Chapter Text
Liu Qingge peers down the line of his nose at Mu Qingfang, who has one warm, gentle hand braced on his elbow, applying a thick green paste to a nasty burn he’d sustained in his last fight against a fire rat. He’s saying something, but Liu Qingge can barely hear it under rush of blood in his ears, the relentless thump thump of his heart, the carefully controlled cadence of his breathing. Everywhere Mu Qingfang touches is a pleasant simmering under his skin, and for Mu Qingfang, Liu Qingge burns .
“Are you listening to me, Liu-Shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asks, his pretty lips curling into a frown as he turns to grab a roll of bandages. “Honestly, one of these days you’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Mn,” Liu Qingge hums, still having a hard time paying attention, not when Mu Qingfang’s eyelashes are so long, and the noble line of his brow is furrowed just so , and his hair is charmingly mussed. He wants to brush that stray lock out of Mu Qingfang’s face, but that’d be - wouldn’t that be inappropriate? Too familiar? Too forward?
“I’d honestly rather you come straight here after you get injured than chance it with field medicine. What would you have done if this thing turned sceptic, Shixiong?” Mu Qingfang tuts, gently wrapping the bandage over the poultice.
“I’d come back to you,” Liu Qingge says, and if he’s a little breathless with longing, well. Mu Qingfang doesn’t notice it, so it’s fine, probably.
Mu Qingfang sighs, rolling his eyes a little, but he’s got a smile on his face despite it all. “Honestly, Liu-Shixiong. Would it kill you to come back to us in one piece?” he asks, and with a gentle pat to Liu Qingge’s forearm, he lets Liu Qingge go. “You need to rest it. If Zhangmen-Shixiong sends you on another mission in the next week, delegate it to one of your senior disciples and stay here. If I have to, I’ll come over to your peak every day to make sure you haven’t gone anywhere. Don’t be surprised if I do,” Mu Qingfang warns, and even if Liu Qingge knows he’s not being serious, he can’t deny that he likes the idea of that. Shen Qingqiu would laugh at him for how badly he resembles a young maiden in love, and if he teases him one more time about that Ning Yingying girl and his sister, he’ll -
“Burns aren’t anything to laugh about, even for a cultivator as strong as you are. And if you’re going to be bea - er, training your disciples while you wait to recover, please take it easy for once? The wound needs to be washed twice daily and bandaged until the blisters heal. Be gentle ,” Mu Qingfang says sternly. “If anything takes a turn for the worse, come see me again, alright?”
“Alright,” Liu Qingge says, and he allows himself precisely 15 seconds to stare at Mu Qingfang’s back while he cleans his things up, before getting up to go. “Goodbye, Mu Qingfang.”
Mu Qingfang doesn’t even look his way as he says, “I better not see you again anytime soon, Liu-Shixiong!”
Liu Qingge knows he’s joking, but he can’t help it if he feels a little disappointed.
--
Liu Mingyan eyes the bandage on Liu Qingge’s arm as she descends the steps to the visitor’s area of Xian Shu Peak. “You’re injured,” she says by way of greeting. At least she has the grace to leave out the again part.
“Mn,” Liu Qingge hums, idly drinking the tea he’d been given by a rosy-cheeked girl. Liu Mingyan settles into the seat across the table and watches him for a long moment, before asking, “Did you get to see him again?”
That gets Liu Qingge’s attention and he straightens up, blinking at his sister. She’s in the middle of unhooking the veil from her ear and setting it down on the table, and by the time she looks up and grins at him, he knows his face is all red. “I - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liu Qingge says, and he’s not pouting. He definitely isn’t.
“You did, didn’t you?” Liu Mingyan says, and there’s a fondness in her voice that makes him smile despite his embarrassment. “What happened this time?”
“The usual. I stopped by, we talked a little and I… got distracted,” he admits, and his sister snorts, reaching across the table to take Liu Qingge’s cup. “He’s… very handsome.”
“You know, people tend to like it better when you pay attention to what they say. Just a bit of advice,” Liu Mingyan says cheekily, and Liu Qingge almost wants to throw her veil right in her face.
“Shut up,” he says, with no real heat in his voice. “I’m, I’m working on it.”
“Don’t you two do anything else ? Maybe he doesn’t realize you’re trying to be more than friends because you don’t do anything,” she says, crossing her arms. That girl comes in again with a plate of snacks, and startles at the sight of Liu Mingyan’s face, the blush on her cheeks spreading out to her ears as she stammers her goodbyes. Liu Mingyan waves idly back at her, before looking back at her brother. “Maybe you should try doing something alone together. It’s romantic. Probably."
“Like what? A mission? I go on missions alone with him sometimes,” Liu Qingge says with a frown, and based on the pitying look on Liu Mingyan’s face, that’s the absolute wrong thing to say. “He’s always busy and if not that, he’s tired from being busy. If he doesn’t have to do something, he probably won’t,” Liu Qingge grumbles, grabbing a rice cracker and nibbling on it.
Liu Mingyan gives him a skeptical look and asks, “Is that the truth, or are you just looking for excuses? If you like him, you should at least give it a shot. Maybe he wants to do something new, but he doesn’t have any good reasons to do it.”
Liu Qingge thinks about what he knows of steady, stable Mu Qingfang. Mu Qingfang who works hard and hardly gets off his peak for anything less than a mission. Mu Qingfang who sometimes dozes off in his office at the clinic because he’s been swarmed by another batch of Qing Jing disciples. Mu Qingfang, whose pretty brown eyes are always ringed with heavy bags, who always sighs wistfully when Liu Qingge mentions the clear lakes at this or that place. Maybe he would appreciate a change of pace every once in a while.
“It doesn’t have to be anything big. Maybe just take him out sometime and go stargazing,” she suggests. “Bring a warm blanket and some food. Make a picnic out of it.”
Liu Qingge considers the idea for a long moment - it’s not so bad of an idea, and maybe Mu Qingfang will fall asleep against his shoulder, and maybe they’ll wake up curled up against one another like cats, and maybe they’ll be so warm that Mu Qingfang would let him linger a little bit longer and -
“M-maybe I’ll give it a shot,” Liu Qingge says, coughing into his fist. “That’s enough about me and my - and that situation. What have you been up to, A-Yan? Hows Ning Yingying?”
Liu Mingyan chokes on her tea and spends the next five minutes pretending to clear out her lungs so that she doesn’t have to answer.
--
Liu Qingge doesn’t actually have an excuse to go see Mu Qingfang, so he holds the whole stargazing idea in his pocket for the next time. Next time just so happens to be right after he’s fractured his arm - his tibia , or something, whatever that is - wrestling down some scaled bulls that’d been terrorizing a nearby town. They’d been delicious.
“Shixiong, should you really be so reckless? You can’t fight a scaled bull with your bare hands,” Mu Qingfang sighs as he secures the splint. His hands are so pretty - they’re long-fingered, sturdy things, the skin firm without being rough. Liu Qingge wants to run his fingertips across the prominent tendons in the back, wants to turn his hands over and over again in his. He wants to see how well their hands fit when laced together.
“I came out alright, didn’t I?” Liu Qingge asks, soft and distracted. It’s hard to look away from those filed-down nails, the mesmerizing movement of his fingers as they tap against Liu Qingge’s wrist.
Mu Qingfang shakes his head, huffing a long-familiar sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me, Liu Qingge,” he says, and in his ears it sounds like a compliment.
Before Mu Qingfang can pull away, Liu Qingge’s good arm shoots out, holding him around the wrist. “Hey. Come out with me tonight,” Liu Qingge blurts out, his fingers digging into Mu Qingfang’s robes.
The man blinks down at Liu Qingge’s hand, before drawing his gaze up to Liu Qingge’s face. Liu Qingge can’t help it if he sucks in a breath, all of a sudden hyperaware of every single molecule in his body. “What will we be doing?” he asks, slowly.
“D-don’t worry about it! I’ll come get you at sundown tonight. Be ready,” Liu Qingge manages, before hopping to his feet, ready to go.
“Liu-Shixiong, wait -” Mu Qingfang starts, but Liu Qingge is already out the door.
--
Even for summer, it’s a bit of a brisk night. But it’s clear out, and even if the moon is a little less than full, it’s bright enough to see almost everything. All in all, it’s a good night for stargazing. Liu Qingge isn’t especially sure of what stargazing entails - he personally would probably get bored of it, given that half of his time is spent sleeping out in the open anyways, but maybe it would be pretty enough for Mu Qingfang to appreciate it.
When he’d stopped by Mu Qingfang’s little cottage, the man had been waiting at the door for him, sipping some bitter brew, his tired eyes slow to move from Liu Qingge’s chest up to his face. There’s a rough-hewn pin in his hair, just barely taming the heavy mass of his half-bun, and he’s in plainclothes now that he’s out of the clinic. He’d never really been one for wearing the official peak lord robes, and the plain olive-green cotton of the disciples’ robes suits him. Makes him look younger, softer. Liu Qingge’s chest throbs at the sight.
Liu Qingge holds up the basket of food he’d brought and says, “We’ll eat when we get there. Are you ready?”
Mu Qingfang straightens up, brushing down the line of his clothes. The gesture is simple, perfunctory. Very Mu Qingfang. Liu Qingge can’t help but watch in silent admiration as Mu Qingfang sucks down the rest of his drink and grabs his sword. “Where are we going?” he asks, eyeing the bundle tied around Liu Qingge’s back.
“I don’t remember what it’s called. Just follow me,” Liu Qingge says, hopping on his own sword. He misses the way Mu Qingfang’s eyes are drawn to the splint on his healing arm, the glimmer of worry that sparks on his face, before fading away again into his usual placid expression. He hops on his sword and follows after him.
They don’t travel far - it’s no more than maybe an hour’s travel by sword at most, before Liu Qingge is settling on a grassy hill, overlooking a field of night-blooming flowers. Their scent is heavy in the air, sweet, with an almost incense-like perfume that makes Liu Qingge wrinkle his nose a bit. Qi Qingqi had told him about it once, and he figured maybe it’d be nice to bring Mu Qingfang here.
Indeed, Mu Qingfang looks over the field with approval, breathing in a deep sigh and letting it go. “Alright, so what now?” he asks, after a few seconds of meditative silence. “What did you need me here for?”
Liu Qingge frowns, because that doesn’t actually sound like an oh-I’m-surprised-in-a-romantic-way kind of question, but Mu Qingfang had gone along with him anyways, and that’s what counts. Liu Qingge sets down the basket of food he’d brought and tugs on the loose knot holding the blanket in place on his back. He catches it quick, and sets that on the ground, too, quickly unrolling it. Mu Qingfang catches on quick, and before long, he’s kneeling on the ground, assisting Liu Qingge.
Once the blanket is spread out, Liu Qingge motions for Mu Qingfang to sit, and says, “Well, first we eat.” Mu Qingfang looks at Liu Qingge with an inscrutable expression on his face, but ultimately, he sits down on one side of the thick blanket, careful to keep his boots off of it, and reaches for the basket.
Inside, Liu Qingge had prepared a roast pheasant he’d caught in the few hours between getting patched up by Mu Qingfang and picking him up at his cottage. He also tossed in some mantou for good measure, because apparently people cared about dumb things like that, and also Yang Yixuan would’ve snuck them in if he hadn’t. Mu Qingfang blinks at the spread and says, “It must be quite some task, if the lord of Bai Zhan peak is currying favor with such an offering.”
Liu Qingge snorts. “Just eat it already,” he says, trying not to sound too pleased about Mu Qingfang’s gentle ribbing. Mu Qingfang laughs quietly and nods, cutting into the meat good naturedly. He serves Liu Qingge the first portion, before cutting himself some and tucking into it with relish.
Liu Qingge likes that about him, too - how Mu Qingfang doesn’t care much for appearances and enjoys himself with a genuineness that isn’t common on the peaks. As far as Liu Qingge knows, he grew up common, unlike most of the lords and ladies there, and it shows - it’s not like Mu Qingfang eats messily, or anything, but he eats with a carefree unselfconsciousness, making these soft little sounds of delight at the first bite. It’s cute. Liu Qingge can’t help but watch.
“ - Liu-Shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asks, and Liu Qingge blinks. “Something wrong? Did I get something on my face?”
“Nothing,” Liu Qingge coughs. “You just - there’s some sauce,” he says, leaning in to wipe at an entirely bare corner of Mu Qingfang’s lips with his thumb. His heart stops for a few long seconds as he waits to be called out on his blatant lie. But Mu Qingfang accepts it as truth and laughs goodnaturedly.
“Sorry. I know I’m a mess. Before you got to me, I’d been overseeing one of my disciples’ first surgeries. He had to realign the bones in another girl’s broken leg and he was terrified,” Mu Qingfang says. “It’s been a long day.”
“Are you tired…?” Liu Qingge asks hesitantly. Maybe he should’ve asked Mu Qingfang if there was a better day for this. He hadn’t realized - he didn’t think that Mu Qingfang would’ve agreed to go if he had a late day at the clinic today.
Mu Qingfang huffs a laugh. “When am I not tired? Even with my senior disciples to spread out the burden, people don’t suddenly stop getting hurt, Liu-Shixiong. You should know - you’re one of my most frequent visitors,” he gripes, reaching out to pinch his arm. But it’s good natured - there’s no real heat to his statement, just teasing.
They eat for a while, chatting amicably between themselves. Mu Qingfang comments on how nice the weather is - inwardly, Liu Qingge cheers at this resounding success - they catch up on the goings-on of their respective peaks, they somehow get on the topic of Shen Qingqiu, the usual. When Mu Qingfang is ready to put his plate down, he says, “I don’t think I’ll be much help, Shixiong.”
“Mm?” Liu Qingge asks, blinking down at him as he lies back.
“I’m so full, I feel like I’m going to knock out,” he sighs, lying back on the blanket and patting his stomach. “Where’d you get the bird? It was good.” He sounds so satisfied that Liu Qingge can feel the red creeping down his neck.
Swallowing hard, Liu Qingge manages to say, “I caught it. You liked it?”
Mu Qingfang blinks up at him, and he breaks into incredulous laughter. “You’re serious?” he asks, and oh , Liu Qingge chest throbs. It’s not an unpleasant feeling. Not trusting his voice not to crack, Liu Qingge nods once, sharply.
“Liu-Shixiong, you’re incredible,” he laughs, and his eyes are warm and full of mirth and Liu Qingge can’t help it if his breath catches a little. He also can’t help it if he doesn’t hear the twig snap behind him, on account of his ears being full of the sound of his own heartbeat and the blood rushing in his veins and the echo of Mu Qingfang’s laughter.
It’s not until Mu Qingfang abruptly sits up, eyes wide and mouth slack, staring at something beyond Liu Qingge’s head, that Liu Qingge realizes something’s amiss. “Oh, gods, this is what you brought me out here for?” Mu Qingfang hisses, as Liu Qingge slooooowly turns around to look. Stepping out of the brush is a clawed cannon, its violet beak sparking as it clicks.
“No, it’s not, but you should probably help out or get out of here,” Liu Qingge hisses, scrambling to his feet and grabbing Cheng Luan with his good hand. The creature rears up on its back legs, spreading its wings out in an aggressive display as it squawks menacingly at them. Liu Qingge can fucking see the fire welling up at the back of its throat, but he knows better than to stay at a range. With these things, it’s always best to get up close as quick as possible and deal with the explosive fire sac in its upper chest.
Of course, they aren’t defenseless at close range - their claws are deadly and razor sharp, their front talons and back legs equally dangerous. Even for a veteran cultivator like himself, they could be a challenge.
The clawed cannon, thankfully, goes after Liu Qingge first, clicking its beak and letting loose a sparking burst of fire. At this range, it’s hard for Liu Qingge to evade in time on his feet - he has to duck down and roll to dodge it, the residual heat sizzling at the tips of his ponytail. He’s at a disadvantage on the ground, and the creature easily takes advantage of the fact, surging forward and rearing up, it’s front talons arcing through the air menacingly. It nearly pokes out a chunk from Liu Qingge’s side with those gnarly talons, but he’s quick enough to dodge. The long end of his robe, however, isn’t quite so fortunate.
Mu Qingfang isn’t a fool - he yells and waves his hands and throws things at it and generally tries to be a nuisance to draw it away, but the clawed cannon is a persistent thing, and Liu Qingge apparently looks like prey. Liu Qingge only barely makes it up to his feet before the beast tackles into him, knocking him flat on his back again. Instinctively, Liu Qingge brings arms up to shield himself from the inevitable fall of those deadly legs, before he hears the creature make a squawk of confusion, an arc of fire lighting up the night sky as Mu Qingfang literally hauls it back . The creature must’ve easily been a good several hundred pounds, and while Liu Qingge certainly could’ve taken the beating, he’s glad not to.
“Let go before it kicks you!” Liu Qingge yells as he gets to his feet as fast as he can.
Mu Qingfang drops the creature and scrambles away just in time to avoid an organ-rupturing kick to his guts. But now that he’s proven himself a threat, the clawed cannon rounds on him, drawing up as big as it can get. It makes a guttural noise deep in its throat, and Liu Qingge’s fought enough of these things to know that that’s not something to fuck with. “Get away! Hop on your sword and fucking fly!” he practically screams, and Mu Qingfang can’t obey quick enough. The ear-splitting roar of the explosion has Liu Qingge staggering back, glad that it’s not pointing at him, even though the overwhelming heat sears his eyebrows. It’d be stupid of him to close his eyes against a monster like this, but it’s either that or go blind, and given how bright the light is even through his eyelids, he’s glad he does. But while everything is still bright as day, he can’t open his eyes, leaving him absolutely vulnerable.
“It’s coming for you!” Mu Qingfang cries out, and Liu Qingge has just enough time to brace the butt of his sword against his shoulder before the bulk of the creature’s weight is upon him.
It screams , and Liu Qingge can feel it echoing in his fucking bones as he blindly twists the blade, praying that the hot liquid dripping onto his face and chest isn’t from the fire sac, that he won’t accidentally immolate himself with one wrong move. The creature thrashes wildly in the long minutes it takes for it to die, and in its fervor, it catches against the splint on his arm, destroying it with ease. Liu Qingge hisses but holds firm, gritting his teeth through the pain.
When the light sky finally darkens, when the clawed canon finally wheezes its last breath, when Liu Qingge’s trembling arms finally give, Liu Qingge blinks his eyes open. Rather than collapsing onto him, he only barely makes out the sight of Mu Qingfang tugging at the monster’s corpse, dragging it away from his body and letting it drop heavily onto the ground beside him. And then, a creature more fearsome than even the clawed cannon descends upon him, helping him into a sitting position and talking loudly into his ears.
“Liu-Shixiong, can you hear me? Oh, gods, your arm ,” he groans. “How much of this blood is yours, Shixiong? Are you listening? How badly did it hurt you?”
His words are a little blurry at the edges, a headache-inducing ringing making itself well at home inside his head alongside a vague sense of nausea and a general dizziness. “I’m okay,” he wheezes, blinking down at himself. Even despite having his eyes closed through the flash, he can barely see - the dim light of the moon is no longer enough to illuminate the night. He’s still on the endorphin high, but he’s coming down quick, and he can hear Mu Qingfang rummaging in his qiankun pouch before shoving something between his lips and ordering him to chew. Liu Qingge isn’t quite sure if it’s the adrenaline talking or what, but oh, wow .
“Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be back for you in a minute, but I need to butcher this thing before its fire sac ruptures and ruins everything else,” Mu Qingfang says gently, brushing his bangs out of his face, and oh . Whatever he’d given him has made everything a little softer and lazier around the edges, and Liu Qingge rather likes that.
Slowly, he eases onto his good side and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness again. His sight gets a little bit better as he watches while Mu Qingfang shrugs off his outer and inner robes to the waist, tugging the pin out of his half bun before loosely braiding the entire mass of it and gathering it into a new bun. That poor pin looks like it’s about to snape in half, only barely keeping the entire thing together, but god what an image he makes in the moonlight. If Liu Qingge somehow manages to remember this through the haze of adrenaline and pain-numbing medicinal herbs, well…
Mu Qingfang curses as he digs in his qiankun pouch again, this time producing a shorter knife and a night pearl, which he charges with a little extra spiritual energy. It makes the pearl glow bright enough that he can see, and before long, his knife is cutting into the clawed cannon’s chest with confident, clean strokes.
Liu Qingge honestly wishes he could see a little better, because in minutes, Mu Qingfang has cut out a gland the size of both of his fists together, holding onto it from a long, sinewy tube, which he quickly ties off and sets aside. When he’s done with that, he turns back to Liu Qingge and hovers over him for a moment, and oh, if Liu Qingge thought he was a vision in the moonlight before, it’s nothing compared to the sight of him wrist deep in blood, a bit of it smeared across his chest. His mouth is set in a determined line as he inspects the damage, lifting the night pearl to get a better look. After realizing that his outer robes are beyond saving, Mu Qingfang grimly says, “I’m sorry, Shixiong,” before tugging them off of him and smearing his bloody hands off on them. As an afterthought, he takes as much of the cleaner parts of it as possible and wipes Liu Qingge’s chest and neck and face down, too. Then, he casts them off to the side, still looking a little guilty despite them being torn to shreds and more or less ruined.
“I’m going to send you some spiritual energy to reduce the pain and seal up the more superficial wounds,” Mu Qingfang explains, as he lifts up Liu Qingge’s good arm and sets his fingers to his wrist. “We’ll treat the rest later.”
A rush of comforting warmth begins to radiate from where Mu Qingfang is touching, circulating through his scrambled meridians and filling in the areas that needed more support. It feels like stepping into a nice, warm bath after weeks of travel. It feels almost like coming home.
When Liu Qingge blinks up at Mu Qingfang, he finds the man frowning. “Your eardrums are damaged… how good is your hearing right now? I should’ve noticed that your balance is off,” he says as he heaves a long-aggrieved sigh. Another flush of warmth blooms in his system, this time sailing up the length of his arm and settling comfortably in his ears. It stays long enough for them to get that weird, tingly feeling that Liu Qingge vaguely recognizes as healing.
“How are you feeling?” Mu Qingfang asks after a long moment. “Better?”
His words are clearer now that the ringing is gone, and for that alone, Liu Qingge is grateful. “Better,” he says, as he tries to sit up.
“Liu-Shixiong, please don’t -” Mu Qingfang frets as he quickly moves to support him. It cuts off his connection to Liu Qingge’s meridians, and the disappointment he feels at the loss of that nice, warm feeling is kind of embarrassing.
Mu Qingfang looks at him for a few seconds, before heaving a long sigh. “Alright. I’m not going to allow you to fly back on your own. Sorry your task was cut short tonight, but you’re in no shape to continue on. Would you be amenable to staying the night at my cottage so I can keep an eye on you?”
Liu Qingge’s breath catches in his throat as he stares up at Mu Qingfang, his face growing hot as he chokes out a, “Yes. Please. I’ll - I can do that.”
Mu Qingfang blinks down at him and smiles. “Alright. Now what shall we do about this clawed cannon? It’d be a shame to leave it, when these creatures have so many useful properties...” he muses, and Liu Qingge gives him an odd look.
“Take it along with us. You can string it up on your sword and bleed it as we fly,” he says, because that’s easily the most logical solution.
Mu Qingfang's brows turn down in confusion, but his lips look like they can’t decide whether or smile or frown. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Why would I be joking?” Liu Qingge asks, frowning back at him. “I do it all the time. It might be heavy, but it’s hardly something someone of your cultivational strength should have a problem with.”
Mu Qingfang stares at him long enough that he can’t help the warmth rushing to his cheeks. And then the corner of his mouth quirks up, and he bursts into loud, raucous laughter.
“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Liu Qingge scowls, and he’d cross his arms if one of them wasn’t still broken. Even if Mu Qingfang is surely laughing at Liu Qingge, he can’t help the bloom of warmth in his chest at the sight of Mu Qingfang so amused.
“No, it’s nothing I’m not - I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” Mu Qingfang gasps, between fits of laughter. “It’s just - that’s absolutely something you would do.”
“Yes, I do do it. That's why I'm telling you it's a good idea. Why is it funny?”
“It just - Aah, Liu-Shixiong, I hope you never change,” Mu Qingfang says, in lieu of a proper explanation. “I’ll go, I’ll go prepare the carcass. Just - pfft - Just stay there and I’ll get you in a moment.”
Mu Qingfang whistles for his sword to float at chest height and pads the blade with the remains of Liu Qingge’s bloody outer robe. Then, with some rope from his qiankun pouch, he hogties the clawed cannon as best he can and settles it on the sword. As an afterthought, he hurries to the picnic basket and blanket, quickly folding them up and pushing them to Liu Qingge’s chest.
“Can you hold this while I -” he asks, before cutting himself off and kneeling down to - to pick Liu Qingge up! Like a bride, or some swooning maiden, or, or something!!! Liu Qingge absolutely wants to protest, he should protest because, because -
But also, also - It’s… a little nice. Mu Qingfang’s chest is warm against him, and his heartbeat is so steady, and he’s really careful not to jostle Liu Qingge’s bad arm as he hops up on his sword, and okay, while Liu Qingge does often see Mu Qingfang at this angle (because this man has absolutely been blessed by the powers that be - tallest on the peaks and handsome as a novel’s protagonist, with a smile bright and beautiful as the moon and a chest as solid and sculpted as a cliffside and arms that could - ), he still can’t help but swoon. Just a little. Not like a maiden, or anything, but the spirit’s there, alright?! How could he not, when Mu Qingfang is so… so… !!!
If Mu Qingfang can feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, or if he can see the red on his cheeks and ears and neck and chest, or if he notices the half-glazed, star-struck look in his eyes, he has the politeness not to mention it. It feels like a dream, almost, to be carried in his love’s arms, with nothing but the moon and stars in the background and a gentle breeze to caress his skin as they coast towards the horizon, back to his home, where he’ll lay him in his bed and they’ll -
Liu Qingge cuts that thought off immediately. He absolutely blames his sister’s romance novels.
--
Yang Yixuan blinks back at Liu Qingge as he starts the fire for their smokehouse. He and Liu Qingge had spent most of the late morning gathering wood and preparing the meat, after Liu Qingge had come back to Bai Zhan peak wearing Qian Cao colors. “So you’re telling me Mu-Shishu butchered this clawed cannon and let you take all of it?” he asks, amazed.
“He kept the organs and plumage, and we ate the thighs for breakfast. So not all of it,” Liu Qingge reasons, but he still can’t help but preen a little.
Yang Yizuan sees him, and grins big. “You’re in a really good mood, Shizun. What happened?”
“Am I?” Liu Qingge asks, a little amused. “It was just a good night, last night.”
“Yeah?” Yang Yixuan asks. “Tell me about it.”
So Liu Qingge tells him about it as they shut the door to the smokehouse and made their way back to the cottage. It’s truncated, of course - even as socially inept as he can be sometimes, he knows, at the very least, that it’d be improper to tell his disciples about his romantic intentions toward other peak lords. Nor would it be appropriate to explain, in detail, how gentle Mu Qingfang’s hands were when he carefully re-splinted Liu Qingge’s healing arm, or how warm he was when he carried Liu Qingge to the bed, or how soft and fond his tired smile looked as he protested and made Liu Qingge sleep on the bed. So he keeps it to the fun stuff - the stuff a younger, less besotted Liu Qingge would enjoy.
Yang Yixuan nods his head in all the right places and grins and claps his hands when Liu Qingge explains how Mu Qingfang had helped him defeat the clawed cannon, and if he spares a few extra words to explain just how strong Mu Qingfang was, or how diligent he was in his care, well .
“It sounds like you had quite an adventure, Shizun!” Yang Yixuan exclaims, when he’s finally done. “But, I do have one question - why were you two out there, if you weren’t there to hunt clawed cannons…?”
Liu Qingge blinks and swallows, hard. “I... wanted to take Mu Qingfang out somewhere nice. He never leaves the clinic.”
Yang Yixuan blinks, and breaks out into a nervous smile. “Shizun… that sounds a little bit like a date.”
Liu Qingge coughs into his hand. Well, it would be fine to tell Yang Yixuan if he already guessed it, right? “It… kind of was,” he says hesitantly, not looking his head disciple in the eye.
Yang Yixuan stops in his tracks, before blurting out, “But I thought you were in love with Shen-Shibo?”
Liu Qingge stops and frowns at Yang Yixuan.
“You thought I was what ?”