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Mu Qing peered up at Feng Xin, blinking a few times to focus his vision. It was by no means dark in their private chambers, not with the soft glow of the moonlight pouring through the sheer white curtains, but it wasn’t light either. There was something playful about Feng Xin’s grin as it beamed down at him, youthful in a way that reminded Mu Qing of their days back in Xianle.

If he wasn’t a god himself, Mu Qing would’ve prayed that their bedroom was dark enough to hide the hot blush spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Feng Xin may have been his husband as of a short few hours ago, but that didn’t mean Mu Qing wanted him to know he had feelings. Marriage didn’t suddenly cure his millennia-long aversion of affection and vulnerability. His silver eyes fluttered shut as he nuzzled further into the warmth of Feng Xin’s bare chest, the steady beat of his heart a rhythm more comforting than any ancient Xianle lullaby.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Mu Qing grumbled after a while, catching a glimpse as Feng Xin’s lips curled into a smirk. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m admiring my husband,” Feng Xin teased, his lips chasing the soft skin of Mu Qing’s cheek in a moot attempt to press a kiss.

Mu Qing only rolled his eyes, turning away from Feng Xin to lay on his side as he blindly swatted his lips away. “Don’t make me bother Ling Wen with the paperwork of a divorce. We’ve been married less than 12 hours.”

“Oh fuck off, I know you love it.” Feng Xin spooned himself around Mu Qing’s frame, dropping a soft kiss over a mole on the curve of his shoulder. “Knowing us, they probably have the paperwork on standby.”

Mu Qing snorted, leaning back into the warmth of Feng Xin’s chest with a sigh. He never knew he could be this happy. Laying in the strong, bare arms of his husband, a few hours after consummating their marriage. A lifetime of cultivation broken for the man right next to him. The man who had always been right next to him, since the very beginning.

He turned around in Feng Xin’s embrace, wriggling his arm out from the space between them to brush Feng Xin’s rich, dark brown bangs out of his face. The furrow of his sharp brow immediately caught Mu Qing’s attention. While the presence of the wrinkle between his eyebrows was by no means new, what was new was the gleam of curiosity behind Feng Xin’s eyes.

“After 800 years, you finally learned how to think,” Mu Qing began, nudging the tip of his nose against Feng Xin’s. “I'm almost impressed.”

Feng Xin rolled onto his back, pressing his weight into the pillows beneath him with a groan. “Shut the fuck up.”

Mu Qing followed his warmth with a soft laugh and tucked himself into his side. He stretched his head up, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw as he asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I just…” Feng Xin began as he shook his head, running a calloused hand over his face momentarily. He glanced to the top of Mu Qing’s head before tucking his hair behind his ear. “Your hair…”

“If it’s messy, it’s your own fault.” Mu Qing dug an accusatory finger into Feng Xin’s sternum. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands out of it. With all that tugging, I’m surprised I have any left.”

Feng Xin cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, ignoring the playful tone in his voice. “It’s not really messy, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“White,” Feng Xin stated simply. “It’s silver.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. They were both Gods who ascended in their 20s; they didn’t have gray hairs then and it was impossible for him to get them now.

“Ha ha,” he laughed pointedly, sarcasm dripping from his tongue as it often did. “Very funny.”

“I’m fucking serious. Your hair is silver. It’s all white and…I don’t fucking know, pearlescent?”

Before Mu Qing could speak, Feng Xin propped himself up on his elbow and pulled a lock of Mu Qing’s hair free from behind his ear. He shoved the lengths of it before his husband’s eyes.

“Look.”

Mu Qing’s pastel pink lips parted in awe, blinking dumbfoundedly with wide eyes at the hair Feng Xin held in front of his face. White.

He continued to stare blankly as Feng Xin slowly let the lengths of Mu Qing’s now-silver hair fall from his fingertips. He studied Mu Qing’s expression, only slightly worried he may have broken him.

“Qing-er?”

As if in a trance, Mu Qing pushed himself up on the bed, letting the covers drop into his lap in a puddle of silk sheets. Before Feng Xin could say more, Mu Qing tossed the blankets off of himself and sprung out of bed. He was halfway across their bedroom when Feng Xin called out after him, “Qing-er! Fuck— Mu Qing, wait!”

Once Mu Qing made it into the ensuite bathroom of their now-conjoined palace, he paused in front of the mirror above the sink, resting his hands on the ledge of the counter. Feng Xin’s footsteps echoed behind him, muffled in his ears as his attention focused on the reflection before him.

Instead of his usual long, black high ponytail, his hair was free of any restraints, cascading around his lean frame in silver waves. Mu Qing could hardly recognize the person before him. The change of hair aside, his décolletage was painted with the beginning stages of purple bruises from Feng Xin’s lips hours prior when they first consummated their marriage after the wedding ceremony, ultimately breaking his lifelong cultivation path.

When he woke that morning, Mu Qing had rich, ebony dark hair and had maintained his virginity for nearly a thousand years for his cultivation. Now, his hair was a luminous shade of silver, and the state of his body reflected just how many rounds of sex he and Feng Xin had already had in just a few short hours of marriage. The Mu Qing in the reflection before him was a complete and utter stranger.

With his eyebrows now a ghostly pale shade like his hair, Mu Qing’s features appeared much softer. He imagined delegating tasks to his deputies with this new appearance and frowned. There was no way they would take him seriously looking so docile. He watched himself in the mirror as he furrowed his brows and straightened his shoulders, practicing an expression he hoped looked a bit more intimidating and respectable.

“Mu Qing?”

Silver eyes met golden brown in the mirror, pulling Mu Qing from his daze. The newly-weds held each other's gaze for a beat before Mu Qing’s eyes fluttered shut, his long silver lashes emulating fallen snow. Feng Xin took a hesitant step forward, and when Mu Qing showed no sign of recoil at the advance, he delicately wrapped his arms around his waist. Mu Qing let his head tip back — though only slightly — as Feng Xin dropped a soft kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck just below his ear.

“Stop thinking so loudly, you’re giving me a headache,” Feng Xin teased, trying to cut the tension in the air surrounding them. He let the bridge of his nose brush against the curve of Mu Qing’s ear lobe. Mu Qing drew in a deep breath before reopening his eyes. He didn’t reciprocate the tease.

“Do you think it’s a side effect from breaking my cultivation?” Mu Qing asked.

Feng Xin shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s the only thing that’s changed.”

Mu Qing bit his lower lip and nodded, though Feng Xin could tell he wasn’t truly listening to his response. He stared at the reflection blankly in silence, lost in the daze of his own thoughts and worries.

Feng Xin’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he said, “Talk to me, baobei. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Mu Qing’s head lolled to the side, resting his cheek against Feng Xin’s temple. His voice was quiet as he added, “I’m fine.”

Feng Xin frowned at the words, clearly unconvinced. His calloused fingertips brushed across Mu Qing’s stomach before settling at his waist. Feng Xin turned him around, Mu Qing’s back towards the mirror, and eased him into a proper hug.

“I’m your husband,” Feng Xin declared proudly, rubbing reassuring circles into the small of his back. He dropped a kiss on his forehead. “You can tell me what you’re thinking. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Mu Qing remained tense in his arms. Vulnerability was a lesson he was still learning, and although patience was definitely not Feng Xin’s strong suit, he was willing to try for Mu Qing. They challenged each other in that way. It had caused thousands upon thousands of fights over the near-millennia they’d spent together, but it pushed each other in a way no one else could. It pushed them to be better. It’s what made them so perfect for one another.

“It’s not about the hair,” Mu Qing confessed with a sigh.

“Oh?” Feng Xin replied as he continued tracing patterns up and down the length of his spine. His touch was exceptionally gentle, as though any sudden movement would scare Mu Qing away like a stray kitten. “What is it then?”

Mu Qing pulled back enough to peer up into his eyes. Feng Xin cupped his face in his palm, brushing his thumb across the skin of Mu Qing’s porcelain cheek.

His gaze faltered, unable to maintain eye contact as he answered, “I’ve spent centuries meticulously creating the perfect image of myself as a God. I know you don’t really care how you’re depicted by your worshippers in portraits and statues and plays, but I do. There’s no shortage of dreams I’ve appeared in to rectify even the smallest of inaccuracies regarding my character. I’ve been a well-established martial God for well over 800 years, I have over seven thousand temples to my name, and yet I’m still regarded as the Sweeping General. I was treated like shit in Xianle by so many people because of my family’s poor status.”

He hastily swiped away a tear slipping down his cheek with the back of his hand, hoping the gesture was subtle enough that Feng Xin wouldn’t notice.

“I just…” Mu Qing paused. His throat felt tight. For centuries he kept every feeling, every fear, tucked deep down in his chest. He didn’t need to hide anymore, not from Feng Xin. “All I want is to be seen for who I am. I need that control over my image to do that. The way my worshippers depict me is under my control, my cultivation is under my control. But this?” Mu Qing gestured to his hair. “This wasn’t in my control.”

This time, when tears welled in his eyes, he didn’t try to hide them. Mu Qing bit his lower lip before he continued, “All of this is new to me and I’m learning how to be honest with you and accept this new life we’re starting together now that we’re married and—”

He shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Mu Qing forced his gaze up to Feng Xin’s, a river of tears falling down his cheeks as he confessed, his voice broken, “I’m scared.”

“Oh, Qing-er,” Feng Xin cooed as he gently brushed away his tears with the pad of his thumb. Mu Qing leaned into the touch, subtly nuzzling his cheek into the calluses of Feng Xin’s warm palm.

“Do you…” Feng Xin took in a shaky breath, afraid of the answer to follow, “Do you regret breaking your cultivation for me?”

Mu Qing’s eyes widened, brighter than the moon outside in the midnight sky. “No— Feng Xin, no. Not at all.” Frantically shaking his head, he reached up to take Feng Xin’s face in his slender fingers. “I promise. Not a single part of me regrets choosing you over my cultivation. I’d choose you every single time. I’d break my cultivation over and over and over again if that’s what it took. I’ll always choose you.”

Through blurry vision, Mu Qing took a moment to admire Feng Xin’s tear stained face before pulling him into a deep, long kiss. Feng Xin’s lips were wet and salty from both of their tears, but Mu Qing didn’t care. As Feng Xin pulled him closer, Mu Qing’s arms looped themselves around Feng Xin’s neck, his fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. Feng Xin hummed a moan into the kiss, anchoring his hands at the dip in Mu Qing’s waist.

“It’s always been you, A-Xin,” Mu Qing murmured against his lips, breaking the kiss. “Since the beginning, it’s always been the two of us, and it will continue being the two of us as we figure all of this out together. I can’t promise I won’t be stubborn and sarcastic and have a horrible attitude, but I can promise that under all of it is a love for you so deep and profound that it scares me. I don’t know what to do with all the love I have for you inside of me.”

Feng Xin kissed him, soft and slow. He hummed into the kiss like he had all the time in the world to do so. In many ways, he did.

“I love you,” Feng Xin breathed, “Gods, I love you so fucking much.”

Before Mu Qing could respond, Feng Xin practically pounced on him, devouring his lips once again in a desperate kiss. While the kiss caught him off guard, Mu Qing’s body reacted instantly. He pressed himself against Feng Xin fully, tightening his arms around his neck as he moaned into the kiss. The moment Feng Xin’s tongue brushed against his, exploring the inside of his mouth as if he owned the place, Mu Qing’s body tensed.

“Wait—” Mu Qing uttered suddenly as he broke the kiss once again. There was one more thing he needed to get off his chest.

Feng Xin’s thumbs traced circles into the soft skin of Mu Qing’s hips as he murmured in response, his breath laboured from the kiss, “What is it, love?

“What if my hair doesn’t turn back?” Mu Qing glanced at his chest where silver strands cascaded down his torso, covering his nipples. “What if it’s just…stuck like this?”

Feng Xin considered it for a moment only to let his shoulders relax in a shrug, seemingly unfazed. “Then it doesn’t turn back, I guess.”

Unconvinced, Mu Qing tentatively nodded. He bit his lower lip in thought, peering up at his husband.

“If you’re worried it won’t change back, there’s always other options we can find,” Feng Xin began, tucking a strand of hair behind Mu Qing’s ear. “I’m sure Xie Lian could track down something in ghost city to change your hair back. At the very least, he should be able to find some kind of dye we can use to colour your hair black if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

When Mu Qing showed no reaction to either suggestion, Feng Xin cocked his head to the side in thought. “Or…that’s not what’s bothering you, now is it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mu Qing admitted, “I don’t mind the colour. I think I could even grow to like it with some time to adjust, but… I’m worried you won’t find me attractive like this. It’s so different and I know how much you loved my dark hair—”

“Qing-er, baby,” Feng Xin pulled him in by his hips, quickly cutting off that train of thought. Mu Qing’s cheeks burned from embarrassment as he met Feng Xin’s gaze. “In all of my years across all three realms, you’ve always been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Something as trivial as the colour of your hair isn’t going to change that.”

Mu Qing turned his face to the side, the bright red tips of his ears giving away his blush.

“Here,” Feng Xin stated before turning Mu Qing in his arms to face the mirror in front of them. “I want you to look at yourself.”

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing groaned in protest.

Feng Xin affectionately pinched Mu Qing’s side. “I’m being fucking serious.”

Reluctantly, Mu Qing obliged and made eye contact with himself in the mirror. Feng Xin loomed behind him, arms wrapped proprietarily around his smaller frame. They may have been the same height, but Feng Xin was nearly twice as wide as Mu Qing. Where Mu Qing was lean, Feng Xin was broad and defined.

“You’ve always reminded me of midnight.” Feng Xin’s voice was delicate — quiet enough that Mu Qing felt like he was being told a secret. “Your hair was dark and ethereal like the night sky. It was such a sharp contrast to how pale you are, but it worked. It always captivated me, even back in our Xianle days. And your moles?” Feng Xin couldn’t resist dropping a kiss to one of those very moles on the curve of Mu Qing’s shoulder to emphasize his words. “Gods, your moles reminded me of the stars. You know, whenever we bathed in hot springs together over the years on missions, I always wanted to trace lines between them, connecting each and every mole on your body like constellations. Sometimes I fantasized about using my finger to do so, other times I fantasized about using my tongue.”

Mu Qing snorted with laughter, but leaned further back into his arms. The embrace was warm and comforting. It was home. He let his head lull to the side, leaning his temple against Feng Xin’s strong jaw.

“I still feel that way about you. But this new hair is ethereal in a different way. Equally as beautiful, but different.” Feng Xin readjusted his arms around Mu Qing’s waist, holding him a little tighter as he continued, “Your dark hair reminded me of the night sky, but now it reminds me of the moon. The way it flows down your body makes it look as luminous as a full moon on a clear night. No clouds in sight to dim its glow, shining for the world to see all of its beauty. Just like you.”

Sniffling back a sob, Mu Qing turned in his husband’s arms to face him once more. He teasingly pushed Feng Xin’s face away, forcing an eye roll as he mumbled, “Gods, you’re such a sap.”

Their laughter echoed throughout the bathroom, both of them knowing just how valued Feng Xin’s words were. The sentiment would be carried safely in the pocket of Mu Qing’s heart for the rest of their lives.

“Thank you,” Mu Qing whispered, his words delicate as a tear slipped down his cheek, collecting at the corner of his mouth where a smile lingered.

Feng Xin took Mu Qing’s hand in his, raising it to his lips to press a sweet kiss across his knuckles. With a playful smirk written across his features, he took a step back towards their bedroom.

“What do you say, my beautiful husband?” Feng Xin drawled, taking another step back. “Care to find out if the carpet matches the drapes?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes at the joke, shaking his head. His husband was ridiculous and childish and most definitely horny, but he was his.

He didn’t protest as Feng Xin led him back to bed to put that theory to the test.