Work Text:
It was a balmy moonlit night with the sweet scent of jasmine heavy in the air, but Feng Xin was not registering any of those details. With his head in his hands, he was sitting on a bench in his palace garden. He had been there for about an incense time, trying to digest the events of the day. He’d gone on what was supposed to be a fairly easy mission with three of his newest deputies, only to return with one of them on the brink of life and death. Feng Xin had carried Yuxuan to the medical gods right away. Fortunately, they managed to save him in the nick of time.
After making sure that the other two deputies had been seen to as well – they only had minor injuries – Feng Xin leaned against a wall of his bedroom and exhaled. He felt completely deflated as he threw off his armour, then escaped to the tranquility of the garden. Images from the battle against the ghost flashed in his mind, replaying the awful sound when his deputy had been stabbed through by the strange, amorphous being that they had been fighting.
Despite knowing Yuxuan was now out of the clutches of death, Feng Xin could only blame himself for the whole situation. He should have protected his deputy. Yes, these deputies swore loyalty to him, and knew they would encounter dangerous situations during their service, but Feng Xin also had a duty to protect them. What good was it to be a martial god if he couldn’t even look out for his own people?
“Feng Xin?”
Hurriedly, Feng Xin wiped his tear-stained cheeks. He saw Mu Qing’s familiar figure approaching, and he sat up straight, squaring his shoulders.
“What are you doing here so late?” Feng Xin asked, gruffly.
His relationship with Mu Qing had improved a lot since Jun Wu’s demise, but he felt embarrassed being caught crying.
“I heard in the communication array that you came back,” Mu Qing said, now standing in front of Feng Xin.
Even in the pale moonlight, Feng Xin could feel Mu Qing’s sharp gaze on him. “Are you alright?”
It was a surprising question, but it helped Feng Xin exhale slowly. “I’m okay. One of my deputies was gravely injured, though. He’s with the medical gods.”
“He’s in good hands,” Mu Qing said quietly.
It was a surprising statement coming from Mu Qing, especially when he liked to criticise everything and everyone. Feng Xin frowned. “I hope so, otherwise it will be on my fucking conscience.”
He shook his head angrily, hoping that Mu Qing couldn’t see his watery eyes.
“Come on,” Mu Qing said and extended his arms.
“What?”
Mu Qing tsked. “You know I’m not good at this. But you’re hurt and in need of comfort, so just come here.”
Dazed, Feng Xin got up from the bench. He didn’t understand what Mu Qing meant, not until the other god yanked on his robe and put his arms around him.
Was Mu Qing hugging him?!
Feng Xin tried to look at his face, but Mu Qing’s grip was strong. In the end, Feng Xin gave up and put his arms around Mu Qing’s waist. It was an odd feeling, not because they weren’t used to each other’s proximity, but because they were never like this. Sparring and playfully shoving the other’s shoulder was a frequent occurrence. Even Xie Lian subjected them to group hugs. But this was unprecedented.
“You’re stiff like a statue,” Mu Qing commented.
“What did you expect? You took me by fucking surprise,” Feng Xin replied, temper flaring slightly. “Besides, you’re not any damn better.”
Mu Qing’s hold loosened slightly. “I can let go.”
“No,” Feng Xin said, and tightened the embrace.
Even if this was the most awkward hug of his centuries-long life, he didn’t want it to end. After all, it managed to keep his thoughts from spinning. Feng Xin noticed Mu Qing was taking deep breaths, so he started inhaling and exhaling in the same pattern. His tightly-corded muscles slowly relaxed, and he leaned more against Mu Qing’s. Since they were the same height, it was easy to let his chin rest against Mu Qing’s shoulder. Feng Xin could smell Mu Qing’s peach blossom soap – he breathed it in deeply.
Feng Xin’s chest shuddered as he let the negative feelings inside him go. Mu Qing turned his head slightly, but didn’t say anything. Instead, his right hand gently rubbed Feng Xin’s back. It was so pleasant, a frisson ran down Feng Xin’s back. No one had touched him so gently in centuries.
“Too much?” Mu Qing asked, his hand suddenly ceased moving.
“No, it’s nice. I’m just not used to this,” Feng Xin mumbled into Mu Qing’s shoulder, relieved that his blush was hidden.
Mu Qing hummed, as his hand continued to slowly rub Feng Xin’s back.
Feng Xin focused on that sensation and his breathing, until he felt like his thoughts had slowed down from their mad race. He wished he could stay like this for longer, but he didn’t want to abuse Mu Qing’s kindness. He wasn’t sure why Mu Qing had offered, but unlike before, his mind didn’t suspect anything malicious. His eyes had been opened in the final battle, and he knew Mu Qing was better at doing things instead of expressing them with words.
He loosened his hold and gently pulled away. Feng Xin watched him, but Mu Qing’s expression didn’t betray anything.
Feng Xin rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
“Get some rest, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing said, then quickly left the garden.
Feng Xin stared after him, already missing that warm hand on his back.
Yuxuan slowly recovered with the help of the medical gods. Feng Xin and the other deputies welcomed him back warmly, and made sure he got enough rest. Feng Xin was a lot more careful after; he either went on missions alone, or took more deputies to ensure they were safe and able to cover each other’s backs.
At the same time, Feng Xin also kept an eye on Mu Qing. He was already occupying many of Feng Xin’s thoughts, but now he dedicated even more time to him. In public, Mu Qing was aloof as usual. When it was just the two of them, Mu Qing acted as before, giving no indication that their hug just a few days prior had affected him in any way. They sparred, had tea together, argued and gossiped as usual. Feng Xin decided not to question it, even as he craved Mu Qing’s touch.
Weeks passed and things went back to normal.
Feng Xin had been trying to build a relationship with Cuocuo ever since he’d found out about his existence. It was difficult, but he didn’t want to give up. Would not give up. Feng Xin would not abandon him again. He had been keeping up with Jian Lan through letters, inquiring about their well-being, and arranging meet-ups. Feng Xin really wanted to be there for them and be useful, so when Jian Lan asked him to look after Cuocuo, Feng Xin jumped at the opportunity.
Jian Lan was only gone for two shichen, but to Feng Xin they felt like an eternity. Cuocuo was being a menace, wreaking havoc in the cabin he lived in with Jian Lan. He would not settle, no matter what Feng Xin tried. He even brought a wooden toy for him, a carved bunny, but after taking one look at it, Cuocuo threw it at his dad’s head.
“Cuocuo, come on,” Feng Xin begged, frustrated when his child started throwing everything off the shelves. “I know you miss your mother, but she’ll be back soon. Why don’t we paint for a bit?”
Unsurprisingly, Feng Xin ended up with paint all over his robes. By the time Jian Lan came back, the house looked as if a storm had gone through it, objects thrown all over. Feng Xin wasn’t in a better state either; besides the paint streaks on his robes, his nerves were frayed. His patience had been worn thin, but even worse than that, he just felt like a failure. Five years had passed since their first meeting, and Cuocuo still hated him.
Jian Lan closed her eyes as she entered. “What the hell happened here?”
Feng Xin apologised profusely. Cuocuo flew into Jian Lan’s arms, nuzzling into his mother’s shoulder with a sweet smile. Feng Xin swallowed, but instead of complaining, he quickly picked things up and put them back on the shelves. He tried to make quick work, knowing that Jian Lan wanted to rest. From the corner of his eye, he could see Cuocuo playing with the wooden bunny he’d brought. Why couldn’t he have done that before?
Once he had put the cabin in order, Feng Xin awkwardly stood in front of Jian Lan and Cuocuo. Cuocuo stuck his tongue out at him, then hugged Jian Lan.
“I’ll, uh, get going. Sorry for the mess,” Feng Xin said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Cuocuo hissed at him, then went back to nibbling on the wooden bunny’s ear.
Jian Lan nodded and sent him off quietly. Although she hadn’t said anything, Feng Xin could feel disappointment radiating from her. Feng Xin left with his tail between his legs.
Once he was back in the Heavenly Capital, Feng Xin’s feet carried him to Mu Qing’s palace. He stood helplessly in the entrance, looking around like a lost child searching for their parent. He was about to leave when he heard his name being called.
“Feng Xin?” Mu Qing asked with raised eyebrows. “What happened to you?”
Unable to summarise it in just a few words, especially in front of Mu Qing’s deputies who were gawking at him, Feng Xin raised his shoulders in a helpless motion.
“Come with me,” Mu Qing said, and led Feng Xin to his study.
Now that they were in a more private space, Feng Xin let himself exhale. Mu Qing was watching him, eyes roving over Feng Xin’s dishevelled appearance.
“I looked after Cuocuo,” Feng Xin explained. “Well, I tried to.”
Mu Qing nodded, as if everything made sense. “That explains your new sartorial choices.”
“He didn’t feel like painting on paper.”
Feng Xin leaned against the door of the study, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. He could barely stand on his legs as the realisation hit him. “I’m a shitty father.”
There was a moment of silence. Mu Qing frowned and stepped closer, trying to get a glimpse of Feng Xin’s expression. “Why do you say that?”
“I can’t even take care of him. He hates me,” Feng Xin whispered, barely squeezing the words through the painful lump in his throat.
Before his knees gave in, strong arms encircled Feng Xin’s waist. Mu Qing was hugging him again, unbothered by the paint streaks on his robe.
“Stop that,” Mu Qing said, strictly, yet the touch to the back of Feng Xin’s head was oh so gentle. “Of course, he’s a menace to you – he’s barely known you for a few years.”
Feng Xin sighed against Mu Qing’s shoulder. “It has been five years. I thought things would have improved by now.”
“That’s barely any time in the grand scheme of things. Don’t forget it’s been only him and his mother for centuries, so his trust doesn’t come easily.”
Heart aching, Feng Xin burrowed deeper into the comfort of the space between Mu Qing’s shoulder and his neck. He breathed in deeply, letting the familiar scent calm him. Feng Xin knew that he couldn’t be blamed for being an absent father since he didn’t know about Cuocuo’s existence, but he still felt awful. He wanted to be there for him, but it was heartbreaking being rejected every time.
“He deserves someone better,” Feng Xin said quietly, devastated.
Mu Qing exhaled, but he pressed Feng Xin even more tightly to himself. “No. You’re Cuocuo’s dad, and ever since you found out about him, you’ve been trying to be there for him to the best of your ability. Others would have long given up, but you always return, even if he bites you or pours paint all over you. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and he will accept you and realise he can now rely on you too.”
Feng Xin shuddered and let Mu Qing’s words warm him up on the inside. He was right. However hard Cuocuo tried to make his life difficult and drive him away, Feng Xin had to be perseverant. He would be there for him and Jian Lan, and support them as much as they allowed him.
“I think he liked the toy I gave him,” Feng Xin said, hope slowly seeping back into his heart. “Played with it when Jian Lan came back.”
Mu Qing hummed. “That’s a good step.”
Feng Xin wished they could stay like this forever. Mu Qing was still stroking the back of his head, and it felt so nice. He wished they could be this close regularly. Feng Xin imagined greeting Mu Qing every day with a hug when they’d see each other, and his heart beat faster at the thought. Maybe Mu Qing’s advice regarding Cuocuo applied in this situation too. Although so far it had been Mu Qing comforting him, Feng Xin would show him in the future that he would always be there for Mu Qing too.
Their hold loosened slightly a few moments later.
“Would you like to stay for tea?” Mu Qing asked. “I wanted to ask your advice on a mission Ling Wen wants to send me on, if you feel up to it.”
“Of course,” Feng Xin agreed to it easily, squeezing Mu Qing’s arm in thanks.
Although he knew Mu Qing didn’t expect anything in return, Feng Xin sent him a basket of golden pears the next day. The thank you note he received in return was kind. Something had definitely shifted for the better between them, and Feng Xin promised himself he would do his best to keep it up and be a good friend to Mu Qing.
Mu Qing was sent on a longer mission by Ling Wen that would take him several days, so their sparring session had to be postponed. Feng Xin was restless in Mu Qing’s absence; he went so far as to take away a mission from his deputies and go to the Mortal Realm himself. His hope was that by the time he cleared off the ghosts around that village, Mu Qing would also be back from his mission.
The ghost was easy to get rid of, so Feng Xin decided to visit a nearby temple in his Nan Feng form. Recognising that he was a Nan Yang disciple, two men whispered to Feng Xin that the local priest was corrupt, and asked money even to send their prayers to the god, as well as other services. Feng Xin frowned and thanked the men for their bravery, promising to look into it.
Feng Xin decided to contact his head deputy, An Jianghong, to ask if there had been other complaints about the priest.
“General, I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you an answer right away,” An Jianghong said. “Since we always take the prayers in a random order, I’m afraid we might need to look through them and see if there is a pattern. I apologize that I’m not able to help faster.”
“That’s alright, I just thought I might deal with the priest now if there were more complaints,” Feng Xin said. “Is everything else alright? Did I miss anything?”
“Everything is in order in the palace, General. However…” An Jianghong stopped, hesitant. “I heard in the shared communication array that General Xuan Zhen has returned injured from his mission.”
The blood in Feng Xin’s veins turned cold. Mu Qing had been injured?
“What happened?” Feng Xin asked, as he hurried to a more remote area where no one would notice his ascension back to the Heavenly Capital. “Is it serious?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have any more information,” An Jianghong replied. “Would you like me to go over to the Xuan Zhen palace and inquire how he is faring?”
“No, don’t worry about that. I’m on my way,” Feng Xin said, and closed the array.
His heart was thudding loudly by the time he made it far enough from the village. His blood was pounding in his ears as all the awful thoughts buzzed in his head. Mu Qing was not replying in their private communication array, and the shared one had moved on to a different topic. Feng Xin hurried to the Xuan Zhen palace once he made it back. The deputies were staring at him, confused by his sudden appearance.
“Your general, where is he?” he shouted, frantic.
Mu Qing had to be okay, otherwise his deputies wouldn’t just be standing around, right?
“He’s in his private room,” one of them finally answered, and Feng Xin ran inside.
His steps thudded on the corridors, and he opened the door without knocking. “Mu Qing?” he called out, concern lacing his voice.
Mu Qing peeked through from the next chamber, where Feng Xin now saw a bathtub and discarded, bloody robes on the floor. His pulse reached dangerous heights.
“Feng Xin? Why are you barging into my room like that? Have you not heard of knocking, you oaf?”
For a moment, Feng Xin stared at him, as Mu Qing was wearing a deep, wine red robe and his hair was unbound, cascading down his shoulders. He was breathtakingly pretty.
“Are you okay?” Feng Xin asked, panic-stricken.
He closed the distance between them and put his hands on Mu Qing’s shoulders, eyes roving all over Mu Qing’s body, searching for injuries. Mu Qing was looking at him in confusion.
“I heard you got injured,” Feng Xin explained, not letting go. “I came as soon as I could.”
Mu Qing’s expression softened. “The stupid ghost bit my leg, but I’m okay.”
Feng Xin glanced down and noticed bandages on Mu Qing’s right leg. “Does it hurt?”
“It did at the time, but it’s fine now,” Mu Qing replied, still watching him curiously.
Feng Xin exhaled, relief crashing over him. He had imagined the worst, Mu Qing lying unconscious, bloody and wounded. He’d had the scare of his life.
There was a soft touch on Feng Xin’s cheek – Mu Qing’s warm hand was cupping it. “Were you this worried for me?”
His surprise was evident, but Feng Xin could also see something more in Mu Qing’s obsidian eyes. Something like hope and affection. Feng Xin nodded, and then he suddenly had Mu Qing’s arms around his neck. Feng Xin embraced Mu Qing just as fiercely, nuzzling against the crook of Mu Qing’s neck.
“I was so afraid something happened,” Feng Xin confessed. “I’m going to wring that fucking ghost’s neck for biting you.”
Mu Qing snorted, pressing a kiss to Feng Xin’s temple. “I already took care of it, you oaf. Do you think I would let an ankle-biter get away from me?”
Feng Xin chuckled. “Not at all. I pity anything that stands in your way.”
It was so pleasant just being in each other’s arms. Before, Feng Xin didn’t really dare to do anything, but he was now stroking Mu Qing’s hair. Freed from its high ponytail, it now reached his lower back. Feng Xin really enjoyed the silky feeling under his palm.
“Your hair is so soft,” he said, playing with a lock of Mu Qing’s hair. “I always wondered how it would feel.”
Mu Qing loosened his hold slightly, so he could look at Feng Xin. His cheeks were wonderfully pink. “Do you want to stay? You could help braid it.”
Feng Xin nodded, smiling. He brushed a lock of Mu Qing’s hair behind his ear, the tip of his fingers touching Mu Qing’s jawline. Their gazes met and both leaned in, impatient but shy at the same time to share their first kiss. Just as Feng Xin thought, Mu Qing’s lips were soft and gentle – he couldn’t help going for a kiss again and again. Feng Xin quickly realised he was going to be addicted to this feeling.
He broke the kiss and hugged Mu Qing with all his might.
“Stop, you brute! You’re crushing me,” Mu Qing complained loudly, but Feng Xin just laughed.
“You have to get used to it now. I won’t let you go.”
Mu Qing huffed. “I'm already regretting this.”
“Liar,” Feng Xin said.
Mu Qing rolled his eyes, but never said no to Feng Xin’s hugs from then on.