The Last Secret in Heaven

by Writer_Of_Life

Summary:

For nearly a year, Feng Xin and Mu Qing have secretly been sharing subtle glances, light touches and, on most nights, a bed. But when Pei Ming sets his sights on Mu Qing, his relentless flirting tests their patience — until he takes things too far at Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s anniversary celebration. Feng Xin intervenes and chaos ensues.

Chapter 1: Shadows in the Light

The halls of Heaven were quiet at this hour, golden light filtering through the high ceilings, casting long shadows over the pristine floors. It was the kind of peace Mu Qing normally enjoyed — cool, still, undisturbed. But right now, he wasn’t alone.  

 

A step behind him, Feng Xin sighed loudly.  

 

“You can’t just ignore him forever,” Feng Xin muttered.  

 

Mu Qing didn’t bother turning around. “I can.”  

 

“No, you can’t.” A pause, then Feng Xin scoffed. “Pei Ming is —”  

 

“Annoying?” Mu Qing supplied.  

 

“Persistent,” Feng Xin corrected, though the twitch in his jaw suggested he agreed. “And shameless. And —"  

 

“Irrelevant.”  

 

Feng Xin made a sound of protest. Mu Qing could already picture the way he’d run a hand through his hair in frustration, the way his brows would furrow as if this was a personal insult to him and not just another irritation in the endless, exhausting politics of Heaven. They had been together for nearly a year, and while their fights had become more verbal than physical, they usually ended with them tumbling into one of their beds. 

 

“He’s been chasing you for months,” Feng Xin said, his voice lower now, like he was trying to suppress something sharper beneath it.  

 

Mu Qing exhaled slowly, finally turning. “I am aware,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.  

 

Feng Xin’s eyes were dark with frustration. Mu Qing recognized that look — the barely restrained temper, the need to act, to fight, to do something.  

 

Mu Qing tilted his head, assessing him. “Are you jealous?”  

 

Feng Xin’s whole face twisted in horror. “What? No!”  

 

Mu Qing smirked. “Good. Then let it go.”  

 

“That’s not —” Feng Xin groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “A-Qing, he’s obviously not going to stop unless you do something about it.”  

 

“I am doing something about it.”  

 

“Oh, yeah?” Feng Xin narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly is that?”  

 

“I’m ignoring him.”  

 

“That’s not doing anything!”  

 

Mu Qing lifted a brow. “It’s working so far.”  

 

“It’s not working at all!”  

 

Mu Qing huffed in exasperation, turning on his heel and continuing down the corridor. “You’re overreacting.”  

 

“I am not overreacting!” Feng Xin barked, storming after him. “If anything, you’re underreacting! Do you even know how many times he’s flirted with you in front of me ? It’s disgusting.”  

 

Mu Qing threw him a dry glance. “Is it disgusting because he’s flirting, or because you don’t like that he’s flirting with me ?”  

 

Feng Xin bristled. “Both,” he admitted.  

 

Mu Qing fought the urge to smile. It was moments like this — when Feng Xin’s honesty slipped through, when his emotions were so obvious he couldn’t even pretend to hide them — that Mu Qing found himself most at ease.  

 

Feng Xin saw the twitch at the corner of Mu Qing’s mouth and scowled. “You think this is funny?”  

 

“I think it’s unnecessary,” Mu Qing corrected. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, Feng Xin.”  

 

For a moment, something flickered across Feng Xin’s expression — something frustrated, unspoken. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Then, voice quieter now, he said, “Maybe I just don’t enjoy watching you get harassed.”  

 

The words shouldn’t have meant anything. They shouldn’t have sent something warm and unwelcome curling in Mu Qing’s chest. But they did. Even though it had been a year, that was a very small time in the grand scheme of their immortal lives. Mu Qing was still very unsure, not of his feelings, but of Feng Xin’s.

 

Mu Qing exhaled through his nose, looking away. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”  

 

Feng Xin muttered something under his breath. Then, after a moment, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Fine. But if he touches you, I’m knocking him the fuck out.”  

 

Mu Qing smirked. “If he touches me, I’ll do it myself.”  

 

Feng Xin smirked, then let out a surprised chuckle. “Now that I’d like to see.”  

 

They walked in silence after that, the weight of the conversation still lingering, but softer now. It was only when they reached the edge of the courtyard, where the distant laughter of other gods drifted in the air, where the rest of Heaven continued on, oblivious, that Feng Xin slowed.  

 

Mu Qing glanced at him. “What?”  

 

Feng Xin hesitated, then said, “Dianxia and Crimson Rain’s anniversary is tomorrow.”  

 

“I know.”  

 

“Pei Ming will be there.”  

 

“I know.”  

 

Feng Xin frowned, looking at him like he wanted to say something else. But in the end, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just… be careful, alright?”  

 

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “I’m not some fragile —”  

 

“I know ,” Feng Xin cut him off, exasperated. Then, quieter, “Just… promise me.”  

 

Something about the way he said it, something tired, something worn, made Mu Qing pause.  

 

“…Fine.”  

 

Feng Xin exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Good.”  

 

A beat of silence stretched between them, something too close, too heavy pressing against the air. Then, as if breaking the moment, Mu Qing turned, walking away.  

 

Feng Xin’s voice followed after him. “A-Qing.”  

 

Mu Qing stopped.  

 

“…If he tries anything,” Feng Xin said, “just say the word.”  

 

Mu Qing didn’t look back. He didn’t have to.  

 

“I won’t need to,” he said, and kept walking.

Notes:

Kudos and comments are ALWAYS welcome.

Chapter 2: A Game of Pretenses

Summary:

The day of the party arrives. Will Pei Ming keep his hands to himself?

The private garden in Heaven was bathed in soft lantern light, the gentle hum of conversation filling the air. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s anniversary celebration was small — just a handful of familiar faces, carefully chosen to avoid any political entanglements. A rare moment of ease among gods who rarely found it.  

 

Mu Qing sat at the edge of the gathering, his expression impassive as he sipped his wine. He had already greeted Xie Lian with the expected formalities, gracefully ignored Hua Cheng and tolerated the usual round of over-protective glances from Feng Xin. Now, he just had to survive the night.  

 

And then, of course, Pei Ming arrived. 

 

“Ah, Xuan Zhen,” Pei Ming drawled as he dropped into the seat beside him, far too comfortable for someone who hadn’t been invited to sit. “You’re looking particularly delectable tonight. Who are you trying to impress?”  

 

Mu Qing didn’t even glance at him. “Certainly not you.”  

 

Feng Xin, who sat across the table, visibly tensed. Mu Qing could feel the way his attention snapped to them, how the familiar weight of his frustration pressed against the air.  

 

Pei Ming only laughed. “Come now, no need to be shy.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping as he pushed a strand of My Qing’s hair behind his ear. “If you ever wanted to let loose a little, I’d be happy to help. No need to be so stiff all the time, you know?”  

 

Mu Qing exhaled slowly through his nose and rolled his eyes. This again.   

 

Feng Xin looked like he was about two seconds away from reaching across the table and strangling Pei Ming. Mu Qing, however, remained perfectly still, giving Pei Ming a cool, unamused glance.  

 

“I am perfectly fine as I am,” Mu Qing said flatly.  

 

“You really are. Fine , I mean.” Pei Ming leaned back, swirling his wine cup lazily. “But, you always seem so... tense.” He smiled, all charm and mischief. “I know you changed your cultivation path, so I know you haven’t sworn off all forms of fun.”  

 

Mu Qing’s fingers tightened around his cup. He was about to retort when Feng Xin’s voice cut in, sharp and edged.  

 

“He’s not interested, Pei Ming.”  

 

Pei Ming blinked in mock innocence. “Nan Yang, always so protective,” he mused. “You almost sound jealous.”  

 

Feng Xin scoffed. “Of you? Please.”  

 

Pei Ming laughed. “Relax, relax. I’m just trying to make conversation.”  

 

“Then try talking to someone who actually wants to listen,” Feng Xin shot back.  

 

Mu Qing set his cup down with a quiet clink, shooting Feng Xin a warning look.  

 

Stop it. Now.  

 

Feng Xin scowled but kept quiet, though his grip on his own drink remained tight.  

 

Pei Ming, undeterred, turned back to Mu Qing. “You know, General, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you with someone. All these months since your cultivation change, and not a single rumor? Not even a scandal?” He smirked. “I find that hard to believe.”  

 

Mu Qing arched a brow. “Because I don’t make a spectacle of my personal affairs?”  

 

Pei Ming grinned. “Or because there are no personal affairs.”  

 

Mu Qing exhaled, tired of this game. “Believe whatever you like.”  

 

“Oh, I do,” Pei Ming said. “And what I believe is that you could use some proper attention.”  

 

Mu Qing barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Pei Ming always flirted like it was a sport, pushing just far enough to be irritating but never far enough to be called a real threat. It was exhausting.  

 

Feng Xin, however, was gripping his wine cup so hard it looked like it might shatter.  

 

Mu Qing, sensing impending disaster, sent a quiet message through their private array:  

 

"Calm down."  

 

"He’s a bastard, A-Qing"  

 

"And he’s harmless."  

 

"He’s insufferable."  

 

"So are you. So, stop it. Now."  

 

Feng Xin didn’t respond to that.  

 

Pei Ming, still grinning, leaned a little closer. “Tell me, General, are you truly as indifferent as you pretend to be?”  

 

Mu Qing fixed him with a level stare. “I’m not pretending.”  

 

Pei Ming chuckled, shaking his head. “What a waste.” He leaned back, stretching lazily. “You really have no interest at all? Not even a little? I mean, look at you. Those gorgeous eyes. You would look irresistible on your knees.”  

 

Before Mu Qing could answer, Feng Xin spoke instead.  

 

“You really can’t take a hint, can you?”  

 

Pei Ming turned to him with an easy smirk. “And you really can’t seem to mind your own business.”  

 

The tension in the air thickened, other gods beginning to take notice. Xie Lian, from his place beside Hua Cheng, was watching carefully.  

 

Mu Qing pinched the bridge of his nose. “Enough!”  

 

Pei Ming looked at him, then at Feng Xin, and his grin widened slightly. “Ah. I see.”  

 

Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed. “See what?”  

 

Pei Ming tilted his head, amusement glinting in his gaze. “Nothing,” he said smoothly. “Just thinking.”  

 

Mu Qing didn’t trust that look one bit.  

 

Across the table, Feng Xin’s scowl deepened.  

 

Before Pei Ming could say anything else, Xie Lian clapped his hands lightly, drawing attention back to the center of the gathering. “Since we’re all here,” he said pleasantly, “why don’t we have a toast?”  

 

Mu Qing exhaled through his nose, thankful for the distraction.  

 

But as the celebration continued, Pei Ming’s words lingered in the back of his mind.  

 

He had seen something.  

 

And Mu Qing had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to let it go.

Chapter 3: A Step Too Far

The celebration had stretched late into the evening, the warm glow of lanterns flickering against the polished marble of Heaven’s gardens. The atmosphere was light, laughter rising in soft waves from the gathered gods. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng sat side by side, comfortably wrapped in each other’s presence, while the rest of the guests settled into casual conversation.  

 

Mu Qing had positioned himself slightly away from the center of the gathering, a glass of wine in hand, maintaining his usual quiet distance. He was content like this — watching, listening, avoiding unnecessary interaction .  

 

Or at least, that was his plan.  

 

Pei Ming, of course, had other ideas.  

 

Mu Qing noticed him before he spoke, the shift in presence, the sharp confidence of his steps as he approached. He didn’t need to look to know that Pei Ming had that insufferable smirk on his face.  

 

“Well, well,” Pei Ming drawled as he sat down beside Mu Qing — far too close. “Still brooding in the corner, gorgeous? You’re making it too easy for me.”  

 

Mu Qing took a slow sip of his drink, barely sparing him a glance. “And yet, you keep coming back.”  

 

Pei Ming laughed, entirely unbothered. “Can you blame me?” He leaned in slightly. “You make ignoring me look so damn attractive.”  

 

Mu Qing resisted the urge to sigh. “And you make leaving me alone look impossible.”  

 

“Exactly,” Pei Ming said, flashing a grin. “So why fight it? You know, Qing’er, if you’d just let yourself enjoy a little attention, you might —”  

 

Before he could finish, a hand clamped onto Pei Ming’s shoulder.  

 

Feng Xin.  

 

Mu Qing hadn’t even seen him approach, but now Feng Xin was right there, standing behind Pei Ming with a look that could peel paint from the walls.  

 

Pei Ming turned his head lazily. “Ah, Feng Xin.” He grinned, dropping his title on purpose. “Still jealous?”  

 

Mu Qing tensed, waiting for Feng Xin to lash out, to snap, to make a scene — but he didn’t. He just held Pei Ming’s gaze for a long, heavy moment. Then, quietly, he said, “Watch yourself.”  

 

And with that, he let go and walked away towards Xie Lian.  

 

Pei Ming, clearly amused, turned back to Mu Qing. “So protective,” he mused. “Are you sure you’re not —”  

 

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll personally throw you off this mountain,” Mu Qing interrupted, his tone calm but laced with sharp edges.  

 

Pei Ming only chuckled. “Fine, fine. No need for violence.” He stretched lazily, as if this were all just entertainment for him. “But you have to admit, it’s a little odd, isn’t it? The way he looks at you. The way he hovers.”  

 

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “He’s an idiot. He hovers over everyone.”  

 

“Mm,” Pei Ming hummed, unconvinced. “If you say so.”  

 

Mu Qing had had enough. He set his cup down and stood to leave, but before he could take a step, Pei Ming’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.  

 

Mu Qing stilled.  

 

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and charged.  

 

Slowly, Mu Qing turned his head, leveling Pei Ming with a look of pure ice. “Let me go. Now. ”  

 

But Pei Ming only smirked — and then, in one fluid motion, pulled Mu Qing into his lap .   

 

The world tilted. For a fraction of a second, Mu Qing didn’t process what had happened. And then, the realization hit — he was straddling Pei Ming’s lap, held there by a tight arm around his waist, Pei Ming’s breath warm against his ear. He could feel the other man’s excitement beneath him.  

 

His stomach twisted in immediate, visceral disgust as he squirmed, trying to get away.

 

Pei Ming’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Relax, A-Qing,” he said smoothly. “You act like I’m some kind of villain. I won’t hurt you, beautiful. Not with those lips. I can only imagine how good they would look wrapped around my cock.”  

 

Pei Ming ran his thumb over Mu Qing’s bottom lip, pulling it slightly. Mu Qing’s entire body tensed. “Fuck, I bet you would be a good little slut for me, wouldn’t you? I could make you beg so sweetly.”

 

Across the garden, he caught the shift in energy. Feng Xin. He felt him before he saw it, the crackling heat of his temper flaring to life, his movements sharp and immediate.  

 

“Stay back,” Mu Qing ordered through their private array.  

 

Feng Xin’s voice was an immediate snarl in his head. “ What the hell does he think he’s doing?”   

 

“I can handle it.”  

 

“He won’t talk to you like that. I’ll kill him.”  

 

“I said —”   

 

But before Mu Qing could finish, Pei Ming grabbed his jaw and kissed him. Mu Qing instantly brought a hand up to push Pei Ming away, as useless as it was. Then, Pei Ming squeezed, forcing Mu Qing’s mouth to open, and slipped his tongue into his mouth. 

 

It was deep and so invasive that Mu Qing’s body froze. But the moment their lips separated, Mu Qing felt Feng Xin move.  

 

A breath. A shift. And then —  

 

Feng Xin was there.  

 

In a blur of motion, Pei Ming was ripped backward.  

 

One second, Mu Qing was in his lap. The next, Feng Xin had hauled him up and behind him, and thrown Pei Ming off with a force that sent him staggering. The gathering froze .  

 

A sharp crack echoed through the garden as Pei Ming hit the ground, skidding slightly before catching himself on one knee. His brows lifted in genuine surprise.  

 

Feng Xin stood between them now, a wall of furious energy, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled rage. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his teeth bared.  

 

Pei Ming let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, amusement creeping into his voice. “That was dramatic.”  

 

Feng Xin’s voice was pure steel. “Do not touch him again.”  

 

Pei Ming cocked his head. “Or what?”  

 

Feng Xin took a step forward. “ Please try me.”  

 

The tension was suffocating. Mu Qing, heart still hammering, forced himself to step between them before Feng Xin really could lose control.  

 

“That’s enough,” Mu Qing said, his voice flat, sharp. “Both of you.”  

 

Pei Ming looked at him, then back at Feng Xin, then grinned.  

 

“Interesting,” Pei Ming mused, standing to his full height, dusting himself off. “You’re awfully worked up over this, General.”  

 

Feng Xin’s jaw tightened.  

 

Pei Ming’s smirk widened. “Tell me, why exactly do you care so much?”  

 

Feng Xin didn’t answer.  

 

Pei Ming took another step forward, looking directly at Mu Qing now. “Are you going to look at me and tell me you didn’t enjoy that?” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. He once again reached for Mu Qing’s wrist. The saber wielder stumbled backwards into Feng Xin’s chest. “Unless there’s something I don’t know.”  

 

Mu Qing’s blood ran cold.  

 

The silence that followed was unbearable.  

 

Pei Ming tilted his head. “A-Qing,” he said lightly. “Why won’t you even consider giving me a chance?”  

 

Mu Qing exhaled sharply through his nose. “Stop calling me that, and it’s because I’m not interested.”  

 

Pei Ming hummed, unconvinced. “Or is it because you’re already involved with someone else?”  

 

Feng Xin tensed.  

 

Pei Ming, watching closely, chuckled. “Oh. I see.”  

 

Mu Qing’s fists curled at his sides. He was about to snap — about to end this conversation — when Pei Ming made his final mistake.  

 

“You know,” Pei Ming said, tapping a finger against his chin, “I’ve always wondered why you and Nan Yang spar so much. Seems almost excessive. But now that I think about it…” He smirked. “Are you so touch-starved that even bloody fists ease the pain?”  

 

Silence.  

 

A breath.  

 

Mu Qing, standing stiff-backed and livid, turned his back toward Pei Ming.  

 

“I am not touch-starved,” Mu Qing said icily, his voice ringing sharp through the air.  

 

Then, before he could think better of it, before he could regret it he reached for Feng Xin, gripped him by his outer robe, yanked him down and kissed him.  

 

The world stopped.

Chapter 4: The Confession Heard Across the Heavens

Mu Qing had no idea what he had just done.  

 

Or rather — he knew, but his mind hadn’t caught up with the sheer weight of it. His fingers curled into the fabric of Feng Xin’s robes, their lips pressed together in a kiss that wasn’t soft, wasn’t practiced, wasn’t planned.  

 

But it was real. It was warm, and it filled him with comfort.

 

And it left no room for misunderstanding.  

 

Feng Xin froze. His entire body went taut, his breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, Mu Qing felt his lover smile against his lips.  

 

Heat surged up his spine, his pulse roaring in his ears. The stunned silence of the gathering pressed in on him, the weight of all the staring eyes, the sharp gasps of disbelief.  

 

And then, as if to snap reality back into motion, Pei Ming laughed.  

 

“Well,” he drawled, his tone rich with amusement. “That certainly answers that question.”  

 

The sound of his voice was like a slap to Mu Qing’s face. What am I doing?  

 

He yanked himself away from Feng Xin so fast it was almost violent. His breath came quick and uneven, his hand still clenched in Feng Xin’s robes before he forced himself to let go.  

 

Feng Xin, eyes wide, looked dazed, but so happy. 

 

Mu Qing turned sharply on Pei Ming, voice biting. “Are you satisfied now?”  

 

Pei Ming raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Oh, more than.”  

 

Mu Qing glared at him, his pulse still pounding from anger, from humiliation, from everything.  

 

But then, another voice broke through the thick tension.  

 

“Mu Qing.”  

 

It was Xie Lian.  

 

He was standing now, looking between Mu Qing and Feng Xin with wide eyes, as if he had just watched Heaven itself crack apart. “You mean… you two are…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly, struggling to find words.  

 

And then, beside him, Hua Cheng, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the entire ordeal, let out a slow, amused hum. “Huh.”  

 

Mu Qing turned his glare on him next. “What?”  

 

Hua Cheng smirked, resting his chin on one hand. “I knew something was off about you two.”  

 

Mu Qing clenched his jaw. “Oh, shut up!”  

 

But before anyone else could say anything, Feng Xin finally snapped out of his stunned stupor.  

 

“You kissed me, Baobei. In public.”  

 

Mu Qing stiffened.  

 

A terrible silence fell between them.  

 

Feng Xin’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Does this mean we don’t have to hide anymore?”  

 

Mu Qing interrupted, voice tight. “Obviously.”  

 

Feng Xin blinked, still looking like he’d been struck over the head with a brick. “Thank the gods.”  

 

The others barely dared to breathe.  

 

Mu Qing’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his entire body tense, burning with a mix of frustration and something terrifyingly close to relief.  

 

Feng Xin was grinning like an idiot. “I’m not complaining, but why the sudden change of heart?”

 

So, finally, after a long, heavy moment, Mu Qing exhaled sharply and said —  

 

“Because I love you, stupid.”  

 

Gasps erupted all around them.  

 

Pei Ming actually choked on his wine. Xie Lian’s eyes went impossibly wide. Hua Cheng muttered, “About time.”  

 

But none of it mattered. Because all Mu Qing could focus on was Feng Xin.  

 

Feng Xin, who looked utterly stunned, as if Mu Qing had just rewritten the laws of the universe in front of him.  

 

For a horrifying moment, he didn’t say anything at all.  

 

And then, slowly — so slowly — a brilliant, disbelieving smile broke across his face.  

 

“You —” His voice was rough, unsteady. He shook his head, exhaling a breathless, stunned laugh. “You love me?”  

 

Mu Qing’s face burned. “Do not make me say it again.”  

 

Feng Xin laughed, his voice full of something so bright, so relieved, that it made Mu Qing’s chest ache.  

 

And then, before Mu Qing could stop him, Feng Xin grabbed him by the nape of his neck and kissed him again.  

 

The gathering exploded into chaos. Somewhere in the background, a junior official fainted.  

 

But Mu Qing didn’t care.  

 

Because Feng Xin’s hands were gripping his hair like he never wanted to let go, like this was something he had been waiting for. But, of course it was. Feng Xin had never wanted to hide, that was all Mu Qing.  

 

And when they finally pulled apart, Feng Xin pressed his forehead against Mu Qing’s and breathed, almost laughing. “You dumbass. I love you, too.”

Chapter 5: If You Want the Truth, Take It

The celebration had long since unraveled into stunned whispers, barely concealed laughter, and the unmistakable buzz of gossip that would no doubt spread through all of Heaven by morning.  

 

Mu Qing stood stiffly, jaw clenched so tightly it ached, as Feng Xin grinned beside him like an idiot who had just won a lifetime supply of good luck.  

 

It was unbearable.  

 

Pei Ming let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, damn. If I knew all it took was a little pushing to get you two to finally admit it, I would’ve tried harder years ago.”  

 

Mu Qing glared at him. “You did not do this.”  

 

Pei Ming smirked. “Didn’t I?”  

 

“Go die.”  

 

Pei Ming chuckled, taking a slow sip of wine. “Tempting offer, but I think I’ll live just to see how embarrassing you two get now that you’re public.”  

 

Mu Qing bristled.  

 

But before he could snap back, Xie Lian suddenly appeared in front of them, practically glowing with excitement.  

 

“You two!” he gasped, hands clutched to his chest like he had just witnessed a great and profound miracle. “I knew something was going on! I felt it! San Lang, didn’t I say something was going on?”  

 

Hua Cheng, standing beside him with an expression of utter amusement, tilted his head lazily. “You did, Gege” he admitted, then glanced at Mu Qing and smirked. “Though I’d hardly call them subtle.”  

 

Mu Qing scowled. “We were discreet.”  

 

Hua Cheng snorted. “No, you weren’t.”  

 

Feng Xin laughed and Mu Qing turned to glare at him next. “Whose side are you on?”  

 

Feng Xin, still grinning, casually slung an arm around Mu Qing’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Yours, obviously.”  

 

Mu Qing stiffened. His face burned.  

 

Pei Ming, watching the entire exchange with visible delight, raised his cup in a lazy toast. “To the happy couple, then. May your fights be slightly less violent now that you can just fuck each other instead.”  

 

Mu Qing was going to kill him.  

 

“Enough of this,” Mu Qing snapped, wrenching himself free of Feng Xin’s arm. “We’re leaving.”  

 

Feng Xin chuckled but didn’t argue. “Alright, alright.”  

 

Xie Lian, still beaming, practically vibrated with joy. “Congratulations,” he said warmly, eyes shining. “I’m really happy for you two.”  

 

Mu Qing hesitated — just for a breath — then muttered, “…Thank you, Xie Lian.”  

 

And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked away.  

 

Feng Xin followed after him, but not before pointing a very deliberate finger at Pei Ming.  

 

“Touch him again and I’ll kill you. Don’t test me.”  

 

Pei Ming raised his hands in exaggerated innocence. “I wouldn’t dare.”  

 

Feng Xin rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up with Mu Qing, who was already halfway down the quiet marble walkway leading away from the gathering.  

 

For a few moments, they walked in silence. The sounds of conversation and laughter faded behind them, replaced by the quiet hum of Heaven’s nighttime breeze.  

 

Finally, Mu Qing exhaled sharply and muttered, “That was a disaster.”  

 

Feng Xin huffed a laugh. “You think so? I thought it went great.”  

 

Mu Qing shot him a withering look. “Of course you did.”  

 

Feng Xin, still far too pleased with himself, bumped their shoulders together lightly. “A-Qing, we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”  

 

Mu Qing made a face, rubbing at his temples. “Yes, because now everyone knows. I’m going to be hearing about this for centuries.”  

 

Feng Xin’s grin softened. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “But at least I don’t have to pretend anymore. I can kiss you whenever I like, and maybe even hold your hand, if you’d allow it.”  

 

Mu Qing slowed his steps. His fingers twitched at his sides.  

 

Feng Xin glanced at him, his expression open, honest, fond. “So, uh… about what you said back there.”  

 

Mu Qing groaned. “ Do not. ”  

 

Feng Xin chuckled. “No, no, I just —” He hesitated for half a breath, then murmured, “You really meant it?”  

 

Mu Qing turned to look at him fully this time. His heart stupidly stumbled in his chest.  

 

“…Yes,” he admitted, quieter than before. “I mean it, A-Xin.”  

 

Feng Xin smiled. Not his usual playful grin, not his teasing smirk — just something soft. Something that made Mu Qing feel far too warm.  

 

“…Good,” Feng Xin murmured.  

 

And then, to Mu Qing’s utter shock, Feng Xin reached out, took his hand, and threaded their fingers together.  

 

Mu Qing stopped breathing.  

 

It wasn’t anything dramatic. Not some grand, sweeping gesture. Just the warmth of Feng Xin’s hand in his, steady and real.  

 

Mu Qing’s throat felt tight.  

 

“…This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but didn’t pull away.  

 

Feng Xin chuckled, squeezing his hand lightly, and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But I get to have you like this. Out in the open.”  

 

Mu Qing huffed, rolling his eyes.  

 

But he didn’t let go. He would never let go.

Notes:

I hope y'all enjoyed this. I would have preferred to have Mu Qing just severe Pei Ming's tongue, but alas, the Martial God of the Southwest wanted it this way instead. Who am I to argue?