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“Sorry, Qing’er, it looks like I won’t be home for the holiday.”
Mu Qing stood brokenhearted in the middle of baggage claim, his phone pressed firmly to his ear as his eyes locked on the flight board. Yellow letters reading ‘DELAYED’ on the black screen flickered like a cruel taunt as flight after flight morphed into the inevitable red ‘CANCELED’. When Feng Xin’s layover reflected the same fate, the gutting ache in Mu Qing’s stomach deepened as though a vital piece of him had been torn out.
“But you’re only a thirty-minute flight away.”
“I know…but the blizzard—”
“Well, if they can’t fly through a little blizzard, then they shouldn’t call themselves pilots!”
A sigh broke through the static, heavy and resigned. “I’m trying to get a rental car. It’s just a two-hour drive. I can make it if they have anything left to rent. I want to be home too.”
“No… A-Xin, the roads were a mess just trying to get to the airport for your arrival time. It’s too dangerous for you to drive in this.” Mu Qing’s eyes darted to the terminal windows where the world outside blurred in white chaos. Snowflakes the size of coins whipped in every direction, and the wind howled like an injured animal. Another foot of snow had buried the streets in minutes, turning even the recently parked cars in the arrival pick-up line into shapeless lumps.
“You underestimate my driving, Qing’er!” Feng Xin boasted confidently.
“No, A-Xin, you underestimate how bad the storm is. At this rate, I might end up stranded at the airport, too.”
“Really? Shit…” Feng Xin’s voice dropped, more fretful now. “It’s barely snowing here.”
Mu Qing’s chest tightened as a stubborn and reckless idea sparked. Like hell would he dismiss it as a swift risk-reward assessment weighed in his favor. “When is the blizzard supposed to hit Yong’an?”
“Later tonight, I think. Why?”
Without answering, Mu Qing was already moving. He barreled through the thinning, disappointed crowds and burst into the biting cold outside. His breath puffed in white clouds as he hurried toward the parking garage, boots skidding on patches of slick ice, but he maintained balance. Yanking out the keys from his pocket and smashing the auto start button as he ran, Mu Qing leapt into his cherry red Lexus NX.
“Qing’er? What are you doing?” Feng Xin’s voice pitched higher, a thread of alarm cutting through the static.
“Hold on, switching to Bluetooth,” Mu Qing muttered, the sound of his car’s chime sang in the background. A brief cut off signaled the transition to his car’s speaker system, and then suddenly Mu Qing’s voice was farther away. “Forget the rental. Just book a hotel and send me the address. I’ll meet you there.”
“What?! Mu Qing!” Feng Xin’s panic surged, urgency breaking through the crackles. “You shouldn’t be driving in this storm! You just said it was too dangerous!”
Mu Qing’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he backed out of the parking spot. “Too late.”
“It’s not too late! You just got in your car!”
“I’m not spending our first married Christmas apart, A-Xin!”
“And I’m not spending our marriage as a widower! Go home! I’ll catch the first flight out of here tomorrow morning!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, I’m not going to end up in a ditch.” Mu Qing glanced out of the windshield as he approached the first red light. Snow blanketed the world and reduced visibility to almost nothing, obscuring the traffic light pole, but the bright red stop light shone through the flurry. “There won’t be any flights tomorrow. Even if flights weren’t limited for Christmas Day, they won’t clear the runways in time. You’ll be lucky to get out of there the day after tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll celebrate Christmas a day late!”
Mu Qing leaned back in his seat as the light remained red, his jaw tightening as he stared at the dashboard, Feng Xin’s contact information illuminated on the navigation screen. Resolutely, he defiantly stated, “No.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Qing’er!” Feng Xin barked, heated and bristling. “I don’t like missing Christmas any more than you do—”
“You’ve been gone for a month, A-Xin! It’s not just about the holiday!”
The following silence was heavy like the storm outside, but Mu Qing could tell by Feng Xin’s displeased sigh that he was upset at himself for snapping. More calmly, he expressed his understanding, his frustration with the unanticipated separation apparent, “I know…This emergency work trip came up a few weeks after our wedding and took so much longer than expected. It hasn’t been fair. You’ve been patient—”
“And sacrificed our honeymoon.”
“Yes,” Feng Xin agreed guiltily. “And sacrificed our honeymoon. The separation hasn’t been easy for either of us. I can’t wait to be home with you again.”
“A-Xin.” The light turned green, Mu Qing determinedly turned toward the direction of the highway, and cranked the heater to its highest setting. No matter how much Feng Xin protested, he wouldn’t be able to change Mu Qing’s mind at this point. “I’m not waiting another day to see you.”
Vexed, and reluctantly accepting he wouldn’t win this one, Feng Xin grumbled, “Did you at least get the snow tires put on your car last week?”
“Yes.” Mu Qing clipped, already anticipating the unnecessary, worry-fueled grilling that would ensue.
“Is your gas tank filled?”
“Duh.”
“You have snow chains, emergency blankets, and supplies in the back?”
“A-Xin,” Mu Qing growled, exasperated already. “This isn’t my first time driving in a blizzard.”
“Excuse me for being concerned about my husband!”
Mu Qing couldn’t help the way his lips curved into a small smile at Feng Xin’s tone, even as he rolled his eyes. “If you’re so concerned, then stay on the phone with me. It’ll be like driving home from my internship again.”
The other end of the call went silent for a long minute before Feng Xin flatly responded, “You mean when you totaled your car on the way to stay with me during your vacation time?”
Mu Qing scoffed. “No. I mean the times I drove three hours every other weekend and made it to our apartment perfectly unharmed.”
“Still totaled your car, Mu Qing.”
“It wasn’t my fault that deer played chicken with Cherry and lost,” he shot back indignantly.
“Lost?” A scoff crackled over the static. “The deer lived and ran off, and Cherry became Cherry Flambe when it was cremated in a junkyard alongside a fucked up guardrail.”
“We don’t know for sure if the deer lived! And I’ve revenge eaten enough venison since as justice for Cherry’s untimely death. So it definitely lost this war.”
Feng Xin choked on a laugh. “You’re such a spiteful shit, Qing’er.”
He hummed in unapologetic agreement, his smug tone perfectly matching the knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he carefully guided the car onto the snow-covered highway. The road, usually marked by two distinct lanes, now lay buried under a thick blanket of white with only a single set of tire tracks hinting at the asphalt beneath.
For all Mu Qing knew, he could have been driving down the centerline or even off-road, but it didn’t matter. Anyone reckless enough to brave this blizzard followed the same unspoken rule: stay on the tracks and hope for the best.
“Cherry Two is more than capable of handling this storm,” Mu Qing muttered, focusing on the faint outline of the road ahead as it curved toward the city limits. The tires crunched over layers of fresh snow, their steady grip increasing his confidence.
Feng Xin groaned through the speaker. “Cherry Two is just as cursed as the first one. I told you red cars are bad luck. How many speeding tickets have you gotten now?”
“It’s not my fault that everyone else drives too slow. And the answer is none… this year. ” Mu Qing countered with a smirk. The back-and-forth felt like home. It was comfortable and centering, but made him feel sick when they went too long without it.
“And I doubt you will get one in this weather. Go slow, alright?” Feng Xin murmured, his voice still laced with worry, “Where are you now?”
“Just pulled onto the highway.”
“How bad are the roads?”
“Not too bad. I can see the trailer lights of the... I think it’s a truck? In front of me.”
“You think it’s a truck?” The sound of a facepalm echoed through the call. Feng Xin’s voice constricted with concern. “Qing’er, I don’t like this. What if you end up in a ditch and no one can find you?”
“We always have each other’s location. Our phones and watches are on the same ‘Find My’ app account,” Mu Qing dismissed insouciantly as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.
“They are?” There was a pause, then the faint clicking of buttons as Feng Xin shifted to speaker phone, his voice suddenly distant. “They are. I can see which highway you’re on! Wait, does that also mean if I left my phone somewhere, you receive a notifi—”
“Yes, A-Xin. I received an alert when you left your phone at the sex shop on Valentine’s Day.”
“Mu Qing!” Panicked shuffling noises erupted from Feng Xin’s side of the call. Then his mortified voice sounded much closer to the speaker, thick with indignation and embarrassment. “You were on speakerphone!”
“I know,” Mu Qing’s sing-song reply was laced with smug satisfaction, his imagination conjuring a vivid image of Feng Xin’s face flushing as red as the holiday-themed boxes from the shop. “Consider it payback for—shit!”
“Mu Qing? Mu Qing!” Feng Xin’s panicked voice shot through the speaker.
“It’s fine,” Mu Qing said quickly, though his breath hitched when the tires lost grip. The vehicle fishtailed, the groan of rubber slipping on ice echoing through the cabin before it slowly steadied back onto the tire tracks. “Just an icy bridge. I’m back on the tracks. No harm done.”
“A bridge?! With water and shit below?”
“Yes, baobei. A bridge with water and shit below it. But I’m past it now and completely fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“‘Nothing to worry about,’ my ass!”
Agitation rumbled in Mu Qing’s chest as his lips pressed into a firm line. Feng Xin’s fretting wasn’t helping him focus on the road, and he lost sight of the tail lights in front of him. He was alone this far out of the city, nothing to guide him through the blizzard but the sound of his husband’s voice. He needed Feng Xin to calm down or at least be distracted.
“A-Xin, you never told me… when did you realize you had a crush on me?”
“What? Why the hell are you asking that now?! Focus on the damn road!”
“I’d love to,” Mu Qing indignantly shot back as he leaned closer to the wheel, scanning for the now-invisible tire tracks in the snow. “But you’re panicking, and it’s not helping. So do what we always do when one of us needs a distraction: tell me a story. Specifically, the story of when you realized you wanted a piece of this fine ass.”
Silence stretched, save for the low hum of Mu Qing’s tires trudging through the snow and the call’s static crackles. Then Feng Xin sighed, a sound caught somewhere between exasperation and acceptance.
“That ‘fine’ ass isn’t why I started crushing on you.”
Mu Qing smirked, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Oh? Then what was it?”
“It was your shivering bitching ass,” Feng Xin deadpanned, but there was a fondness in his tone that softened the jab.
“My what?! Explain.”
“It was during that archery competition senior year of high school. When that unseasonably late cold front hit Xianle and dumped ten inches of snow overnight. They couldn’t move the event indoors, but you showed up even though you claimed to hate sports.”
“I do hate sports.”
“Yeah, but there you were,” Feng Xin continued, ignoring the interruption, “sitting in the freezing cold, shivering in that ridiculously thin jacket you claimed was ‘warmer than the inside of a volcano’. You looked like a shaking chihuahua—”
“I did not!”
“—and you heckled me the entire time. Every time I drew my bow, you’d yell something like, ‘aim straighter, meathead!’ or ‘the target is the big circle in front of you, idiot!’”
Mu Qing sputtered, his cheeks heating even as he rolled his eyes, “I was being supportive!”
“You were being a menace like usual,” Feng Xin shot back, the grin in his voice unmistakable now. “After the competition ended, we went to the team’s celebratory bonfire, and you refused to admit you were cold—”
“I wasn't cold.”
“You were shivering and turning blue! Anyway, I remember giving you my Letterman and accidentally imagining you wearing only my jacket while I—well, you know. Did things I can’t say out loud in a crowded airport.” Feng Xin paused, and Mu Qing smiled fondly, thinking of the times they had taken each other apart while he wore only the Letterman after they officially started dating. His husband continued, “Then I proceeded to spiral over the fact that I was attracted to my best friend, who I was living with!”
The confession triggered a memory of Feng Xin glowering at him as he shoved Mu Qing’s shaking arms into the jacket. He denied it three times, but Feng Xin refused to take no for an answer.
And yes, he was freezing.
And no, he wasn’t going to confess how warm he felt in Feng Xin’s jacket. He also wasn’t going to admit that receiving it was the real reason he broke up with his boyfriend and stopped dating completely. No amount of casual flings could ever help him move on from his feelings for Feng Xin after feeling that jacket surround him.
The way Feng Xin kept looking at him that night made his stomach fill with butterflies, but his heart broke because he believed it was the closest he would ever come to feeling Feng Xin’s arms around him. So he resigned himself to just loving the jacket and remaining the friend Feng Xin needed forever, regardless of how viciously it tore him apart.
Mu Qing’s death grip on the wheel lessened for just a moment as his mouth fell open. Revelation dawned on him. “That’s why you kept looking at me weird all night! And flipped out about ‘indirect kissing’ when I stole a drink from your cup, even though it meant nothing when I did that before… And why you were so jealous when my boyfriend showed up!”
“Heh, yes.” Feng Xin abashedly admitted, “Already hated that guy, but realizing I was attracted to you, and his interruption when I was about to kiss you didn’t help. You chose much better after him.”
“You were going to kiss me?” Mu Qing’s jaw dropped as the memories replayed in his mind with new meaning.
He recalled wearing Feng Xin’s Letterman, settled on his best friend’s lap beside the bonfire because there was nowhere else to sit. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng had been there, but he barely acknowledged them when Feng Xin kept staring at him with an affectionate, curious gaze that made the air between them fill with a tension he prayed wasn’t one-sided. It made his stomach flip-flop, and any sense he possessed was briefly forgotten.
A bout of insanity led him to believe Feng Xin had cupped his cheek because he was going to lean in, and he stupidly mouthed ‘kiss me, A-Xin’. After all these years, his husband was admitting it hadn’t been a figment of his imagination? It hadn’t been a moment of weakness after eons of hopeless pining?
“You were going to kiss me….” Mu Qing breathed, his twitterpated heart fluttering elatedly in his chest. “I wanted you to kiss me, too.”
“You did?” Feng Xin asked, an upward lilt in his tone hinted at his own surprise. Maybe he had felt just as insane in that moment as Mu Qing. Crossing the invisible boundary between friends and more than that hadn’t been an easy feat, neither wanting to ruin the friendship they worked tirelessly to build.
Mu Qing didn’t respond. Not verbally, at least, but the slight quirk of his lips as he focused on the road ahead spoke volumes even though no one else could see it. A few months after receiving the jacket, Feng Xin chose him for prom and then chose him for life, even though they couldn’t officially marry until after Mu Qing finished medical school.
The income from Feng Xin’s business would have made it impossible for Mu Qing to qualify for financial aid and scholarships, although he didn’t make nearly enough to cover a quarter of the tuition. So they married in heart at eighteen years old, and officially married two months ago.
“I guess you realized you liked me after you broke up with…” Feng Xin paused, “What was his name? I just called him insults in my head.”
“So you called him Fuck Face McGhee?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re so predictable,” Mu Qing teased. “I forgot his name, too. But to answer your question… No, it wasn’t after breaking up with him.”
There was a brief lull followed by Feng Xin lightheartedly joking, “Okay, now I’m worried. Did you spend the last eight years dating and then marrying a guy you don’t even like?”
“Would you put it past me?”
“Ha! Honestly, no. Out with it, though, because I know you’re a smitten, lovesick fool who would brave a blizzard just to see me. So when did you know you liked me?”
“Christmas break sophomore year. Shi Qingxuan’s house party. Seven minutes in heaven.”
“Christmas break soph—sophomore year?” Feng Xin’s voice cracked in disbelief. “Qing’er! That was almost two and a half years before we started dating! Why didn’t you say anything until senior year?!”
Mu Qing’s voice turned solemn as his gaze flicked to the passing landscape, the windshield wipers slicing through the snow as he crept over another bridge. “Because… You needed a friend and a home. Not a boyfriend and no place to go if we broke up.”
“Qing’er…” Feng Xin’s voice dragged, heartbreak and guilt weighing down the name.
“Don’t say ‘Qing’er’ like that. What happened that day wasn’t your fault. Your dad should be the only one who has guilt in his voice when saying our names.”
“You’re right. Qing’er.” This time, Feng Xin stated his name with an air of gratitude. That night was the worst night of his life, but the day after was the best day of his life. The scar would always be there, but he had long since grown past the hurt with the help of his found family and a wonderful therapist.
They both vividly remembered the day Mu Qing visited the Feng house during junior year of high school. Until that moment, Feng Xin swore the reason he always wanted to hang out at Mu Qing’s cramped two-bedroom apartment was because his mother, Mu Zhixi, cooked better than his dad, but it always felt like a lie. What teenage boy wouldn’t want to hang out in a big, empty house filled with every imaginable video game, a private movie theater, a pool, and more? Especially when his parents weren’t there? However, when Feng Xin forgot his elf costume at home, Mu Qing experienced the terrifying reason behind Feng Xin avoiding his house.
It started with Feng Xin anxiously rushing to grab his costume from his room, the house empty except for them. Mu Qing grumbled over the fact that Feng Xin had volunteered them to be elves in the town’s Christmas parade just to forget his costume at home, but then Feng Xin’s father arrived home just as they were making their exit, and Mu Qing discovered why Feng Xin was rushing to leave before his father walked in at 4 p.m. on the dot.
When Feng Lu, Feng Xin’s father, stepped into the mansion a minute earlier than his usual time, he noticed a boy he’d never met before, standing comfortably close to his son. A hand-sewn rainbow scrunchie wrapped around Mu Qing’s ponytail caught his eye, shadows darkened over his face, and he launched into a terrifying rampage.
It ended when Mu Zhixi received a hysterical phone call from the boys while they clutched onto each other at the end of the Feng’s winding driveway, Feng Xin’s small, hastily packed bag of belongings at their feet. The screech of car tires as she turned onto the street alerted the entire neighborhood of her impossibly fast arrival. They poked their curious, nosy heads outside while Mu Zhixi shouted endless strings of curses at Feng Lu on the lawn, airing out his disgraceful parenting for all to hear. She tore into him as if she had been holding in years of pent-up rage for this exact moment, revealing a side Mu Qing had never seen from his mother before or since.
While she ripped into Feng Lu, the boys quickly shoved Feng Xin’s bag into the trunk of the car, crawled into the backseat where they clung to each other, and didn’t let go until Feng Xin finally fell asleep on Mu Qing’s bed, wrung out and exhausted.
That night, Mu Zhixi stayed up late to sew a blue, purple, and pink scrunchie, which she placed in a small gift bag. Meanwhile, Mu Qing placed his apartment key in the small cherry wood box his mother’s engagement ring came in. The ring never left her finger, so the box sat empty in a memento-filled cookie tin under her bed. She insisted he use it to invite Feng Xin into their family, not just their home.
Mu Qing tied red and green ribbons around the box, and then both the key and scrunchie were placed under the tree for Feng Xin to unwrap in the morning. Feng Xin still swore their first Christmas was the best one he ever had.
Mu Qing saw city lights sparkling through the blizzard as the memory and Feng Lu’s hideous face faded. “Joke’s on him. You gained another mom, and I got what I wanted in the end.”
“Me?” Feng Xin’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Mhm. You. My sappy bisexual husband and your huge—”
“If you say Ju Yang, I’m hanging up.”
“—Heart. I was going to say heart.”
“Sure you were.” Feng Xin snorted, disbelieving. “So, you realized you liked me when Shi Qingxuan locked us in a closet for seven minutes. Does that mean you wanted to kiss me back then, even though we shoved each other the whole time?”
“A-Xin, I wanted to kiss you so badly, I bit my lip until it bled.”
“I remember cleaning that up! I thought it was from shoving you into the coats. You were bright red by the time I finished wiping your lip!”
“Well, you didn’t have to use your bare thumb to wipe away the blood!” Mu Qing sputtered, the memory of Feng Xin casually pressing his thumb against his lip in the dark closet as fresh as the day it happened. “There were tissues!”
“Eh, maybe I wanted to kiss you back then too,” Feng Xin admitted, his voice lighter, teasing. “And I couldn’t think beyond your lips.”
“You just said you didn’t like me that way until senior year.”
“No, I said that’s when I realized I liked you. Looking back… I think I was always a little bit in love with you, even if it didn’t exactly show.”
“It did not show,” Mu Qing retorted dryly, remembering the way they bitterly fought in the school halls throughout their freshman and part of their sophomore years.
“It’s not like you were any better! You still picked petty fights until the middle of sophomore year!”
“Give me a break. I was in love with an infuriatingly adorable moron who kept going back to his ex-girlfriend, and who hadn’t discovered he was bi yet even though it was so obvious!”
Feng Xin snorted, shaking his head, even though Mu Qing couldn’t see. “High school me was so clueless. How did you ever fall in love with that guy?”
“Be nice to my high school sweetheart.” Mu Qing paused before dropping a jab, “It’s true, but be nice.”
“Hey!” Feng Xin’s laugh rang out, light and affectionate, filling the gaps in the static of their call. It faded into a wistful sigh. “Fuck, I miss you so much. Have you made it past the Xianle city borders yet?”
“Past? A-Xin. I’m almost to Xuli.”
“Holy shit, how fast are you going?!”
“The speed limit,” Mu Qing said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“In this weather?! Are you stupid?!”
Mu Qing’s eyes flicked between the road and the heavy flakes swirling past his windshield. However, the highway steadily cleared the closer he approached Xuli. The disappearing tire tracks eventually reappeared, and one lane turned into two distinct lanes, although the right-hand lane obviously had more use and less snow as a result.
“It wasn’t so bad after the first bridge. The roads were salted this morning, and the storm hasn’t made it past Xianle yet. So the roads are mostly normal right now.”
“Mostly?”
“Mostly,” Mu Qing repeated, his nonchalant tone maddeningly casual. “I could even see a deer a few miles back. I flipped it off. For Cherry. Did you get the hotel yet?”
“Yes. The airport gave me a room voucher for the Super Motel.”
An offended gasp sounded from Mu Qing. “The Super Motel?! What the hell! I’m not staying in a cockroach infested motel much less letting you fuck me in one! Demand something better!”
“There is nothing better.” Feng Xin curtly explained.
“Lies. Use my travel miles for the Golden Carp Tower!”
“That’s over $600 a night!”
“Your point?”
“My point, Your Highness, is that we’re not blowing $1200 on a five-star hotel when I have a perfectly good voucher for a free—”
“Siri, book a room at the Golden Carp Tower in Yong’an,” Mu Qing interjected smoothly.
“You are not booking a room while driving in a blizzard!” Feng Xin growled, threatening. If Mu Qing’s recklessness didn’t end him, Feng Xin—well, he wouldn’t end him, but he’d be pissed enough to sleep on the couch when they returned home.
“I wouldn’t have to if you just used my miles!”
“Fine!” Feng Xin grumbled, the faint rustling of movement on his end betraying his exasperation. “Switching you to my headphones. Hold on.”
The car fell silent for a beat, save for the faint thrum of snow beneath Mu Qing’s tires and the soft crackle of static. Then Feng Xin’s voice returned, clearer now but laced with resigned frustration.
“Alright, I’m looking it up,” Feng Xin muttered, obviously annoyed with Mu Qing’s impossible standards. “They have the honeymoon suite available.”
“Ew, no.”
“Ew?”
“A-Xin, we have a month to make up for. So when I get there, we’re fucking on every surface of that room. I don’t want to be pinned against a honeymoon suite wall wondering who else’s dirty ass was pinned against it the night before. Get a business suite.”
“Well, the first half of that explanation was enticing at least.” Feng Xin deadpanned. “You know, people still have sex in the regular rooms, right?”
“Not as much as the honeymoon suite,” Mu Qing quickly retorted. “I’m not going to be able to relax in a communal sex room.”
Feng Xin released an annoyed groan. “I swear you’re the pickiest man alive.”
“You knew this about me when you said ‘I do,’” Mu Qing quipped.
“I did… Just like you knew I wouldn’t have a problem with a Super Motel.”
“At least you have me to rescue you from your unsanitary choices.”
After a humorless chuckle, Feng Xin commented, “Our second anniversary traumatized you that badly, didn’t it?”
“A-Xin! We almost died!” Mu Qing screeched in the direction of the navigation screen as if it was his husband and not just his name and the call duration on the dashboard.
“We did not!”
“We could have!”
“It was just a bottle of Jäger some drunk college kid left behind!”
“On the radiator! It exploded right after we unlocked the door!”
Feng Xin chuckled, the rich sound warm enough to chase the chill that lingered in Mu Qing’s car despite the heater. “Yeah, that room was disgusting. I won’t lie. It was all we could afford at the time, though.”
Mu Qing huffed, his tone somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “It was. But we’re not broke college kids anymore. So pamper me, or else.”
“Yes, Princess,” his voice was soft with affection, though plenty of annoyance remained. “What is your password for your travel points account?”
“Same as all my other passwords.”
“Seriously?” Feng Xin’s incredulous tone echoed through the phone.
“Seriously.” Mu Qing echoed. “The J and the Y are both capitalized.”
“I fucking know. Fucking JuYang69!” Feng Xin tapped in the information, muttering under his breath about his husband’s questionable cybersecurity. As the page loaded, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy shit, when did you accumulate so many points?!”
“Honeymoon... Travel insurance refunded the money, but I kept the points.”
“Where the hell were you taking us?!”
When they planned their wedding, Mu Qing insisted on planning the honeymoon himself and surprising Feng Xin with the details when they got to their destination, but Feng Xin had been more worried about being surprised by the bill. They were saving for a house, and he prayed the honeymoon wouldn’t demolish the account, but Mu Qing worked double shifts for weeks at the hospital to cover the cost without ever dipping into their savings.
Mu Qing inhaled, not wishing to reveal it in case they could still have the trip he planned eventually, but there was no way of knowing when that would happen with Feng Xin’s company expanding so rapidly, tossing their once predictable schedules into hectic plans that changed by the hour. Resigned, he confessed, “Greece.”
The single word hit Feng Xin like a punch, knocking all the air from his lungs with an audible whoosh that filtered through the speakers. The sound of muffled conversation and the occasional blast of an airport announcement filled the background. His voice, when it finally came, was quieter, tinged with wonder and overflowing with affection. “You were taking me to Greece?”
“Yes… had a private tour of Apollo’s temples booked, too.”
For a moment, there was only the low rumble of Mu Qing’s engine and the rhythmic swish of his windshield wipers against the frosty glass. They enjoyed ancient mythology and frequented museums, learning about ancient pantheons, but a sun god who happened to have male and female lovers and was an archer? Apollo immediately became one of Feng Xin’s favorite gods, second only to the ancient Daoist gods, Nan Yang and his husband Xuan Zhen.
“Qing’er…” he sniffled, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion. “Fuck. I’m getting the Golden Carp Tower’s best room and taking you to the most expensive restaurant in town.”
“Do they serve venison?” Mu Qing’s response was dry, but a smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the deer he’d passed by and flipped off earlier.
Feng Xin let out a breathy laugh, the sound carrying across the snowy distance to wrap around Mu Qing’s heart. “Or maybe I’ll just find a hunter and purchase some deer jerky.”
“Revenge is sweet, husband.”
“You’re such a shit.” The affectionate lilt in Feng Xin’s voice enticed Mu Qing to apply more pressure on the gas pedal. He missed him so goddamn much.
In the airport lobby, Feng Xin sniffled again and rubbed his face with the sleeve of his jacket, blinking rapidly at his phone screen. The travel app now displayed a luxurious suite at the Golden Carp Tower. He selected it with trembling fingers, determined to make up for every missed moment.
“Done. Best room booked. And when you get here, I’ll spoil you stupid.”
“You better. I’ve been feeling much too intelligent lately.”
Outside, the snow was beginning to lighten, the thick flurries thinned to a fine mist that sparkled faintly under the car’s headlights. The salt on the roads had done its job, leaving the asphalt wet but mostly clear. Even so, the horizon in Mu Qing’s rearview mirror was a stormy blur, the blizzard chasing him like an ominous shadow.
Ahead, a massive green welcome sign shifted into focus, the white lettering bold and reassuring under the beam of his lights: Welcome to Xuli. The sight eased some of the tension in his shoulders, though he knew the storm wasn’t far behind.
“Just got to Xuli,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with quiet anticipation.
“Only an hour left to Yong’an, then.”
Mu Qing’s heart leapt unexpectedly, fluttering against his ribs in a way that made his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “No, an hour left to you.”
A teasing, affectionate chuckle rumbled through the line. “Now, who’s the sappy one?”
“Still you,” Mu Qing sniffled, his voice breaking just enough to betray him.
“Mhm, so I see we’re still pretending,” Feng Xin teased, the affection in his tone so palpable it might as well have been another passenger in Mu Qing’s car.
“Did you forget the sappy way you asked me to prom, A-Xin?”
“Nope, although I do remember finding the scrunchie in that little cookie tin full of mementos under your side of the bed when we moved. Or are we still pretending that tin doesn’t exist, too?”
“What tin? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mu Qing’s voice carried a light edge of mock indignation. “As far as I know, the only thing under our bed is a cookie tin that is filled with Christmas cookies and nothing else. But maybe you should tell me about this scrunchie you dreamt about and did not find perfectly preserved in Mom’s old cookie tin.”
“Well, it was a rainbow—”
“Start from the beginning!” He cried out, brows pinching, offended that his husband would start with the least interesting detail. “When did you decide to ask me? What made you decide to take me? Were you nervous? Details, A-Xin! Still have another hour to fill.”
“You’ve heard this story a million times.”
“Then our new goal is two million times. Starting now.”
“Alright, alright…” Feng Xin’s amused snicker filled the line, as light and easy as the tiny snowflakes dancing on Mu Qing’s windshield. “It was a dark and stormy night, not a star could be seen, as evil incarnate was born into the world. Its name, Mu Qing.”
“Hilarious,” Mu Qing commented dryly. “Get to the good part. The part where you became stuck with your beloved gremlin until the end of time.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call freshman orientation and you becoming obsessed with me forever ‘the good part’.”
“A-Xin,” he scorned, eye twitching, irritation thick in his tone.
“Fine, fine,” Feng Xin relented with a dramatic sigh. “So it was about three months after I realized I liked you. Archery practice was canceled, and you didn’t realize I’d be coming home early. When I stepped into your room, you were studying and wearing my letterman jacket, which you never gave back.”
“It’s in our closet.”
“On your side.”
“Your point?”
“No point. I’m glad you kept it.”
Mu Qing hummed softly, the sound content and almost pleased. “Alright, so you came home, I was wearing your letterman—what happened next?”
“I fell in love with your jacket-stealing ass.”
“That reminds me, I bought you a new hoodie yesterday.”
“How many times do I get to wear it before you steal it, and I never get it back?”
“Six.”
“I’m gonna miss that hoodie. Was my favorite.” Feng Xin’s sarcasm made Mu Qing relax, his chest feeling just a bit lighter as he crested a hill. The storm behind him still loomed threateningly, easily keeping pace and gaining momentum. However, the warmth of Feng Xin’s voice made the miles between them shrink with every word, bringing him closer to his husband and away from the blizzard as they reminisced.
“So you were sitting at your desk, studying, headphones covering your ears, wearing my Letterman. You didn’t hear me come in.” Feng Xin’s voice took on that nostalgic mellowness Mu Qing secretly adored. “I couldn’t help watching you for a bit. You were so focused, so lost in your own world. You were irresistibly cute in my jacket. Especially with your hair tied back in that rainbow scrunchie, poring over SAT guides like your life depended on it. Just—ugh, fuck. You were adorable.”
Mu Qing’s cheeks flushed, and he felt heat spread to the tips of his ears. He hated how easily Feng Xin could fluster him, regardless of how much time passed. He hadn’t told Feng Xin back then, but he wore the Letterman jacket every chance he could when Feng Xin wasn’t around. He had been terrified that if he wore it in front of him, Feng Xin might ask for it to be returned.
Back then, Mu Qing couldn’t imagine a world where Feng Xin would reciprocate his love. Where Feng Xin would hold him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Mu Qing had already been so hopelessly head over heels, helplessly crushed under the weight of his unrequited yearning, that the jacket felt like the only tangible way he could be surrounded by Feng Xin. Parting with it would have felt like brutal rejection from the boy he not only desperately loved, but lived with and slept next to.
By the time prom rolled around, Feng Xin had been living with Mu Qing and his mother for a year and a half. They shared his queen-size bed because there wasn’t another space for him to sleep in the two-bedroom apartment, but Feng Xin had always insisted on placing a pillow between them.
A horrible nagging voice in the back of Mu Qing’s mind relentlessly claimed that the pillow acted as a barrier because Feng Xin didn’t want to be too physically close to his best friend. However, when they started dating and the pillows remained, Mu Qing finally learned the truth. It was heartbreaking, but also so wholesome that it made Mu Qing fall a little more in love with his boyfriend.
Simply put, when Feng Xin was a little boy, his mother would snuggle him until he fell asleep. After she passed and his father refused to coddle him, he started placing pillows where she used to lie on his bed. Being surrounded by them made him feel less lonesome and became an arduous habit to break, even when Mu Qing was right beside him.
Eventually, the pillow disappeared, replaced by Mu Qing clinging to him like an otter when they slept. But it would come back when either of them parted for internships, work trips, or other such events. After a month apart, Mu Qing anticipated the need to help him break the habit once again.
Trying to redirect his thoughts from the boy he used to pine for to the man who still left him breathless, Mu Qing muttered, “Adorable, huh? You gave me a heart attack, A-Xin!”
“Hah, yeah! The look on your face when you realized I was standing in the doorway? Priceless. That’s when I knew I loved you. And when I decided to ask you to prom.”
“And then you stole my favorite scrunchie and marred it forever,” Mu Qing replied flatly.
“Drama king,” Feng Xin teased. “It wasn’t marred. It was enhanced. And don’t you dare act like you didn’t love it. You keep it in the cookie tin that doesn’t exist under your side of the bed, so don’t deny it. I know you loved it when I wrote ‘Prom?’ on it before slipping it around your wrist.”
“Idiot,” Mu Qing muttered wistfully. “It wasn’t the scrunchie I loved—”
Mu Qing caught and cut himself off. He never told Feng Xin the exact moment he fell in love with him. It wasn’t a secret, not really, but some truths were better left unspoken.
“Oh…” Feng Xin’s tone turned mischievous, delight threading through the single syllable. “So you already loved me then?”
“No!”
“Qing’er, you looooved me. Mu Qing and Feng Xin sitting in a tree k-i-s-s—“
“I’m going to ram my car into a tree.”
“No!” Mu Qing could hear the laugh in Feng Xin’s voice, softening the teasing into something unbearably affectionate. “Okay, I’ll stop. So…”
“Don’t ask it.”
“Don’t ask what?”
Grumbling, Mu Qing scowled at the road ahead, “When I knew I was in love with you.”
“Oh, I already know.”
Mu Qing swerved, but not because of the ice. His heart stopped mid-beat. “What?! How do you—When did you—? ”
“Baobei, I know you were drunk at our engagement party, but do you really not remember telling the whole room that story during your toast?”
Mu Qing’s gut dropped, and his eyes widened. “I told the whole room?”
“Don’t sound so horrified. So what if everyone we know and love knows you were a thirsty simp back in the day? Well,” His voice took on a mock-thoughtful edge. “I guess that hasn’t changed, actually.”
“A-Xin. My mother was at that party!”
“Pretty sure she already knew I’ve been defiling her son since high school. You’re not exactly subtle when you’re horny.”
“A-XIN!” Mu Qing shrieked, pulled into the emergency lane, and parked the car before he might accidentally swerve again. His forehead met the steering wheel with a heavy thunk.
Feng Xin snickered, feigning innocence while asking, “Yes, Qing’er?”
“Don’t mess with me. Did I really tell the whole room I realized I loved you when your swim trunks came off on the waterpark slide?”
“You did.”
Fuck!
Mortified, Mu Qing’s face burned despite the chill outside. He had worked so hard to keep his ridiculous teenage pining hidden, to prove he hadn’t been just some awkward, hormonal, lovesick teenager, but someone who genuinely loved and adored Feng Xin. They were two halves of one whole, yin and yang, sun and moon. But now? He lamented, his mother, their friends, even Feng Xin’s cousins and shushu knew the truth.
All those years of carefully curated restraint, of projecting the image of a level-headed, mature man, shattered in one drunken confession.
“A-Xin,” he finally managed, his voice strained, barely a whisper above the hum of the car engine.
“Yes, baobei?”
“My mother was at that party,” Mu Qing repeated, hissing.
“I know,” Feng Xin replied, utterly unfazed. “She laughed. Thought it was sweet.”
Sweet? Mu Qing’s brain short-circuited. His mother thought it was sweet that her son fell in love with a very naked, starfished in the sky, Feng Xin?
“I’m going to die,” he muttered, more to himself than to Feng Xin.
“No, you’re not.”
Mu Qing groaned, buried his face in his hands as if that might somehow help him escape the crushing weight of his embarrassment. Humiliated silence filled the car, heavy and suffocating, spilling into the call like an unwelcome guest. Mu Qing prayed for a sinkhole to open beneath the car and swallow him whole.
“Qing’er? You still there?” Mu Qing made a strangled sound. “Aw, come on, baobei. It wasn’t bad at all. If anything, it was more embarrassing for me.”
“For you?!” Mu Qing sat upright, staring indignantly at the navigation screen as he shot back, “Everyone knows I fell in love with you because of Ju Yang!”
Mu Qing could hear Feng Xin’s fragile attempts to hold in his laughter, the pressure of which turned into an accidental snort.
“No, they don’t,” Feng Xin said after he finally regained some semblance of control. “When you told that story, you didn’t mention Ju Yang at all. You told everyone how much you loved that I could laugh at myself. You said I make blunders feel like blessings, and you love that about me because it’s not something you can do for yourself. But you left out my favorite part.”
Mu Qing grumbled, “What part is that?”
“The part where you made fun of me the entire drive home because we couldn’t find my shorts, and I had to wear the lifeguard's towel to buy new ones at the gift shop.”
The memory resurfaced in vivid detail; Feng Xin was dripping wet and sporting his summer tan with darkened freckles scattered across his shoulders and cheeks. His shorts blasted out of the water slide first and disappeared, gods knew where, forcing Feng Xin to wrap himself in a garish red-and-white-striped towel. He trudged barefoot through the park gift shop, blushing furiously while Mu Qing mercilessly ripped into him.
“How is that your favorite part?”
“Because,” Feng Xin said sincerely, “it was the first time I saw you lighten up. You were laughing so much, even at my expense, and it was just... nice. Seeing you let go like that.”
“Of course I lightened up! I had just witnessed the guy I love shooting out of a water slide at thirty miles per hour with his dick on full display!”
Feng Xin couldn’t contain himself any longer, dissolving into a fit of laughter, echoing in Mu Qing’s car. Mu Qing banged his head against the steering wheel, cursing himself over and over while the memory of his husband’s teenage self flying naked through the air haunted him.
When the laughter gradually subsided, Feng Xin managed, “Are you past Xuli yet?”
“Barely,” Mu Qing mumbled, “Pulled over to bash my head in.”
“Well, can you still drive without bashing your pretty head in?”
“No.” Mu Qing pouted petulantly.
“Aw, come on, Qing’er. The sooner you get back on the road, the sooner you can be reunited with the love of your life, Ju—”
“If you say Ju Yang, I’m turning back around and going home.”
“Okay,” he stifled himself, calming but eager to jump at the next opportunity to tease his husband. “I’ll stop. Just get back on the road before the storm catches up to you.”
“Fine,” Mu Qing muttered, throwing a quick glance at the rearview mirror. Worryingly, the snow flurries behind him were growing alarmingly denser. The storm was blowing in faster than before and would hit Yong’An sooner than expected. He checked for traffic and eased back onto the highway. “But only because I saw a snowplow coming, and I don’t want to be buried.”
“Of course. It’s because of the plow,” Feng Xin suggested far too mischievously, “Not because you want to be plowed.”
“A-Xin!” Mu Qing growled as a flush crept up his neck.
He pressed harder on the gas, trying to outrun the blizzard again. The road ahead stretched for miles, two lanes visible despite the falling snow, but they would disappear soon enough. The storm was gaining, but he was determined to stay ahead of it. If he kept his speed, he could make it to Yong’An in forty minutes. Maybe less.
He was aiming for less.
Feng Xin’s voice broke through again, this time with relief. “Finally, a cab showed up.”
Mu Qing listened as Feng Xin gave the driver directions, the sound of muffled voices and city noise in the background. Not long after, Feng Xin checked into the hotel, his voice sounding awstruck as he entered their room, “Damn. It’s incredibly nice here.”
“Better be for $600 a night.”
“The chocolates on the pillows look like they cost $600.”
“Don’t you dare eat mine!” Mu Qing immediately barked, still furious from the last time Feng Xin ate his chocolate.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You raided my secret chocolate stash before you left!” Mu Qing’s scathing accusation came swiftly.
“You have only yourself to blame for that one,” Feng Xin replied with zero remorse.
“How is it my fault you ate my chocolate?”
“You hid it in an ice cream carton, dummy. I had a raging sweet tooth and was betrayed when there wasn’t ice cream inside. Hide it behind the rice next time.”
“I hate you,” Mu Qing groused. “Don’t eat my chocolate.”
“I’ll save both of them for you,” Feng Xin promised, sincerity threading through the playful banter.
“Knew I loved you.”
“Is this what we’ve come to now that we’re married? Chocolate-conditional love?” Feng Xin teased.
“Bold of you to assume our love was ever anything but chocolate-conditional, A-Xin.”
“True,” Feng Xin admitted with a dramatic sigh. Mu Qing could hear the creak of the bed through the phone as Feng Xin flopped onto it. “How far out are you now?”
“You just asked me if I made it through Xuli,” Mu Qing said, irritation simmering in his voice.
“I know. I just… fuck.” His playful tone was replaced with something more longing and vulnerable. “Now that I’m in our room, I just want you here. I missed your cranky, pretentious ass.”
The admission hit Mu Qing harder than he expected. A lump formed in his throat, and he stomped harder on the gas. Snow streaked against the windshield as the wipers barely kept up with the ever-increasing snowfall.
“Me too,” he murmured, almost too quietly to be heard. Then, louder, “I’ll be there soon.”
"Take your time," Feng Xin said, his voice low and steady, the way he always got when he was worried. "The wind's picking up here, and the snow’s coming down hard. It’s probably coming down heavily where you are, too. I know you won’t listen, but don’t drive like an idiot, alright? I want you here in one piece, no matter how long it takes.”
Mu Qing sighed, reluctantly easing off the pedal as the roads started to feel more slippery. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“Wow,” Feng Xin said with mock awe, “Say that again. Slowly. While I record it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Soon. When you’re here. In one piece.”
The conversation naturally lulled as Mu Qing refocused on the road, and his earlier determination faded as road markings were quickly devoured by snow. Despite crawling at twenty-five miles per hour, the car fishtailed wildly.
“Shit! Fuck!” The car spun halfway around until he was facing the wrong direction, narrowly avoiding a snow-filled ditch. No other car dared to venture into this storm, which meant no one would stop to help if he crashed. “Stupid fucking snow! Stupid Yong’An, not salting the damn road!”
“What’s wrong?!” Alarm immediately dominated Feng Xin’s tone.
“I’m almost to the city limits, but they didn’t salt the roads this far out. There’s so much ice buildup and now fresh powder on top of it!”
“Get out the snow chains. Go slow.”
“I know what to do, A-Xin!” The words came out harsher than intended, and Mu Qing winced as he heard himself. He dropped his head back against the headrest, biting out a quiet, “Sorry.”
“You’re scared.” Feng Xin commented factually with no room for argument, but Mu Qing squeezed in a rebuttal anyway.
“No, I’m not.”
“Alright, fine. Do you want to focus solely on the road, or do you want me to distract you?”
“I said I’m not scared!”
Feng Xin’s frustrated exhale was audible, a long, deliberate sound like he was trying very hard not to snap back. “Okay, you’re not scared. But I am. So, what’s it going to be? Focus on driving, or distract me while you crawl through this blizzard?”
“Distract,” he muttered, sniffling furiously as he turned his car around, facing the right direction.
A lump in Mu Qing’s throat grew and clenched around his airway. He hated himself when he snapped at Feng Xin. The sting of it felt worse than the cold of any bitterly biting snowstorm. It reminded him of the first year they knew each other, when everything between them was clashing tempers and fist fights. When they had both been at their lowest and loneliest points. Remembering it now still brought back that hollow, disparaging feeling that pricked his eyes and left him gasping for air.
He never wanted to go back to that, not even a small semblance of it. They still had their tempers and occasionally fought like any couple, but a brief spat was a far cry from where they had started. Though it wasn’t a comfort when he accidentally snapped at Feng Xin.
“Qing’er?”
Steeling himself, Mu Qing relented, “Please distract me, A-Xin.”
“Which memory do you want to be distracted by? Our first date? First kiss? First time we did it?”
“Those are all the same story.”
“Mhm. It’s my favorite.”
“It’s a good one—“
The car slid again as the Yong’An city limits sign finally came into view. Salt crunched under the tires, and for the first time in miles, the car gripped the road. Mu Qing exhaled hard, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” Mu Qing said, though his heart was still trying to punch its way out of his chest. “I’m in Yong’An now. Remind me to yell at the mayor about salting the fucking roads.”
“Deal. You know how to get to the hotel?”
“Hard to miss the big gold tower in the middle of the city.”
“True.”
The car moved more steadily now, but the blizzard was determinedly announcing its arrival. Even though furious snow whipped past his windshield, the sparkling lights of Golden Carp Tower cut through the haze, guiding him to his love like a beacon.
“It’s like the lighthouse story,” Mu Qing quietly commented on the vision, more to himself than to Feng Xin.
“What lighthouse story?”
“Remember when we went to that medical conference in Scotland last year? On the last day, you insisted on visiting the lighthouse?”
“I recall climbing those godforsaken stairs and questioning every life choice that led me there.”
“That’s the one. The lighthouse plaque said two lovers lived in it. Every morning, one of them went out to sea, and at night, the other would light the way home.”
“If only this place were home.” Feng Xin’s voice dipped, longing and quiet, but closer like he’d pressed the phone to his mouth.
Home. A single word with different definitions depending on who was saying it. To Feng Xin, it was something solid and tangible with warm wood underfoot, hand-knit blankets draped over the furniture that Mu Zhixi gifted them every anniversary. It was a place with walls covered in framed family photos, sentimental trinkets on shelves, and the scent of recently baked cookies floating in the air.
However, to Mu Qing, “Home is wherever you are, A-Xin.”
“Qing’er, ” Feng Xin's voice broke, yearning and overflowing with sentiment. The name spilled from his lips like a prayer, like a man coming up for air after being submerged too long. He could feel that desperation through the phone, could picture Feng Xin clenching the front of his shirt as if he’d been shot through the heart by Cupid’s arrow. “You can’t just say something like that when I can’t kiss you senseless afterwards.”
“I can and I will.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” The car dinged as Mu Qing shifted into park. “But only if there’s still chocolate.”
“You’re here?!”
Without actually answering, Mu Qing simply said, “Hold on, switching off Bluetooth.”
A brief cut signaled the switch from the car’s Bluetooth to his phone, and suddenly his voice was much closer, “What room?”
“Room 802!” Feng Xin shouted, the sound of shuffling and a muffled curse following. “Fuck it! I’ll meet you in the lobby. I’m not waiting another second!”
Mu Qing’s heart fluttered as he heard the hurried footfall of Feng Xin racing toward the elevator, followed by cursing when it didn’t materialize in an instant. Feng Xin’s steps echoed loudly as he bolted down the stairs. Mu Qing broke into an all-out sprint, his heart pounded erratically, but not from running. He didn’t care if the parking lot was covered in ice. He just wanted Feng Xin.
They dashed into the lobby at the same time, Feng Xin’s bright smile splitting his face in half as he halted and shouted in front of the stairwell door, “Qing’er!”
Mu Qing didn’t stop. He hurled himself through the air and tackled Feng Xin to the ground, the momentum sending them sprawling. They didn’t land before Mu Qing was peppering Feng Xin’s face with long overdue pecks.
“Mu Qing! We’re in public!”
“I don’t care.” Another kiss. Then another and another. “You idiot. Don’t ever leave me alone that long again!”
Feng Xin’s arms locked around him, pulling him in as he tilted his head, their lips finally meeting in a proper kiss. It was soft and slow and fierce all at once, the kind of kiss that turned blizzards and city lights and entire worlds into nothing but background noise.
When their lips parted, Feng Xin held Mu Qing’s face in his hands as his gaze swept over his features, rememorizing every detail. “Let’s go to our room. I can’t do what I want to you down here.”
Mu Qing crawled off him and helped him up, but squeaked when he was suddenly tossed over Feng Xin’s shoulder. His husband darted into the elevator, slapping Mu Qing’s ass as they disappeared inside.
“You brute! Put me down!”
His feet met the floor, but his back was immediately shoved against the wall as their lips desperately collided once more. As the elevator climbed toward the eighth floor, it felt as though the gods slowed time just to make up for the month lost in a haze of impassioned kisses and desperate touches. Hands clawed, grabbed, and tugged at any scrap of clothing they could, already trying to eviscerate the last few millimeters of distance between them. Hours, or more likely minutes, passed before the elevator dinged and the doors opened.
In the blink of an eye, they disappeared into their room and finally celebrated their honeymoon well into Christmas morning.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❆*̩̩͙‧͙ ❅ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆•̩̩͙˚⋆
"Tell me about our first Christmas as a married couple."
"Mm, good morning to you too, baobei, " Feng Xin mumbled as he stirred, his voice gravelly and thick with sleep. His eyes fluttered shut again as Mu Qing’s fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it away from his face. Mu Qing placed a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, earning a contented hum. “Our first married Christmas?”
“Mhm.”
“Well, there was this dumbass who left his husband alone for far too long. And another dumbass who drove through the storm of the century because he’s secretly a clingy, sappy, attention hungry, horny, deer hater who couldn’t stand being alone for Christmas.”
“They sound very handsome.”
“Mhm, dumbass number two is the most beautiful of the two.”
“Obviously.” Mu Qing smirked.
Feng Xin jostled his bedhead. “Obviously.”
“And what did dumbass number one gift his beautiful husband for the holiday?”
“In my luggage.”
Mu Qing leapt from the bed with the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning, leaving Feng Xin at the mercy of the sudden loss of his warmth and the bedsheet that now covered Mu Qing’s bare body. As Mu Qing rifled through the luggage, Feng Xin propped himself up on an elbow, watching with amused affection.
“You’re not even going to try and play it cool, huh?” Feng Xin teased, his voice still laced with sleep.
“Quiet, or your suitcase will ‘accidentally’ end up on fire.” He pulled out haphazardly folded clothes and set them aside with care. Feng Xin chuckled, his grin growing wider as Mu Qing’s expression shifted from curiosity to growing confusion.
“It’s not here,” Mu Qing said, glancing over his shoulder with narrowed eyes.
“It’s not?” Feng Xin arched his brow, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Check the side pocket.”
With skepticism written all over his face, Mu Qing turned back to the luggage and unzipped the side pocket. His breath hitched as he pulled out a small, cherry wood box tied with red and green ribbon, the same one he had gifted Feng Xin’s key with almost ten years prior.
“Don’t just stare at it. Open it,” Feng Xin urged, sitting up fully now, his bedhead a charming mess.
Mu Qing untied the ribbon carefully, fingers trembling. When he lifted the lid, a silver key lay in the box. For a moment, Mu Qing’s brows pinched together, not understanding as he picked up the key and turned it over.
“You’re giving me back your key to Mom’s old apartment?”
“No, I bought you a house.”
His eyes shot to Feng Xin and asked a million questions, but those questions wouldn’t form on his lips. Luckily, Feng Xin understood and filled in the gaps.
“You know the house we like in the historical district?”
“The one that finally went up for sale and sold within five minutes?” Mu Qing’s heart raced. Did Feng Xin buy that one? How? When? He was gone when the for-sale sign appeared in the yard, but he received an irate phone call after the realtor informed Mu Qing it was already sold.
“That’s the one.” A smug look formed on his face. “Did I ever mention the owner was a client?”
“No!”
“He knew we were looking for a house and informed me that they would be selling theirs. He accepted my offer with the condition that you have to approve of it before we sign the paperwork.”
Mu Qing’s breath hitched as he replaced the key in the box and clutched it against his chest, his eyes misting. Then he darted across the room and threw his arms around his husband’s neck. Feng Xin pulled him into his lap, embracing him tightly, refusing to release him anytime soon.
“I approve! I approve, A-Xin! I can’t believe you bought us that house!”
Feng Xin cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the high curve of Mu Qing’s cheekbone. His golden eyes were soft with devotion. “You gave me a home for my first Christmas, felt like it was time to return the gesture for our first married one.”
Mu Qing’s breath caught in his chest as the weight of the moment settled over him, and he buried his face in the curve of Feng’s neck. For a long time, he didn’t say anything. His fingertips traced the familiar landscape of Feng Xin’s shoulders, the ridges of muscle and old scars. The month apart had carved a hollow in him, but his husband’s love refilled him.
"A-Xin,” Mu Qing’s arms constricted, the name reverently whispered with a love that lived deep in his soul.
Feng Xin didn’t ask what Mu Qing got him for Christmas. Knowing his husband, it was something elaborate and thoughtful, like all of his gifts were. But right now, the best gift he could have received was finally in his arms once more.
“Merry Christmas, Qing’er.”
“Merry Christmas, A-Xin.”