng Xin looks at him, his
eyes dark and intense and Mu Qing is suddenly rendered speechless
under such a stare.

"Do you trust me?" it's a simple question but Feng Xin looks so serious,
so raw and genuine, Mu Qing cannot even think to lie before the words
are out of his mouth.

"Yes."

"Then trust me with this…" His lips are on his again and his hands are
making quick work of parting his robes and pushing his pants out of the
way to free his erection. Mu Qing's back arches towards Feng Xin, a
groan tearing out if his throat as he's enveloped by Feng Xin's burning
grip.

The fire in his veins become an inferno as Feng Xin starts to move his
hand along his length, pleasure like he never knew he could feel
spreading through him in powerful bursts. He's moaning and calling Feng
Xin's name over and over like a mantra, half kissing and half delirious.
Feng Xin lowers his face to his neck, sucking and biting softly and Mu
Qing feels every touch like electric bolts of pleasure down his spine. His
hips jerk against Feng Xin's hand, seeking more friction, more touch,
more Feng Xin. He cannot think as he loses himself to pleasure, as he lets
Feng Xin play his body like well- loved instrument.

His heart is hammering in his chest, his breaths coming out in short
pleading gasps as the pleasure grows dangerously inside of him. He feels
like he's going to lose his mind, lose himself and he wouldn't even care
because it would be to Feng Xin's hands. Every touch makes the passion
burn hotter, everything that Feng Xin whispers against his skin only
fueling the fire. Feng Xin's hand moves fast over him and his own can
only grip tightly to the man before him, hanging on as Feng Xin undoes
him so devastatingly.

"Feng Xin, Feng Xin!" he cannot stop chanting his name, panic blurring
with the crushing waves of pleasure ravaging his whole being. He feels
like he will combust, like his body won't be able to take anymore and Feng
Xin doesn't stop, continuing to devour and mark his skin, to caress and
make him scream.

"Mu Qing…" the name is whispered like a precious thing, like a forbidden
song from Feng Xin's lips and it's all it takes to undo him completely. He's
shouting, his whole body tensing and arching, his vision whiting out as
pleasure explodes inside him, his whole body shaking through wave after
wave of burning ecstasy, his head spinning with it. The feeling is short
and feels eternal at the same time, the waves slowly reducing to gentle
ones like liquid warmth licking through his veins. His body collapses
against Feng Xin and he feels his strong arms envelope him, Mu Qing's
face pressed to the hollow of his throat where he can feel Feng Xin's
pulse beating as wildly as his own. His breath is still labored and he
realizes that Feng Xin is mumbling against him.

"What…?" the word feels slurred on his tongue and Feng Xin moves back
enough to look him in the eyes, a rare intensity burning there.

"Thank you." The words are simple but Feng Xin says them with such
reverence, almost solemnly. Mu Qing flushes and looks at the shelves
behind him, suddenly embarrassed. He doesn't know how to respond but
he doesn't have to because Feng Xin is moving, cupping his cheek gently
and pressing their lips together. Mu Qing closes his eyes and kisses back,
enjoying the moment, thinking that once they will break apart, they will
go back to what they were before, pretending that nothing ever
happened.

Mu Qing jolts back suddenly, startling Feng Xin as he feels for his core,
feeling it as strong and powerful as before. He looks at himself and then
at Feng Xin in bewilderment, only now realizing that his stupid
acceptance of Feng Xin bringing him pleasure should have been his
demise.

"How?" he wonders and it's Feng Xin's turn to redden and look away, his
hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"I am basically the god of sex. Even if it was never my intention, I know
things." He looks so embarrassed that Mu Qing can't not poke.

"Know what exactly? This should have destroyed my power." he prods

further and Feng Xin sighs, looking back at him.

"Fine. I once heard about a flower that could uhh… cloud someone's
senses with desire until they died unless they had sex. I realized that if
his highness or you were to ever come across it, it would mean losing
your powers and knowing how stubborn you both can be, I'm not sure
you wouldn't have chosen death. So I did some research for a while,
looking into the art of dual cultivation and this is when I came across an
interesting little scroll, detailing the many ways in which someone
cultivating purity could enjoy pleasures. The trick rests in not losing your
essence." Mu Qing is stunned for a moment. That Feng Xin would think to
search at length into this for them, even if he knows Feng Xin's priority
has always been his highness, warms something inside him. He looks at
Feng Xin's hands and then his still bared cock and realizes that even if he
orgasmed, unlike Feng Xin, he did not spill. When he looks back up at
Feng Xin, his cheeks look still flushed after his explanation but gone is his
embarrassment. The bastard looks so smug. He wriggles his fingers as if
they were magical or something. "Just a little push of spiritual energy
right when you're about to orgasm. It's simple trick really." Mu Qing rolls
his eyes, feeling reassured at the familiar ground coming back between
them.

"You look ridiculous. Especially with… that still out in the open." He says
pointing to Feng Xin's cock now limp between his legs, which is still an
impressive size even in this state. Feng Xin, the idiot only smirks.

"It didn't seem to bother you earlier…" Mu Qing's eyes widen and he's
about to retort when Feng Xin gets up and extends his hand to him to
help him stand. Mu Qing hesitates a few seconds before taking it. Feng
Xin pulls him in with enough force that he stumbles right onto his chest
and seeing the stupid grin on the idiot's face and the arm snaking around
his waist, Mu Qing knows he did it on purpose. He scowls.

"I will hit you," Mu Qing threatens and Feng Xin presses their lips
together, Mu Qing spluttering indignantly and pushing at his chest. Feng
Xin moves back just enough to look him in the eyes, much too close for
Mu Qing's comfort now that his brain isn't fogged by pleasure.

"How about… we find that report and whoever is right, gets to do

whatever he wants to the other for the rest of the night…?" Feng Xin
suggests, speaking so softly, it makes a shiver run down Mu Qing's spine.
He can't hold back the flush that crawls up his skin at the suggestion, nor
the way his cock twitches and starts to harden against Feng Xin's. "I take
that as a yes." Mu Qing flushes harder and he can't help it, he punches
Feng Xin in the jaw. The hit isn't hard and they both know it but Feng Xin
lets him go to rub at the tender spot all the same, laughing a little as Mu
Qing puts his clothes back into order and Feng Xin finally does the same.
Mu Qing turns back to the shelves, resolute to find that damned report.

"I will prove you wrong and you will eat your own words," he says, his
mind already thinking of all the ways he can make Feng Xin scream his
name.

"I'm looking forward to it," Feng Xin answers and Mu Qing doesn't have
to look back to know that he's grinning and, hidden from Feng Xin's view,
Mu Qing doesn't stop his own lips from stretching into a pleased smile,
letting the warmth bursting through his chest spread and settle there,
right next to his heart.

⦽
To All...
 Thank You!
For bringing colors…

♥Nan♥ ♥Utopia♥ ♥Del♥ ♥Kei♥ ♥Kukku♥

nanzhen utopia8823 delurianne @muqingshusband @kyuuxi
AO3⇡ AO3⇡ AO3⇡&ⓣ ⻦⇡ ⻦⇡
@qA18u8topia2d3L @delrheian
⻦⇡ ⻦⇡

And for sharing stories…

♥Aira♥ ♥Pammy♥ ♥Bae♥ ♥Vera♥ ♥Auth♥

Airawyn Paljuresji baobeibaobae kopi_pheng Autheane
AO3⇡ AO3⇡ AO3⇡ AO3⇡ AO3⇡
thats-what-sid @Paljuresji @Autheane
he-said ⻦⇡ ⻦⇡
ⓣ⇡

This zine was edited (with love) by ArcherFucker.

Special thanks to Akane, Zeri and Lyris for lending us thoughts and support!
Thus ends #FengQingScriptures
The first part of
#FengQingCelebration!

Remember us on Qixi
to find the second
part of our zine!

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AO3 post!