Work Text:
Mu Qing really hates Ghost City. He slashes through another array, annoyed and wishing he could be somewhere else.
But Xie Lian had asked him and Feng Xin for help and somehow, even now, when Xie Lian calls, Mu Qing comes running. He can't tell if the fact that Feng Xin does the same is more or less humiliating.
Apparently Xie Lian's precious San Lang is incapacitated, so for some reason it's up to Mu Qing and Feng Xin—and not Hua Cheng's underlings—to help with some unruly ghosts who have been causing problems on the edge of the city.
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, just a cold," Xie Lian said when Feng Xin asked what was wrong with Hua Cheng. Like ghosts even got colds.
Besides, it's not like Mu Qing cares. He's maybe slightly relieved that Xie Lian doesn't seem too concerned, because if Hua Cheng goes and hurts His Highness again by dying or something then—Well.
Anyway, that's why Mu Qing is currently in an abandoned house, trying to hack his way through a nest of ghosts, with Feng Xin backing him up. Most of the ghosts are really quite pathetic, fleeing the moment they see him, but some have put up a fight and others who have run have left arrays behind.
The place has gone quiet since Feng Xin took down the last of the ghosts in the hallway and Mu Qing disabled the trap left near the stairs.
"Do you think that's all of it?" Feng Xin asks.
"How should I know?" Mu Qing asks. "Probably not." He doubts they'll get that lucky.
Feng Xin sighs. "Let's just keep moving."
Mu Qing shrugs and heads up the stairs, aware of Feng Xin following him. He turns left at the landing and comes to a stop at a doorway. There's a female ghost in the room, staring out of the window, seemingly oblivious to everything.
Mu Qing frowns and starts towards her.
She turns sharply and retreats into the corner of the room, letting out a discordant screech.
He's too slow to block the curse she sends his way before disappearing.
"Mu Qing!" Feng Xin calls, grabbing him and dragging him away from the doorway. His bare hand on Mu Qing's forearm burns, a swift, searing pain that disappears as quickly as it came.
"Get off me," Mu Qing says, shaking him off. He directs all of his spiritual energy at the curse. He can't sense it, not really, but he knows something is—wrong? Just. Not right.
"Are you okay?" Feng Xin asks. "Did she get you?"
Mu Qing ignores him, continuing to circulate spiritual energy through his body.
"Dammit, say something!"
"I'm fine," Mu Qing grits out. "I can't sense it. It must have dissipated."
Feng Xin lets out a rush of breath. "Fuck. I hate this place."
Mu Qing almost agrees, but he doesn't want to give Feng Xin the satisfaction.
"Let's just get this over with," he says. "So we can get the hell out of here."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Feng Xin says, hefting his sword again. He pauses. "You're sure you're okay?"
Mu Qing shoots him a glare. "Why, you think I can't handle some low-level ghost?"
"That's not what I said," Feng Xin says, rolling his eyes.
Mu Qing looks away. "Let's keep moving."
As Feng Xin lightly brushes past him to move further into the house, Mu Qing feels a sharp and sudden urge to lean in towards him, to be close. It's odd, but easy enough to shake off.
Mu Qing shakes his head, grips his own sword, and follows behind Feng Xin.
~
The rest of it doesn't take long, thank fuck.
They don't find the ghost who tried to curse Mu Qing, but they do clear the rest of the building and head back to Paradise Manor to report to Xie Lian. Feng Xin keeps throwing Mu Qing concerned looks on the way, which is annoying, especially since Mu Qing is fine. He's a bit tired, maybe, but it's nothing of note.
Xie Lian invites them to spend the night in Ghost City instead of heading back to the Heavenly Capital. Mu Qing declines immediately.
He can tell Xie Lian's disappointed, but he'd rather chew off his own foot than accept Hua Cheng's hospitality. And it would be his hospitality, no matter his relationship with His Highness. Hua Cheng still owns the entire damn city.
Feng Xin looks slightly guilty, but still ends up leaving with Mu Qing. Mu Qing doesn't feel any type of way about it.
He does have a headache brewing by the time they make it back. Probably from having to deal with Feng Xin for the entire day. He sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows, and heads off towards his palace.
"Hey."
Mu Qing slows, but doesn't stop. He hears Feng Xin huff.
"Can you just—wait just a minute."
Mu Qing rolls his eyes and pauses, looking back. "What?"
Feng Xin looks uncomfortable. "I just wanted to say—thanks."
Mu Qing frowns. What the fuck?
"For, you know, coming along," Feng Xin says.
"I didn't do it for you," Mu Qing points out. Not meanly, he thinks. It's just—confusing. His head twinges.
Feng Xin's face does something weird. "Yes, but—"
"His Highness invited us both," Mu Qing says.
"I know," Feng Xin says. He looks upset now. "I just mean—it would have been more annoying if you hadn't been there."
Mu Qing is not sure if anyone has ever said something like that to him.
"Whatever," he says. "I mean. Same for you, I guess?"
The corner of Feng Xin's mouth lifts.
"Well, bye," Mu Qing says and turns around.
"Wait," Feng Xin says again. Mu Qing freezes. "Are you really sure you're okay, though? That curse—"
"Goodbye, General," Mu Qing says and walks off, leaving Feng Xin huffing behind him. His skin prickles with the insinuation. He isn't weak enough for a meager curse from a feeble ghost to affect him. No matter what Feng Xin thinks.
His headache sticks around, even as he makes it to his palace. He should probably meditate, but he feels oddly hungry even though he doesn't technically need to eat. He heads into the kitchen and asks the cook to prepare him something quick and light.
The food tastes good but it doesn't ease his headache and by the time he's done his stomach has started protesting as well. It's nothing he can't manage, but it's odd. Mu Qing hasn't felt sick like this in possibly centuries. And he does feel sick. His skin has gone clammy and he's started to shiver.
He drags himself to his bedroom, thoroughly annoyed, and settles in to meditate. His spiritual energy feels sluggish, slow to respond.
Mu Qing is starting to think there might be something wrong.
It would be embarrassing though, if he raised a fuss over something as common as some pain and an overall shitty feeling. Besides, it's late and most of his servants must be asleep by now.
Mu Qing should probably try to sleep too. Maybe it will help fix whatever has gone wrong.
He strips down to his underrobes and climbs into bed. Fuck, but he feels like death warmed over. His head is still throbbing and his stomach cramps, making him nauseous. He's started shivering at some point.
He curls up into a ball and tries to force himself into falling asleep. After what feels like hours of discomfort, he finally drifts off into an unsettled doze.
~
Mu Qing gasps awake an indeterminable amount of time later, feeling as if his whole body is on fire.
His head is screaming at him, his stomach twisting hard enough that he almost vomits from the sensation. His skin feels tight, stretched painfully over his aching muscles. Even his bones hurt.
He tries to reach deep inside himself into the well of spiritual energy, hoping to alleviate this awful pain, but it's like his reserves have run dry. He can hardly breathe without sobbing.
Mu Qing clenches his jaw and tries to focus. He needs help. He should call someone, maybe a servant. He should reach out into someone's communication array, if he even has enough energy left for that.
The thought of someone finding him like this is horrible.
It would still be better than the pain. Probably.
He lies there, caught in his own head, paralyzed by both pain and indecision. He can't tell how much time has passed. He has no idea if it's even night or day.
He barely hears the knock or the door opening. "General, I'm sorry to bother you, but General Nan Yang is—"
The servant stops with a gasp. Mu Qing tries to turn his head to look at her, but the motion makes more pain spark behind his eyes, almost making him sick.
He doesn't know what he looks like, curled up on his bed, half out of his mind with pain, but he imagines it can't be good. He hears the servant run, calling for help. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to move. If anyone else sees him—
"Mu Qing!"
Oh, great. Just what he needs.
"What happened?" he hears Feng Xin asks. "How long has he been like this?"
"I'm right here," Mu Qing wants to snap, but the words won't come out.
"He was fine last night," another servant says. "No one has seen him since then, so we don't—"
"Have you called for help?"
Feng Xin's voice is coming closer and Mu Qing can't, he can't.
He grits his teeth and tries to push himself to sit up.
His head swims, his joints screaming at him. His stomach cramps so hard he has to bite his lip in order to not heave right then.
"Dammit, Mu Qing!"
Feng Xin grabs him, his fingers digging into Mu Qing's arms, his hands warm even through Mu Qing's sleeves.
Something in Mu Qing's stomach lurches.
"What the fuck happened?" Feng Xin asks.
He takes hold of Mu Qing's face and turns it towards him. Mu Qing almost flinches from the touch. Feng Xin's fingers are hot on his clammy cheek.
His brain screams.
And then the pain vanishes.
The relief is so instant Mu Qing almost topples over from the force of it. Only Feng Xin's hands are keeping him upright.
"What's wrong?" Feng Xin asks. "Is it the curse?"
Mu Qing can barely hear him. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's stopped.
"Mu Qing!"
Feng Xin's face is very close to his, his stupidly big eyes full of worry. He's still holding Mu Qing's chin. Mu Qing almost leans towards him, as if guided by instinct.
He wrenches himself back instead, pushing Feng Xin away. "Get off me. I'm fine."
His voice might come out weaker than he intends, but his throat still feels sore from holding back screams.
Feng Xin gapes at him. "You're fine?!"
Mu Qing winces. "Stop fucking shouting. Why are you making such a fuss?"
"You were clearly in pain," Feng Xin says. "Your servant almost had a heart attack. There's a healer on the way."
He reaches a hand towards Mu Qing's forehead.
Mu Qing knocks it away. He's still tired, not a hundred percent better. But he's no longer in pain and he refuses to be babied. Especially by Feng Xin.
Feng Xin glares at him. "You're all sweaty and pale. Do you have a fever?"
"I'm not sick," Mu Qing says disdainfully.
Feng Xin opens his mouth to argue, but this is when his healer rushes in, followed by several of his servants.
Mu Qing subjects himself to a round of examinations. If it had been only Feng Xin who had seen him he might brush it off, but his servants are probably up in arms. At least he can reassure them that he's okay.
"Your spiritual energy levels are lower than normal," the healer says, frowning. "But I detect no other anomalies."
"He looked like he was in agony when I came in," Feng Xin comments from the sidelines.
Mu Qing glares at him. "It was hardly agony."
Feng Xin glares back. "Are you kidding me?"
"I was in some amount of pain," Mu Qing tells his healer. "But it passed. It must have been a lingering curse from yesterday that dissipated by itself. Burned itself out."
The healer frowns. "I can't detect any curse at the moment. However, please rest today and keep a close eye on your condition. Alert me if the pain comes back or if there are any problems with your spiritual energy."
"That's it?" Feng Xin asks.
Mu Qing throws him another glare. "Thank you," he tells the healer. "I will."
Feng Xin at least keeps himself in check until everyone leaves.
"You—"
Mu Qing cuts him off. "Why are you here?"
Feng Xin crosses his arms, frowning.
Mu Qing raises his eyebrows.
Feng Xin sighs. "There are reports of a potential monster residing in the area north of Qinzhou," he says. "Ling Wen sent me to investigate. I thought—maybe you wanted to come, too."
Mu Qing frowns. He doesn't have quite as many temples in that area as Feng Xin does, but there's still a significant amount. "I'll come."
Feng Xin gives him an incredulous look. "You're cursed!"
"The curse is gone," Mu Qing says dismissively.
"How do you know? Could you feel it last night? Because if you did and you didn't tell me—"
Mu Qing frowns. "Then what?"
"Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought!"
A jolt goes through Mu Qing's stomach. He sets his jaw. "Fuck you."
Feng Xin throws his hands in the air. "Answer the damn question. Could you feel the curse?"
Mu Qing glowers at him. "I can feel that it's not there anymore." He sees Feng Xin open his mouth and talks over him, "And if you don't trust me, then at least trust my healer. It's gone."
Feng Xin folds his arms again. "Even if it is gone, you heard your healer. You're supposed to rest today."
"I'm fine," Mu Qing says. "Besides, we shouldn't waste any time if there really is a threat out there to our believers."
"I can just go by myself," Feng Xin says.
"Then why did you come here?" Mu Qing snaps.
Feng Xin glares. Mu Qing rolls his eyes and gets out of bed. He doesn't feel entirely steady on his feet, and his head still aches a bit, but he'll be damned if he'll let Feng Xin go on this mission alone.
"You're being stupid," Feng Xin says.
"Get out of my room," Mu Qing says. "I'll get ready and meet you outside."
Feng Xin huffs and throws his hands in the air again. Dramatic asshole.
"Fine," he says, "but if you burn through your spiritual energy reserves then I'm not explaining it to your healer."
He stomps off, leaving Mu Qing standing in the middle of his bedroom, feeling oddly cold. A light cramp twists in Mu Qing's stomach. He places a hand on his middle and tries not to think of the moment of relief when Feng Xin touched him.
It was probably just a coincidence.
~
The pain comes back.
Not while they're hunting the monster, thank fuck.
It lingers during the day, in Mu Qing's temples, behind his eyes, in the pit of his stomach. Easy enough to ignore.
And he does ignore it, putting all his energy into the job at hand. He will not be brought to his knees by a curse flimsy enough to not even be detected.
He purposely avoids Feng Xin's touch. Not for any particular reason—none more than usual—but he just wants to prove to himself that it wasn't that. It wasn't Feng Xin's warm hands that helped him.
He doesn't need any help, and definitely not Feng Xin's.
In the end, the monster is bothersome but manageable. It leaves Mu Qing tired enough, though, that when Feng Xin suggests finding an inn to spend the night he doesn't argue. They even have two rooms available through a stroke of luck.
Mu Qing settles himself into bed, his stomach uncomfortably tight, his skin oversensitive and head fuzzy, and waits for sleep.
The pain swoops in, like a tide washing everything else away.
It leaves him trapped, shivering in a cold, unfamiliar bedroom, feeling sick and vulnerable.
Mu Qing curls up tighter, all his muscles protesting, his stomach heaving, and wishes Feng Xin was here.
He immediately feels stupid. Stupid and weak and pathetic.
The thought of Feng Xin seeing him like this—again—is awful. The idea of such humiliation makes bile rise in his throat. Feng Xin would probably be nice about it. Mu Qing hates him for that.
He tries to hold his body still as even the slightest movement sends agonizing flashes of pain through him. He can't stop shivering. He feels cold and overheated at the same time.
A knock on the door. Mu Qing grits his teeth.
"Mu Qing?" Feng Xin calls. Idiot, doesn't he know people are sleeping? "Just wanted to—uh. You okay?"
Mu Qing squeezes his eyes closed. Fuck.
"Are you asleep?" Feng Xin asks. "I tried your communication array, but there was no answer." Another knock, harder this time. "Are you in there? Mu Qing?"
Mu Qing's not sure if he could open his mouth even if he wanted to. (And he doesn't. He doesn't want to. He doesn't need—)
He can't think, his head hurts so bad.
Another cramp wrecks his insides. Mu Qing sucks in a breath and lets it out as a whimper.
"Mu Qing? I'm coming in."
Please, Mu Qing thinks, even as his stomach twists with panic. Please.
The door bangs open. There's silence for a moment. Mu Qing keeps his eyes closed and drags in another shaky breath.
Feng Xin swears loudly.
"I fucking knew it," he says. "I knew you weren't—fuck, you idiot—"
He stomps up to the bed, still making so much noise. Mu Qing's chest keeps seizing when he tries to breathe too deeply. He hates this, hates it.
The bed dips as Feng Xin sits down next to him. His hand goes to Mu Qing's arm, squeezing. "You should have fucking said something. We need to get you help, you absolute—"
The pain quietens.
It doesn't disappear, not like last time. It subsides very, very slightly. Feng Xin's hand feels like it's burning him, even through two layers.
Mu Qing's stomach jolts with realization. He uncurls himself and reaches out, grabbing Feng Xin's bare hand with his.
The pain vanishes.
Mu Qing whimpers with relief.
Feng Xin is staring at him, his eyes wide and mouth open. His hand flexes in Mu Qing's grip.
Mu Qing wants—he wants.
He jerks back, pulling his hand away, and the pain slams back into him, impossibly stronger than ever. He can't hold back a cry. He bites down on his lip, hard.
Feng Xin's eyes flash. He reaches for Mu Qing and Mu Qing tries to scramble away on the bed. His heart's beating so fast.
He can't ask for this.
He can feel what the curse wants. He can't ever admit to wanting it himself.
"Shit, hey, Mu Qing. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help you."
Mu Qing shakes his head. He thinks he might actually be sick from the pain.
"Hey."
Feng Xin's hand on his arm, his shoulder, and then, blissfully, his thumb brushes Mu Qing's cheek.
The pain recedes once more, like a wave rolling back into the ocean. Mu Qing's body relaxes all at once.
"Oh," Feng Xin says.
Mu Qing pushes his hand away and bites down hard enough on his lip to draw blood.
"Wait, what are you—what the fuck are you doing?"
Feng Xin grabs both of his wrists and squeezes, hard. Mu Qing has half a mind to kick him away, but the rush of relief makes him slow.
"Stop," he gasps.
"You stop," Feng Xin says. "I'm helping, aren't I? When I—when I touch you the pain stops, right?"
Mu Qing growls and tries to twist his wrists out of Feng Xin's grip.
"I'm right, aren't I?" Feng Xin asks, holding on fast. "Why the fuck are you fighting me? Have you lost your fucking mind?"
Mu Qing glares at him. "Every time you let go it hurts worse."
"Why would I let go?" Feng Xin asks.
Mu Qing stops. His heart's beating in his throat. His nerves feel like they're on fire, even now. There's sweat dripping into his eyes, his stomach roiling.
Feng Xin can't mean it. Not really. Not if he knew what it meant.
"Finally," Feng Xin says. "Alright, so do you know how to—"
Mu Qing pulls out of his grip and shoves him away, hard. Feng Xin almost topples off the bed, cursing.
"Fuck's sake," he says. "What's wrong with you? Are you addicted to suffering?"
Mu Qing scrambles away, trying to get to his feet even as his stomach twists in agony, making it hard to keep his balance.
"Are you fucking serious?" Feng Xin asks. "What, you'd rather be in pain then let me touch your fucking hand? You hate me that much?"
Mu Qing drags himself upright, leaning against the wall. "Not everything is about you," he spits, wheezing.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Feng Xin demands.
Mu Qing shakes his head again, trying to ignore the way his sight is blurring.
"You can't fix this on your own," Feng Xin says. His voice sounds weird. "Just let me help. Are you really this proud?"
"You can't help," Mu Qing pants, resting all of his weight against the wall. He needs to get away, but Feng Xin is between him and the door and everything hurts so much.
"What do you mean?" Feng Xin asks. "I was helping, wasn't I? Me touching you helped. What else do you want?"
"I want you to hold me!"
Feng Xin freezes, eyes going wide. Mu Qing collapses slowly on himself, sliding down onto the floor, his heart beating so fast he thinks he might pass out.
Fuck. Fuck.
"Mu Qing?" Feng Xin asks.
"The curse," Mu Qing says, and presses his forehead against his knees, trying to curl up into a ball. "The curse wants you—someone, anyone—to hold—it. Hold me. Through the night."
He feels the way his body longs for it, screams for it. So much pain, eased by something so simple. Something so stupid.
There's a brief pause and then Feng Xin says, "Well, okay. Let's do that then."
Mu Qing's head comes up. Even his ears hurt. He must not have heard Feng Xin right. "What?"
Feng Xin is suddenly in front of him. He crouches down, and wraps his hand around Mu Qing's bare ankle. Mu Qing swallows a whimper as the pain goes, once more.
"Let's do that, then," Feng Xin says. "If it's what the curse needs. I mean, unless you want me to go find someone else at this inn."
"No," Mu Qing says immediately. The idea of letting anyone else see him, let enough touch him right now, is abhorrent.
"Okay," Feng Xin says, then pauses. "Unless... We can try to get back to Heavenly Capital if there's someone there you'd rather...?"
"What?" Mu Qing asks, baffled and embarrassed. "What are you talking about?"
At least Feng Xin looks uncomfortable now as well. It doesn't last long though as he nods and says, "If not, then I can do it. No big deal."
Mu Qing grits his teeth. He can't imagine just lying down with Feng Xin, their bodies pressed together.
But of course Feng Xin would think it's not a big deal.
"Come on," Feng Xin says. "Give me your hand. Let's do this."
Mu Qing stares at him mulishly. Feng Xin rolls his eyes.
"Come on," he repeats, and reaches out with his left hand, keeping his right on Mu Qing's ankle. "It's okay."
Humiliation burns, sharp and sudden in Mu Qing's belly. "I'm not a child," he snaps. "You don't have to patronize me."
"I'm not," Feng Xin says, grabs Mu Qing's hand and stands up, pulling Mu Qing with him.
Mu Qing stumbles and almost falls, but Feng Xin wraps his arm around Mu Qing's waist, still keeping a tight grip on his hand. Mu Qing feels dizzy. He stares at Feng Xin, helpless, and swears he sees a flash of something in his eyes. Heat sears in his stomach.
"You—" Feng Xin says, stops to clear his throat. "You are okay with this, right?"
Mu Qing's stomach flips. "Didn't you say it's no big deal?"
Feng Xin's mouth turns down slightly. Mu Qing finds himself thinking of how absurd it is how well he knows Feng Xin's face while sometimes feeling like he doesn't know anything at all.
"Are you changing your mind or what?" Mu Qing asks. His hands are sweating. How stupid.
"I just want to make sure you're okay," Feng Xin says.
"Just get on with it," Mu Qing says. He'll be fine if he can just keep hold of his irritation.
Feng Xin sighs loudly. "Okay. Fine. Should we take our shirts off?"
"What the fuck?"
Feng Xin shrugs and starts trying to worm his way out of his shirt while still holding on to Mu Qing.
"Stop," Mu Qing says, horrified. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"It's about skin on skin contact, right?" Feng Xin asks. "So it will be easier if our torsos are bare."
"No," Mu Qing says. "I mean, what?"
"Here, sit down," Feng Xin says and settles on Mu Qing's bed, pulling Mu Qing with him.
Mu Qing wants to lean into Feng Xin, chase his warmth. He sways forward, then draws back, stomach churning.
"Just give me a moment," Feng Xin says. "Don't move, okay."
The next thing Mu Qing feels is Feng Xin's bare foot pressing against his ankle. He almost flinches away before remembering himself.
"Okay," Feng Xin says. "Stay there."
Mu Qing's belly flips in panic when Feng Xin lets go of his arm. The pain doesn't come, though.
By the time he's got his bearings, Feng Xin already has his shirt off. Mu Qing can feel himself flush.
It's not that he's never seen Feng Xin shirtless. He usually looks away though. And he's never had to deal with the idea of having a shirtless Feng Xin in bed with him.
"Come on," Feng Xin says. "Take your shirt off."
Mu Qing opens his mouth, indignant.
"Stop thinking so hard about this," Feng Xin says, cutting him off. "I'm just being practical."
Mu Qing glares at him.
"Come on," Feng Xin repeats. He reaches out as if wanting to pull of Mu Qing's shirt himself, but thankfully stops. "It's okay."
Mu Qing's cheeks burn with indignation. "Don't fucking patronize me."
"I'm not!" Feng Xin says. "I'm just telling you, it's not a big deal. It's not like we haven't seen each other shirtless before."
Mu Qing hates him. Feng Xin's foot is pressing solidly against his ankle, keeping the pain at bay. He doesn't want to feel that agony again. He doesn't want to feel helpless and incapacitated.
He grits his teeth and takes his shirt off.
"Thank you," Feng Xin says, with apparent relief. "Okay, let's just—"
Feng Xin reaches out, slowly this time, and takes hold of Mu Qing's wrist. His hands are slightly bigger than Mu Qing's, palms wider. Mu Qing wishes he could say he's never noticed before.
"Let's just lie down," Feng Xin says. "Okay?"
"I told you," Mu Qing says, stomach tightening. "Stop babying me."
"I'm just trying to be kind," Feng Xin says.
"Why?" Mu Qing asks. Feng Xin is still holding his wrist. "Why even fucking bother?"
"God, you're impossible," Feng Xin sighs.
Mu Qing's stomach twists unhappily.
He wants to pull away, but he also wants Feng Xin's hands back on his waist, holding him tight. He can't remember the last time someone touched him this much.
"Let's just get this over with," he says, and scoots over on the bed and lies down. Feng Xin follows him, settling down next to him, not letting go.
They lie there, Mu Qing on his back and Feng Xin on his side, his fingers still loosely wrapped around Mu Qing's wrist.
"So," Feng Xin says.
"Fuck you," Mu Qing says, miserably, and flips over onto his side, pulling at Feng Xin's hand. Feng Xin makes an alarmed noise, but he still holds on to Mu Qing. Mu Qing knows he should be grateful.
It's not even such an ordeal or anything. There are a million worse ways to dispel a curse.
That doesn't mean Mu Qing is happy about being so—so fucking vulnerable. Especially in front of Feng Xin.
It stings, having Feng Xin see him this way. Mu Qing doesn't want Feng Xin to see him as someone weak and pathetic.
He's not sure how he exactly wants Feng Xin to see him, but he knows it's not this. As someone to be pitied.
"Okay," Feng Xin says. "I'm just gonna—"
And then Feng Xin's chest presses against his back, careful and solid. Mu Qing holds himself still.
He wants nothing more than to sink into the comforting warmth of Feng Xin.
This is exactly what he was afraid of.
He's been trying to fight this for so long, and all it takes is some stupid curse to bring down all of his defenses. He realizes with a sinking feeling that he can't go back from this. He's always going to know what it feels like to have Feng Xin hold him.
Fuck.
Feng Xin shifts slightly and then moves his hand from Mu Qing's wrist to rest on his chest. Mu Qing tries to keep his breathing steady.
"Is—is this okay?" Feng Xin asks. Like Mu Qing's some young maiden.
Like he needs to be handled carefully, otherwise he'll break.
"Mu Qing?"
"It's fine," Mu Qing mutters.
"Okay," Feng Xin says. His voice sounds weird. His breath is hot against the back of Mu Qing's neck. "Uh. Good night, I guess?"
"Sure, yeah," Mu Qing says.
Feng Xin shifts again, his hold on Mu Qing's tightening. Mu Qing closes his eyes.
He's exhausted from the pain, the threat of it, the panic. His body feels as if it weighs a ton. He's so tired.
He doesn't sleep.
He expects Feng Xin to stay awake as well, but instead feels him drift off not soon after, his breathing becoming steady and deep.
At one point, Feng Xin rests his forehead against the back of Mu Qing's head, his chin digging into Mu Qing's shoulder. His arm remains a steady weight on Mu Qing's waist. His hand has slipped from Mu Qing's chest to his stomach, strangely comforting.
Mu Qing lies there the entire night, listening to Feng Xin's breathing and feeling warm and safe and cared for.
The curse breaks with the dawn.
Mu Qing takes a deep breath, lets it out. Then he carefully extracts himself from Feng Xin's arms, gets dressed, and leaves.
He walks for a long time before finally returning to the Heavenly Capital.
Something inside him hurts.
He tells himself it's just the echo of the curse.
~
He doesn't expect Feng Xin to come looking for him. In hindsight that probably makes him an idiot. Feng Xin has never been the type to let things go.
Mu Qing's catching up on his correspondence when a servant hurries in to inform him that General Nan Yang is waiting at the door.
"Tell him I'm not here," Mu Qing says.
The servant hesitates. Mu Qing raises his eyebrows.
The servant bows and says, "He just seemed very...insistent."
"He's used to always getting what he wants," Mu Qing says. "He'll get over it. Tell him I'm not here and if he makes a fuss then let me know."
The servant bows again and leaves.
Mu Qing is left staring at his papers.
The annoying thing is, he doesn't know why Feng Xin would come by. But he also doesn't really want to find out.
He can just imagine Feng Xin's face, looking pitying and uncomfortable. By now he's probably told someone about what happened. Mu Qing's stomach sours at the thought.
Everyone will know that General Xuan Zhen was too weak to fight off even the most pathetic, sad little curse.
Mu Qing clenches his hands, his stomach turning.
The servant returns, looking nervous.
"Did he try to argue with you?" Mu Qing asks.
"No, General," the servant says. Mu Qing pushes away the strange feeling of disappointment. (Fuck, he's really gotten fucked up over this.) "But he said he'll come by later when you're around."
Mu Qing frowns. "Very well."
"Shall I let him in if he returns?" the servant asks.
"No," Mu Qing says, then pauses. "But let me know if he comes by."
"Of course, General," the servant says, bowing.
True to his word Feng Xin returns that evening. Mu Qing sends him away again, feeling—something. Not regret. But something.
That night, as Mu Qing is deciding on whether he wants to sleep or not—it's a quick way to pass the time without having to think—Feng Xin tries to get in contact through the spiritual communication array.
Mu Qing lets him in out of habit before he realizes what he's doing.
"Finally," Feng Xin says.
"Fuck off," says Mu Qing. "Bye."
"No, wait!" Feng Xin says, unreasonably loud in his head. "I just wanted to—"
"What?" Mu Qing says. "Wanted to boast about all the people you already told about this?"
"No," Feng Xin says. "What the fuck? I haven't told anyone anything. I just wanted to ask if the curse is really gone."
Mu Qing's stomach twists. "What? Think I can't get rid of a small curse like that? You think I'm so weak?"
"Fuck you," Feng Xin says. "I was worried. It didn't look like a small curse to me. I just wanted to know if you were okay. Did it work?"
Mu Qing sucks in a breath. "It worked."
"Thank fuck," Feng Xin says, sounding oddly relieved. "Okay, good. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine," Mu Qing says, annoyed.
Feng Xin snorts. "Okay, well I guess I'll have to take your word for it."
"Seems so," Mu Qing says. "Goodbye."
He cuts the connection. Fucking Feng Xin.
Mu Qing isn't even sure why he's so angry, but his stomach's swirling and his chest feels tight.
He doesn't want Feng Xin to worry about how he's doing. It makes him feel too...not hopeful, but just. Touched. Stupidly so.
He wants to forget about how for once it felt like Feng Xin really cared.
He shakes his head and goes back to his correspondence. If he's lucky, he'll be able to avoid Feng Xin at least until he gets whatever this is under control.
~
Inevitably, Mu Qing ends up running into Feng Xin only a few days later at His Highness's palace.
He'd specifically asked the staff there whether Feng Xin was around before he'd gone over and been assured he wasn't.
Xie Lian's eyes sparkle when he sees Mu Qing come in and Mu Qing feels both stupidly pleased and also like he's been set up.
"Ah, wonderful," Xie Lian says. "Mu Qing, Feng Xin got here just before you did."
"And why is that wonderful?" Mu Qing asks.
Feng Xin frowns at him. Mu Qing looks away.
"Well, I was hoping to see you both," Xie Lian says.
Mu Qing narrows his eyes.
"Why?" Feng Xin asks.
"Just to thank you," Xie Lian says. "We didn't get to talk much last time, but I am very grateful you two came over to help. San Lang was as well. I know I asked already, but I still hope it wasn't too much trouble?"
"It was fine," Mu Qing says.
"Mu Qing was cursed," Feng Xin says, the absolute asshole. "One of the ghosts got him with some sort of weird pain curse. We didn't realize until later."
Xie Lian turns to him, his eyes wide and worried. "Oh, but you're okay?"
"I handled it," Mu Qing says, avoiding looking at Feng Xin.
"Oh, good, good," Xie Lian says. "Do you remember which of the ghosts it was?"
"Some woman," Feng Xin says. "I didn't get a good look at her, but she got away. I hope she's not been causing any problems since?"
"She looked sad," Mu Qing says, thinking back to that night. It feels like a stupid thing to say; a lot of ghosts are sad. But she had. Now he understands why. "Her dress looked old, but she had a hairpin that looked pretty expensive."
"Oh, yes, I believe I know her," Xie Lian says, throwing Mu Qing for a loop. "As I remember, her curse was quite interesting."
Mu Qing stares at him.
"Wait, you have experience with it?" Feng Xin asks.
Xie Lian nods. "Yes, San Lang had a run in with her."
"And you didn't get rid of her after that?" Feng Xin asks, sounding outraged.
"Is this why he was out sick?" Mu Qing asks.
"No, no, this was some time ago," Xie Lian says. "His recent illness was not related to that. And he's much better now, thank you for asking."
Mu Qing rolls his eyes.
"Okay, but why did you let that ghost continue to go around cursing people?" Feng Xin asks.
"I think San Lang felt bad for her," Xie Lian says, looking thoughtful. "And she was minding her own business until recently."
"But such a powerful curse..." Feng Xin says, trailing off. "You could have at least warned us."
"I am sorry," Xie Lian says. "I didn't think she'd be involved. But really, San Lang barely felt the effects of it before we got rid of it."
Mu Qing feels himself flush, both from embarrassment and anger.
"Well maybe it's not an easy fix for everyone," Feng Xin grits out. Oddly it makes Mu Qing feel worse.
"I am glad you managed it, still," Xie Lian says. "You might have said, I would have of course helped."
Mu Qing chokes on his tongue.
"You know, I always thought it was such a sad little curse," Xie Lian continues, completely ignoring Mu Qing.
"It was a nasty piece of work," Feng Xin says.
Xie Lian hums. "I suppose. But such a simple wish. To be held by someone you love and who cares for you deeply in return."
Mu Qing stops breathing.
No.
He didn't hear that right. He can't have.
"What?" Feng Xin asks.
Xie Lian blinks at them. "Well—"
"I thought it could be anyone?" Feng Xin says. "Just—a human touch. Anyone would do?"
"Well, not really," Xie Lian says. "We had someone look into it as soon as we realized San Lang was cursed. They were quite specific."
"But—" Feng Xin says. "Are you sure?"
Xie Lian nods, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Mu Qing can't look at Feng Xin.
He had sensed that it had to be Feng Xin. He'd told himself it was only because Feng Xin had been there when he'd gotten cursed, had touched him right after. That the curse had somehow imprinted on him.
It can't be—It can't be that.
Mu Qing doesn't—
He thinks back to that night; how good it had felt to be held in Feng Xin's embrace. How he felt cared for.
"Well, I'm glad you figured it out," Xie Lian says.
Mu Qing stands up in a rush. "I forgot I had something to do," he says. "I'll take my leave."
"Oh," Xie Lian says. "Well, alright, if—"
"Mu Qing," Feng Xin says.
Mu Qing turns around and hurries out of the room. He hates the fact that he's running away, but it's better than any other option.
~
Mu Qing doesn't expect Feng Xin to come after him, so he's stupidly startled when Feng Xin catches up with him outside his palace.
It feels like this is becoming a pattern. Him underestimating Feng Xin like this.
He doesn't think he likes it.
"What do you want?" Mu Qing asks wearily.
Feng Xin looks awkward but determined. "Can we talk inside?"
"Why?" Mu Qing asks.
He expects Feng Xin to snap back, but instead Feng Xin makes a weird face and says, "Please."
Mu Qing lets him in.
He doesn't go as far as leading them to his rooms, but the front hall is empty enough at the moment. He folds his arms and says, "Well?"
"Don't do that," Feng Xin says. "Can't we just talk?"
Mu Qing clenches his jaw. "About what?"
"About what happened," Feng Xin says.
Mu Qing opens his mouth.
"Don't say that nothing happened," Feng Xin says.
Mu Qing glares at him. "I thought you said it wasn't a big deal."
Feng Xin shakes his head. "I just thought—Whatever. You heard what Xie Lian said, didn't you? About who was needed to break the curse?"
"Someone you—care about," Mu Qing says haltingly. "What, do you think—"
"And someone who 'cares for you in return'," Feng Xin interrupts him.
Mu Qing stops and stares at him.
Feng Xin looks weird. His face has gone all red.
"What?" Mu Qing asks.
"You didn't hear that part?" Feng Xin asks. "Or did you decide to ignore it in favor of acting like you're the only one embarrassed here."
Mu Qing's stomach twists.
He did hear Xie Lian say that. Doesn't mean he had to believe it.
"It's not true," he says.
"Why not?" Feng Xin asks. "Seems pretty true to me."
Mu Qing slowly shakes his head.
"Or do you mean the part about—about your feelings?" Feng Xin asks.
Mu Qing feels himself flush. "What about my feelings?"
Feng Xin closes his eyes for a moment, as if he can't believe he's having this conversation. Well, he can join the club. Mu Qing is deeply regretting letting Feng Xin in. But then Feng Xin steps closer and really looks at him, his face serious. Mu Qing feels his gaze as if it was a physical touch.
He wants to take a step back. Wants to sway closer.
"I don't know if His Highness was right about the curse," Feng Xin says. "But I wanted to tell you. I've been meaning to tell you, but you kept ignoring me, you asshole."
"Tell me what?" Mu Qing asks, feeling oddly winded.
"That I didn't mind," Feng Xin says. "I mean, that I. Liked it. That night. Except the part where you were in pain, of course. But the rest of it. I liked it."
Mu Qing would be less surprised if Feng Xin said he wanted to fuck him.
"What?"
Feng Xin's face twists. "You heard me."
Mu Qing did. But.
"Fuck, this is so stupid," Feng Xin mutters.
"Sure is," Mu Qing says. His brain feels weird, like it's full of static.
"Are you going to say anything?" Feng Xin asks.
Mu Qing looks at him. Feng Xin looks...upset. Mu Qing's familiar with the sight, but. Not like this, he thinks.
"You can't mean it," he finds himself saying.
"Why not?" Feng Xin asks.
"Because," Mu Qing says, growing frustrated now. Because it's not how it works. They don't work like this. They argue and fight and sure, they're still friends despite how irritating they find each other, Mu Qing knows that. And if sometimes Mu Qing looks at Feng Xin and wants him with an intensity that he doesn't know how to deal with, then that's just that.
But they're not gentle. Mu Qing shouldn't want Feng Xin to hold him close, gather him up in his arms, and the idea that Feng Xin likes that or would want to do it again is...ridiculous.
"You can't want that," he says, helpless.
Something flashes in Feng Xin's eyes. He takes a step closer.
"Why not?" he asks again, his voice unexpectedly soft. Fuck.
"You don't—" Mu Qing tries.
"What do you want?" Feng Xin asks. "Did—did you like it?"
Mu Qing wants to scoff, wants to lie. "Did I like being cursed?" he wants to ask, mocking.
But there's a shaky quality to Feng Xin's voice and suddenly, for once, Mu Qing doesn't want to be cruel, even in self-defense.
"I didn't hate it," he says. His own voice comes out less steady than he would like. "It was okay. I guess."
Feng Xin's eyebrows go up. He looks...weirdly hopeful. "You mean it?"
Mu Qing scowls at him. "Are you calling me a liar?"
Feng Xin laughs, the fucker. Mu Qing goes to shove at him, but Feng Xin catches his hand with his. Mu Qing stops, blinking.
Feng Xin's hand is warm. Mu Qing, tentatively, squeezes it.
"Oh, thank fuck," Feng Xin says, and pulls Mu Qing into a hug.
His arms wrap around Mu Qing, strong and sure. Mu Qing's first instinct is to struggle, but Feng Xin is holding him so tightly it's almost hard to breathe.
It's kind of nice. He can feel his body relaxing almost despite himself.
Feng Xin is holding him even though he doesn't have to, even though there's nothing for him to fix, nothing to gain.
Mu Qing slowly lifts one hand and sets it on Feng Xin's back. Feng Xin makes a noise and clutches Mu Qing tighter. One of his hands goes to the back of Mu Qing's head and somehow that's what does it. That's what makes Mu Qing's throat go tight and his chest flood with warmth.
He grips Feng Xin and squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in Feng Xin's shoulder.
He doesn't cry or anything like that. He's not even shaking. But slowly, slowly the tension in him that is almost always there disappears.
Mu Qing is convinced that Feng Xin will pull away any second now, but he doesn't. Instead he starts gently rubbing Mu Qing's back, his other hand still cradling the back of his head.
It's stupid.
Mu Qing lets himself be held.
He tenses slightly when Feng Xin finally pulls back, disappointment rising even as he tries to be above it. But Feng Xin doesn't go far. His hands drift from Mu Qing's back to his sides, fingers digging in.
"I'm so fucking glad you're not cursed anymore," Feng Xin says.
Mu Qing blinks. "Me too?"
Feng Xin laughs and then he leans back in and rests his forehead against Mu Qing's.
Mu Qing's stomach swoops hard. What the fuck is Feng Xin doing, being so fucking tender.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice coming out softer than he intended.
"What does it look like?" Feng Xin asks, equally quiet, his breath warm against Mu Qing's face.
"I don't know," Mu Qing wants to say. He doesn't, not really. It still doesn't entirely make sense to him.
But he thinks he wants to find out.
Feng Xin wraps his arms around Mu Qing's waist, and says, "I thought you would have pushed me away by now."
Mu Qing flushes. "Shut up."
Feng Xin laughs. When he lifts his head and looks at Mu Qing he's smiling. "Charming as ever," he says.
"Fuck you."
Feng Xin grins. "There it is."
But when Mu Qing scowls and goes to shove him away, embarrassed and definitely still blushing, Feng Xin just laughs again and sways back only slightly, his hands resting on Mu Qing's waist.
Mu Qing thinks of what Xie Lian said earlier. I'm glad you figured it out.
Mu Qing isn't sure if they have. But they're on their way.
He thinks it's not a bad place to be.