Chapter Text
The night air is cool and crisp through the capital as a breeze carries the scent of salt and tide from the sea inland. Cold amber eyes are illuminated by the faint shine of a nearly new moon as he stares down at the scene below him. Crimson had splattered in a disarray that seeps slowly into dark hair, an arm curled in on the chest of a bruised body and a leg twisted at an odd angle. From an objective point of view it would seem as though the one that jumped had a change of heart and attempted to stop the fall.
He Xuan drops himself down from the roof he’d been perched on to fall directly beside the mangled form of the former Wind Master. Pale skin is battered with new bruising and sullied with shocking flashes of crimson that was already fading to a rusted brown.
And perhaps it was that the fall was not high enough, perhaps the angle was wrong, or perhaps it was simply a matter of luck that the other still manages to draw in ragged and strained breaths. Slender fingers gently press back wet bangs that had clumped together over his features allowing the harsh blooming swell of purpling - nearly black - bruises to be seen across the other’s previously fair face.
A low sigh is released slowly before he falls into a habit that has yet to be broken. His hands find a familiar home beneath his knees and under his back as he hefts Shi Qingxuan up into his arms. He cushions his face against the chill of his body subconsciously to soothe the damage that had darkened his features. A week ago the Wind Master would be throwing a fit about the bruises, angrily exclaiming that his face was off limits - but it seems that rule did not apply to his own actions.
His steps are even as he carries him from the soured ground towards the dilapidated shrine hidden at the edge of the city. If he jostles him awake it would only lead to questions and panic that would only serve to complicate an already complicated situation. In the dark of a nearly moonless night he’d be no more than a specter ushering a broken man away from the grip of death.
In the dark of the night he allows himself one more act of cruelty as he gently lays him by the fractured remnants of an altar that once gave praise to the very man that now sullies the ground with droplets of ichor. This would be the last time he would save Shi Qingxuan; what happens next will be his own tribulation to face.
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The setting sun had looked to the moon as the last embers of its light had begun to fade. ’...I want to die.’
The moon did not sway beneath the broken words of a dying star and instead spoke simply, ’Dream on.’
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It took the end of a calamitous war and months beyond that before he realized how deeply the consequences of his actions would impact the life intertwined with his own. Months of avoiding the capital once the matter had settled, months of hibernating after gorging himself on meals, and one comment.
A casual, off handed, comment provided unprovoked by the Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
’Shi Qingxuan won’t be able to ascend or reincarnate by any natural means.’
It shouldn’t bother him, it shouldn’t be something that sits in the back of his mind and comes accompanied by memories of happy smiles when he was wrapped in a lie. In the very near future there would come a time where the light of a genuine individual who somehow held so much love and forgiveness in his heart would simply cease to be. There would be no next time. There would be no ‘I’ll see you again’. There wouldn’t be any more moments of Shi Qingxuan looking at him with a bright smile as he passed the rest of his bowl of food over to He Xuan. There wouldn’t be any more chances to hear his unbridled, unafraid, laughter that came with an offhanded confident comment. He wouldn’t get to sit and wait eight hundred years like others have to change the outcome of this tragic tale.
He will never regret his actions of ending the life of one who had taken so much from him, never regret giving Shi Qingxuan the chance to avoid all this pain to begin with, but… perhaps there is some guilt for punctuating the end of his story with such finality.
A faint snowfall had settled in a blanket over the capital in thick and heavy flakes - staining his hair and clothing with white flakes that did not melt against his form. His eyes follow the faintly hobbled movements of a dark haired man as he hands out warm bowls of a thin soup and tells an exaggerated tale of godhood to make the beggars, the ill, and the unwanted laugh and lean into his presence. As if his very existence nearby warms the chill from their body more than the soup in their hands could.
Despite the injury he seems light on his feet and moves between individuals like the sway of the breeze. He never neglects a single soul here and instead spreads himself thin to use whatever little bit of coin he can manage to obtain to keep those around him alive.
Shi Qingxuan had never cared for the monetary value of things - even if it cost him greatly in the long run. It’s a foolish, but noble, trait that had followed him from the realm of the divine back to the realm of mortals. He didn’t look at the price tag he simply purchased regardless if it was for himself or others… Now he looks at the price and breaks his back until he can give to others first before taking anything for himself.
The hairs at the back of his neck prick up before a shadow is cast over his frame. There are very few people that elicit that reaction from him at this point and only one is still alive. A soft laugh from behind him turns into a bubble of condescending noise and trails off after thoroughly humiliating him with just that. His head turns to look at the form of Hua Cheng and his head already throbs before this man can even speak.
“I can’t quite place if this is sad or pathetic.” The roof next to He Xuan creaks as Hua Cheng, uninvitedly, sits next to him and pointedly turns the umbrella away from him enough to leave He Xuan still exposed to the fall of the snow. “What are you accomplishing by hiding along the roof, exactly?” The sound of jingling follows this man as he shifts to press his elbow on his own knee and set his chin upon his hand. The perfectly crafted visage of boredom.
He Xuan doesn’t respond and instead moves to let his eyes find Shi Qingxuan amidst the small gathering of people.
“Having regrets?”
“No. Why are you here?”
He doesn’t need to turn his head to know there’s a disbelieving stare being fixated on him before Hua Cheng laughs softly. “Xie Lian is visiting him.” He extends his chin down towards the vibrant figure that stands out even without his heavenly light, “and by happenstance I happened to smell something fishy.” There’s a smile in the way he speaks as if he’s all too pleased with his own joke.
A joke that makes He Xuan close his eyes and take a deep breath in lest he speak and leave this conversation with his debt tripled. His hand lifts to rub his fingers against a temple and does his best to try and tune out the man next to him. An impossible feat, really, one that is comparable to trying to tune out Shi Qingxuan when he starts excitedly talking about something he likes… and not nearly as pleasant to listen to.
“You don’t want to go down this road, Black Water.”
That causes his eyes to reluctantly open as He Xuan grants a glance towards Hua Cheng. A brow quirks upwards and his chin lifts as an indicator that the red clad man could explain his meaning to that blunt statement.
“You don’t have the time you need to fix the damage.Much as I’d love to watch you flounder about with this, it's hardly a good use of your energy.” Hua Cheng explains casually and waves his hand down towards the crowd below. “Cracks can be filled - but if something shatters? That takes patience and time to make every piece fit back together. In this case there are now several pieces missing. You’re dooming yourself to failure.”
He Xuan’s brows furrow, letting his eyes narrow in the process. “I don’t recall asking for advice.” His tone is measured and careful but it does little to soften the blunt response of his words. “It is unwarranted; I’m not trying to fix things. This is fine.” His words are spoken with ease and his demeanor barely changes - in the eyes of an average person his behavior could be written off as genuine enough. In reality he knows it’s not fine. Years spent hibernating and ripe with anger and loss had hollowed out a part of himself. At some point the vibrance and kindness of one person managed to fill that gap and without the presence of the other there is a noticeable absence.
Like a piece of him is now scattered to the wind rather than held close to his chest. He misses it, he hates it. He wants the closeness, he wants the distance. The feelings he’s had for Shi Qingxuan have never been easy or simple, they have always been ripe with complexities that stem from his own missing pieces.
But Shi Qingxuan had cared for him anyway – missing pieces and all. It’s only right he does the bare minimum and protects his peace in return.
He doesn’t miss the way the other’s shoulders shake or how he lifts his hand to cover his mouth as red eyes avert themself from the other. He Xuan rubs at his temples at the sheer amusement the other Ghost King seems to be taking from this situation. It’s easier to let him laugh and let the laughter roll off his shoulders rather than rise to the provocation. Being lectured about watching over someone by an individual that did the same thing for eight hundred years wasn’t on his list for things that could happen but at this point nothing is out of the realm of possibility.
His hands find purchase on the roof beneath him and he presses himself up to stand - only for a hand to yank him right back down. “Sit.” Well it’s not like he has a choice in the matter but he does make a small show of brushing off the sleeve that Hua Cheng grabbed.
“If you’re going to do this, Black Water, make sure you do it right. You don’t have to tell him the truth but don’t lie to him if he asks and he eventually will ask. It’s in his hands, not yours. You’re patient enough – I’m sure you’ll figure out a path but don’t make a mess of things. Gege cares for that one.”
Message received and He Xuan lets out a small noise of resignation. “You seem quite certain that I will not be able to keep my distance.”
“Oh you won’t. I give it a few more days before something happens and you feel inclined to intervene.”
“And why do you say that?”
“You used to step in front of him when things went wrong, no? I saw it myself in Banyue Pass. You were quite keen on making sure she was safe. In fact you didn’t let her lift a finger if I recall correctly.”
Had he? At that point he was only following subconscious action and simply moved as his body urged him to. He’d have done the same if Qingxuan weren’t there.
His brain rebels at that though and he sighs rubbing at his temples in a slow motion. No, that’s not quite right. Had Qingxuan not been there he’d have simply quelled that little God and left before Hua Cheng decided to sink his teeth into him for intruding in Banyue Pass. He wouldn’t have been in Banyue Pass to begin with. He’d followed the string that bound him to Qingxuan without the slack ever pulling taught - how obnoxious.
“... I’m going to need to borrow some money.” He says with a level of reluctance to his tone. He Xuan will never in the rest of his lifetime admit that - to a certain degree - the Crimson Rain Sought Flower is correct. The years spent cultivating his network in the Upper Palace, his time spent learning about Qingxuan before he had confirmation of who it was that stole his fate, had been a time where he truly felt some form of peace. More so it lessened the ache of what he had lost by the sheer overwhelming force that is Shi Qingxuan. He was quite literally a breath of fresh air, a realist and an idealist at the same time. He wanted to see the best in people but took action when they did wrong. He had a sense of justice that ran as deep as his own while simultaneously not letting the worst of the world wear too heavily on his shoulders.
Had it not been his brother that caused their fates to converge and doom them both he would have been keen to remain close to the one person that was unafraid to show him unabashed kindness.
Nothing more than a wave of his hand is given and a sizable bag of gold foils lands itself on He Xuan’s lap. “I’ll tack it onto your debt.”
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Even when he was a God the days were never as busy as they are now. His morning starts when the chill of the air forces him up and ends when his body gives in from exhaustion. It’s not an easy life and the winter is only making it harder as the day passes. The bite of the bitter cold seeps through threadbare clothing and the inhabitants that linger around the rundown temple for the Wind Mistress and Water Tyrant have taken to huddling together and building as many small fires as they could - often inside the temple itself so that the winds that creep over the wall of the capital or the snow falling from the sky doesn’t stifle and snuff out what warmth they can manage.
Getting water is easier, at the least. Snow can be collected in buckets and heated over a flame to give everyone fresh - if not a bit chilly - water to drink. Food on the other hand…
Qingxuan’s stomach growls and grumbles with discontent as hunger pangs shoot through his body. The last meal they ate was a poor excuse for sustenance consisting of sparrow bones that had been boiled with its meat making a thin broth with small chunks of gamey protein. He had given his portion to a particularly frail young man that had dark hair and striking blue eyes. He’d looked nearly starved and such a small portion of food would do little to quell his hunger. It was a subconscious act like he was passing his untouched meal down a long gilded table towards a quiet man that had always been right by his side.
He flinches at the memory hand coming up to his head to smack his palm against his temple twice in attempts to force the memory away. It would be a crime to let his own pain, physical or mental, stop him from helping out the people here. They needed it more than he did. He had luxury once, he need not fear an empty belly nor the cold with his brother watching over him. It was his turn to give back to those that know the pain of hunger and the fear of winter nights.
“Ol’ Feng!” That dark haired boy - really a teenager now - with cheeks smeared with dirt and hair tangled into odd knots runs after him as Qingxuan was preparing to set out for the day. “Where are you going today?” His voice is meek but laced with a touch of concern as his eyes glance down to Qingxuan’s leg before focusing back on his face.
A bright smile immediately places itself on his own face as muscle memory and practiced cheer bubbles up to the surface. “Haiqing,” He shifts his weight onto his good leg while simultaneously lifting his injured hand to ruffle the others messy locks, “I’m going out of the city for a bit to get some wood. I’d like to try and patch up some of the walls in the temple and keep us set on firewood for a little bit.” He looks around before placing his fingers to his lips, “And whatever we don’t need I’ll try to sell so I can get everyone a little treat.”
Haiqing’s eyes narrow momentarily but he mimics the action as if swearing to keep Qingxuan’s secret. Qingxuan’s own eyes narrow into little crescents as he smiles wider, “Good boy, I’ll be back soon. Don’t tell popo that I’ve head off again, I don’t want her to worry.”
Those dark locks fly this way and that as Haiqing nods his head. Qingxuan can’t help the small giggle that leaves his lips at the young man’s eagerness to have some special secret with him. It serves as a reminder to how the people here have come to rely on his help and value him for not only what he can do for him but also out of sheer care. He leans down to pick up his basket but quickly finds it placed in his hands by hands barely smaller than his own.
“Be safe, Ol’ Feng.”
“I will!” He waves over his shoulder with a smile as he starts his slow pace out of the city. While he has no issue keeping up with others when necessary it was much more comfortable to walk a bit slower to stave off the ache for as long as possible.
The small knife at the bottom of his bucket is knocked back and forth from his limp creating a small clattering noise that has come to be a soft background noise to his life. From having the luxury of throwing credits away, owning the finest silks and enjoying the most delectable of wines, to only having only these two small possessions. A bucket that is, blessedly, without holes and a knife so dull that it takes more energy than he could spend to slice or cut into anything for long periods of time.
Outside of the walls of the capital the wind was much harsher and easily sunk into his bones. When he had his divinity he never noticed how cold the wind could blow or how volatile it could be. It bent beneath his fingers and warmed on his whim, it could be gentle around his body but violent on those that deserved its anger.
The simple tie he had on his hair is ripped free from his hair leaving long locks, curled and fluffed from lack of care, to whip wildly about his form. One hand comes up to brush them back away from his face as he sighs slowly. He’d have to find another piece of twine at some point to keep it out of the way - or maybe it was time to cut it? It often gets in the way at this point when doing labor, always falling in his eyes or getting stuck to his forehead and neck when sweat pricks along his form.
His hand winds through it and brings a few strands towards himself to examine the dull locks that had once glimmered as bright as stars in the night sky. His thumb brushes along frayed strands and lets them slip through his fingers.
Not this time. Not when he was still mourning and growing himself in the process – cutting his hair now would feel like a disrespect to his memories of his brother.
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His hands are red and raw as he piles up the last bit of wood next to him in small bundles. There’s a mixture between sapling white pines and the rolled bark of a tree that smells both sweet and spicy all the same. Cinnamon, if he recalls correctly. It wouldn’t do anyone by the temple any good but he’s long since learned he can sell even small amounts of this for a little bit of coin. Qingxuan doesn’t know who planted them or when but they’ve been a small blessing when he manages to sneak away to forage.
Pine needles, cones, and bits of the inner white bark of the pine above him sits heavily in his basket. He’s figured out thanks to some of the women around that pine needles can be placed in water to make a drink or placed in vinegar to make a disinfectant. It wasn’t ideal but it could keep their spaces relatively clean to prevent illness from spreading too far. The cones had seeds in them that could be roasted and eaten for a meager meal and the bark could be ground down to make a simple flour to thicken up soups.
He’s lucky to have managed a decently sized haul today before his hands complained and his knee buckled beneath him. Qingxuan leans his head back to rest against the tree with a soft thud as a low sigh leaves him. If he rests here for a little bit the cold of the day will numb the worst of the discomfort of his leg and wrist and that should, potentially, allow him to carry back what he’s managed to gather. It’d be awkward and not exactly the easiest thing to pull off, but he’d manage – he always manages.
The sound of crunching snow makes his head drop from its resting spot in time to see a pair of boots stop in front of him. His eyes follow them upward to land on a man with a deer carcass strung over his shoulder. A pair of amber eyes stare down at him silently before glancing over to his collection of various gathered items. Chestnut brown locks stuck to his cheeks and along his forehead while loose strands fall like a curtain hiding the side of his face.
“Do you need help? That’s quite a bit to carry.” His voice is gentle and soft akin to the quiet lapping of waves against the shore. Delicate, as if it’s not used very often.
Qingxuan blinks up at him a few times before his smile flashes across his face, “I appreciate it, really, but I can manage. Besides, I couldn't ask you to go out of your way like that. I’m taking this back to the capital and it’s a tiny bit of a trek from here.” He waves his hand off dismissively but that only makes the other man quirk a brow up at him. A nervous laugh rises in his throat as he meets the rather intense stare leveled on him, “Besides, aha… I wouldn’t have anything to pay you back with. Work requires, aha haa ahem - payment.”
The other man places a thumb under his own chin in consideration for a moment or two before letting out a thoughtful hum. “I see. Can you cook?”
“I… can, at least it’s serviceable enough to pass as food.”
“I assure you I’ve more than likely had worse.” The response is immediate and deadpanned.
That worsens Qingxuan’s nervous laugh as he starts twirling a finger around a strand of hair to try and soothe the need to fiddle with something. If he had his fan he’d be fanning himself wildly to keep the way his emotions play across his face from view. There was something off about this man, something unnatural and all too convenient. It’s like he was waiting until Qingxuan had grown exhausted before approaching to keep him from running.
It’s an odd first impression of someone, certainly.
“Then… haha… yes I can cook.”
The tall man takes a step or two back and looks away uncomfortably for a moment as he looks everywhere but Qingxuan for a moment. The silence begins to stretch between them before a low sigh breaks it and the odd stranger brushes his hair away from his own face. His head shifts to nod towards the deer strung across his shoulder.
“I can’t eat all of this myself. The meat will go bad before I can use it all. If you help me prepare it and cook it then I’ll help you carry everything back. Fair?”
Well when it’s put like that it’s a pretty good deal. It was just prepping meat and cooking it… he’s never really prepared something so big but he can figure it out. Qingxuan lets out a small breath before flashing a smile, “That seems fair enough – but you really don’t have to. I’ve made this trip several times before.”
Brows slowly raise before a huff is given and the tall man reaches down to pick up the large bundle of varying sized logs and rolled bark, hooking them up under his arm carefully. “You look horrible.” There’s a pause, “I don’t mean that as a form of offense, you simply look as though a stiff wind would knock you over right now. I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving a half-dead man here and finding out you’d died when I could have done something.”
Lips part to argue that he is fine and that he’s not doing as bad as he looks but it quickly dies on his tongue. Not even he really believes that right now, not when the winter was in full swing and his body was finding limits it had never found before. “Keeping a clear conscience, I get it.” At least that honest response dissuades some of the nervousness that had bubbled up in him. His words are blunt and his intentions are selfish in attempts to keep his conscience clear. Sure it’s emphasised by pity but… beggars can only afford to be choosers when they’ve food in their belly.
“What’s your name? I’m called Ol’ Feng back in the capital and I’d like to at least note the name of the blunt stranger that’s helped me out.” He picks up the basket and uses the tree to help himself stand up from his seated spot in the snow.
“Yang Shui.” The response is given without even a shred of hesitation as the other man turns and begins following back the faint tracks of the steps Qingxuan had left when entering this forest.
“Well then, Yang Shui,” he limps closer to catch up to the man and places himself to the left of him in a habit that he’s not quite broken yet, “It’s nice to meet you and thank you very much for the help. I’d have managed on my own but this definitely makes it a bit easier on me. Did you hunt that all by yourself? It’s a rather sizable buck, I haven’t seen one that big since I was a g-” Qingxuan stops himself with a feigned cough pulling his head back to the part he’s playing. “Since I was a younger boy. They used to graze on a field I used to frequent with a… friend to enjoy the breeze. It really was quite a sight, the rolling hills that slowly arched up into the mountains. It was as if the landscape traveled on and on forever and the wind rolled over every inch of the-”
The other man makes a face and turns his head pointedly forwards as he hefts the deer higher onto his shoulder and makes to walk faster. Qingxuan frowns some but limps a little faster to keep up, “As I was saying!” He huffs and looks up at the tall man, “It covered every inch of the valley and seemed like an endless tunnel of wind-”
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The walk back certainly wasn’t quiet but was predominantly filled with one sided chatter from Qingxuan. From what he was able to gather the man next to him is quite educated. The few things he chimed in on was about older poems that Qingxuan had brought up on a whim to say he enjoyed the works of a particular poet. Still, Qingxuan is no stranger to carrying a conversation even if someone is only half listening. It was kind of nice to just chat about everything and nothing at the same time and each excited word helped distract him from the cold of the day.
The outskirt street seems to always be shaded by the wall and leaves the pair stepping into shadow as Qingxuan takes over leading Yang Shui closer to the temple. “Just giving you a heads up, a lot of the people here can be quite suspicious of strangers. Showing up with me will help your case a little bit but don’t be surprised if someone gives you a nasty look or ignores you entirely.”
“That’s fine. I’m only staying long enough to get the most I can out of this meat.”
Qingxuan lips quirk at how indifferent Yang Shui seemed to be about, well, everything. It’s really alarming that this isn’t even the first person that’s stumbled into his life that displayed these laissez-faire behaviors. Is there something off about him that attracts this particular brand of individual? He parts his lips to speak before his body is collided into by a smaller frame.
Thin arms wrap around his waist and a messy mop of black hair falls back in knotted waves as blue eyes stare up at him with a furrowed brow and a faint scowl on his lips. “Ol’ Feng… you were gone so long.” The quiet words almost tremble from the cold as his body shivers and scoots tighter to Qingxuan’s form. His eyes move from Qingxuan to Yang Shui and he swears there is a flicker of a glare from the smaller boy to the larger man and vice versa. He blinks and both expressions are blank and neutral as they assess each other.
“Who’s that?”
“This is Yang Shui, he helped me out today and even brought a big deer with him! I’m going to cook it up in a bit.” His hand subconsciously starts soothing through black hair while Haiqing moves to stand slightly behind Qingxuan.
“He’s weird.”
“Now Haiqing, that isn’t how we talk about people that help us.”
“He’s weird like your other friends.”
Qingxuan sighs and just dips his head in exasperation. Oh the blunt honesty of youth, young men truly could be little devils when they didn’t like someone. He turns towards Yang Shui and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, like I said… suspicious of strangers.”
Yang Shui just blinks at him and moves past him towards the temple without acknowledging the statement or the young man currently gripping Qingxuan in a vice grip. Instead he nods his head to the temple, “Can you cook in there or do you have another place you’d prefer.”
“Ah…” he glances towards the temple and then hobbles forwards half because of his leg and half because Haiqing is refusing to let go of him. “I’d prefer not to bleed the deer in the temple. It may not be in use anymore but I do have a small altar in there that I’d rather not have blood too close to. We have a large cooking pot a little past it and there’s a hanging line that we could attach the deer to.” He drops his own teal eyes down to meet Haiqing’s, “Can you go get a bucket for me? I’d rather catch the blood so it doesn’t get everywhere.”
The teen hesitates for a moment before releasing his grip on Qingxuan and scurrying off.
He winces as he moves to catch up to Yang Shui and takes the lead again - albeit a bit slower in attempts to appease the awkwardly healed leg. He’d walked too much today, pushed the limits his body could handle on such little sustenance and sleep. Qingxuan lets out a slow breath to study himself before smiling at Yang Shui and nods towards a post with a bit of line, “You think you can string it up there? I need to sit down for a bit.”
A nod is all he’s given in return as the chestnut haired man moves to the side of the building, placing the wood down by the cookpot before he sets about carefully stringing up the carcass. Qingxuan moves to sit on a rough, crooked, chair that was set up by the cooking pot with a heavy huff as his hand comes up to rub at tired eyes. He’d love to just curl up beneath a plethora of blankets and sleep until his body is fully rested and can’t feel the chill anymore but he no longer had such a luxury. The day still has light to give and he still has mouths to feed.
He reaches towards the pile of wood and finds Yang Shui already crouched down next to him collecting the logs that were dry and serviceable to make a fire. His hand pauses in mid air as Yang Shui turns his head to look at him. “I’ve got it.” Yang Shui’s words are curt enough to make his hand pull back and rest upon his lap. “You’re injured.”
Qingxuan laughs slightly and rubs at the back of his head, “Well… no not really. I’m all healed up. This is just the result of an accident I had a while back. I wasn’t able to set my bones right and my friend said this is a product of that. I’d rather not go through the whole healing process again to fix it and without a safe place to rest it may very well just end up like this again.”
There’s a hum in response as Yang Shui adds kindling beneath the dry-enough logs and starts fiddling with a piece of flint until a spark catches and starts to build beneath the wood.
“I really appreciate it-”
A bucket is shoved practically into Yang Shui’s face by the hands of an irritated young man that forces Yang Shui to straighten up in order to avoid being hit. Qingxuan’s lips slowly fall closed as he examines the scene before him looking between the two men back and forth before gently placing his hand over Haiqing’s and delicately taking away the bucket to hand politely to Yang Shui. “Haiqing what has gotten into you today?” He questions softly as Yang Shui silently moves back to the deer without so much as acknowledging the young boy who seemed intent to pick a fight with him.
“I don’t like him, he’s odd.”
“Oh most certainly, but a friend of mine would say that odd doesn’t necessarily mean bad.” Qingxuan lifts his hand and pats Haiqing’s cheek delicately before letting out a small laugh. “We’re all a little bit odd in our own way. If we never give the odd ones out a chance then we never know what we’d miss.”
“... Did the weird guy in white that was here the other day say that?” Haiqing grumbles and crosses his arms after the cheek pat.
Qingxuan laughs softly and gives a quick nod of his head, “Yes that’d be Xie Lian - he says things like that a lot. It’s pretty good advice if I say so myself…. I added the last bit at the end though so it’s doubly good advice.”
“Right.” Haiqing straightens and glances over to Yang Shui leaving Qingxuan to follow his stare. A glint of a knife reflects the dying light as it draws along the neck of the deer and causes crimson to splatter out over the bucket and down along the cobblestone ground.
Qingxuan’s pupils shrink as a breath is sucked in and his gaze gets averted away.
It’s a deer. It’s just meat. It’s a deer. It’s just meat. It’s a deer. It’s a deer. It’s a deer.
But when his eyes closed he finds himself back in a dark damp nowhere with the cold bite of metal around his wrists and the scent of sea and copper filling his nose. His shoulders shake and the palm of his hand comes up to rub at his forehead and over his eyes in harsh motions. His breath comes out staggered as his hand comes down over his face to cover his mouth as his stomach turns and his body feels heavy with dismay.
It’s a deer.
It’s not him.
This isn’t the same.
When he opens his eyes again he’s met with Haiqing’s settled right in front of him searching his features with brows knit tightly together. “You okay, Ol’ Feng?”
Qingxuan clears his throat and drops his hand down to offer a wide smile but he knows it doesn’t meet his eyes despite his best efforts. “I’m alright, just felt a little sick. Sorry to worry you Haiqing, I’m okay now.” His hand comes away from his own face to settle on his lap before clearing his throat and glancing towards the pot, “Can you go get some water for me? I’d like to get the water up to boiling before we start adding bones and meat.” Qingxuan opts to distract his mind with cooking and going over what food they’d manage to keep over the last few days. There’s probably rice, and if there isn’t he’d be sure to try and get some after he sells off that fragrant bark. Maybe it’d make a good trade? Save the trouble of trying to hawk wares.
Haiqing lingers for a moment before he huffs, turns away, and leisurely makes his way to look for a bucket of water.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
To his surprise Yang Shui seemed content to let the meal be split amidst the entirety of the group that lingered near the temple. The soup that was made had enough to fill each individual’s bowl twice if there were those that needed it. Haiqing scoffed down nearly four before Qingxuan stopped him and Yang Shui paced himself through one bowl over the course of the evening. He even served Qingxuan a bowl himself when he noticed him fixating on making sure everyone else had food. The meal had been lively and spirited with members of the community finding a warm, filling, meal lightening the heaviness of the winter and chasing away the chill.
Now with the sunlight gone and most of the beggars and homeless tucked into what small areas they could fit in from abandoned storefronts to the temple the day was properly beginning to die down.
Despite the temple to the Wind Mistress and Water Tyrant being mostly closed to the elements, very few individuals felt comfortable sleeping there after bearing witness to ‘Ol Feng’ wielding the Wind Master’s fan and confirming his rambles of being a god to be true. The only few that did were Haiqing, an old lady they lovingly called Popo, and Qingxuan himself.
His hands pile thin blankets over Haiqing and Popo as they sleep close to each other on thin reed mats to conserve warmth. He’d sacrificed two of his own blankets for the evening so that they wouldn’t catch a chill that could lead to an illness.
From the entryway Yang Shui’s amber eyes follow his movements back and forth. Qingxuan isn’t really sure why he decided to stick around after being adamant that he was just staying for a meal and yet… still he lingers. Yang Shui seems to be weighing something as he looks into the temple and then back out towards the street before running a hand through chestnut locks and letting out a low sigh. “Would you be alright if I stayed the evening? I didn’t expect to be here until dark.”
Qingxuan raises a brow over at him and lets out a small laugh, “You don’t really have to ask me that. It’s not like this is my temple.” Well not anymore. “I don’t decide who does and does not sleep here. It’s open if someone needs it, that’s all.” He smiles and motions Yang Shui into the room, “It’s not exactly in the best shape and I don’t have many blankets left but you’re welcome to use mine. I don’t mind sharing. There’s only one other mat left but I can sleep on the floor so please feel free to use-”
“No, you use your mat and blankets. I can sleep on the floor.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times before raising a dark brow, “Are you sure? You’re a guest here and I’m used to sleeping in odd places. I wouldn’t want you to hurt your back or anything.”
Yang Shui huffs out something that sounds almost like the start of a laugh before he moves closer to the back of the room to stand near the dilapidated statues of the Wind and Water gods. His eyes seem to linger on them for a moment before drawing his gaze down to the small items that linger beneath the statues. Burn marks sit beneath fish bones that have been painstakingly laid out and small candles are placed at the feet of the Water Tyrant. The remnants of incense sit with their ashes painting affirmations and blessings along the stone.
Qingxuan moves in front of the altar subconsciously and nods to the mat that is laid not far from the altar. “Please, use it. I would feel guilty if you didn’t after everything you've done for me today.”
There’s the sound of a tongue clicking to teeth as Yang Shui moves over to the mat and slowly sits down on it unstringing his bag from his back to set it up beneath the altar. “Why did you not put candles by the Wind Mistress?” He questions idly as he starts to dig through his bag keeping his gaze averted from Qingxuan.
The question causes him to freeze up and his smile goes rigid on his face. He can feel the fact that his eyes have blown wide as his hands twitch slightly before he tucks them into his own sleeves and takes a steadying breath in. In, out. In, out. He lets out a nervous chime of laughter as he brings his gaze off of Yang Shui’s form. His eyes follow the small details and flaws in the wood that had faded and darkened in places with the passage of time. “Well. She was widely loved as it was, I don’t think a single candle would make much of a difference. She has no need for my prayers.”
There’s a thoughtful hum given in response as Yang Shui tosses a thick blanket out of his bag onto the spot on his mat next to him. “I see.” He doesn’t place the blanket on himself and instead simply lays back on the mat and turns his back towards Qingxuan to face the cracked statues leaving space open on the mat.
Qingxuan drops his smile the moment the other can’t take a glance at him and lets his shoulders relax. He pivots on his good leg and moves to go lay near the front with Haiqing and Popo before Yang Shui speaks up again. “If I’m sleeping on this mat then so are you. You shouldn’t sacrifice your comfort for someone else. Take the blanket and lay down already.”
His head turns back towards the chestnut haired man to find a set of amber eyes staring at him through the darkness. Qingxuan turns back towards him ready to argue but it dies on his tongue. He supposes he has a point. There’s enough room for them both and they’re both men - it’s not like it’d be inappropriate. He limps towards the mat and slowly lowers himself down on it, fingers taking the warm, wool, blanket and unfurls it out making sure to cover Yang Shui a touch more than himself. He turns his body so that his back is pressed to Yang Shui’s to keep from breathing each other’s air during the night and potentially disturbing the other.
“Good night, Yang Shui.”
He doesn’t expect a response with how quiet the other man is and lets the exhaustion of the day slowly catch up to him and drag him deeper into slumber. The waves of sleep wash over him and soothe him with the comfort of the faint breathing of others within the room. Perhaps it was the memories of the day being dragged up through the day or simply a fragment of his mind that yearned for some comfort from the past but he swears he feels the faintest brush of air on his ear.
“Good night, Qingxuan.”
Notes:
Cutely ignores Hua Chengs advice almost immediately and decides to just take an immediate hands on role.
Chapter 2: Memories
Summary:
“That’s fine.” Yang Shui crouches down slightly and offers a hand out to him in an offering to help him up.
The movement is smooth, fluid, and harmless – or typically would be. His eyes focus on the pale hand, his vision flickering as his pupils shrink while staring at it. There’s a flash in his vision of red staining that hand while waiting for him to take it. The scent of blood invades his senses and the light around his field of view seems to darken as this gentle gesture is juxtaposed against an ensanguined encounter.
His head shakes leaving messy locks to further tangle together as he pushes himself up a bit too quickly. The motion makes him wobble slightly before he steadies his footing and steps around the other man.
It’s not him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Qingxuan wakes up warm. Soft fabric is wound around his body and tucked neatly beneath his form. His face shifts to nuzzle against it as his eyes feel much too heavy to open still. How long has it been since he’s been comfortable? Were it not for the soft throb of his leg and wrist he could almost pretend that he was back in the Upper Court with the sheets from his bed pulled over his head to block the morning light out after drinking to the point where his body - divine as it is - begged him to stop.
Gods don’t need sleep - but it certainly helped to sober them up.
“Hey! Did you ask Ol’ Feng if you could do that?!” A usually quiet voice makes Qingxuan’s brow twitch as it speaks in scolding tones. There’s irritation lacing every syllable and punctuated with a scoff at the end.
There’s a stretch of silence followed by the soft clattering of wood against the floor boards. “I didn’t. Sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness rather than permission.”
Qingxuan groans as he pushes himself up and brushes his hair out of his face. His leg shakes as he puts his weight on it and tries to pull himself up off the mat. The pace he takes is uneven and sways slightly back and forth as sleep-addled eyes squint to adjust to the bright light of the open temple door and the figures standing at opposite ends. “Haiqing? What’s the matter?” His words come out more like a murmur than any form of proper speech.
Blue and Amber eyes immediately turn to him before the darker haired young man moves over to gently place his hand under Qingxuan’s elbow to support him. “Ol’ Feng that man you came back with is making changes to the shrine. He just started building as if he owned the place.” Those piercing cold eyes move off of Qingxuan as he turns his head back towards the offending individual.
Qingxuan blinks a few times in surprise as his gaze moves to the man leaning against a wall with a hammer hanging loosely in his hand. “Yang Shui? You’re still here? I figured you’d be gone the moment morning broke.” He tries to take a few steps towards the chestnut haired man but a tug against his elbow keeps him rooted in place. Haiqing moves slightly in front of him while watching Yang Shui as if he was a predator intruding on another’s territory. Qingxuan tilts his head and glances between the two men a few times before letting out a soft and awkward laugh. “Haiqing, hah, it’s okay - I’m not upset.”
Yang Shui just glances over to Qingxuan without acknowledging Haiqing further, “I noticed there’s a number of gaps in the walls and floors of the shrine. This isn’t my forte but I figured a temporary patch would at least help keep the heat in.” He doesn’t wait for a response as he crouches down to pick up a few planks of wood to angle them together as neatly as possible before hammering a few iron nails into place.
Haiqing motions to the man in exasperation before staring up at Qingxuan. Annoyance is written across his face and he looks expectantly for Qingxuan to do something. The former wind master’s lips twist to the side as he gently pats a hand to Haiqing’s back. “It’s okay. He’s helping us out… though I’m not sure I’m going to be able to repay you. I don’t have anything equivalent to trade you for physical labor and paying you is completely out of the realm of possibility.” At least not anytime soon. He still has to try and sell that rolled bark he managed to gather when out. That money, however, should be used for medicine, not paying for repairs that he hadn’t even begun to think about.
Yang Shui places a few nails in his mouth to hold them while setting up another board. His shoulder just shrugs once in disregard.
Qingxuan’s cheeks puff up for a second before letting out a low sigh, “Listen here.” He moves himself over to place himself right in front of Yang Shui, “I get that it doesn’t bother you to work for free but it bothers me. I can’t let you keep working on this without coming to a deal first.” While Shi Qingxuan may do things out of a desire for justice and the kindness of his heart there is zero hope that the average individual would do the same. “So please place down the hammer for a minute and we can come to some form of agreement.”
Yang Shui slowly pulls the nails out of his mouth and leans backwards to sit on the ground. “Hm. Fine. Be my guide around the capital for the next little while and I’ll consider that payment for any work I do around the temple. Is that amenable to you?”
“That’s hardly any repayment at all! I'd have done that for free. I did say it had to be equivalent to the work done. Labor for labor, or payment for labor. I respect that you’re willing to bend the deal in my favor but I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you did a lot of work around here and all I managed to do was walk you around town sometimes.”
There’s a scoff from Haiqing and the faint muttering of ‘I could have done that for Ol’ Feng…’ that Qingxuan politely pretends he didn’t hear. He’s had enough of men bickering over this and that for seemingly no reason. It’s just not worth the headache to tut at Haiqing when it’ll only happen again. Some things just don’t seem to change in Qingxuan’s life - people hovering seems to be one of those things.
“Fine. You let me stay here, I repair the joint up a bit. You feed me, I’ll help bring food in. In addition to both of those requests you help me navigate the capital when I need to and you let me pay respects to the Wind Master now and again.” Yang Shui rolls a shoulder and levels a stare on Qingxuan that gives the message of ‘take it or leave it I’ll probably do what I want anyway.’
Qingxuan starts laughing at the last part, eyes flitting about as his eyes move to look anywhere but at his guest. While most people that stayed near the temple recognize him as the former Wind Master it’s still almost impossible to explain that to anyone that wasn’t there to see Qingxuan use the fan to protect the human array. Usually it just winds up with the person looking at him with sympathy, making a very affirmative statement that the Wind Master was a woman and not a man, or simply deciding in their mind that Shi Qingxuan is a mad man that had cracked under the stressors of survival. His laughter rises in pitch for a moment as his hand rubs at the grime on his face. Still this is someone literally coming into the place he’s living, looking him in the eye, and stating he’s going to worship him while he’s here.
That’s so unbearably awkward that Qingxuan can feel a bit of himself dying just thinking about it.
A hand presses to Qingxuan’s shoulder as concerned blue eyes move to be placed in front of Qingxuan’s field of view. It causes him to draw a breath in and let the last bubbles of laughter fall from his lips while he settles down. Gods above and ghosts below he probably looks insane after that little fit.
“Hah… Yeah, haha… that’s amenable. However, I must ask – why just the Wind Master specifically? The Water Master is a god of wealth, surely he would be worth a prayer or two as well.”
Yang Shui snorts and turns his head back towards his work, “As if. I don’t care for greed and I have no need to sail the sea. I’d much rather have a light breeze and a sunny day - makes hunting easier.”
Qingxuan’s lips purse slightly at that but he brushes it off. His brother was not a perfect man; he was stubborn, prideful, controlling, and a proper tyrant. Still he had done several things in his life to keep Qingxuan safe over the years - some positive, some negative. It still didn’t stunt the burn he feels from someone speaking so ill of the dead worsened by the fact that it was his own family.
His fingers come up to delicately run over his neck, “Hah… ha, yeah that makes sense. I’ll leave you to it, then. If you wish to go into the market or just get yourself acquainted with the capital please don’t hesitate to come find me!” His feet were already moving at a rapid pace to get out of the room forcing his limp to be horribly prominent in the process.
Later he can just blame the fact that he slept in as his reason to rush out of the temple, explaining that the day doesn’t stop just because he caught a bit more sleep than normal. It was better than the alternative of staring someone he does not know in the eye and explaining that he really can’t accept him giving offerings to his shrine while talking bad about his brother in the same breath.
Hot puffs of vapor roll past his lips as he huffs out breaths while moving through the street. He just needs to find a place where no eyes were on him for a few moments so that Qingxuan can shake off the discomfort of the whole situation. It wouldn’t do him any good if everytime he sees Yang Shui it leads to a fearful or nervous laughing fit based on a couple offhanded comments. The general populace couldn’t understand the events that occurred in Black Water’s domain and likely hadn’t even realized that the Water Master was no more in this world. He still had so many followers that had yet to fracture and break apart.
Qingxuan’s own followers were scattering slowly while this small street of beggars, street walkers, and orphans put faith behind him after witnessing one action and celebrating a god that came down to their level and lends his aid.
He ducks into a side alley and slumps down on a half-rotted crate that creaks under his weight as it attempts to support him. Hands that were once pristine now have dirt caked beneath the nail and calluses along his palms and his fingers alike. His gaze trails over every imperfection on his skin as they trace every small scar, every bruise that came from carrying too much the day before. One hand lifts to try and card through his hair only to get caught and tangled around dull dark strands. What had been an attempt at a soothing motion quickly becomes a sharp tug at his own scalp that makes him wince.
The winter hasn’t made it particularly easy to get clean without burning through a great deal of water meant for drinking and sullying it with body oils and filth. They could always get more but it would be far too much back and forth for only a few men to manage. This just leads to longer stretches of time before Shi Qingxuan can feel his skin again without the grime clinging to it like a second skin. A small matter that just made it harder for Qingxuan to get comfortable when days like this crop up.
Days where everything feels a bit too scary and one small reminder of the past starts a spiral that forces him to hide a turbulent, tumultuous, swarm of emotions behind bright teal eyes and a brilliant smile. It would pass in time. Time made the ache heal quicker. Each month made it so the sting of loss didn’t spread its venom as far into his veins. Each minute blurs microscopic pieces of the memory of his brother's head dangling in the clutches of one he had once called his best friend without a single doubt in his mind.
Though it had all been a beautiful lie. Orchestrated by a brother that was desperate to save him from a horrid fate with no faith that Qingxuan would be able to overcome it himself and then further spun into a tragedy by a scorned man hell bent on revenge. Shi Qingxuan had become a catalyst for fates to collide and force his fate to be forever intertwined with He Xuan’s. A constant reminder that they had only met because Qingxuan’s fate had been such a plague upon his life that he lost everything and went mad with rage at anyone that had so much as caused an inconvenience in his life.
He had been the drop of poison in the waters of He Xuan’s otherwise peaceful life.
“Are you okay?” That voice - so quiet and yet laced with such concern and care that Qingxuan’s head snaps up and his eyes flash over to see dark hair and blue eyes. For a moment, just a moment, it almost looks as though Shi Wudu himself had appeared at the end of the small alley and was watching him with a furrowed brow.
“Ge-” A blink reveals the messy tangled mop of black hair and dirt smudged face of Haiqing that slowly approached him. He clears his throat quickly and shakes his head out, “Haiqing, sorry. I’m alright. My legs were just stiff from all that sleeping! I haven’t slept that good in a long time haha! It’s really remarkable what a single warm blanket can do! I mean usually I’m up right before the sun even touches the shrine and my body is all warmed up from me getting breakfast sorted and items gathered so the cold had time to seep into my joints this morning! You know how it is when I get too cold everything aches so I thought I’d go for a run to get those joints all ready for the day ha ha haha haa…”
Blue eyes blink at him once as Haiqing’s head tilts to the side with his gaze unwavering on Qingxuan’s face. “It’s okay to say that man made you nervous.” He deadpans and steps up to be next to Qingxuan, “But I have to ask - is it so uncomfortable to know that there are others that still give prayer to you? The people around us all look to you as someone of importance. Perhaps it’s not reverence, but it’s still a form of worship in itself.”
A soft cloud of vapor halos around Qingxuan’s head as a tired laugh, rather than a terrified one, leaves him. “When did you start sounding so mature, Haiqing?” His words filter off into a sigh that leaves his shoulder slumping and his body forcibly relaxing. “How do I put this…” A smile finds its way to his face as bright eyes focus on the young man next to him, “When I was a God I liked the idea of being worshiped. Worship brought me power, and power brought me safety, and safety brought me freedom. Early on I wasn’t allowed to do much without my brother staying closeby. As I got more people worshipping me I had less of a need to have him nearby and it became really important for me to have people that think I’m important enough to send their prayers to.
“Eventually I made a friend - a very good friend.” His brows furrow slightly and a deep breath draws in, “That friend helped me realize that no matter how strong the two of us are that sometimes we need to help each other. He saved me a lot and I saved him a few times in return. The times I had with him were very freeing and I felt like a bird that finally had open sky beneath my wings.” He hops up and draws his arms out as he does a little spin to emphasize his words. “But when they were both gone and I wasn’t such a powerful God anymore I realized that the freedom I felt wasn’t the open sky. It was just a bigger cage and I was allowed to fly off here and there without ever going out of reach.”
His arms drop to his side with a soft puff as his robe is wrinkled beneath his fingers, “When I met you all I realized I had the freedom to just exist. I could pick where I go next and what I do. I picked to stay with you all and make sure everyone here is heard, could get food, could get medicine. I wasn’t a big important God anymore but I was happy to just make a difference.” His lips curl into a softer smile, “Though I didn’t make a great impression when everyone thought I was rambling mad about being a God and I admit it was very gratifying to have you all see that I wasn’t just a mad man pretending to play god but that I was more than capable of using my own spiritual weapon.” He puffs up proudly at that like a muddied peacock, flicking knotted strands of hair over his shoulder.
“But you all don’t pray to me, and that makes it feel the best~! You aren’t asking me for anything, you’re just existing as you were before and treating me as an equal amongst you. I know I’m a prominent voice here now too but I wouldn’t call myself anything like a leader - just a helpful neighbor. But…” His smile falters and his body language changes from bright and vivid to languid and dull, “Lighting candles for me, whispering prayers to me, it reminds me that there are very few things in this world stopping me from ending up in that cage again. Things are different this time and there is no one hovering on my shoulder telling me how to live or what to do… but it would still feel like a cage decorated in memories that I can’t forget.”
Haiqing had been following Qingxuan with his eyes and sat dutifully through the entire ramblings of a fallen God. The young man takes a few steps towards him tilting his head up slightly as he gets closer. There’s a moment of hesitance that flickers in his eyes before hands slowly move to wrap around Qingxuan’s form in a gentle hug.
Shock rockets through the former wind god and for a second too long he freezes. His hands were stock still as if having no idea where to put them, as if he was afraid that if he hugged the man in front of him he would simply cease to be. He recovers soon enough and lets his arms gently embrace the other man back.
“... Ol Feng you can still send that man away. I can do what he does! You said you wanted to fix the shrine before you left yesterday - I wanted to help with that! I can learn to hunt so that I can bring us all back some food and I can work at getting stronger so I can help you with all that you do here.” He mutters his words against his shoulder while tightening his grip on Qingxuan. “He’s not a good man. There’s something wrong with him and I don’t think you should stay so close to him.”
Qingxuan just sighs and pulls himself back from Haiqing, “I know you’re concerned but it’s not fair to him to say he’s not a good man. What do you really know about him beyond what you’ve seen? He helped me quite a bit and that makes me think that even if he isn’t a good man that he is capable of good things! Good and bad aren’t exactly black and white, there are so many ambiguities to all of it that even I could be considered bad if you look at my past and weigh my actions to my consequences… but do you think I’m bad?”
“...No.”
“Exactly.” Qingxuan leans forwards towards the young man and raises a hand to ruffle his hair, “So try not to be too harsh on him. Just because someone is cold and stubborn that doesn’t mean they’re bad. If you judge someone on a first impression then you never know what kind of person you’ll be missing out on.” He flashes a bright smile and turns to leave the alley.
A hand gently guides his arm up onto Haiqing’s shoulder as the young man looks at him and then looks away, “Your leg is bothering you today. Let me do this until we get back towards the temple.” He says with a little huff, “It’s okay to not push yourself sometimes. Take a break.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times and then laughs softly, “You know sometimes you say things that are just so familiar… It's nice.” He sighs and lets the other guide him back towards the temple with steps even for the first time in a long time. A hum of acknowledgment is given and the other shifts more of Qingxuan’s weight onto his shoulders.
“I mean it. Take a break today.”
A noise of surprise parts the lips of the former wind god before he drops his head and shakes it slightly, “Okay pushy, but that means you have to take over my jobs. Make sure the injured get their bandages changed and warm some water if you can to help wipe down any infected spots. I still need to make a run to get some more medicine so the areas are going to be a bit rough. Oh, you need to help Popo with cooking as well so I’ll need you to grind down that white bark I got finely to make a flour. We should be able to make some bread out of it with just some water - it won’t be the tastiest but it will fill us up some. Additionally it should be good to untangle some of the younger one’s hair, if we leave it too long it’ll knot beyond any point of saving. Make sure you wet the hair first to make it a bit easier and then work the comb through as best as you can.”
“I can do that.”
“Are you sure? It’s a lot.” Qingxuan raises a challenging brow at the other man and is promptly met with a sideways look and a brow raise.
“You do it every day. I think I can manage.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☽ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Word got around quickly that ‘Ol’ Feng’ is taking a break today and every single time he gets up from his spot around the cooking fire he’s promptly urged back down by other able bodied individuals of his little group. It’s a strange turn of events leaving him to feel rather restless in his idle state. When he’s not busy his mind starts to wander on its own accord. When he’s not busy it’s far too easy to remember the good times and the bad times as they come in quick flashes.
His teeth bite idly at the edge of his index finger as he uses the faint rushes of pain to pull him out of his own thoughts over and over again. It draws him out of the darkness and the cold bite of metal on his skin, it draws him out of the highest room of the Terrace of Cascading Wine, it drags him free from a dilapidated temple with broken statues of himself and his brother.
Qingxuan’s entire body jolts as a rather sizable amount of fish in a bucket is dropped at his feet with a thud. His head flips around to find himself meeting a pair of amber eyes with brows raised up and lips pulled into a thin line. “You shouldn’t bite your finger like that.” A hand grabs his and it’s raised up to the other’s face allowing Qingxuan to examine the damage for the first time today.
The skin around the nail had been bitten raw and a few streaks of crimson had been smeared along pale skin.
“Oh! Yang Shui! It’s not that bad, really. I was just in my own head a little bit. Haha, I’ll get that cleaned up, don’t worry, don't worry.” His other hand waves the other off in a dismissive manner as he tries to tug his hand back and find the other’s grip to be unrelenting.
There’s a tsk as Yang Shui reaches along his person to pull out a cloth and brings it to his own lips to catch his teeth on one end and tugs until the fabric rips to a smaller section. His hand never leaves Qingxuan’s own as he starts winding the cloth around it until it sits tightly around his finger.
“Ah- Yang Shui, really you didn’t need to do all that. Really it was fine-”
“You talk a lot.”
Yang Shui’s words bite into him as he lets the other’s hand drop from his hold. Qingxuan’s mouth promptly falls open and then closes slowly as he looks away. It most certainly wasn’t the first time he’s heard that statement but it had been a while since it was said so bluntly. A bit of embarrassed color rises to his cheeks as he averts his gaze down to the fish in the bucket with a furrowed brow.
“Where did you-”
“I got a good portion of the temple fixed up while you were thinking. Took a break and went to a lake nearby. It’s frozen over around this time but the fish are still there. I caught them. They’re good enough to be used in soup.”
He would love to be able to get a simple question fully stated before it’s answered but he simply swallows that little gripe and offers a strained smile. This behavior is certainly familiar but that comment can stay tucked in the back of his head for now. Blunt, forceful, stubborn men seemed to be in quite the supply lately and he really doesn’t have the energy to deal with it all.
“I’ll get right to that then-”
“No. The one you call ‘Popo’ has already agreed to take over cooking today. I am just leaving them here while she makes her way over.”
Qingxuan’s lower eye twitches slightly and his tongue moves in his mouth to press against teeth in order to bite back a snarky response. Alright, then. “I’m afraid that doesn’t go along with our deal, I’m supposed to be giving you equal-”
“You will be. I need help.”
There’s another twitch and Qingxuan takes a deep breath in as frustration starts to mount slightly. “What can I do for you?”
He swears there is the faintest twitch of lips up into a small smirk from Yang Shui but it quickly drops as he seems to contemplate his words while keeping his eyes on Qingxuan. “I need to find a bathhouse. I don’t mind staying here but being in the city, with access to a bathing facility while it’s so cold, is ideal. Would you help me find one?”
A hand rubs to his own forehead as he considers the request. It’s not really an equal trade for the work done today nor the fish caught but there’s a sinking feeling in his chest that if he tries to argue that it will lead to him going with this man anyway without being able to give him equal compensation. There’s a resigned sigh as he meets Yang Shui’s eye and gives a faint nod. “Sure, that should be fine if you’re okay with going a bit slower than you normally would. My leg is a bit sore today so I’m not at the speed I normally move at.”
“That’s fine.” Yang Shui crouches down slightly and offers a hand out to him in an offering to help him up.
The movement is smooth, fluid, and harmless – or typically would be. His eyes focus on the pale hand, his vision flickering as his pupils shrink while staring at it. There’s a flash in his vision of red staining that hand while waiting for him to take it. The scent of blood invades his senses and the light around his field of view seems to darken as this gentle gesture is juxtaposed against an ensanguined encounter.
His head shakes leaving messy locks to further tangle together as he pushes himself up a bit too quickly. The motion makes him wobble slightly before he steadies his footing and steps around the other man.
It’s not him. He’s not in the middle of the sea on an island that very few living beings have ever been on. He’s not encapsulated by darkness with his eyes unable to look away from the armless, headless, form of a brother who had done so much wrong with selfishly good intentions. The man in front of him is not a ghost king that was hellbent on vengeance giving his brother choices that he could never take.
He catches the other man staring at his own hand for a moment before his attention pulls away from him entirely. “The nearest one is in the pleasure district, sorry to say. Ahah ha, when I have a little extra money I tend to go to that one. The women there are quite keen on hearing interesting stories and I’m always happy to provide a few for them to retell to clients later on! They’re a nice lot, a real nice lot, and all come from a background where being a beggar is not anything they scoff at.” He starts rambling while attempting to move at a faster pace than his leg wants to move at.
Qingxuan is able to hear the faint crunch of boots in the snow that hadn’t melted from yesterday as Yang Shui follows him but no vocal response is given to his rambling. He wasn’t told to stop or be quiet either and without an interruption he feels keen to keep speaking. If he keeps speaking then maybe the lingering discomfort of what his mind had so unhelpfully supplied to him.
“Honestly it’s quite nice to have a space where I can just relax and share a few tales with a couple of eager ears. I mean who doesn’t enjoy a good story about the Gods, ya know? Haha, I mean I know a few Gods myself - now I know what you’re thinking, no way right? How could a scraggly beggar like Ol’ Feng know any Gods? But I swear on my life that it’s true! Stick around here long enough and you may even have a run in with Ming Guang! Ahaha…” His ramblings trail off and his own face twists at that.
General Pei often shows up very unannounced with the same few offers on his tongue. Money, safety, a home, hell he even offered to have him appointed to join him in, at the bare minimum, lower court. Offers built on familiarity and guilt - unwelcome offers to drag him away from his found freedom and put him right back into a gilded bird cage where he could be safe, seen, and contained. Not exactly an appealing offer even on the worst of days even if people would deem him mad for rejecting a life of safety like that.
He just simply can’t.
There’s people here he cares about, lives not unlike his own that need just a helping hand or two to get them on their feet enough to learn to thrive.
“Oh! One warning before we get to the Pleasure District~!” He draws himself back to his current company and lets a cheerful tone lace its way into his voice. His head turns and he motions for the other man to come walk beside him rather than being so far back. There’s a soft huff of vapor past the man's lips before he settles in time to Qingxuan’s right. “You’re an attractive young man so you may get a few propositions from the ladies that wander about looking for business for their respective pleasure houses. If you’re not interested, simply keep your head forwards and keep walking, they can be pushy sometimes if you even say ‘no thanks.’ If you are interested then I suggest you go into a pleasure house proper rather than take a woman from the street. There’s a hierarchy to the whole system and usually the ‘callers’ are the ones that struggle doing business for one reason or another. Sometimes it’s because they simply aren’t good at entertaining guests, other times it can be because of diseases.”
He pauses and sighs, “Which I feel for them on that matter - usually because they were given that disease by a client to begin with. I’ve offered to get medicine for a few of those young ladies but it’s often not a pleasant conversation for them. Best to avoid the ‘are you clean’ conversation and just put yourself in a position without risk.”
Yang Shui just blinks down at him a few times before he lets out a soft scoff-like laugh, “Thank you for the information but I’m not interested.”
“Oh! Well if men are more your speed then there are male court-”
Yang Shui closes his eyes and a hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “You misunderstand. I’m not interested at all.” He glances down at Qingxuan and away, “But as I said. The information is appreciated.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times and then nods in understanding. He gets it, mostly, he’s been in that same boat for a while now. There’s only been one person in his life that he could see himself being with and even then… that was something he never let himself explore. There was never a good time to bring it up, never a good way to go about it, and eventually it wound up being a good thing in the end. The situation would have been far more complicated if he ever let himself accept those feelings.
The walk after that point is predominantly quiet and only broken up by the noise of the Pleasure District. Cat calls being shot to eligible men and women alike, laughter emanating out from pleasure houses, the sounds of revelry drifting through the air, and the scent of incense and alcohol filling his nose.
His feet take on a lighter step to them even with his limp making his steps uneven. It’s hard to be miserable in a place like this - at least on the main street of it. Everything is so brilliantly colorful, every sound laced with pleasure and joy. Even if it is a mask to the underlying nature of working in pleasure, even if it is just a nice pleasantry to make those around feel at ease and comfortable enough to spend and spend.
Qingxuan pauses in front of a building with a red painted roof and walls stained with black and lit by gold and carmine lanterns. “Alright, this is the place. If you go in and ask to use the baths the madam may be hesitant at first. Just tell her Ol’ Feng sent you and she’ll- hey are you listening?”
Yang Shui has his gaze elsewhere, staring down the street with an almost blank face. Qingxuan shifts to wave his hand in front of his face in swift motions and only stops when that amber gaze levels on him once more. “I heard you. Wait here, I need just a moment.” And just like that the other man simply starts walking away from him, leaving Qingxuan hovering by the entrance to the brothel without any form of proper explanation.
He stumbles over his words for a moment alternating between a ‘wait’ and a ‘what’ before just letting it go and shaking his head. He’s really not sure what he expected from this man. A simple thank you before going to his designated location would have been nice, or even just a nod of acknowledgment before he walked into the damned brothel. This is almost as bad as when he used to wander through cities with Ming- his companion and would get distracted by finely made clothing, street food, and jewelry.
Back then he would just go with the flow and follow where the breeze took him, letting his pockets flow freely into the hands of those that made fine goods and food alike. It’s quite a different sensation when you’re the one left standing on the earth while the breeze whisks someone else away.
Luckily he’s not left waiting long for Yang Shui to reappear. The other man keeps a long box beneath his arm as he steps past Qingxuan to walk through the gate to go into the brothel. Qingxuan’s eyes follow him, lifting his hand to give a small wave, “Enjoy your bath, Yang Shui. I’m going to head back. Now that you know the way you shouldn’t need a guide back-”
“You should come with me.” The other man stops and turns back towards Qingxuan properly. His chin lifts and nods towards the doors of the brothel, “You said they know you. It’ll save me trouble if I go in with you. I’d rather not have to argue on why I know you.”
It’s a reasonable enough answer and … well it is cold and he’s overdue a bath. Surely he has enough money on his person that he’d be able to cover at the bare minimum his own charge for the use of a service. The logical side of him, however, reminds him that said money should be used to get some salves and bandages for those that need it. “I can go with you, but I’m not going to stay.”
Qingxuan pushes himself up from the wall and moves to Yang Shui’s side. “What do you have there anyway? You weren’t gone that long.”
“New outfit. If I paid the madam would she launder my clothing?”
Qingxuan’s brows raise and he tilts his head from side to side, “Depends on how much you paid her. Anything and everything has a price around here.”
Yang Shui hums as he walks through the entryway of the brothel and visibly recoils at the cheerful welcome from a few courtesans lingering by the door. Qingxuan almost laughs as he watches the Madam size Yang Shui up with a critical eye and lets out a soft ‘bah’ before motioning for one of the girls to approach him.
The taller man takes a step back and pulls Qingxuan forwards to stand like a barrier in front of him. The young courtesan pauses and offers him a bright smile, “Ol’ Feng! It’s been a while! Who’s your friend…?” She unabashedly draws her eyes over to Yang Shui and a coy smile curls at her lips.
“Hey Mei! You look lovely as ever. This is Yang Shui he’s looking to use your bath-”
“We’re looking to use the baths. If it’s alright I’d also like to order a few dishes of the madam’s choice to be brought there as well and, if possible, to have both my clothing and his laundered.” Yang Shui cuts in and pulls out a black purse, fishing out two gold foils and holding them up so that the madam can see them.
Where did a guy like this even get that kind of coin? Moreover, did he just drag Qingxuan into taking a bath with him? This is not what was agreed on and his mouth opens ready to shut down the idea.
Unfortunately coin has been flashed and the Madam’s eyes practically turn to gold themself as she steps over to collect them, “Of course of course! Ol’ Feng, you didn’t tell me you had such wealthy friends! Bring me more like this one and I’ll start letting you use the baths here for free!” She smacks a hand hard on his shoulder before turning to Mei and nodding at her, “Get them to a private bath and tell the kitchen to prepare batches of dim sum, bao, and stuffed tofu. Because Ol’ Feng here has such a generous friend, throw a bottle of Baijiu in as well - on me, of course.”
Qingxuan turns his head to level a glare on Yang Shui who simply meets that glare with a faint smile. “I didn’t want to be in a brothel alone and I’m hungry.” He says simply and moves to follow Mei, “And it would be nice to have my clothing cleaned. Leaving them to dry in the cold isn’t ideal.”
He limps after the other man and gives a sweet smile to Mei before turning an unamused expression back on Yang Shui. “You really didn’t have to use your foils on me, that just… it seems like a waste.”
“I’m not using them on you. I’m using them on myself and you just happened to be here. If I’m going to pay a premium I’d like to get my coin’s worth.”
Oh how he wishes he had brought his fan so that he could swat this man. It makes sense but it definitely sounds like an excuse. It’s phrased so carefully as well to not allow Qingxuan to twist it as this being a gift or a kindness offered to him without any compensation required. What an infuriating man - he’ll have to be more cautious in the future to not walk into any traps like this further. He’s already going to feel guilty about indulging in a luxury while those around his temple huddle by fires to keep warm.
Mei stops outside a door and opens it, nodding to the pair as she does so, “If you place your clothing outside this door I’ll be sure to collect it and get it washed and dried as quickly as possible! I will warn you that due to the weather this may take as much as a day so I hope you have a change of clothing you can wear in the meantime.”
Qingxuan frowns, “I don’t-”
“Already handled, thank you.” Yang Shui is already through the door frame and he turns to make eye contact with Qingxuan and simply lifts the box up and wiggles it twice
“Very well! I’ll have one of our servant boys bring the food in once it’s done. Please enjoy your bath!” She bows to the pair before practically pushing a reluctant Qingxuan into the room and closes the door behind him.
The moment he can no longer hear Mei’s steps moving down the hall he turns to look at Yang Shui, “You can’t be serious. I thought you were just buying clothing for yourself - at least ask me first before you get me something.” So he can reject the idea and tell him it’s not necessary. The clothing he has now, threadbare as it is, serves him just fine. It covers him and blocks some of the cold, there is no need to replace it yet.
“You would have simply told me not to.” Yang Shui places the box down and starts unwinding the sash along his clothing to place it aside, slowly loosening layers until the top half of his form is bare.
Qingxuan’s eyes widen and he turns around with arms crossed over his chest.
“Something the matter?”
“At least use a screen! They do provide privacy screens here, you don't have to just start stripping.” Qingxuan’s words come out a bit too fast as he stumbles over his own words, hands coming up to cover his face as he lets out a slow breath.
There’s a pause before a soft laugh leaves the man behind him. “Aren’t we both men, is there a problem?”
So that’s what it feels like to have that phrase thrown back at him. He has a point and he’s seen it that way before, but right now it just… it feels different. Maybe his time detached from being able to drink and dance with no worries in the world has given him a few new worries. “Well I suppose not! I just wasn’t expecting it.”
His gaze looks down at himself at that and a frown pulls at his lips. Certainly there were a few worries in terms of his own body. He’d lost a great deal of weight since he’s been dropped at the Imperial Capital.
“We’re in a bath, I thought it would be a given.”
He waits until he hears the faint splash of Yang Shui dipping in the water before he shoots a look over his shoulder and scoffs. “Yes, well, I wasn’t expecting to be in a bath today.” He limps over to grab a bucket and a cloth from the shelf nearby and limps over to the edge to dunk the bucket beneath the water to collect some. He lets out a soft huff as he starts carrying it over towards one of the privacy screens.
He doesn’t want to dirty the waters with the grime on his form - not until he can wipe some of it off leaving him predominantly dirt free while in the water. Behind the screen he starts pulling himself free of the thin clothing with stiff movements. His eyes follow the lines of his ribs that are exposed one by one and he forces himself to look away at the sight of his hip bones showing a bit too much along his form. At least beneath his clothing he could hide just how bad it has gotten over the last year or so. It’s a vulnerable state to put himself in showing this to another person.
Insecurity was a word that was hardly a part of his vocabulary in the past. Now it feels like he finds a new one every other week. A soft breath is exhaled as he stares down at himself before he drops the cloth in the warm water and starts wiping himself down grimacing at how quickly the water muddies and turns brackish with each pass of cloth over his skin. He scrubs at his skin until patches go red from the motion, running the cloth over his nails and along every inch of skin he can possibly reach until his wrist begs him to stop.
He pours the whole damn bucket over his head in an attempt to at least wash out some of the grime that clings on strands of dark hair - even if it’s counter productive with the current state of the water. It was better than nothing.
A towel is wrapped around his hips as he collects both his own clothing and the clothing of the man sitting within the bath, seemingly soaking up the hot water and the steam like he was a fish in the warm waters around a reef.
He opens the door to find a startled young man on the other side balancing a tray in his hands. He blinks a few times at Qingxuan, his gaze dipping down towards his stomach leaving Qingxuan too quickly, and much too loud, saying ‘Thanks so much!’ as he trades his clothing for the tray of food and wine. His damaged leg kicks the door closed leaving him to wince as he carries the tray towards the edge of the bath and sets it down within reach of Yang Shui.
Qingxuan can feel the other's eyes on him as he moves around to the more shallow end of the tub slowly stepping down into it without removing his towel. His head didn't raise to meet the other’s stare until the majority of his body was submerged in the water. Teal eyes slowly meeting that amber stare as he takes in the sight before him. Yang Shui was reclined against the edge of the tub, his elbow hooked up on the edge of it with his chin leaning against his hand - simply watching Qingxuan without saying anything.
“Well you look comfortable.” Qingxuan says and quickly averts his gaze up towards the ceiling as he sits himself a bit deeper into the water.
Yang Shui hums in acknowledgment before he speaks, “Hard not to. Been a while since I’ve had a bath that stays hot like this.” There’s the faint sound of the tray being slid towards the other man and Qingxuan glances over to see the other man biting into a bao with his eyes still fixated on Qingxuan. “I ordered this for you too. Eat.”
That sure didn’t sound like an invitation and instead sounded more like a demand. His lips purse and he grabs a wet strand of his dark hair and twirls it around his finger in consideration. He hadn’t bought that with his own coin, nor can he share this with any of the kids or the sick around the temple.
Seeing Qingxuan sitting still Yang Shui’s eyes roll and he collects a bao off the tray and carries it over to Qingxuan holding the bun out to the former wind god expectantly. “Eat.” It’s repeated with a touch more authority behind his words, “The bath is hot and you’ll pass out if you sit here too long on an empty stomach. Trust me on that.”
Qingxuan takes it after staring at the man for a moment and takes a rather large bite from it. There’s a pause as he chews it over in his mouth and then he slumps back against the edge of the tub and makes a positively indecent noise. He, genuinely, forgot how good spices are. How far he’s fallen that a little bit of salt and seasoning sent him right back to the heavens and back again. “Thish ish goof.”
Yang Shui stares at him for a moment before turning his head away and covering his mouth with his hand. He quickly puts distance between them and goes back to scoffing down his own bao while giving Qingxuan privacy to enjoy his meal. “Just slow down, would rather you not puke in the bath.”
Qingxuan swallows the bite down and rolls his eyes, “I’m well aware. I’m not a stranger to hunger.”
“I can tell.”
The silence that follows that statement may as well be deafening as they both sit there awkwardly eating. A tension fills the space between them caused by one small comment, a simple statement given to point out just how bad the state that Qingxuan is in at the moment.
It leaves him shifting slightly and turning his body away from Yang Shui while he takes small bites of the pastry and the filling within, pacing himself and pausing when his stomach issued complaints about the heavy food when it had grown so used to watery soups with maybe a small piece of meat in it if he was lucky. Which, usually, he wasn’t - any bits of meat were usually fished out of his own bowl and given to the younger kids that needed it far more than he did.
A sigh finally leaves Yang Shui as the silence keeps stretching indefinitely, “You said you were a good storyteller, right? Tell me a story. You can consider it working if you’d like - a way of paying me back for this?” His hand motions over the bath and the food with a smooth wave of his hand. Droplets from his hand ripple out over the otherwise still surface of the water and slowly expand outwards like little waves.
Qingxuan perks up slightly but quickly settles himself back down before he looks too happy about being allowed to talk to his heart's content. “Sure, what kind of story do you want to hear? I have a plethora of tales stored in my head and I’m always looking for an excuse to let one out.” Despite schooling his features his words give away just how much he truly enjoys telling others about the tales of his friends and his own adventures as a god.
“Tell me a story about the Wind Master.”
“Can do. Any specific tale you want to hear?”
“Teller’s choice - preferably an obscure one.”
There’s a small moment of pause as he browses through his mental catalog of events that have happened in the many years he’s lived before he settles on one. “Before I begin, allow me to inform you that the Wind Master was rarely alone when he patrolled through the three realms! In fact he had a rather consistent companion, his best friend and one of the elemental masters - Earth Master. The Earth Master was not quite as vibrant or as extroverted as the Wind Master but despite that he went along with her whims when she invited him along on patrol.”
Yang Shui doesn’t even question the change of pronouns, seemingly just settling back against the bath and picking up one piece of stuffed tofu with a pair of chopsticks and shoves the whole thing in his mouth as if it were nothing.
“In this case they were investigating a malicious spirit that was haunting an abandoned village. It was luring in travelers that had grown weary on the road and inviting them into an inn to rest their weary souls. Now the Earth Master was quite smart - as one is when you act as a God of craftsmen. You have to be clever in order to figure out how things work and make them into works of art,” He says cheerily his tone dipping slightly as he recognizes that bit of his personality was likely a lie, “he figured out quite quickly that the ghost they were dealing with likely was a ghost of an insatiable hunger. See it was luring travelers in to eat them so the pair came up with a plan! They’d pretend to be travelers that hadn’t eaten in quite a while and see if the ghost would place herself in their path.
“It didn’t take long. She appeared before them in the guise of a delicate looking young woman and fussed over the both of them - specifically the Wind Mistress who looked so frail in her female form. The wrathful spirit lured them back into the inn and promised them a meal and let them get comfortable in a sumptuous dining hall. She claimed to be able to make them anything they wished to eat and assured them that no ask was too much. The pair of them requested steamed ribs and the ghost disappeared from the room. As they waited they began to hear a small child crying out for its mother, wailing and screaming - repeating the word ‘Mama Mama’ over and over. Now, the Wind Mistress is a gentle and kind woman. She had deep concern in her for this child, worried that its mother had been taken by the wrathful spirit that haunted this inn.
“She got up to investigate the noise despite the Earth Master’s warning that it was likely a look. She turned to him and said ‘It very well could be fake, but what if it’s not? What if there is a child that genuinely needs our help!’ Her words were always spoken with such conviction so he let her go. In their own way both the Wind Master and the Earth Master were both correct. There was a child in danger, a young boy with azure eyes cowering beneath a cabinet in the kitchen - but he had been a ploy to lure the beautiful Wind Mistress into the kitchen! The wrathful spirit had lurched upon her the second she entered and opened her massive maw to try and eat her whole! But see the Wind Mistress is quite swift in how she moves, her hands acting before she recognized the action and summoned a hand torch to burn into the spirit’s mouth. She blew the flames directly into its mouth and burned its tongue. It howled and thrashed and slapped around the room as it recoiled.
“The motions knocked knives and pans from the ceiling sending beams and loose debris falling along the room. The Wind Mistress noticed a piece of the roof falling down directly atop the cabinet the boy was hiding under and she rushed to catch the falling debris before it could slam down on the cabinet - telling the boy ‘Stay close to me! I’ll keep you safe!’ Her fan was brandished to blow back debris as it fell, defending the young boy while buffeting back the wrathful ghost and keeping her at arm's length.”
As he speaks his hands move through the ear, fanning his hands and making the air shift around them and send ripples across the water towards Yang Shui as he embellishes the tale with his motions.
“Now the problem with the wind is when fire is present it can fan the flames. A fire erupted within the kitchen infused with the Wind Master’s spiritual energy - and that’s where the Earth Master comes in. Don’t let his title fool you, he is equally as adept with the other elemental arts - not as adept as the Wind Mistress herself, but she was occupied keeping the boy safe from harm and stifling the flames that got too close to the boy.” That part was definitely exaggerated, much as she hates to admit it he had always been slightly more proficient than she was at making the elements bend to his will. Not in the terms of true power, that is where Qingxuan excelled. He could create a wild storm and bring it down upon an enemy, but he had a level of control that she never could manage.
“He appeared and collected the flames on his hands and pried open the spirits mouth and shoved flames into the spirit’s form leaving her to begin to crack and split like molten lava before she burst apart and was left as nothing more than a small wisp. At this point, defeated as she was, there was so little left of her that they had no reason to capture her. The Earth Master collected her within his hand and with a harsh press of his hand the spirit simply dissipated. Miraculously none of them suffered any injuries even as the inn was revealed to be run down and rotted in several places, its integrity compromised beyond belief from the spirit’s thrash and the Wind Mistresses curling winds. The very roof was about to fall on all three of them! In a moment of genius and quick wit she summoned a tailwind to collect all three of them up within its embrace and burst through the roof with the boy held gently within her arms.”
He smiles and looks away at that comment remembering how ‘Ming-Xiong’ had been scolding her about being too reckless, griping that the roof wouldn’t have come down if she just learned to hold back her winds a little bit.
“In that moment the three of them were flying, carried on winds to a nearby town - not far from here actually now that I think about it - to place the boy in the care of the town… though not without the Wind Mistress buying a meal for the boy and the Earth Master as a celebration of safety and a job well done.”
That and the man she knew as ‘Ming Yi’ always was irritable when he expended any form of energy and didn’t immediately get food afterwards. It was a placating gesture and one to quell his irritation at Qingxuan’s own recklessness.
When he’s done telling his tale Yang Shui seemed to have sunk deeper into the water, eyes half lidded and almost closed with half of the stuffed tofu and dim sum already eaten. Qingxuan puffs up slightly and wades over towards the other man with a little huff, “Hey! Don’t fall asleep on me - and especially not in a bath! The story wasn’t that bad, was it?!” He reaches across to pick up his own piece of stuffed tofu to take a few quick bites from it as he beats back his own ‘hunger spirit.’
“Mm… no, it was good. You just have a soothing voice when you’re telling stories. I got too comfortable.” Yang Shui stretches upwards and pushes himself into a more upright sitting position.
“... Oh! Ha haaha… Well, thank you.”
“But I could tell when you were exaggerating. I don’t doubt that the Wind Mistress is quite adept with elemental arts, but given her domain it’s likely more untamed. Sounds like the Earth Master is able to exert more control over the element where the Wind Mistress is more wild and untamed.”
His brows furrow as he squirrels the half eaten tofu over into his cheek. “Well who can say, that’s just the way I remember it being told.” Qingxuan can’t even say he’s wrong, but he’s not about to out himself by correcting that little detail.
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When the tray had been emptied between the pair of them and the wine drunk down to the last drop by Qingxuan they finally pulled themselves free from the bath water. Qingxuan had to admit his leg and wrist ache much less after the long soak in the hot water. His skin feels clean and his hair has earned some of its delicate shine back.
There’s a faint color to his cheek from the buzz of the alcohol running through Qingxuan’s system. Months of not being able to indulge in alcohol and drinking on a stomach that had been surviving on such little food seemed to worsen the numbing effect on his system.
He sways slightly on his feet and almost tips off to the side before a sturdy hand settles on his back and rights his posture. The touch lingers on his bare back for a moment and teal eyes shift to meet amber ones. Yang Shui’s features are furrowed with lips pulling into a thin line as he stares down at Qingxuan, “You shouldn’t drink if you can’t handle it. You look like you’re going to keel over if I let go of you.”
Qingxuan shakes his head and the room spins for a second before it settles back into its rightful spot. His hand moves to take hold of Yang Shui’s arm as a grounding point. “I can usually handle it juuuust fine, but that must have been something stronger than Baijiu…” His words slur some and he feels himself guided over to a lacquered wooden bench and set upon it gently.
He vaguely thinks he hears Yang Shui mutter something like ‘what am I going to do with you…’ under his breath but he can’t be quite sure. His alcohol addled mind may be supplying that comment as a way of filling silence with some form of familiarity. His head leans back against the wall and his eyes close slightly as he takes a few deep breaths and lets his body just relax as he tries to will himself to sober up.
When he does crack open his eyes again in little slits he sees Yang Shui pulling a white fabric free from the box while he, himself, was adorned in all black that complimented his skin but seemed to almost clash against the softer browns of his hair. Qingxuan hums softly as he parts his lips to mutter softly, “Your hair should be darker. It’s too light…”
Yang Shui’s body stills for a moment and he turns his head towards Qingxuan for a second before moving to gather the rest of the fabric. “Seems you didn’t pass out on me. I was afraid I’d have to dress you myself.” He doesn’t acknowledge the comment Qingxuan made but does move over to him to place the white and green attire next to him. “Get dressed, you can’t walk back to the temple naked. You’ll scare both the courtesan’s and their clients out of the pleasure district.”
Qingxuan lifts his head off the wall and gives Yang Shui his best attempt at a withering glare. “I’ll have you know that even as I am now I would never be able to manage that. I’m far too beautiful.” He flicks wet strands over his shoulder leaving them to stick against his neck and back in the process.
It takes Qingxuan much longer than it should to push himself off the bench and start wrapping himself up in the fabric. It feels nicer than hemp, but not quite as nice as silk. Thick enough to block most of the wind without being as delicate as silk. He pulls the fabric closed and his fingers struggle with the jade colored sash as it keeps loosening before it can be pulled tight.
Yang Shui invades his space after watching him struggle for what feels like at least five minutes, his hands batting away Qingxuan’s own as he starts tightening it until it keeps each layer closed and snug against his form. Amber eyes study his form momentarily before he steps back away to the box and pulls out a wool lined cloak.
Qingxuan blinks a few times at him as his brain processes that this man had bought him an additional piece of clothing and was now gently laying it over his shoulders and fastening it along his neck to keep it closed. Qingxuan’s hand rises to place atop of Yang Shui’s to pause his movements, “These are much too nice to be given to me. They’ll just get dirtied and ruined.” He steps to the side of Yang Shui and stumbles before those hands reach out to steady him again.
Teal eyes gaze over his own form as the familiar colors cause a pang of nostalgia to grip him. He’d grown so used to the undyed cloth that had clung to his form and worn down over many months. This outfit, finely made as it is in such pretty dyed cloth, felt foreign and nostalgic all at the same time. For a moment he fears that if he sees his reflection he may see the hollow appearance of a God he no longer is. His fingers bunch in the fabric as he tugs it back into place and lets out a slow steadying breath.
“Wear it or don’t, but you’ll be cold without any clothes.” Yang Shui draws him upright and starts guiding him towards the door with slow motions to keep Qingxuan from stumbling over himself.
Qingxuan’s face scrunches up as he looks from the taller man and back towards himself, “I’ll wear it until I get my old clothes back tomorrow - but this isn’t something that suits me anymore.” His words grow quieter on the end as he is drawn through the threshold of the door and led quietly through the brothel.
It’s only when they reach the street that Yang Shui finally speaks up again.
“I think you’re wrong.”
A dark brow is raised as his attention flits up to Yang Shui and then back towards the still bustling district, “Hm? About what?”
“I think it suits you nicely.”
A strange ache settles in Qingxuan’s chest at the comment and his lips pull to the side before settling into a small frown. “Well. We all are entitled to our opinions.” Qingxuan a year ago would have laughed and agreed wholeheartedly but the man that he is now seems to reject the idea of it entirely. This kind of attire is far above the station he’s lowered himself too. Too nice. Too clean. Not sullied by the mistakes of his past and the actions that led him to where he is now.
At the very least he doesn’t feel the cold so sharply anymore.
Notes:
This one got a little long but hey when i was breaking up the discomfort of ptsd flashes and insecurity with cute moments it suddenly became 11k words
oh well
if only there was something that could be done about that
Chapter 3: The Watcher
Summary:
Would he have done anything different if Qingxuan called him by his name? Would he have had a moment of mercy, spare him a scene that had extinguished all of his light in one brutal wave of black water.
He’s not sure.
He’s never been sure when it comes to Qingxuan.
Notes:
Have a He Xuan Pov as a little t(h)reat feat. a sassy Hua Cheng
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A few bits of fabric dyed white and jade, the flush of pink on cheeks from indulgences, the feeling of skin smoothed by warm water that washed away the grime that clings to flesh. It’s enough to allow a glimpse at the person that once was, a ghost standing amidst beggars that moves like a bird buffeted by the wind - graceful but stumbling through with a heavy leg and a broken wing. There are few that are granted a heart so warm and full, few that can look at a situation that is darkened by hunger and still manage to stand as a beacon of light during a shadowed era.
If he is the umbral eclipse of the moon on the land then this man is the sun. Even blackened and haunted he still finds a way to shine.
He Xuan isn’t oblivious to the way Qingxuan brightened under compliments once he returned back to the Temple of Wind and Water. A touch more shy than when she had received compliments in the past, but no less radiant once they registered as genuine. The compliments had lasted through the evening and the outfit served as a double edge to keep Qingxuan from doing more work than he was able. Faces and names that he hadn’t bothered to learn cutting in with excuses that he shouldn’t get such a lovely outfit dirty so quickly with one or two voices griping that he’s a fool for choosing white as a fabric.
Those voices were shot down by a glare from He Xuan and promptly not brought up again.
Afterall, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out who had given him such an outfit - not when ‘Yang Shui’ stood by the newly repaired door of the temple wearing visibly new, black, shenyi. Not a single complaint was raised about anything beyond the color. He’d been listening to the voices of those that gathered around Qingxuan - ones of appreciation and care that believed he deserved more than what he was giving them. If one wears themself thin then there will eventually not be anything left to give and frankly he’d rather not watch Qingxuan die giving away his very existence for the sake of others.
There is a limit. His presence here is just serving the purpose of preventing it from getting to that point.
He turns his head as a smaller presence moves to stand at the other side of the door, blue eyes boring into him as he spares him a single glance before He Xuan looks away. This wrath has been a pest since he’s arrived, hovering just as much around him as he has been around Qingxuan. The pest seems attached to the sunny man and Qingxuan himself seems needlessly enraptured with him as well.
“You’re the Earth Master, aren’t you. I remember you.”
“No, I’m not.” He doesn’t desire to elaborate further on that matter. The Earth Master is long since dead and there is no point in him playing the part further. That disguise served its purpose and was retired the moment Shi Wudu descended into his domain. Pretending to be ‘Ming Yi’ again would be pointless and only drag up far too many complicated memories.
“Right.” The other man scoffs and shakes his head, “Whatever you say.”
Out of the corner of his eye he can see the other cross his arms over his chest and keep that glare leveled on his form. A bit of laughter from Qingxuan draws He Xuan’s gaze back to the figure clad in white as the former Wind Master helps another man up - even at this distance he can see the way Qingxuan’s lips move around words scolding the other man to be careful. He always laughed in the oddest situations like the noise itself could chase away fear and pain and replace it with something that usually only presents itself in joy.
“What took you so long to come back to him?” That question is so accusatory that He Xuan can feel his brow twitch involuntarily. “Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend?”
The leather of his gloves creak as his fingers curl into his palms and a slow breath is drawn in. Best friends, huh? Maybe, at one point, he would have agreed - begrudgingly - that he genuinely saw Qingxuan as a friend. Selfish as it was to find that a man you’re supposed to hate was just too good and kind to hate. How cruel for someone so lovely to look at him and embrace every crooked bit of him. Shi Qingxuan wasn’t perfect by any means, he had his vices, he could argue until there was no air left in his lungs and his face went blue, and his sense of justice often served him to a fault.
But that kindness was an underlying thread to it all. He argued for others that couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend themselves while shaking off undue comments about himself. His indulgences often led to him sharing with those around him throwing credits, wine, food to those nearby simply to treat them as he treats himself. Qingxuan could never stand seeing the innocent be punished when the guilty party walks away without more than a slap on the wrist.
It’s why his choice of his brother had stabbed so deeply into him. They both were guilty in some aspects but He Xuan was the victim first – shouldn’t that have accounted for something? Anything?
“We aren’t best friends.” Those words feel like lead on his tongue when not paired by the other’s bright voice following behind it scolding him and prodding at him. It’s the truth and yet it tastes vile when spoken past his lips.
There’s a bang from beside him as he turns and meets a faintly glowing blue stare and a face twisted up in a sneer. “Then why are you even here? You can’t even tell him who you are and yet you linger around like you’ve always been here and like… like you’re supposed to be here! You’re an outsider now, you should have stayed one. Can’t you see he’s doing fine without you hovering like a wraith waiting to watch him struggle?! Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” Haiqing spits at him and puts himself into He Xuan’s space with hand raised like he’s about to push into his chest before his fingers shake and he quickly drops his hand.
Bold but not quite bold enough to shove a supreme - it’s rather annoying, frankly. This kid really didn’t know when to not push his luck and yet he won’t follow through when he does. However, he does raise a rather good point. Why is he here? He doesn’t have any regrets for taking his actions, he was within his right to take the vengeance for the way Shi Wudu ripped his life from him to give it to his brother to save him from the fate he damned He Xuan to. There is no regret in forcing Shi Wudu to make a choice that would damn and expose him, no regret in exposing how vindictive he is to Qingxuan and yet…
He had been furious when his brother tried to choke Qingxuan and take him down with him. He’d lost the thin thread of patience he had for the Water Master in that moment and had made it so he couldn’t get his way - couldn’t harm the one person who had been ignorant to this whole situation, who had used his fate to do good when others would have abused that power. There was frustration, yes, that Qingxuan’s desire for justice had faltered in a moment of fear - guilt at making him watch his anger unfurl while begging for a man that didn’t exist.
Would he have done anything different if Qingxuan called him by his name? Would he have had a moment of mercy, spare him a scene that had extinguished all of his light in one brutal wave of black water.
He’s not sure.
He’s never been sure when it comes to Qingxuan. The feelings of care that had risen to the surface had turned to guilt as his plan came to a head, the desire to hate him being drowned beneath gentle eyes and sweet words. He Xuan’s heart has long been silenced by the atrocities done to him and his family - to his prospect of a future and yet it feels so very heavy when he thinks back to that moment.
To Qingxuan’s slumped form, cheeks stained with a permanent stream of torrent tears, eyes dulled and unseeing, voice quiet and broken as he spoke so softly and asked for death. His conscience is clear when it comes to the death of Shi Wudu and yet guilt gnaws at him for how he had broken the one person who bothered to show him tender affection.
But this boy does not need to know his motives, he doesn’t need to hear the conflict that sits in his mind.
He Xuan shifts to lean down towards the smaller man forcing him to take a step back lest he get knocked back by the sudden movement. “You’re making a scene.” He deadpans and then straightens back up as if he had never moved in the first place. “Don’t embarrass yourself.” There’s a scoff to his words as his back settles into the door frame once more.
Haiqing takes a few steps back but his anger is hardly quelled, his entire body vibrating, looking every bit as coiled to strike out at him as a wolf backed into a corner. “Have you always been like this? You’re insufferable on your own. I don’t know what he ever saw in you, how could someone like him ever befriend someone like you?” His words are quieter but no less laced with venom. It’s remarkable, really, how much this kid didn’t know when to quit.
“If you figure out the answer to that question let me know.”
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He Xuan pulls one of the candles from beneath the Water Master statue to place it at the feet of the Wind Mistress. A bit of spiritual energy is focused into his hand to create a palm torch small enough to light the candle before snuffing it out quickly. No prayer is given to a god that no longer exists - this action is purely out of respect to the man that Qingxuan has become rather than who he was.
His head turns as Qingxuan comes around the wall that separates the main room of the temple from the semi-private space the idols were kept in.
The uneven steps pause as teal eyes move from the candle and then back to He Xuan proper. There’s a faint furrow to his brow as he takes a moment to register what he’s seeing before lips finally part to question him, “Did you light a candle to the Wind Mistress?” His voice is measured somewhere between confused and concerned, but certainly not happy or pleased by any means.
“I did. I said I would, didn’t I? I hope you don’t mind but I did move one from the Water Master’s idol to hers, she didn’t have any beneath her.” He’d have moved all of them over had Qingxuan not come in when he did. Well… maybe not all. Much to his dismay that level of disturbance to his memorial would likely have just made him sad.
“No it’s… fine, I can always make more candles for the idols if you want to add more.” There’s a moment of awkward laughter before Qingxuan comes over to stand next to him and picks up a box of matches to start lighting candles beneath Shi Wudu’s statue.
He Xuan’s brow raises slightly at that little detail. Since when could Qingxuan make candles? Did he pick that up during his time here before he started keeping an eye on him? He hasn’t seen him make them and while the process isn’t necessarily difficult, it does take a great deal of patience. “You made them yourself? I’m sorry then, I should have asked.” It was one thing to take a candle out of spite for Shi Wudu when the candle had been made by a faceless individual he didn’t know - but this is something Qingxuan had made with his own hands.
Qingxuan gives a small smile at him before putting the matches aside, “It’s alright. I don’t mind doing it. I just need to get some pine resin from where you bumped into me. I should still have my bamboo molds lingering around somewhere. You could always help me if you’re that bothered by it.”
“Sure.”
The former Wind Master closes his eyes and places his hands together as his head bows for only a moment to Shi Wudu’s idol before he quickly straightens himself. Seems whatever he had to say to his brother wasn’t worth more than a few moments of silence. He Xuan shrugs out of his outer layer and folds it up near the head of the mat as his eyes shift between getting himself ready to rest and watching Qingxuan’s movements.
Qingxuan moves over to the small ‘shrine’ of fishbones with candles darkened by charcoal and lighting another match. The flame flickers as Qingxuan uses his non-dominant hand to light the two candles that surround it. A bao that hadn’t been devoured in the bath house is pulled from within Qingxuan’s sleeve and is placed in front of the bones. This time there is no moment of closed eyes, no clasped hands, instead he seems to just stand there and stare at the flames for a long moment as if the fire held some secret that he couldn’t comprehend.
“Who is that shrine for? I can’t say I recognize a God fitting the offerings you’ve left.”
“Not a God.” Qingxuan turns to meet He Xuan’s stare and the smile that he offers is more of a simper. It doesn’t meet his eyes leaving the teal color to look dull within the wavering light of the candles. “An old friend. I can’t speak with him anymore so I… I guess I do this as a way of saying I’m thinking about him? Wishing him well, as it were.” His words are somber and a touch too quiet and lacking the cheerful energy he’s come to associate with Qingxuan.
And here it is again - that complicated mix of feelings that only arrive when Qingxuan is involved. Why would he create something for him? Should he not hate him? Did he not prove that he fears him during the array? Had he not frozen when he saw the Earth Master’s shovel? Had he not broken so unequivocally because of his actions to the point where he threw himself from the walls of the Royal Capital in attempts to end his own life? Is he not permanently damaged from the fall that was fed by the vicious way he had ripped this man’s brother from him where he could see?
Yet he lights candles in a form of reverence, offers soft prayers in silence to show that he is still there for He Xuan despite everything that has happened. Telling him that he’s thinking of him - sending good will that he does not deserve. That fall had not damaged his memory otherwise there would be no way for him to remember stories that span far too much time and were already long forgotten by those they aided. Otherwise he wouldn’t be lighting a silent vigil for his brother - he wouldn’t look so distraught when his mind wanders off elsewhere.
He should hate him. He should hate him and curse his name. The very continued existence of Ship Sinking Black Water should leave him with fury and dismay. So why? Why bother remembering him when his memory can bring so much pain? Every lie should be a scar that slowly heals in time, his betrayal should be slowly forgotten until Qingxuan no longer remembers the man he presented himself as.
“Did he pass on?”
Qingxuan laughs slightly and shakes his head, “Not quite, but I can’t see him again. I’m sure any kind feelings he had for me are long since dead.” Qingxuan moves towards the mat to sit along its poor straw make. Hands slowly unbutton his cloak and let the white woolen fabric pool on his lap. “In fact I’d wager that those feelings likely have turned to hate.” Teal eyes stay down cast as his Qingxuan studies his hands intently, gently brushing his thumbs over one another in slow succession.
Hate? What a novel idea. If he hated Qingxuan this entire situation would be so much easier. It leaves him carrying a guilt in his chest as he watches the former wind god struggle through hunger, cold, and melancholy. If he hated him perhaps he’d have already faded on from this world and allowed himself the embrace of a final sleep.
“Anyway, if it’s alright with you, that is a story I don’t want to tell.” Qingxuan lays down and turns his back to ‘Yang Shui’ as he adjusts his new cloak over his form like a blanket.
If it’s alright with him. As if he would let loose such a tragedy if He Xuan pressed him on the matter and share the heavy weight of this burden with another. Was there nothing that Qingxuan would not give to someone if they asked? He shares his food, his warmth, what semblance he has of a home with strangers and allows them to take sanctuary within his benevolent kindness.
He Xuan can’t seem to tear his eyes off the other man after that. Sitting like nothing more than a ghost of the past to watch over him and assure that he makes it through the night. It’s a reversal of past situations when he himself had fallen asleep during a mission and would wake to find the Wind Master dutifully watching over him and offering a layer of protection in moments of vulnerability. A repayment for the way he’d smile at him and greet him with a ‘Good Morning, sleepy’ and offer him a hand up so that they could get back to their patrol. Hands he would slap away without a second thought and yet they would be extended once the next time rolled around.
He waits until Qingxuan’s breathing evens out before he reaches over to lay his own overcoat atop the white cloak that shielded the other man from the cold.
Even with sleep being a constant tug at the back of his mind he elects to ignore it. Instead he lets his thoughts swim through the evening as he starts his own reflection of the past. He had been cruel to him in the past, he had denied their closeness even as he felt it building in his chest over the years. He Xuan had scolded, belittled, and scoffed at every attempt from Qingxuan to show care… and yet it never phased him. He simply laughed it off or rose to challenge the other man back with a sharp tongue and sharper wit. Qingxuan had carried him when he was injured, and had caused such a fuss in the Heavenly court that there was not a soul that didn’t know he had been injured. He had allowed his robes to be soaked with He Xuan’s blood and then had been there once ‘Ming Yi’ had awoken from his injuries.
Albeit he had awoken to begin with due to Qingxuan arguing loudly through an array and guiding someone through the Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s needlessly complex teleportation array.
Every time He Xuan had suffered an injury, carefully crafted or otherwise, Qingxuan had leant a shoulder, and had given him his back. They scolded each other over injuries, mocked one another and teased despite everything. He Xuan’s words had been harsh retorts but Qingxuan could be equally as brutal in his responses. It was an energy match that he could not deny and born out of a genuine feeling of care from Qingxuan.
And he had carried Qingxuan in turn, and had fallen victim to that affection time and time again. It was instinct to pull him out of danger - warning him to stay out of his own plans when everything had been revealed to Qingxuan. So many chances offered, so many attempts to get him to stay away; and yet, he kept picking his brother even when he knew of his deplorable deeds.
Even then he made sure Qingxuan was healed in the Nether Water Manor and had only subjected him to discomfort at first. He had watched Qingxuan push back against his brother to stay at He Xuan’s side, to help carry the weight and for a few moments he genuinely thought that Qingxuan would pick him. It had been the lie that finalized the nail in the coffin when he wouldn’t hand over the pendant. It was the final indicator that in this moment, at this time, he would pick Shi Wudu over him despite everything.
Qingxuan had called for him, begged him, but those words were for a deadman.
Why did he feel guilty? Why had he given him so many chances to begin with? Why did he start to care? Why did Qingxuan still care now? Why does he still care now-
A weight shifts and his gaze snaps down to see Qingxuan had moved to place his head on He Xuan’s lap. It’s as if the other man had sensed something was wrong, had felt the slow spiral of his thoughts between fond memories and haunted ones.
He Xuan’s hands hover in the air for a moment somewhere between guiding Qingxuan off of him and soothing a hand through his hair. This was why. This was why it was so complicated. Even unconscious Qingxuan gravitated to those in distress and offered his comfort in whatever way he could. Even with no way of knowing how his thoughts had been kicking up like the undertow trying to drag him back to that cold state he found a way to rip him out of it.
He almost succeeded in it when his hand was around Shi Wudu’s neck. If he had called for him, called him by his proper name, would he have stopped? Would he have settled for mangling him and letting the brothers disappear into the mortal realm with dignity and pride ripped from them?
Likely not, but he would have spared Qingxuan the sight.
But similar questions could be leveled at Qingxuan. If had time, if He Xuan let Qingxuan think about his brother’s crimes, would he have aired on the side of justice? Would he have let the punishment be delivered?
Thinking about it now he knows the answer would be yes. Qingxuan is selfless, yes, but he is just. Even when He Xuan had asked if he would die for his sins the former wind master had said he would. He would have taken a fate upon himself that was bastardized and wrong, willingly go mad, as repentance. He would have let He Xuan take his own head for the wrong doings he hadn’t known until mere days before he had acted.
What a stupid man.
How could anyone hate him? None of his kindness was performative, it simply was kindness for kindness’ sake built on the foundation that no one would help without reason. He had always defied that belief of his brother’s, using himself as the rebellious example of such a thing.
A slow breath is drawn in as his hand moves to fall upon Qingxuan’s head and gently smooths down strands of his hair. Fingers subconsciously tangle and comb through it in soft motions to soothe the other’s dreams and allow him to rest as peacefully as he can.
It’s on the third or fourth pass that a glint of gold catches his eye and forces his hand to pause and turn his hand to glance at his little finger. Gilded thread had wound itself around it and tied in a star-like pattern that kept knotting into itself over and over again. His free hand comes up to follow the end of the thread gently tugging upon it until his eyes find its resting place. The same knot is tied neatly on the little finger of Qingxuan’s damaged hand confirming something he has long since suspected but tried to deny.
Their fates are intertwined whether either of them likes it or not.
He releases the thread and waves his hand over it to make both knots and the thin thread vanish from view. It would be better if Qingxuan didn’t see such a thing yet - it would only lead to questions that he’s not ready to answer and that Qingxuan isn’t ready to hear.
The night passes far quicker than he realized with Qingxuan by his side and He Xuan idles his time gently tangling his fingers through the other’s hair. Each pass through draws a new memory to the forefront of his mind. Qingxuan braiding his hair. Qingxuan begging him to take a female form with him. Qingxuan’s attempts to learn to cook so that he can always make sure ‘Ming Yi’ got a meal after patrol – regardless if they had returned to the Upper Court or not. Qingxuan nearly doubling over with laughter when ‘Ming Yi’s’ teleportation array occasionally took them to the wrong location. Qingxuan teasing him that he should practice his elemental magic more. Qingxuan’s bright smiles when he called him his best friend.
As morning breaks and Qingxuan stirs with his head shifting against He Xuan’s thigh his hand quickly moves to free itself from his hair. Instead it moves to support himself against the mat while leaning back to give the other space to lift his head without bumping into his chest.
Teal eyes blink blearily up at him and squint for a second before recognition dawns in them and the smaller man shoots up and scrambles back from him. A bit of laughter leaves him as his hands move to rub at his face to attempt to shake off the embarrassed blush that had bloomed across his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, aha, I didn’t mean to-”
He Xuan’s head tilts to the side as the corners of his lips raise ever so slightly. “Good Morning.”
He watches as full lips settle into a partially opened state while long lashes flutter twice as he blinks in surprise at him. It takes him a moment to recover before a sweet smile paints itself across his face as teal eyes narrow with a bit of genuine joy at such a simple thing.
“Good morning.”
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“Hey.” He leans over Qingxuan’s shoulder to grab his attention. He watches as Qingxuan’s shoulders go rigid as his entire body jolts before his head turns to meet his stare leaving their faces a bit too close to be casual between two acquaintances.
“Yang Shui! Don’t sneak up on people like that! You almost made my heart seize.” Qingxuan places his hand to his chest and lets out a heavy breath but notably doesn’t move away from him. Instead he raises his brow and lets his face settle into a small smile. He’s been particularly joyful today, a mood that seemed to have spread to most of the individual’s that linger around the Temple of Wind and Water. “Did you need something?”
He shakes his head slightly and leans back away from the other man and settles back on his heels. “I’m heading to the pleasure district to pick up our clothes. I’m going to bring back some rice for congee.” He Xuan immediately raises a hand to shut down the complaint about him spending money on this small community. “It’s a good day for it and I’d like to eat it. Would you make it? I’ll call it even if you do.”
Qingxuan turns on him and crosses his arms over his chest. His lips pull to the side and his nose scrunches up slightly, an argument written across his face and ready on his tongue. He Xuan raises a brow and leans down towards him slightly, “Cooking is labor. I think it’s a fair trade – besides, it won’t just be for me now will it?” Perhaps it’s a bit of a dirty trick to tug at Qingxuan’s heartstrings and his care for every person here.
But He Xuan had to adapt if he was going to help Qingxuan settle into some form of normalcy. If he had to use the people here then he would, simple as that. Besides… seeing others struggle through hunger is just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.
Qingxuan’s cheeks puff out slightly before he sighs. “Fine. I can agree to that.”
“You’d be stupid not to.” He’s quick to turn on his heel to start walking before the other can retort, leaving the man to only manage out a quick ‘HEY’ being shouted at He Xuan’s retreating back. He’s more than certain he’ll be in for a small argument when he gets back but that would only make this day a bit more entertaining.
It’s only when he’s certain that not a soul from Qingxuan’s community could see him does he allow the glamour over the knot on his own finger to fall away. His eyes scan over it and his thumb gently brushes over the gilded expanse of it. Neither he nor Qingxuan had tied this onto their fingers and yet it appeared regardless. Maybe it had always been there and they hadn’t realized it, or perhaps it was just a signifier that there was a small fragment of hope that he could repair what he had broken.
That maybe this situation wasn’t as impossible as he had initially thought.
“Ah, I’ve found the word I was looking for before: pitiful.”
“San Lang!”
Immediately he closes his eyes and tugs his sleeve down to cover his hand. To think his day had almost been going well. He attempts to keep walking forwards without acknowledging the pair but the faint jingling steps behind him just proves it’s a fruitless endeavor. If the Crimson Rain Sought Flower was adamantly following him then it was likely at the behest of the royal highness that seemed to always be at his side now.
His steps pause and his head turns towards the pair as he mentally prepares to weather the headache that was about to rise to the surface.
Xie Lian’s face is friendly enough as he smiles at He Xuan despite the tentative nervousness there. Hua Cheng’s face holds the same fake smile he’s grown far too used to seeing. For a long time he wondered if that expression had frozen onto his face but that theory had been disproven once the scrap collector entered the picture.
Four bolts of fabric are being carried in Xie Lian’s arms varying in colors from red to soft blues and whites. “Can I bother you for a moment of your time?” Xie Lian requests with such a genuinely hopeful expression that he almost feels inclined to agree on his own but a glance to the damn near murderous glint in Hua Cheng’s eye tells him that the question was more of a polite formality than anything else.
“Fine. What did you need?” His attention attempts to stay on Hua Cheng before a simple glance down signifies that his attention had to be on Xie Lian. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes as his gaze falls back on the crown prince.
Xie Lian smiles brightly at him and he takes a few steps closer to He Xuan which makes the Ghost King take a step back instantly. He’d rather not risk being flayed in the middle of the Royal Capital by an overprotective and volatile man.
Xie Lian blinks before he laughs softly and raises his free hand to rub at the back of his head. “I told him to be on his best behavior, you don’t have to keep your distance. Isn’t that right, San Lang?” The crown prince turns his attention back to Hua Cheng and steps closer to He Xuan pointedly.
A brighter smile is offered to Xie Lian, “Of course. Your San Lang is always happy to give Gege whatever he wishes.” It dies instantly the moment Xie Lian turns away and returns to that fake smile that promises a quick death if his fingertips so much as graze the crown prince’s skin. It’s unnecessary, truly, but he keeps that little detail to himself. He’d rather not increase his debt due to one smart comment.
“Okay so it’s like this,” He offers the bolts of silk out to He Xuan, “San Lang gifted me some cloth because I… wanted to learn some more domestic arts.” There’s a quick flicker of Xie Lian’s attention to a belt being worn inside out by Hua Cheng before glancing back at He Xuan. “Unfortunately I seem to be rather terrible at it.”
“Gege was doing fine.”
Xie Lian ignores the comment entirely, “I would rather not ruin such fine silk in my attempts so I was wondering if you’d bring these to Qingxuan? He would likely find a better use for them than I would even if he just sells them.” His smile softens slightly, “I heard you were spending some time with him and thought that maybe he’d be willing to take them from you rather than me. He’s…”
“Yes I know.” He Xuan says quickly, “I understand.” He’s exceedingly careful to take the silk from the other’s hands without touching the man. Shirking off their problems at getting Qingxuan to take a handout is certainly annoying but nothing he can’t manage. Besides, it’s not as if he has a choice in the matter. Saying no to the Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s husband would be like signing a declaration of war.
Simply put, it’s less of a headache to just do it than risk the absolute storm that would come if he didn’t.
Xie Lian’s eyes dip down to the gold thread on his finger and his smile widens, “And I’m happy to see you two are getting along!” His hands clap together and his head falls to the side in a small show of elation. “See, San Lang, I said it was possible.”
Hua Cheng shrugs his shoulders idly. “I did not doubt you. If Gege says it’s possible then it is possible.”
He Xuan schools his features immediately before they can twist up in disgust at how domestic and enraptured Hua Cheng sounds when speaking to Xie Lian. It was bad enough when they had to work together in the past but, somehow, it has managed to get worse as time has passed. He truly can’t understand how someone could be this saccharine towards another person - even when he was engaged to his wife-to-be he doesn’t remember being this bad. Hua Cheng certainly is a special breed of obsessive and possessive.
“Why is it gold? And the knot is different. San Lang, doesn’t that look like a…” Xie Lian leans a little closer and He Xuan swaps the hands holding the bolts of silk to place his hand behind his back.
“Gege, much as I would love to see Black Water struggle through an explanation, I think this is one matter that does not need our commentary or intervention.”
Xie Lian straightens up and blinks at He Xuan a few times before nodding in agreement. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.”
He Xuan finds that a touch too hard to believe but he shakes his head and turns on his heel. “He’s in a good mood if you want to go visit him while you’re here.” He starts walking and, blessedly, finds that the jingles don’t follow him. His day may be ruined by the appearance of the other Ghost King but seeing Xie Lian would brighten Qingxuan’s day a bit more. If he’s practically bursting from joy it’ll be easier to convince him to take these silks. It’s a selfish intention to save him from having to explain the benefits of having the silk or helping him find a buyer for goods that he didn’t earn.
That’s the only reason he told them to visit.
A completely selfish reason.
The thread around his pinky tightens slightly and he scoffs down at it before forcing the glamour back onto it.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☽ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
A trip around the pleasure district without another person turns out to be a taxing experience. Women would put themselves into his path and solicit him for an early afternoon fuck. Vendors hawking their wares and shouted across the street to anyone and everyone that dared even a glance towards them. He had hands tinged red from the cold tug at his sleeve, women with far too much skin showing for the weather pressing against his side and saturating him with overly scented perfumes that barely covered the scent of sex from their forms.
Thankfully his complete lack of reaction or any form of attention eventually marked him as someone that these women wouldn’t make any money off of and left him predominantly alone after that.
A mental note is made to not go out alone in the future. When Qingxuan was here he’d be greeted by people but there was never a moment where they’d been hounded by individuals. It was as if when Qingxuan wanted the attention of others he could find a way to wind his words to lure people to himself and when he wished to be left alone he would signal it in subtle ways. In its own way it’s like a foreign language to him built upon by community respect and a natural charm.
Thinking back on it, they had never been swarmed by individuals when they would explore a new town or city when he was pretending to be the Earth Master. Qingxuan only ever got swarmed when he had extracted himself from ‘Ming Yi’ for the evening and elected to get a drink and listen to courtesans weave tales or play music on pipas or zheng. It’s as if he had purposefully maneuvered their days to keep ‘Ming Yi’ from getting overwhelmed and annoyed at the mortals that held such high esteem for the Gods.
He snorts at the thought and adjusts the rice on his shoulder before it can slip and shifts his grip on the silk so that they wouldn’t get waterlogged and ruined from the filthy slush-filled streets.
It’s getting to the point that when he gets to the street that houses the Wind and Water Temple he is greeted by his fake name with a smile or a simple nod of acknowledgement. It was bound to happen eventually though he wasn’t expecting it to be within the first couple days. He can always use the excuse that his hands are full to why he doesn’t wave back, say the rice was blocking his vision of those that gave him the nod, and simply pretend he hadn’t heard his false name being called.
He Xuan may be helping these people by proxy via Qingxuan but he wasn’t here to be their friend.
“Yang Shui!” That voice makes him pause his steps as he sees Qingxuan pick up the ends of his clothing so they wouldn’t drag on the ground half-running, half-limping over to him before nearly skidding on the ground as his ankle wavers. Without thinking he tosses the box filled with their recently laundered clothing to the street and reaches out to grab the other man’s arm before he can plummet to the ground.
“Ah… ouch, tight you grip you got there.” His hand lessens the hold but stays firm enough to keep the other man steady. Qingxuan laughs and steadies himself with a press along He Xuan’s forearm as he rights his posture. “Thank you, sorry. Pushed it a bit there.” Another little bit of laughter leaves him before he starts to settle down and gently pulls his arm free from the grip. His other hand comes up to rub the spot softly to soothe the discomfort he’d caused.
“At least pay attention when you’re trying to run. It’s icy, you could have fallen and snapped your wrist.” His tone comes out a touch too sharp towards the other man and he watches Qingxuan jolt in surprise and immediately place his hands up in defense. He wills himself to dial it back and shove that irritation down for now - not while the other still hasn’t pieced together who he is. He clears his throat and offers out the bolts of silk towards Qingxuan.
“What are you giving these to me for?” Qingxuan doesn’t put his hands on the bolts yet and instead places a hand on his own hip and gives the other a questioning stare.
“A wealthy couple stopped me and forced them on me.” Not a lie, not really, “Apparently the… wife was struggling to make clothing with them and didn’t want to ruin it. You can sell them if you want, scrap them for bandage cloth, or make something with them – either way they are of no use to me.” He’s satisfied that the truth had been modified to still be true without giving away who the silks had come from and why they were given to him specifically.
Qingxuan’s brows raise and after a moment of staring at ‘Yang Shui’ he reaches out and takes them under his own arms. “It wouldn’t hurt to be able to make some blankets for the younger kids.” His fingers draw over one of the bolts and his gaze softens some and a small smile pulls at his lips, “I haven’t felt silk this fine in a long while. You must have some very good luck to be given this on a whim.”
More like extremely unlucky and haunted by a debt collector that is enjoying watching him fumble rebuilding a friendship with someone he hurt immensely. “Yeah, you could say that.”
He moves back to where the box had been tossed to the side and picks it up before it soaks through completely. The clothing would likely have to be laundered again at some point, but at the very least the box likely blocked the worst of it. The bag of rice is shrugged off his shoulder as he pulls it open and peaks through the clothing. There’s a note pinned against his attire that draws his eye and he closes his eyes in absolute disbelief.
’We’re deeply sorry but Ol’ Feng’s clothing did not survive the wash. We’ve attached another set of clothing as compensation for what was lost. We hope that you’ll visit us again soon! - Mei’
Stamped with a kiss mark.
He sighs and closes up the box and grabs the arm of a passing man and nods to the rice, “Take this by the cook pot. It’ll be cooked up in a bit.”
The man had to be in his late twenties with a pockmarked face but wrinkles had already started to form around his mouth and eyes as if the man smiled quite a bit. To be so happy despite the state he lives in is truly a remarkable feat and for a moment he lets his gaze follow the man as he hoists the rice further down the street. He’s long since learned that the people here are rather strange. They’re secular and hesitant around outsiders but they found joy in every small thing and worked together to spread what they have around with one another. It’s a completely foreign concept from what he’s used to. When he was still mortal it felt like every man was against the other willing to fight and kill to take what another had. When he was masquerading as a God he found the same could be said about the divine.
Selfish natures bred selfish intentions.
Yet these people who had less than a few coins to their name, who went days without eating, experienced the world with all its flaws and still smiled.
They either know some secret to the world he hasn’t figured out yet or they are just as insane as the man that brought them together…. And given how Qingxuan had placed himself on a dry part of the temple steps and was currently stretching silk out and waving it around to the delight of children he’s willing to bet it’s the latter.
He steps over casually and gathers up a few of the bolts that had been set aside and starts to bring them into the temple. His steps pause by the door, “Your clothing got destroyed.” What follows after can only be described as a slow moving explosion akin to a firework that refused to erupt.
Qingxuan pauses and leans down to the children and sweetly tells them to go play for a bit. His hands gently refold the cloth and pick it up, holding it almost reverently as he steps up to meet He Xuan at the threshold. A bright smile holds fast on his face as he looks up at him, “What was that?” It’s a bit too tense and a bit too saccharine.
And for a moment a chill goes down He Xuan’s spine.
“Your clothing got destroyed-”
Qingxuan’s hand comes up and swats him upside the head not unlike his mother used to when he said something smart. His own eyes blow wide as he stares down at the smaller man in sheer disbelief. “Fantastic! I did say I didn’t want them to be laundered - I was worried about this happening. What the hells am I supposed to wear now? This is linen, and it’s white. Wearing it one day is one thing, but wearing it all the time will destroy it beyond all recognition.” The rant starts pouring from the other man’s mouth as his hand shifts to swat at his elbow and makes He Xuan take a step back.
“Stupid man. Ugh I should have just walked away when you left me at the gate of the brothel.” Qingxuan steps past him with an exaggerated flick of his hair that, admittedly, is refreshing to see. He hadn’t done that since he was the Wind God and the behavior was just… familiar. A reminder of the far too many times he’s been hit in the face by this man’s hair when traveling, or when he’d whip around to talk to someone behind him.
His feet move to follow after him on their own accord as he tries to find his words again. He knew the other would be upset but he definitely didn’t expect it to be to this extent. He cautiously places the box down on the mat. “They sent a replacement with mine. I haven’t looked at it yet.” He keeps his words careful and measured, movements slowed and even lest he need to intercept that hand to keep it from swatting him again.
Hell hath no fury like a Qingxuan scorned.
He moves his own clothing out of the way and pauses as he stares at the green silk that appears beneath. White feathers and leaves have been embroidered on the sleeves as he stretches them out to look at them. At least it wasn’t entirely white… but certainly too fine to do suitable work in. He starts to fold it back up almost immediately, his head lifting to meet Qingxuan’s teal stare.
Or try to.
Qingxuan’s eyes are fixated on the outfit, his stare almost vacant as he leans down next to He Xuan to touch at one of the feathers stitched into the sleeve. “This is meant for a woman.” Qingxuan’s words come out almost hollow, “Must have been one of the girl’s.”
“I’ll bring it back.”
Qingxuan shakes his head quickly, “No, no. It’s too fine for everyday wear, certainly, but… I’ll keep it. I’ll just see if I can’t sell one of the bolts of silk in order to get some new hemp clothing for myself and a few of the kids. I should have enough left over to stock up on some rice and grain as well. With the temple mostly fixed up I can keep the grain dry for the most part.”
“... Keep the silk. It was my mistake - I’ll right it.” It clicks rather quickly on why the other had gone despondent so suddenly. He’s spent enough time with the man in front of him to know he had loved himself whether he was the Wind Master or the Wind Mistress and it had been well over a year since he’d been able to enjoy the leisure of swapping between the two at will. He himself didn’t have much attachment to shifting into a female form but he knows it brought the other joy to have that choice.
“Alright.”
He Xuan blinks at the lack of fight on the matter but he simply nods and leans away from the box as Qingxuan’s hands draw it partially up from it to examine the fine details and gently hold it up against his own form for a moment. The faintest hint of a smile brightens his face before his attention turns towards He Xuan once more.
“Can you sew, Yang Shui?”
The question was quite a topic change but he doesn’t desire to question it. It’s not as if this was abnormal. Qingxuan had the capacity to switch between topics at the drop of a hat and carry on a conversation regardless of what it was about. “I can’t, my fiancée tried to teach me at one point but I was hopeless at it.”
He isn’t fully sure why he felt the need to bring her up now but the words came free much easier than he thought they would. Perhaps it’s a reaction to seeing Qingxuan’s own vulnerability spread along his face - it would only be fair if he shared one of his own in return. This wasn’t a topic they ever had a chance to address when he was ‘Ming Yi’ nor would he have felt comfortable speaking on it while within the Nether Water Manor.
“You have a fiancée?”
“Had.”
Qingxuan slowly places the dress back in the box and turns towards him with a furrowed brow. “Oh… Yang Shui, I’m so sorry. What was her name?” He shifts, tucking his legs beneath his robes as he gives He Xuan his full attention.
He Xuan draws a deep breath in and slowly lets it out as his hand comes up to rub at his own head. He’d already heard Qingxuan apologize for this in the past but it had been done under duress and panic. Hearing it now felt all too genuine and all too heartfelt. He didn’t know who he was currently, he didn’t know his fiancée but he looks just as broken up inside as he had been about it centuries ago. “My family called her Miao-er.”
“Like a cat?”
“Very much so. She had a voice like a bird and sang like one too - it became a joke between us that she was a cat that ate a canary and inherited its voice.” He hadn’t told anyone this, not since she had passed. It’s almost bittersweet to be telling it now to the one that had, inadvertently, been the cause of her death. His nails dig into his scalp slightly as he scratches at it - he may have gotten his vengeance but the memories still had a way of drawing up his anger about the whole situation.
Qingxuan’s hand reaches out to grab the one in his hair and gently cups it within both of his. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I’m not going to make you tell me anymore.”
His hand clenches in the other’s hold but the other doesn’t let go of him. There’s a warmth in his touch that seeps into the cold of his fingertips and palms that soothes at the burning embers of the remnants of his ferocity. “Thank you.” His hand uncurls and lets his palm rest gently against Qingxuan’s for just a bit longer - he’d like to have this familiarity for just a few more seconds before he has to pretend he’s still a stranger to the man in front of him.
“Why are you thanking me? I should be apologizing twenty times over for accidentally bringing up an uncomfortable memory.” Qingxuan shakes his head and gently taps his fingers against the back of He Xuan’s hand.
“No.” He shuts that down immediately and pulls his hand back slowly from Qingxuan’s gentle hold. “No, that's not necessary.” He doesn’t want to hear the unending apologies again. He’s heard enough for a lifetime. That last one, the one that he’d spoken with such heartfelt sincerity, that was all he needed for the time being. His throat clears to shake off the discomfort of the situation and gives a wave of his hand as if, quite literally, shooing the topic away. “Why’d you ask if I can sew?”
“Oh! Right.” Qingxuan smoothly transitions away from talks of his fiancée and returns back to the initial topic, “I want to make blankets for the children but I’d like for them to be more than just plain, you know? I want to try sewing them together myself but I don’t have much experience with it - and I’m not sure I could embroider them myself. I was sort of hoping you had some insight on where to start.”
He Xuan quirks a brow up and his eyes roll, “Seriously? You looked at me and thought I had sewing experience?”
Qingxuan deadpans without even a second between He Xuan’s words, “I’ve seen weirder men that know how to sew. Trust me on that.” His hands move to close up the box and slides it beneath the shrine beneath the Wind Mistress statue. “And that man was rather good at it, shockingly. He was able to repair the spiritual weapon of a friend of mine - can’t say I know many people that can do that.”
That would have been the crown prince’s spiritual weapon, then - he can’t think of any God that used fabric as a weapon besides him.
“Have you considered asking one of the older women here? I’m sure they have some experience with it.”
Qingxuan’s lips twist to the side before he sighs, “I was hoping not to make an embarrassment of myself in front of the ayi’s. I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll ask them when I’m preparing dinner.” He pushes himself up and gives a stretch as his joints crack in something akin to a discordant harmony.
“Oh, Yang Shui. I meant to ask this morning before you left but… why are you still here? I’m not shooing you off or anything, but you’ve been needlessly helpful for someone that was keen on leaving right after dropping me back here.”
He Xuan pauses and lifts his knee so that he can press his elbow to it and rest his face on his hand. “That’s a good question. I suppose even you can find a way to ask interesting things now and again.”
“Hey! You know what, maybe I am shooing you away now.” Qingxuan huffs and turns on his heel to start making his way back towards the front of the building, “Suddenly the Temple of Wind and Water can’t fit an additional guest. Especially not rude ones like you-”
“Because I realized that if I were in your situation you’d have stayed and helped me. Even with nothing to give you still find ways to give someone something in return. I would have wanted someone like you to extend a hand to me when I was at my worst.”
Qingxuan pauses in his steps and stays still for a moment as he listens to He Xuan speak, his hands drop down to grip at the fabric of his sleeves. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.” There’s a sigh before he turns his head to meet He Xuan’s eye, holding his stare for a long moment before he gives a small smile.
“I suppose you can stay a while longer then.”
Notes:
The knot tied around He Xuan and Qingxuan's pinkies is the true lover's knot - though currently the string is orange/gold to signify a strong platonic bond
Next Chapter will be a teeny tiny time skip + a Pei Ming appearance
Also! I have a bsky feel free to come yap with me about these two
Chapter 4: The Watched
Summary:
“... Does everything have to be an argument with you or am I just a special case?”
“Sounds like you answered your own question!” He reaches out and pats Pei Ming’s shoulder a few times, “I’m really happy to hear after several centuries you’re starting to catch on and recognize that you are so special to me, Pei Ming.”
Notes:
Despite the kind of goofy summary this chapter gets extremely dark extremely quick so a few tw's for what's about to go down
tw: suicidal ideation, panic attacks, ptsd episodes, blood, and so much anxiety
I apologize for any mistakes in this chapter I finished this at nearly 4am
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The freeze and icy wind of the late winter slowly melts and thaws to an early spring. Last spring had been ripe with challenges from water logged buildings threatening to crumble, mold building on what little food they managed to find, and the struggles of finding new clothing that could survive the season and fit the rapidly growing children that made up the group.
The start of spring this time is… easier.
With Yang Shui helping out either hunting or taking odd jobs here and there to bring in extra income to afford a bit more food than usual and medical supplies, the weight of the struggle had been taken off of Qingxuan’s back. It left him free time to utilize the silk that had been gifted to him to practice stitching and needlework. The first few attempts were, blessedly, wasted on blankets that now have crooked leaves or what barely passes as waves along them. They still sufficed as blankets but they certainly weren’t pretty.
Once the silk was used up Yang Shui brought him back some hemp cloth to practice with instead. He’d dropped it down on his lap and simply said he can pay him back by making him a thicker blanket so that they didn’t end up fighting over the threadbare ones in the middle of the night.
Which has happened more times than Qingxuan wants to admit.
Blankets turned into basic over robes for the children made of undyed cloth that’s uneven in places with sleeves being too long or much too short to skirts that had hems high enough to not get mud addled but were littered with stitching errors. However he had been stubborn about getting the designs down and had taken to draping the cloth over the form he was making clothing for to make sure he could pin everything in the right place to keep from stitching going awry in the process.
Frankly he’s quite proud of the latest one he’s managed to make.
He tugs the over robe into place and helps secure the sash around Haiqing’s waist as the young man stands stock still under the fussing. Qingxuan takes a step back and squints at his work and gives an appreciative hum. It’s certainly not perfect but there are no glaring errors. It fit Haiqing’s form nicely and had even stitches - the little bluebell etched into the sleeve actually looks like a bluebell. He’d even managed to experiment with dying the cloth and was proud to say the blue he used didn’t look as washed out as he thought it would.
“There we go. How does it feel? Anywhere too tight or uncomfortable?”
“Ge has an eye for style…” Haiqing looks down at himself and pulls his sleeves up some before spinning once in a circle at Qingxuan’s incessant motioning.
Qingxuan flashes a radiant smile at the young man and tucks his hands into his own sleeves. His entire posture shifts forward as he leans over Haiqing and winks with one eye, “Well of course. Back when I was still living in luxury palaces and posturing in high society I had access to the finest silks and styles. Now this can’t compare to that, but I think I did pretty good on dolling you up a bit. You actually look like a handsome young man when you’re put together like this.”
Haiqing’s eyes blow wide before he stammers and flushes his head turning away. “Ge you’re embarrassing me, it’s just clothes.”
“Ah, but clothes can make a man. Do you think those nobles that strut around like peacocks in the high district are any more pretty than you and I without their clothes? From experience I can tell you they most definitely are not.” His tongue clicks in a tut tut motion as he shakes his head at Haiqing, “So don’t go ruining that one right away! My wrist needs a break from doing repairs… who’d have known kids can tear their pants as much as they do…”
“You’re no better, Ge, you tear your sleeves on everything when you work.”
“Haha, good point, good point.” Qingxuan pats the top of Haiqing’s head. “Now head off to help out with laying the wood out for your elders. If we’re going to get that house fixed up by summer we have to keep working at it and when it’s done we can get you a proper room.”
Haiqing bows to Qingxuan with a soft ‘yes, of course’ before he turns to run down the street. Qingxuan follows him with his stare as he watches the young man wave at some of the older men that had started moving wood into place before he hops up to climb atop the roof so that supplies can be passed up onto it.
“Would you look at that, you don’t look so tragic anymore.” A deeper voice sounds behind him before a heavy hand falls on his shoulder.
Qingxuan’s face scrunches up the second that hand falls to his shoulder and he immediately shrugs it off and turns to face the taller man with a huff. “I wish I could say the same to you, General Pei, but I’m afraid no amount of clothing, makeup, or time could save the state you’re in.”
Pei Ming places the hand that had just rested on Qingxuan’s shoulder to his chest like he’d just been shot through with an arrow. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and makes a good show of grimacing before he replies, “Ouch, now who taught you to have such an attitude? You’ve always been a bit of a brat but that one felt terribly personal.”
Teal eyes roll as he lets out a melodramatic sigh, “What can I say, it’s a gift. Really I was born with it.” He flicks strands of hair that, after regular care, had regained some of its normal shine. “Besides I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. Truly, I don’t understand how you got your reputation. I feel bad for the women you’ve been with, you must have really had to lower their standards to consider you.”
“Alright, alright. Spare me before I die by your sharp tongue.” Pei Ming waves him off and then glances around the street. His attention pauses on the Temple of Wind and Water that now had been pieced back together and polished to a point where it almost looks inviting and out of place against the run down street. “You’ve been busy. Looks like you’ve been able to get a few more meals in you too. Good, that’s… good.”
Qingxuan moves to follow his stare before glancing back at the general. “I’ve had some extra help. I’m hoping if I can get some people here some consistent shelter and food they’ll be able to recover enough to find some work and pull themselves out of the worst of it.”
“Looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of it. I’m glad to see it. However, Qingxuan, have you put some thought into my offer? Serious thought, not just blowing it off out of stubbornness.” Pei Ming’s stare burns against him as that default half curve of his lips seems to have leveled out. Teasing, for the moment, seems to be thrown out the window in favor of discussing more serious matters.
The former wind master sighs and rubs at his cheek with a, mostly, clean sleeve. “I understand what you’re trying to do for me is very generous, Pei Ming, and I am thankful for it.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ there.”
“Oh good, your senses are still sharp as ever.” Qingxuan rolls his eyes and lets out a low sigh. “Anyway, it’s really nice but… I can’t just leave them on their own, you know? I’ve helped them so much already I may as well see it through. Besides, things are starting to get better. We’re in the process of building better shelter and we’ve got a consistent hunter that’s able to bring back meat - actual good meat - and even helps chip in to get rice. No spices yet but I don’t suspect I’ll be seeing any spices for a few years yet.” He laughs and lets it filter out into a sigh as his shoulders slump slightly.
“Qingxuan this place is beneath you-”
“Excuse me? You’re starting to sound like Ge a bit there, Pei Ming. Just because I’m not as well off as I was, and just because these people don’t have a lot to their name it doesn’t mean they’re below me. Not a single person is below another, we all have things we contribute - and even if we didn’t, who cares?” His tone is sharp and he scoffs in sheer disgust at the other’s comment.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Qingxuan, have some mercy on me.”
“Then how did you mean it, Pei Ming? Explain it to me.” Qingxuan’s arms cross over one another as he shifts his weight onto his good leg.
Pei Ming lifts his hands in defense and takes a step back away from the budding storm radiating off of Qingxuan’s form. “I’m just saying you can help them while living comfortably. I could get you an estate here in the Capital and set you up with enough gold foils to help give everyone here a leg up. That’s all. You don’t need to suffer alongside them. I promised your brother before… everything that I would help keep an eye out for you. I’m just trying to do that, Qingxuan. I’m just trying to help.”
He can’t help the incessant tapping of his foot as the other man continues. Were he anyone else he’s sure he’d have lept at the offer and taken it gratefully. Were he anyone else he’d seek that comfort and luxury the moment he could. However, as it stands it’s just a hollow promise of care without really asking what Qingxuan wants. It’d be a brilliant birdcage to have his movements monitored and actions limited. He wouldn’t be able to trapeze around the city and disappear into the pleasure district to have meaningful talks with courtesans with brilliant minds limited by the money they’re able to bring in. He wouldn’t get a chance to hear busking musicians that, if given a bit more than a few coins, could eventually play at the most esteemed of noble’s houses.
He’s tired of having his choices and actions dictated by what is, and is not, appropriate and only being granted a sliver of his own wants handed to him out of pity.
“I appreciate it, but no. I’m happy like this, I’m happy building myself back up without handouts. Even if I stay at the very bottom until I draw my last breath I can draw it being happy. I’ve had luxury my entire life and indulged to my heart’s content and it was a crafted decadence on the back of a lie. If I claw my way out of this then it’ll be on my own terms and with my own work.”
“Qingxuan-”
“Please, I’ve had enough. I’m fine with you visiting. I just wish when you visited it would be to lend a hand or even just share a meal with me. My answer isn’t going to change.”
Pei Ming runs a hand through his hair and lets out a soft sigh, “Your brother would kill me if he knew I was letting you do this.” The words are muttered as he gives Qingxuan a tired stare, “But I hear you. If you change your mind I’m just a prayer away, alright? At least consider me as a last resort.”
Qingxuan groans and rubs at his temples in slow motions, “I hear you, but I’m also telling you that the answer will still be no. Please take your ‘kindness’ and go show it to someone else, okay?”
“... Does everything have to be an argument with you or am I just a special case?”
“Sounds like you answered your own question!” He reaches out and pats Pei Ming’s shoulder a few times, “I’m really happy to hear after several centuries you’re starting to catch on and recognize that you are so special to me, Pei Ming.”
There’s a visible twitch to Pei Ming’s brow as he takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out and pats Qingxuan’s shoulder back a bit too harshly. His other hand lifts and points at Qingxuan and it shakes for a few moments before he curls his finger back in to make a fist and gently raps his knuckles to the top of Qingxuan’s head. “You’re lucky I like you, Qingxuan. You really are.”
“Is that luck? Is it really?” Qingxuan ducks his head down and takes a few steps away. “Is this all you came to say? If so I’d really like to get back to things. I’m supposed to be helping the ayi’s prep dinner.”
“I could stay and help out for a bit.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times but then settles into a small smile, “Oh really? Well then let me put you to work. There’s a boy down that way with the older men that could use some help doing repairs on the roof of one of the houses down that way. Now shoo shoo, make yourself busy and use your hands more than your mouth for a change.”
Pei Ming lips curl into a smug smile as he parts his lips-
“No. Do not say whatever you’re about to.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
He can’t breathe. His lips are parting as he desperately tries to gasp in while staring into blue eyes with pupils smaller than pinpricks and much still wide. Fingers grip tighter around his throat and he feels the words being shaped but too choked to get them out of his mouth. The noises he makes out use precious air but he tries anyway. He tries to plead with his brother, to beg him to stop - to consider the options.
They have options. They both can live. He wants to live. He wants his brother to live. It doesn’t have to be like this. It doesn’t have to be this way. He can change it this time. He can change the outcome if he just lets him speak, lets him breathe. His brain faintly registers the weight on his wrists as he tries to bring his hands forwards to gently grip his brother’s hands but is unable to so much as move more than a few inches. His vision starts to darken around the corners, body jerking and struggling as it tries to preserve itself by attempting to break the grip.
“Ge…”
He feels something warm and wet splatter along his cheek and chest and air rushes into his lungs. His head falls forwards and he can’t quite register what he’s seeing. There’s a rush of red against grey and white. There’s a length of skin that stretches down to fingers and up into exposed bone and muscle. His chest tightens and his mind swims as recognition strikes him as his eyes raise to see his brother laughing and screaming something at a dark figure.
His brother’s mouth is moving rapidly and his eyes are crazed and Qingxuan is helpless but to beg. Apologies are ripped from a hoarse throat as tears mix with blood and run pink down his cheek and stain along his clothing.
Please.
It can be different this time.
Please.
Just give me a bit more time.
I’m sorry.
We were both wrong. I should have questioned it, I should have found out sooner. I shouldn’t have been ignorant.
I’m sorry.
I sinned. He sinned. We are guilty but let us repent in another way.
I’m sorry.
It can be different.
Ming-Xiong.
No. Not Ming-Xiong, that isn’t his name but it’s all he can call for. It’s the name he knows best, it’s the one that he’s said over and over again for what has felt like an eternity. It’s who he sees when he looks up at such a hardened face with eyes filled with such hate. He had caused that, he did that to him. How had he done so much wrong and never knew? How had he hurt someone he cared about so much in ways that are irrevocable and damning.
His entire body goes limp as he watches sightless eyes look back at him while dangling in a fisted grasp. Breathing and laughing - taunting - in one moment and gone the next.
He wants to die. He wants to die. He can’t do this alone. He can’t be alone. He’s never been alone. No one is going to help him now, no one is going to get him out of this. He wants to die. He wishes his brother had pressed a little harder now, he regrets wanting to live and fighting the embrace that was offered him. Why is he alive? Why is there a pale hand stained up to the wrist with blood being offered up to him?
“I want to die.”
“Dream on.”
Qingxuan shoots up on the mat and desperately tries to fill the ache in his lungs. They come out choked as he struggles free from the blankets and stumbles as he tries to stand. He falls back to the ground on his knee with a harsh thud that shoots pain up his form. It doesn’t hurt enough to deter him as he keeps pressing until he’s on his feet.
Everything around him sounds muffled and everything he touches feels like he’s passing through gossamer as he staggers towards the temple door. He thinks he can hear someone saying his name. He thinks he feels someone coming towards him from behind and his head turns to meet amber eyes.
His eyes blow wide and he nearly trips over his own feet moving back away from them. A hand is offered out to him, palm up, and he has to choke down a scream as his teeth sink into his tongue to keep any noise from leaving him. He backs up until he feels the cool temple wall through the linen of his clothing and uses it to propel himself around the corner. His hands fumble and throw the door open as he lurches himself through the door frame and wobbles down the steps.
The moment his feet meet flat ground he starts running.
Pain shoots up through his leg with each press into stone as he forces himself through it. He won’t let his pace fall, won’t falter as he races away from that figure - that wraith. Why was he here? Was he haunting him? Was he only in his mind?
Is his mind turning against him? Is he going to follow the same fate as his brother? Did he come to collect? Did he change his mind? He laughs in stuttered breaths as his hands come up and smack at his face. This is a dream, right? He’s dreaming. He just needs to wake up. The smack of his hands against his cheeks burns both in his palms and along his face.
He can’t be awake.
He can’t be here.
He runs until his lungs beg him to stop and his legs wobble under strain and yet he continues to press his limits. He refuses to stop until the glint of the moonlight flickers over the movement of a familiar river. His hands start ripping off his robes, tossing them down into the wet earth as he forces himself into the water and lets the cold of the water shock his body to his senses.
He’s gasping for breaths as he looks down at his form mind juxtaposing flashes of red along his chest and his hands. Bruises along his shoulder and wrists appear like a brand and he drops down to his knees into the shallow water and starts scrubbing at his skin. He could get rid of them. He can wash the blood away. He doesn’t feel clean, he doesn’t feel safe. He just needs it to go away, he needs it to be gone. He rubs at his skin with the fervor of a desperate man watching as his skin goes raw and pink under his touch.
His breathing is uneven and staggered and each breath doesn’t fill his lungs enough. Why can’t he breathe? Why won’t the blood leave his skin? It’s not his blood, it’s not his own blood, he needs to get it off.
“Qingxuan!”
There’s a splash of water around him before a cloak wraps around his shoulders and offers some warmth against the bite of the cold. A hand presses to his back and gently pats it, “Breathe slow.”
He’s trying. He really is. He’s trying to breathe slowly but it won’t stop. He can only manage deep gasps between stuttered exhales.
“Like this.” He can hear the voice take a slow breath in and release it at an even pace and it pierces through some of the storm. He tries to copy it but hiccups halfway through the first breath and he shakes his head. He can’t. His laugh is broken up and sounds more like a wheeze than any recognizable sound.
“Qingxuan, try again.” That voice soothes him and takes another deep breath in and slowly releases it. This time when Qingxuan tries to draw breath in it comes in easier and he’s able to exhale evenly. The burn in his lungs starts to subside after a few deep breaths and his hands come up to pull the cloak tighter around his shoulders. Goosebumps have pricked up all along his skin as the cold water laps at his skin softly - the streams flow diverted around him by another form still gently keeping a hand pressed to his back.
He glances down at his hands and finds his fingertips tinged pink but otherwise clean. His palm turns out and allows him to see his unbruised wrist. There’s a pathetic sob that leaves his throat and he can feel the cold bite of drying wetness on his cheeks. When had he started crying?
A hand gently takes his shaking hand and gently grips it. That action draws his gaze up to meet that same amber stare whose own pupils seem to be much too large and shaded by a furrowed brow. They’re flickering back and forth along Qingxuan’s face, studying him, staring at him. Chestnut hair was disheveled and tangled in places falling between his eyes and sticking to his cheeks. “You’re going to freeze to death if you stay here.”
Qingxuan shakes his head again and pulls his hand out of the other’s hand and instead grips tight into the fabric of the cloak covering his form. “That’s fine.” His voice barely manages to leave his lips between the faint chattering of his teeth and the pain in his throat.
“It is not fine.” The voice snaps in return and stings with its stern tone. It denies him an argument and leaves him to only weakly nod his head.
His center of balance is shifted as he’s hoisted up and out of the cold water and instead forced against a chest. Qingxuan’s body protests the movement as his leg throbs with each beat of his heart now that it wasn’t being numbed by the constant icy torrent of the river. His head is guided to lean against the other’s shoulder by the arm beneath his back. He winces when they start moving and he subconsciously turns his body into stability rather than risk falling free from the hold by shifting his body too far from the one holding him.
Qingxuan flickers between moments of clarity and a blur as he stares past the other’s shoulder and up at the sky. Tonight would have been a good night to go. The stars are shining and the moon is full, it would have given him a beautiful image as the last thing he saw. He laughs bitterly at that. He hadn’t had a thought like that in some time and frankly he thought he was past that point. It’s like a ghost that had slipped through the cracks in a stone house and had slowly been feeding on the shreds of happiness he was able to make for himself.
Was it because Pei Ming visited? Was it the talk of his brother?
Maybe it was just an eventuality. Eventually these thoughts would creep back into his mind. Eventually the dreams would come back. Eventually they’ll win. It’s not as if anyone in this world is infallible and every single day he ages in the mortal realm he’s forced to remember that fact. Usually it’s met with a contented acceptance but sometimes it only serves as a reminder of every wrong he’d intentionally and unintentionally committed.
The stars disappear and his eyes are met with faded wood as the light of the night is dissipated into darkness. He lifts his head then and draws his head to examine his surroundings to find himself back in the Temple of Wind and Water. Popo still remains asleep on her mat but Haiqing is nowhere to be seen. Is Haiqing the one carrying him?
He finally chances a look up at the man that had followed him out to the water and is greeted by the view of a clenched jaw and mused chestnut hair. Amber eyes are fixed forward and catch with flecks of aurum light by the few candles that had stayed alight through the evening. Chestnut hair. That’s right, he had already seen that in the river. Yang Shui had been the one to talk him through his breaths, to soothe a hand against his back, and who had looked at him with such worry written across his face.
“Why?”
Yang Shui’s chin dips slightly towards Qingxuan for a moment and he lets out a breath that is far too heavy. His face comes closer to Qingxuan’s as his body moves forwards and the former wind god is delicately placed on the mat he’d been sharing with Yang Shui for the past while. How long had it been again? A month? Maybe two? Everything had been moving so quickly and days had been so much easier since Yang Shui came back with him to the capital.
“You ran off in a panic. What else was I supposed to do?” Yang Shui moves away from him to lay out Qingxuan’s clothing near his form. When did he pick those up? He can’t remember the other man ever leaning down to collect the clothing he’d stripped off from his form… but then again he can’t say he was fully coherent for the trip back.
“Oh.”
Yang Shui moves to the other side of the mat and starts collecting the blankets before unceremoniously dumping them onto Qingxuan’s lap. He stares down at Qingxuan for a moment before tutting and grabbing his shoulders to guide him back down to the mat. His hands leave him the moment he’s sure that Qingxuan will stay down and move to pull the blankets up over his chest and tucks them against his form.
An uneasy silence has fallen over the room as Yang Shui moves around it collecting bits of discarded clothes to pile atop Qingxuan until he feels heavy beneath the weight of it. He even goes so far to strip his outer robe that was still wet at the bottom to cover the top of everything before he finally relents and sits down on the mat next to Qingxuan. Yang Shui’s fingers tap aggressively against his knee and his attention seems fixated towards the statues of the Wind and Water Master.
After a moment there’s a scoff and his head turns towards Qingxuan. “Is living so bad?”
The question feels more like a blow rather than a few words. Qingxuan’s lips fall open and his eyes meet Yang Shui’s piercing golden stare before he quickly averts his gaze away from the visibly irritated man. He swallows around his throat feeling the discomfort and rush of pain from when he’d pushed his body beyond its limits in order to escape from the hellscape his mind had made for him.
Is it so bad?
There are definitely times where it feels hopeless and moments where it feels like every bit of progress he’s made doesn’t matter. There are nights where he’s left too long with his own thoughts and criticizes himself to hell and back for not doing more and for being too slow in his repentance. Moments where he sees his brother in Haiqing’s eyes or catches the same annoyance of He Xuan’s in Yang Shui’s eyes. Little things that build up and crush down on him as if the world had just opened up and put the pressure of keeping it together on his shoulders.
But those weren’t the constant in his life. There are the teasing comments and jokes spread around his little community now. There’s the bright eyes of a hopeful child as they beam at him and thank him for fixing up their clothing. There’s the gentle chiding of the ayi’s when he makes mistakes and then delicately shows him how to do it right next time. The satisfaction that comes with completing a project that he’s started and set his mind to. The joy of being able to share a meal, no matter how meager or tasteless, with a group of people that had welcomed him in with open arms.
“No. It’s not.” He finally forces himself to stay as his hand comes out from beneath the blanket pile and rubs at his cheek where the sting of his slap still tingles with discomfort.
“Then why would you put yourself in a situation where you could have thrown it away? Had I not been there would you have even gotten out of the water?” That finger stops incessantly tapping against his knee and instead Qingxuan watches his hand ball up into a fist and then press down against the mat beneath him. Yang Shui almost hisses out a breath before he looks away from Qingxuan to stare back at the shrines. “I don’t understand. Even at my lowest I didn’t even consider it an option. Why make it one?”
Qingxuan lets out a tired little laugh and brings his hand up to study his palms and the expanse of his arms that had been rubbed raw. “I don’t think I’d have been able to get out of the water. I’d like to think I’d come to my senses at some point but I don’t even know if my legs would have supported my weight at that point. So… thank you for forcing me out of there.” He drops his hand back down and closes his eyes. “Though I don’t know if I can answer your last question. Sometimes the world is terrifying. Sometimes it feels like too much and as much as I try not to be I can still be a coward. There’s nothing to fight and there’s nothing to flee from. It’s all in my head now and there are times where I feel far too much and the only choice I feel like I have is to just give into it.”
A hand presses to the top of his head and Yang Shui leans over him causing dark strands of chestnut hair to curtain around their faces. “You can still fight even if it’s in your mind, Qingxuan. Don’t be stupid.”
Teal eyes blow wide as he meets the stare of a man that’s much too close to him. “What?”
“I said you can still fight-”
“No, not that. What did you just call me? How do you know that name?” Qingxuan can feel his own pulse start to race but he doesn’t dare move away from the touch against his head and the curtain the other man’s hair provides.
“... It’s your name, right?”
“Yes, but I never told you that.”
There’s a faint twitch to Yang Shui’s eyes and he slowly leans back, “I apologize. I overheard someone say it - the man that had come here earlier. I didn’t think it was such a taboo to use it.” He moves his hand away from Qingxuan’s head and places it in his lap as he turns his head away and spares Qingxuan from his eyes - eyes that are too familiar and yet foreign all the same.
Still, he was certain that no one else had been close when he was talking to Pei Ming. Pei Ming tends not to talk about his concern over Qingxuan when others can overhear and certainly doesn’t use his name in front of the community he’s built here. He’d tried once but Qingxuan had shut it down so fast that it shocked the general enough to agree to not utilize it.
In fact now that he thinks about it, Yang Shui had always seemed odd - it had been pointed out to him several times and had gone ignored. He appeared conveniently in the woods where Qingxuan was and immediately offered a helping hand without expecting anything in return. He only asked for something once Qingxuan pressed him to accept something. He swaps between calling the statue of himself the Wind Master and Wind Mistress as if it was second nature. He’d selected white and jade clothing for him without sparing a second thought. He had felt comfortable undressing in front of him as if they had been familiar for more than a few days.
He asks questions about the Wind Master and listens quietly to his stories.
He shoots him down and tells him to shut up. He calls him stupid. His words are always edged and yet have never once felt unkind when they’re said to Qingxuan.
His heart feels as though it’s about to pound out of his chest, like it’s trying to run away from him and find a place to hide where it can’t be grabbed and squeezed until it stops. His fingers quiver and his entire body feels as though it’s shaking, his head swims with discomfort as he moves to push himself up only to quickly find a hand pressing him back down into the mat.
“Who are you?”
There is a moment of stillness as ‘Yang Shui’ lets out a tired sigh. He mutters something under his breath before he takes his hand up off of Qingxuan’s shoulder and raises them up in defense. “Don’t run.”
Don’t run?! He couldn’t even if he wanted to. His entire body felt like a bruise and his legs constantly remind him he’d tweaked not only an old injury but gave himself a new one. Still that statement alone may as well have been confirmation. Had sending his well wishes to him actually reached his ears? Did he inadvertently summon this man here? Did he willingly invite the man that hates him so much into his own home? Was he lying in wait for Qingxuan to drop his guard like when he had hidden himself behind the mask of ‘Ming Yi?’
“He Xuan.”
“... I was hoping I’d have more time before you put it together.” He Xuan rubs at his face and then pushes himself to stand as he walks over to the shrine and stares down at the little fish bone offering. He plucks up the fresh bun Qingxuan had put there last night and takes a bite out of it before turning to lean his back against the shrine. “Don’t run.”
Qingxuan starts nervously laughing as he clutches the blankets close to himself like they’ll offer him any protection from the ghost king in front of him. “Not hah… ahah possible, nor would it even matter ahha.. I mean you could just hah… you could just hahah…” He can’t get the sentence out as his entire body is wracked with tremors.
“I’m not going to do anything to you, Qingxuan.”
Is he supposed to believe that? Can he even trust that? This is the second time this man has found a way to infiltrate his safe space and slowly start earning his trust while befriending him. What was the point of it this time? Had he angered him again somehow? Was the happiness he made so offensive to him that he had to come disrupt it?
“I’m s-”
“I told you that apologies weren’t necessary anymore.” He Xuan scoffs and tosses the bun up in the air a few times as if occupying his hands. He’d seen this before, he knows that motion, it’s something that ‘Ming Yi’ used to do when he was thinking too hard or nervous about something. Seems that is a trait that carried over between each disguise - did that make it genuine? The attitude was similar from Ming Yi and Yang Shui as well - was that genuine?
He Xuan catches the bun and brings it to his lips for another bite before hesitating, “Would you like me to take off this mask?”
Qingxuan’s brows furrow and he brings his legs up towards his chest to curl up as best as he can beneath them. “I…” The last time he had mistaken He Xuan’s identity he’d watched his brother’s head be removed from his body. “You can.” He says too quickly and it comes out around a fit of laughter as he mentally tries to prepare himself.
Amber eyes seem to be studying him for a long moment and then Qingxuan watches as the mask of ‘Yang Shui’ practically melts into the other’s skin. Chestnut hair is replaced by pitch, almost inky, black hair. His skin pales further as if all the peachy pink of life had been sucked out of it. His face sharpens and loses some of the boyish edge that his disguise maintained and his ears draw almost into a point.
So familiar and yet unfamiliar at the exact same time. That fear still courses through his form and begs him to get up and run but he does his best to force it back down. He Xuan hasn’t been aggressive in the time he’s been here and even now he is passively just watching Qingxuan from a few feet away. “You told me to get out of your sight and never …”
That comment seems to affect the ghost king, albeit it in such a subtle way that if Qingxuan hadn’t been currently studying every small detail of the man he’d have missed it entirely. It’s a faint flicker in his eyes and a slight drop of his shoulders. “Yes, I know what I said.”
“Then why?”
He Xuan doesn’t answer right away and instead he takes another bite of the bun and gives Qingxuan time to consider that question on his own. He never was very good at simply telling Qingxuan the answer to things - especially if he felt as though he already knew the answer. The former wind god starts wracking his brain going over conversations he’s had in the past with ‘Yang Shui’ and tries to pinpoint the answer on his own.
His thoughts supply He Xuan’s face over every memory he’s had with ‘Yang Shui’ and it makes his face scrunch up as his body slowly curls further in on itself. However he finds his answer as he remembers the first time he genuinely felt as though ‘Yang Shui’ had opened up to him. They had discussed ‘Yang Shui’s’ fiancée - which he’s now recognizing as He Xuan’s fiancée that he inadvertently had a hand in killing - and Qingxuan had asked him why he was still here.
“Because I’d have extended a hand to you if you were in my situation.”
He Xuan gives a small nod of confirmation and places the half-eaten bun aside and shifts to move forward but freezes the moment Qingxuan flinches. He sighs and slowly shifts his posture again to be pressed against the shrine. “This is why I was hoping to have a bit more time.”
“Ahah… sorry to tell you this but uh I’d be uhm ahha… reacting like this regardless.” Qingxuan flashes a pitiful attempt at a smile before it falters and he brings his hands up to cover his face. “This is the second time now… I don’t understand it. If you hate me, regardless if I would have helped you or not in this situation, why would you help me?”
He Xuan lets out a small bitter chuckle of his own, “Oh how I wish it were as simple as hating you. I tried that when we first met in Upper Heaven. I tried it again in the Nether Water Manor. Yet every single time I try you do something that halts it before it can even think of spreading.” His hand lifts to rub his thumb in circles over his temple. “I’ve given up expecting hate to show up at this point.”
Qingxuan’s brows furrow and his body slowly loses some of the tension that kept him ready to spring away at a moment's notice. “I don’t understand…”
“Neither do I.” Qingxuan’s brows shoot up at that, “Don’t give me that look.” They immediately level out at the snapped comment. “I wasn’t going to intervene and had no intention to. However, you were far from the capital, cold, and struggling to find food to feed a veritable village. On your own. I acted and placed myself in your path.” He tsks and looks away from Qingxuan’s spot on the floor. “At least sit up to have this conversation, you look like an idiot.”
“I’m practically naked.”
“We have shared a bath together several times - it does not matter. I have seen all of you in both male and female forms. I didn’t care then, why would I care now?”
Arguing seems to ease a bit more of the tension away and Qingxuan slowly presses himself to sit up despite the discomfort in his body and the chaos of his mind and heart. “So I haven’t done anything wrong?”
“No, you did. You stupidly went out into the woods by yourself after not eating for several days and expected to make it back fine.”
Qingxuan runs a hand through his own hair and lifts his hand to hold it up in a halting motion towards He Xuan as he lets that register. That almost sounded like care? Did he care? He did just pull Qingxuan out of a shallow river in nearly freezing temperatures of early spring and carried him back here. However, that had been done under the guise of ‘Yang Shui’ so it didn’t count, right?
“How much of this mask was a lie?”
“Just the name.”
Qingxuan bites at the inside of his cheek and furrows his brows. There had been several consistencies through his friendship with both Ming Yi and Yang Shui. They would bicker and mock each other with neither of them taking the blow as anything genuine. Qingxuan would always find both masks immediately reacting to threatening situations and placing himself (themselves?) between him and whatever threat was present… even if the threat was hunger or the cold.
“Just ask what you want to ask.”
Qingxuan jolts as he finds He Xuan suddenly much closer to him and now seated directly in front of him. He goes to lean back but stills his body and forces himself to stare his, quite literal, biggest fear in the eyes. “Why intervene at all?”
“I didn’t want you to die.”
“Do you hate me?”
He Xuan scoffs and rolls his eyes before leaning back onto his hands. “I just said it’d be easier if I did.”
“Why did you light a candle under my idol?” That question jumps out from his lips before he stammers and shakes his head, “Wait, no. You don’t have to answer that one! That’s a complicated question and I’m not sure I-”
“I wanted to.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times and lets out a soft ‘hah’ noise as his lips pull to the side and his brows furrow. He wanted to? Was it really that simple? When he lights a candle for his brother and, well, the man in front of him it’s usually to show that he remembers them and that he’s thinking of them both.
Mortification sweeps through him as he recognizes he’s told the man that killed his brother, has disguised himself as another person to infiltrate his group, and that he has very complicated feelings of fear and care towards that he created a shrine towards the man and was lighting candles to show that he was thinking of him. Specially made candles that he even added charcoal into to make them black.
He buries his face into his hands and shrinks into himself again.
“You really haven’t lied about anything except for the name? Everything else was truthful?”
There’s a long stretch of silence and another soft sigh before He Xuan’s voice breaks through the room, “I intentionally played the part of being oblivious but other than that my words were truthful. Ah, except for why I wanted to light a candle for you when you first asked. I don’t really care about hunting, it was just a convenient excuse. Can you stop hiding?” The last part is tacked onto the end rather suddenly and is so out of place with the rest of the sentence that it makes Qingxuan jolt and immediately drop his hands.
He Xuan is studying him with a veiled expression, lips pulled into a thin line and eyes practically glowing in the dim candle light. “I would like to make a selfish request. You can consider it repayment for the work I’ve done around here.”
Qingxuan hesitates for a moment as the deal is laid out while the want is not explicitly stated. “That… depends on what the selfish request is, haha. I don’t really have anything to take from at this point except well, you know, my life-”
“I just said I didn’t want you to die. This is now the fourth time I’ve explicitly stated that’s not what I want.” He Xuan pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, “I would like to stay for a while longer. I’ll keep wearing the mask.”
Well that’s certainly an ask. Not exactly a small one either with the way Qingxuan’s heart is still pounding in his chest and his brain feels like a muddled mess of fear, confusion, and concern. Not to mention ‘Yang Shui’ has made himself a consistent fixture in the community at this point - it’d certainly be difficult to explain his sudden departure and then he’d have to figure out how he’d make up for all the labor ‘Yang Shui’ was doing. He has some skills he could sell but after tonight his body is going to need a few days to recover. That would be several days where he’d have to rely on the community to handle themselves. They could, certainly, but he would rather not put them in a situation where they have to slowly come back to the terms that food will be slow to come in for a while.
“I…”
“I’ll leave if you tell me to.”
Qingxuan frowns at that statement. It’s said so… earnestly and yet almost like a plea - like it would only be an answer he’d take begrudgingly. As if He Xuan would find it difficult to make himself leave and would need Qingxuan to forcefully shoo him off instead.
“I don’t control you, He Xuan, and I think very few people could. So... if you wish to stay then I can’t stop you.”
Notes:
anyway folks the mask is off and it's time for the plot to slowly unfold towards actual reconciliation and not connecting with a mask
next chapter is likely going to be a rough one since these two are going to have to adjust to a new power dynamic and sqx is going to have to learn not to panic every time hx breathes
so yeah! bingo bongo here the fuck we go
Additionally; yes they are still going to share a mat even if SQX brings in another one or tries to put HX in another building. He will literally just move back onto theirs
Chapter 5: Problems
Summary:
But he had to have always been patient - like a shark in the water slowly following a blood trail to a prey or waiting to breach and snatch its meal in his jaws.
An ambush predator.
He had every opportunity to let those jaws wrap around him and bite down; and yet, he never let them sink in.
Notes:
This is so late for my normal update schedule but I got sidetracked by uh COVID as i got hit by the ao3 curse
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next week is complicated to say the least. While He Xuan has elected to sleep as far away as the small mat allows him to, there have been four occasions where Qingxuan has woken up and horribly been laying far too close to the Supreme sharing his space. In each case Qingxuan has immediately jolted away, started hyperventilating, and promptly left the temple as quickly as his legs could carry him.
Light filters in from the shuttered windows of the Wind and Water temple leaving Qingxuan's body to begin to awaken. He breathes in the scent of salt air and earthen soil that is all too familiar to his senses and leaves him to let out a small contented noise. It takes a moment for that scent to truly register in his mind and his entire form goes stock still. Teal eyes fly open to meet the gold amber glow of the supreme. His hands move quickly to shove himself off of the other man and scramble back along the mat to put distance between himself and He Xuan as quickly as possible. His heart starts to pick up in pace and breaths start to quicken as tremors begin to wrack his body. "We... We agreed for you to stay on your side of the mat!"
He Xuan stares at Qingxuan for a long moment before he snorts and rolls over onto his side. “I wasn’t the one who moved.”
Qingxuan’s hands snap out to grab one of the silken blankets that he’d painstakingly stitched together and emblazoned with leaves blowing over the ocean - a style that has aged poorly after he realized who the other man is. “That doesn’t-” He pulls the blanket around himself as if to shelter him, “You shouldn’t-” Sentences keep starting and stopping, interrupted by heavy breaths that are far too rapid to be natural.
He covers his face with the blanket and forces himself through the breathing exercises that, unfortunately, He Xuan had taught him. Qingxuan had to admit that when he couldn’t see the other man’s face, disguised or not, it helped him calm down faster than he would have in the past.
“Couldn’t you have gotten an inn room or at least have stayed in another building?!” He keeps his face covered as he turns his body away and stands up with the blanket draping down his shoulders.
“Couldn’t you have been quieter when you woke up?”
That blanket immediately comes off his shoulders at that statement and is tossed towards He Xuan’s head only to unfurl slightly and float back towards the mat without ever reaching its mark. His attempts are met with a snort from He Xuan who still lazed about on the mat that is quickly covered by a cough and a clear of his throat. “Besides, inn rooms cost money and I’ve already made myself comfortable here.”
Well at least one of them is comfortable. Qingxuan gathers the middle section of his hair up into a loose top knot at the crown of his head. A piece of scrap silk keeps it in place as he pointedly keeps his back to He Xuan. If he looks the whole process will repeat itself until he can put appropriate distance between himself and the other man. He pulls open the partition that separated the back of the temple from the front - a feature that He Xuan had built a few weeks back to give Qingxuan privacy so that he could seek refuge away from others during bad days.
Considerate, but now he’s questioning if the other had done it so that when the mask fell off he didn’t have to explain himself to prying eyes.
Popo’s inquisitive stare meets Qingxuan’s as she lifts a cup of water tea towards her lips as Qingxuan begins to limp past her towards the entrance way of the Temple. “Are you two fighting, my dears?” Her words come muffled slightly from the rim of the cracked cup at her lips.
“No!”
“No.”
Qingxuan turns to meet the face of ‘Yang Shui’ as He Xuan’s brow raises and glances between the older woman and Qingxuan. He watches as the other man simply tuck his hands into his sleeves and shifts past Qingxuan to slip out the door and make himself sparse in his presence. At the least he had the decency to spare him his company through the majority of the day now. He’s not sure if he could handle the other man being a shadow over him constantly while he’s still forcing himself to deal with his presence.
“Ho ho.” Popo pulls the cup away and covers her lips with her hand instead. “It’s natural for you young men to not agree on everything. I’m sure whatever troubles you both can be resolved in time.”
He’s had time. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did in the first few months after the face but it doesn’t change the fear that has lingered towards the man that now walks freely around the community he’s helped find comfort. Some of it has eased with building the shrine and sending the man well wishes and thoughts, but that was when He Xuan wasn’t physically present.
Having him here, in the flesh, is a walking time bomb. He says he won’t do anything to Qingxuan but he doesn’t find that so easy to believe.
Why did he not fight the request for him to stay? Why give a flippant answer when he could have told him to leave? Was it fear? Uncertainty? Does some small part of him look at the Supreme who had callously looked at Qingxuan with such hatred in his eyes as he ignored his pleas and tore his brother's head from his body?
He said he would leave if Qingxuan told him to.
He’s lied about his very existence since the beginning.
He’s done him no harm in the present.
He’s dealt him emotional turmoil in the past.
Qingxuan walks to Popo and leans down to kiss the top of her head and rests a hand to her shoulder. “I’m not sure it’s that easy, Popo, but I thank you for the faith in both of us.” Because that’s all he has - faith that this time He Xuan is telling him the truth. The fire is right in front of him and yet he places a clumsy hand within the flames and hopes that the flames don’t lick at his skin and burn him.
He limps his way out the temple doorway and hops the few steps down towards the small courtyard that leads to the street. His back settles against the pillar of the gate as he lets his eyes follow the movements of the other’s masked form pull himself onto a roof while ignoring the men around him. Qingxuan can tell he’d rather not be doing the work just from a few moments of observation. He Xuan pretends to be deaf towards the thanks of the many people around and his shoulders sag low with lethargic motions.
‘Ming Yi’ would go on patrol with Qingxuan only at his request. He preferred to avoid the noise of others and could only be baited with the promise of food at the end of their work. It’s only now that he recognizes some of the exhaustion stems from having his consciousness split between several spying eyes and relaying information towards him at all hours of the day. The amount of spiritual energy that is required to do such a thing is immense and draining on the body - is it so hard to recognize that played a part in his irritability?
Without that constant expenditure of energy there are aspects of He Xuan that he’s never seen before. He can still be antagonistic but the teasing is more gentle and there is more patience for Qingxuan’s ramblings and stories.
But he had to have always been patient - like a shark in the water slowly following a blood trail to a prey or waiting to breach and snatch its meal in his jaws.
An ambush predator.
He had every opportunity to let those jaws wrap around him and bite down; and yet, he never let them sink in. He Xuan had every chance to simply remove Qingxuan from this world with a swift motion but now he claims to not want Qingxuan to die. Has that always been the case? When did he decide that Qingxuan was allowed to live while snuffing out the life of Shi Wudu?
Qingxuan should have sent him away but there’s a small voice in the back of his head that taunts him. It speaks on how he could never do such a thing. It laments that Qingxuan had enjoyed the familiar company and had appreciated being cared for by someone that had rarely extended a kind hand to him. It whines that there is a piece of his heart that never stopped seeing ‘Ming Yi’ as his best friend.
He had loved all his sharp edges before but when the worst of him had been exposed he had broken apart.
Is that cruel? Is it cruel to deny what had been placed in front of his eyes and be unable to separate ‘Ming Yi’ from He Xuan? Is it as cruel as the actions that He Xuan had taken to take his revenge?
No.
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He Xuan seeks him out later in the evening as Qingxuan is putting the final stitch into the fabric of one of the younger girl’s pants. He keeps his distance and lingers several feet away but Qingxuan can’t help but feel his presence overwhelm him. Teal eyes watch ‘Yang Shui’ from the corner of his eyes as his hands place the needle and thread aside and shift to smooth the young girl’s hair down. “There you go. Make sure to ask Popo to comb your hair out before you go out. It won’t do you well to let your hair get knotted, it would be a shame to have to cut it.”
A bright toothy grin flashes up at Qingxuan and the girl nods a few times at him offering a cheerful ‘Okay Qing-ge!’ before she skips off to join the small gaggle of children waiting by one of the newly restored homes.
It’s only when she’s vanished down the street with the rest of the children that He Xuan approaches. He keeps himself out of range to touch Qingxuan and yet he can’t find himself to look over at the ghost that’s waiting for his recognition. Instead he shifts his body slightly away from the other as he keeps his body poised to jump up and move to a more populated area of the community lest the other move too quickly or lash out at him.
“Are you going to keep your distance from me for the entire day, Qingxuan?”
“That was the plan.” He’s impressed at himself for being able to get that out without nervous laughter breaking from his lips. “I’ve gone ahead and had a mat made up for you in one of the houses a few ways down.” He soothes his hands down over his robes and drops his eyes to follow the motion in order to avoid meeting the piercing stare that’s burrowing into the side of his head.
There’s a small click of the other’s tongue before a step is taken towards him.
Qingxuan is on his feet immediately - ready to hobble away if the other closes any more of the distance between them. They’d already walked through this conversation five times. Qingxuan offers him a spot away from him, He Xuan scoffs at the idea and shows up in the temple come nightfall anyway.
A box is pulled from the other’s sleeves and kicked towards Qingxuan to knock against his ankle. “I’m not here to argue about that.” The tone that replies to him can only be described as exasperated. Qingxuan can’t blame him, it’s about how he feels about this constant dance of refusal and sharing a space that He Xuan is no longer welcome to.
Still he does spare a glance down towards the box to see clay jugs filled with a heavily scented, sticky, substance. He doesn’t have to examine it further to know that they are filled with pine resin waiting to be poured into bamboo molds and shaped into candles. Qingxuan had mentioned needing some to make more, hadn’t he? The supply of candles in the Temple had been rapidly diminishing between the lighting of candles for his brother’s vigil of remembrance and the stubborn consistent lighting of candles beneath his own statue by He Xuan.
“To replace what I’ve used.”
“I could have gathered it myself. You didn’t need to trouble yourself with it.” He can’t bring himself to pick up the box yet. It feels like a consolation gift, an action done to try and appease the fear and discomfort he has towards He Xuan. Like he was extending a branch a bit closer each day to try and prove that he truly isn’t here to do him harm.
A sigh fills the air between them before He Xuan is all too suddenly invading his space, leaning down to collect the box, “I’ll put them in the temple, then.”
Despite his words holding fast and fighting his nerves his body is not so willing to cooperate. He staggers back and catches his foot on the back of his robe, quickly finding his view of the world shifting upwards as the center of his balance begins to topple backwards. Qingxuan clenches his eyes closed and tenses as he prepares for a rush of pain to shoot through his form with the promise of cobblestone rushing to meet his fall.
It doesn’t come.
Instead all he feels is a pressure along his waist while his balance stays askew. His eyes flash open to see amber eyes staring down at him and He Xuan’s body much too close. There’s a slight furrow to his brow and a tension to his jaw - an expression of concern that Qingxuan had seen far too many times in the past. Did that mean the concern he had when he was ‘Ming Yi’ had been genuine or had the lies and deception just ingrained in He Xuan that deeply?
Hands move to shove at the other’s chest as there’s an attempt to extrapolate himself away from the other man as quickly as he can.
“Don’t. You’ll fall.”
His body is righted by a stern hand as the other waits for Qingxuan to steady his footing. His hand on Qingxuan’s waist doesn’t leave right away. Instead it lingers for a moment too long and allows fingers to press slightly into his side. It’s as if he’s confirming the other is still real, as if he recognizes the moment he lets go that Qingxuan will disappear from his sight and return to avoiding him.
It gives the former Wind Master a moment of pause as his hands are raised and poised to shove at him once more.
He Xuan’s grip immediately slackens and he raises hands up in defense to show Qingxuan while taking a pointed step back. There’s an odd stand off between them where the air seems tense and chilled on one end and turbulent and heated on the other. It’s like a clashing of fronts - a budding storm in the making. A breath is slowly dragged in by Qingxuan as he starts wiping his hands down on his robe and tries scrubbing off the feeling of being touched by He Xuan along his waist.
When his eyes lift to meet amber ones once more there’s the faintest twitch to his lower lids and a touch of annoyance seems to be flickering behind his irises. “This isn’t working.”
“No. It’s not.” Qingxuan quips back as their hands stop moving along the fabric and shakes his hands out instead. The presence of the other man is excruciating like he’s looking back between a happy past and a tragic one. It keeps painting itself over the current situation and leaves Qingxuan’s emotions to spiral into a mess of panic, grief, and frustration.
“We should talk about it.”
“We shouldn’t.”
He Xuan lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as a breath is drawn in slowly. “We should. Just humor me.” The hand that pinched the bridge of his nose is extended out towards Qingxuan. “If you’re still petrified of me afterwards I’ll leave of my own accord - but this back and forth is exhausting.”
“If it’s so exhausting then leave now.” Qingxuan’s gaze flits down to that hand and he shifts his body back away from him again. Why was it that every time he seeks to reach out to Qingxuan in situations that are, frankly, volatile and emotionally charged, he always places a hand out to him? Just that motion, that simple motion, carries with it so much trauma yet he continues to do it.
He Xuan’s fingers curl back towards his palm and he lets his arm fall back down to his side. “Alright.” He takes a step back simply watching Qingxuan’s face for a moment before he turns and begins walking the path towards the main city.
Qingxuan watches his back retreat further and further away, his head held high and not sparing a glance back towards the community he’d inhabited for months now. Like it’s easy. Like it required no thought to simply extract himself and go on his merry way. But why wouldn’t it be? He’d only come here to help lift Qingxuan out of the worst of the winter. He’d only come to offer a hand out to repay a kindness that Qingxuan never gave.
He only came because Qingxuan is here.
He’d stayed for Qinguxan and he had told He Xuan to leave keeping true to his word that he would see himself out if he told him to go.
An unsteady feeling builds in Qingxuan’s chest and his stomach twists. He had wanted him to go, he needed the space; so why did it feel as though a piece of him had been taken with the Supreme's departure?
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Nightfall comes and Qingxuan catches himself looking towards the temple door like He Xuan would let himself in and ghost past Popo as he had done every night since he’d arrived. The candlelight flickers along the room making shadows dance along his face and around the door creating shapes that seem to beckon and taunt him to open the door.
“Yang Shui left today, I hear.” Popo sits in a meditative state on her mat and yet her eyes - once black and piercing but now clouded with age - watches Qingxuan’s face. A gentle smile is set upon her lips and she leans over to press a splotched hand to his knee to give a light squeeze. “I won’t press if you don’t wish to speak about it but your face tells me there are many things bottled inside of you right now. I may be old, my eyes may be going, but my ears work just as well as they had when I was a girl.”
Qingxuan turns his head and places a hand over hers and returns the gentle squeeze. “I’m not sure where to begin, Popo. I know that what I’ve done is… logical. He-” There’s a pause and Qingxuan shakes his head, “Yang Shui wasn’t necessarily a good man. I didn’t realize it right away but he’s from before - back when I was still a God.” His brows furrow slightly and he turns his attention back to the door.
“Hmhm, I had a feeling that was the case when he started lingering around. A resourceful man like that doesn’t simply fall from the sky.”
There’s a soft huff of a laugh from past Qingxuan’s lips, “I suppose they don’t. Problem is I don’t quite understand why he was here in the first place. We ended on very bad terms - world shatteringly bad at that - and when I was brought here I thought it was the end of it all. I figured after he got what he wanted he’d just disappear entirely from the world. It doesn’t make sense for him to come back out of his own want - I mean he told me he never wanted to see me again, that I wouldn’t die but he never wished to see my face further.”
“From what I saw it seems to be quite the opposite. Lately you’ve been the one trying to avoid him.”
“He brings up a lot of bad memories from before. Some that aren’t so easily shaken off, sights that I can’t unsee and knowledge that I can’t unlearn. Knowing it’s him that has been lingering beside me, sharing my mat, bringing back food and lending a helping hand it just feels… wrong. Like he’s plotting something but for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is. Why go through all this effort? His words don’t match his actions and I can’t tell what I’m being deceived about this time.”
Popo gives a hum of thought before squeezing his knee once more, “Do you want an old ladies opinion on this, Xiaofeng?”
“I won’t say no to insight from a wizened elder.” Qingxuan flashes her a smile before it quickly fades away.
“Hoh hoh, who is the elder here exactly? You’ve got a few centuries on my old bones.” Popo’s smile remains on her face. “From what my eyes have seen, Xiaofeng, doesn’t seem like deception to me. If it is as you say it is then it sounds like he has considered you quite a bit over the past while. He lights a candle for you every evening and has been kind, albeit not so much to the people around you, but to you specifically. You mentioned wanting to repair the temple and he saw fit to do so. You mentioned the food supply and he’d come back with meat for you and the rest of us. I admit that it was a bit strange to see how much he watched your movements at first but there was a difference in the way he looked at you that he didn’t show others when they drew his attention.”
Qingxuan’s nose scrunches up as the old woman speaks on what she’s observed and her opinions on the matter. Well it certainly seems like He Xuan had tricked Popo at the very least but he’s hardly surprised. He Xuan is a master actor - it’s just a shame he had to learn that the hard way. “You don’t know him like I do, Popo. It’s all well and good that he’s done some kind things for me but I doubt they were without reason.”
“Do you truly believe that, Xiaofeng?”
Did he? Everything Popo mentioned that he’d done started from He Xuan simply fulfilling a need that Qingxuan couldn’t do at the time. He’d only ask for something in return when he had demanded to repay the other man. Even today he’d simply gone out and gotten pine resin because Qingxuan was low on it and mentioned needing to make more candles a while back. He’d bought clothing for Qingxuan - clothing he knew would be enjoyed by - and even tolerated being swatted at by the former Wind Master had found out his clothing had been destroyed.
Oh heavens he had swatted him hadn’t he? The look he’d gotten after that was wide eyed and shocked but not even remotely hostile.
He’d spoken of his past with Qingxuan as well. He spoke of the fiancée that his brother played a part in the demise of. That didn't feel like a lie. Nor did his comments in the bath feel forced or fake. He hadn’t taken anything that Qingxuan didn’t give while he was here.
“I don’t know. I can’t forget what he’s done, it’s not a memory that just disappears. It’ll always be there. What he did was unforgivable and unimaginable to most people.”
“But did you forgive him?”
Instinctively his gaze turns towards where the statues of the Wind Mistress and Water Master stood side by side with a small collection of fish bones set between them both. He had forgiven him, hadn’t he? He and his brother were just as guilty in the actions that led He Xuan to take his revenge - even if Qingxuan was only guilty through ignorance. Had he only been given more time he would have agreed with He Xuan that both he and his brother deserve punishment for the crimes that were committed. He would have been the one to forefront and confront Shi Wudu about changing his fate with another’s and argued until he was blue in the face to try and tell him why he’d been wrong.
He never wanted his brother to die, he’d have been happy to see him banished with everything he’d worked for stripped from him. Qingxuan would have walked that simple life with him and struggled to find a living after centuries of luxury being laid across their lap.
If only he had time. If only he could have explained that He Xuan without needing to drag them all down to the Nether Water Manor.
“I did.” He gently moves Popo’s hand from his knee as he struggles to his feet and limps towards the door. “I’ll be back in a bit. If I’m not back by morning don’t panic.” He tosses the door open and winces as the cold of a spring night washes over him and nearly extinguishes the candles around the room.
“Where are you going, Xiaofeng?”
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His steps carry him out towards a rocky beach as he staggers over the uneven ground until he can find a suitable rock that he can sit down upon. Teal eyes sweep over the black water of the ocean that seems impossibly dark without the light of the sun shining down over it. The waning moon barely offers enough light to see much more than a few feet in front of him but it still silvers the waters when waves crest towards the shore.
An incense time passes before he sighs and rubs at his face. He’s not even sure if he’ll be heard like this. He Xuan isn’t a god and even if he were, so many prayers get lost in the mass of believers asking for relief for one problem or the other. Still he drops his head slightly and lets the words pass his lips regardless, “He Xuan. I don’t know if you’re going to hear this, or if you even want to, but I didn’t tell you something when you were with me that I should have. I won’t lie to you and say that I’m not afraid of you, I am. I don’t know if that will change so easily nor do I know how to change it. We both have done things wrong and I won’t claim innocence for my part that was played in receiving my fate. However, I…” He sighs and laces his own fingers together to grip at himself, “I forgave you a while ago. We’re both guilty in our own ways and while I can’t condone, excuse, or forget your actions I can’t blame you for seeking revenge.”
He jumps as a clay jug is placed next to him with a heavy thud and held there by a pale hand. Qingxuan’s eyes follow the length of the arms it’s attached to to meet an impassive face staring down at him. Amber eyes are shielded by long lashes and a single brow is just faintly quirked upwards. Inky black locks are brushed back from his face and sways softly in the breeze that comes off the ocean. “Is that so?”
Qingxuan’s eyes blow wide and he starts keen back off the rock only to be grabbed with surprisingly gentle hands that helps him sit back upright on the rock. “Stop.” He Xuan’s words are even and smooth but he doesn’t move his hand off of Qingxuan’s shoulder and instead places a bit of pressure upon it to keep him still. His other hand pulls the wrap off the top of the jug of wine and holds it out to Qingxuan to take. “Drink and be quiet. It’s my turn to talk.”
It takes a long moment for Qingxuan’s arms to move and allow his hands to grip the jug and bring it to his lips with slightly shaking hands. A giant gulp is taken from the jug as a bit dribbles down his chin, unable to swallow nearly enough to choke back the surprise of his sudden appearance. He didn’t think that would work, not really, but it was worth a shot? Who knew Ghost King’s can hear prayers similarly to that of Gods?
He Xuan waits until Qingxuan’s hands stop shaking at the very least before his hand releases his shoulder and his body circles around to be in front of him. “Firstly, I truly cannot grasp how you’re alive with the way you behave.” His brows scrunch up and arms cross over his chest, “Being afraid of me is good, it’s smart, it’s a survival skill. You should be afraid after what I’ve done and I can’t fault you for that. Yet you sit there and throw all of that out the window by giving me forgiveness? I thought I’d have to work for that - or hell forbid wait nearly your lifetime to get that - and yet you just hand it over like it’s second nature.”
Qingxuan stares at He Xuan from over the rim of the jug, parts their lips to tell him to, politely, fuck off for just showing up to insult him, but promptly wraps their lips around the edge of the jar and takes another drink. Admittedly this is the most He Xuan has talked since that day and he may as well let him since he, technically, initiated this conversation.
“Secondly, no. I never hated you. You make it physically impossible to hate you and it’s infuriating. Even when I was tormenting you to reveal that your fate was taken from me to allow you to ascend and live the life you had, I didn't hate you. What I don’t understand is why you don’t hate me. It’s been rattling around in my brain for the last few months. You speak so fondly of me both in the past and when you say things like you’re sending thoughts my way. When I sent you away and said to get out of my sight and keep it that way it was because I thought it’d be easier for you in the long run. It probably would have been too but I wasn’t keen on sitting by while you give parts of yourself away every day while deteriorating further. You’ve been punished enough, Qingxuan, bringing you to the Royal Capital wasn’t a punishment, it was a chance to let you live your life as you see fit.
“Thirdly, I have been honest with you since I’ve been here. I’ve been predominantly honest with you every single time we’ve interacted. Yes, I’ve lied. I hid who I was, I twisted the narrative, I pretended not to know things I already had the answer to and left out a great deal of information. However when I gave you that honesty, when I had shredded it away so that you could see the fault of others, I still wanted you to pick me. I wanted you to see that not everything was a lie and that, much as it loathes me to admit, I put more of myself into who you knew as ‘Ming Yi’ than I initially planned to.”
Qingxuan chokes on the wine and sputters as droplets splatter across the rock and spread along his outfit. He Xuan doesn’t reach out to comfort him as he wheezes and keels over the clay pot letting his lungs try to expunge the wine that had rushed down it.
“You know more about me than anyone else in the world and when I realized that I felt guilty, Qingxuan. You saw things about me that no other living person has. You saw me at my kindest and at my worst and you’re still here telling me you forgive me and sending me kind words that I do not deserve. I feel guilty because I wanted to leave you out of it but you’re so fucking stubborn I couldn’t. I didn’t want to kill him in front of you but I didn’t have another choice - he didn’t give me one.”
Qingxuan pushes himself up at that comment and gives an exasperated look to He Xuan, “There was always another choice, He Xuan. It didn’t have to end in death.”
“And I gave it to him, his vanity prevented that from happening and then he tried to kill you. My hand was forced. If history repeated itself, if it came down again to letting him strangle you to death and killing him then I’d rip his head from his body every single time.” Qingxuan flinches at that and for a moment it feels like his heart dropped into his stomach, “None of my options I gave never included your death. You’re charismatic, you’re shockingly talented at both the arts and practical skills, and you’re smarter than most people even know. Even if he swapped your fate with one of the wretched fates I acquired you still would have found a way to thrive.” He Xuan drops his face to be right in front of Qingxuan’s.
Qingxuan leans back and turns his head to the side as his teeth sink into the inside of his cheek.
“I am not going to apologize for killing him. I will never apologize for killing him, but I will apologize that in doing so it hurt you. That may have been my goal initially but it quickly was destroyed by your sheer, unadulterated, kindness. So listen to me, and listen well because I will not be saying this again: I care about you, Qingxuan. I care if you live or die. I care if you go hungry too long. I care that you’re throwing pieces of yourself to others without regard to yourself. I care.”
Qingxuan starts shaking his head the second the words start being thrown at him. This is so much to process, way too much to process. Talk of his brother, honesty, care, it’s as if everything that was held back for centuries is now just pouring free from He Xuan and being dumped on him like a tidal wave.
There’s not enough alcohol in this jar for him to even begin to sort through all of that. If He Xuan can’t hate him for this then how can he hate himself? If he can’t hate He Xuan for what he’s done then how can he shove him away simply for reappearing in his life again? The jug is brought to his lips once more and he gulps down the rest of the wine as quickly as his body will tolerate.
“Okay.” Qingxuan says around a gasp as the jar is set down on the rock, emptied and hollow, as warmth rushes into their form. “Okay. Yeah, I believe you.”
“Do you believe me now when I say I won’t do anything to you? That I’m not here to harm you?”
Qingxuan rubs at his face roughly and lets out a low groan. He wants to lay down in the ocean for a while and just float for a bit so that he can be alone with his thoughts but that currently isn’t possible. “I believe that too.” And he does believe it now. If what He Xuan is saying is true then there had been more honesty to their relationship in the past than he initially believed. The betrayal had stung but He Xuan remained the same person he was when disguised as he is now.
He’s blunt, cold, temperamental on occasions, sarcastic, and a bit rough around the edges. He’s also considerate, meticulous, and attentive. He’s as complex and deep as the ocean itself, he embodied the very essence of the ocean simply by existing.
He draws his gaze over to meet He Xuan’s eye and for a second they sit in silent contemplation, only studying one another before He Xuan bows his head once to Qingxuan. “I’ll leave you be. You sent me off and I fully intend to respect that. I understand my presence isn’t easy for you to digest even if you believe everything I’ve just said. Be careful getting back.”
He Xuan turns his back to Qingxuan and starts walking with an unearthly grace over the stones with a slow pace and yet he seems to get further than the average person could in just a blink.
Shi Qingxuan vows at this moment to give up alcohol for the rest of his life. He swears he will never drink another drop no matter how tempting, he will abstain for the vile thing that lowers his inhibitions enough to let that little, tiny, impulsive voice that had been taunting that he enjoyed the other’s company despite the pain that came with it to encourage him to hop off the rock. He carefully wobbles over the uneven ground as he tries to catch up to the other man.
The clattering noise of Qingxuan struggling over stones gives He Xuan a moment of pause and his head turns over his shoulder to watch Qingxuan scramble ever so slightly closer to him. Amber eyes blink once before shoulders raise and then drop suddenly in a sigh as his body stills so that Qingxuan can grab his sleeve and place himself directly in front He Xuan.
“It’s my turn to talk.” Qingxuan demands as his brows furrow and his hand stays hooked into He Xuan’s sleeve.
“By all means.”
“You’re terrifying! When you look at me or even extend your hand to me it makes me panic. It’s very hard for me to handle that and I’m sorry I can’t react calmly in front of you. I wish I could. I wish I could set aside my problems and pain and just be sensible and logical about all of this but it’s hard.”
He Xuan’s face remains impassive beyond a little flicker of amber eyes upwards in a barely suppressed eye roll. “Yes, you’ve made your thoughts on that clear.”
“But!” Qingxuan tugs hard once on He Xuan’s sleeve, “You do things sometimes, even now, that make me happy. I don’t understand it and I don’t know what I want, but what I do know is that when you left there was a part of me that mourned that.” Qingxuan’s hand releases the sleeve and a hand, shaking either out of fear or nerves, comes up to press to He Xuan’s chest. “If what you said is true then the person I know as my best friend was real. Maybe I’m just stupid, but I miss that feeling.”
There’s an almost indecipherable change to He Xuan’s features at that. Some of the hardness in his eyes softens enough to make what is normally cold amber appear to be akin to honey. “Yes, I’d say that’s stupid.”
“Gee, thanks.” Qingxuan deadpans and places his palm flat against He Xuan’s chest and soothes down the fabric there. “I also know… that if I had done what you’ve done-”
“You wouldn’t have done what I’ve done, Qinxuan.”
“Let me finish!” Qingxuan shoots a glare up at He Xuan but judging by the way he simply meets it with a faint curl of his lips upwards it doesn't land with the intended effect. “If I had done what you had and had guilt about hurting someone then I’d like to make it up to them.” Qingxuan’s face twists up and his entire body teeters back and forth. “So. It wouldn’t be fair of me to shun you for trying to do that if I would do the same.” Even if it means having to learn to live with his panic and be in proxy to the one that caused his brother’s death.
That fact will always be a black mark on their friendship, one that cannot be erased or overwritten, but maybe one day he can understand why He Xuan hadn’t let him die for the atrocities he and his brother had committed.
A hand comes up to press against the top of Qingxuan’s head and a gentle touch moves dark strands back behind his ear. “You truly are too nice of a person.” The words are whispered before Qingxuan suddenly finds his entire body shifted and weightless as he’s thrown over He Xuan’s back to be carried upon it as he had many times in the past.
“H- Wait, hey! Put me down, I can walk!”
“You just drank a jar of wine and the ground is uneven. Not happening.”
Qingxuan shifts his legs in He Xuan’s hold and shifts his to try and kick into He Xuan’s thigh struggling without any real fight behind it. It’s just to appease the panic that had flared and rapidly died at the gentle, but firm, grip on him that denies him the right to fumble back towards the Temple.
He sighs and slowly moves to press his face against He Xuan’s shoulder and breathes in an all too familiar scent of salt air and earthen soil. A little flicker of gold catches in the corner of his eye before his vision is completely obscured by dark hair and steady shoulders. He wills himself to relax, wills himself to embrace the familiarity of this.
And he prays he doesn’t regret this choice come the morning.
Notes:
I made the girlies have a proper conversation about this because mxtx never gave it to me in the books
Also it's a birthday present for myself to make the angst turn to comfort a little bit more. After this we'll start seeing more of that romantic & sexual tension creeping in - i'm so sorry that we're 40k+ words in and they've only managed to patch up (sort of) the friendship some
Chapter 6: Lipstick
Summary:
When he raises his eyes to meet Qingxuan’s there is an almost brilliant sparkle to her eyes before her good hand reaches out to grab He Xuan by his collar and yanks him down some. “Are you offering to let me switch forms?” All dismay about her previous predicament - as well as most of the normal fear she’d have about being this close to him - is thrown out the window as she stares expectantly up at him.
His own mouth shifts into something of a grimace as his eyes widen just slightly from the intensity in that expression. “... Yes?”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mornings are still tentative and uncomfortable. Qingxuan winds up on his side of the bed leaning on him, wakes up, panics, and then tries to argue that somehow He Xuan was the one to pull him to the other side of the mat. At this point it’s expected and the first half of the day is usually spent awkwardly tip-toeing around each other and rebuking whatever accusations are thrown at him.
Nothing he does can be done swiftly. He can’t extend a hand to him without Qingxuan recoiling, he can’t butcher meat anywhere near Qingxuan without him paling, hells sometimes he can’t even let his irritation at the ever present Haiqing show on his face without him tensing. That ever pestering wrath seems to capitalize on any moment Qingxuan shows discomfort towards He Xuan and wraps his arms around his shoulders and soothes him like one would a startled animal.
On top of it all he’s learned that while Qingxuan wants honesty from him, it’s not always received well. After being relentlessly pestered by Haiqing - what he suspected was a deliberate provocation to draw out his more aggressive side - telling Qingxuan he wanted to throttle the little ghost was met with a frown and two days of cold, detached, silence and avoidance.
Despite that Qingxuan never seems to stay afraid or angry with him for any extended period of time anymore.
In fact he’s been shocked to see Qingxuan flash subdued smiles his ways and reach out to tug him by his sleeve when he needs He Xuan to do something for him. Initiating contact is… good. He recognizes it as a positive action and that this is a significant step towards stitching things together. They’d never be the same, of course, but it’s better than them both being left with this discomfort on how things had initially ended.
The warm air of spring is starting to cool as He Xuan sits scrubbing down his cloak in a basin of rice water with the bare minimum of plant ashes to scrub away the dirt that had gathered along the hem from trips into the market and out towards the sea or forest to collect food for the community. Truthfully he didn’t necessarily need to do this but appearances were important to keep up as Qingxuan didn’t want to ‘startle the children’ with overuse of spiritual power. He’d quite like to remind him that the tornado Qingxuan had summoned in front of them during the human array was likely far more startling, but that’s a bit of honesty he’s not ready to receive.
He’d rather not let the former wind master know he had hit him to give him spiritual energy. He has no defense for that action yet beyond that he was frustrated he had to be there and annoyed at Hua Cheng for forcing him to team up with Qingxuan under another disguise of all things. Besides, it's not like Hua Cheng would walk over and absentmindedly give Qingxuan energy, right? He was playing the part.
Mostly.
A rock is dropped into the basin of water splattering dirty water up onto his face and causing his hands to still. He lifts his eyes up to meet brilliant blue eyes and a curled lip smile of Haiqing who twirls another rock over his fingers. “Oops. So sorry about that. You got a bit of…” Haiqing raises a hand to his own cheek to rub at it slightly.
He Xuan doesn’t move his hand to his own face and instead just drops his head back to his work. “I should have let you burn to death.” He mutters under his breath.
“But you didn’t!” Haiqing says cheerfully and lets the rock tip over his fingers towards the basing before catching it and tossing it back and forth in his hands. Whatever mood Haiqing is in it seems He Xuan will be the target of it. A mistake, really, he’s eaten other ghosts for much much less than this mild torment.
“You’re still here simply because she wants you to be.” There is no mincing his words on this matter. He Xuan’s patience only runs so deep before he elects to take matters into his own hands. The only reason he hasn’t is because Qingxuan seems to have quite a favorable relationship with the young ghost. There’s no need to make her cry due to his own irritation - he’s seen enough of her tears for a century or so.
“So cruel. Does Ol’ Feng know you have this side of you?” Haiqing seems to latch on to these blunt statements and when He Xuan flicks his eyes up to meet the wrath’s he can see a glimmer of glee in his stare.
This finally gives his hands pause as he leans back on the stump he’s using as a seat. “She is intimately aware of how cruel I can be. Is she aware that you seek to instigate me to lure it out?” He Xuan is willing to bet that Qingxuan is still clueless on the mischief this ghost is causing and likely still hasn’t placed together that he’s a wrath to begin with. Or if he has he’s playing the part of blissful unawareness.
Haiqing’s smile freezes and his eyes narrow slightly before he huffs and tosses the rock off to the side to cross his arms. “Ol’ Feng has been cooped up in the Temple for two incense time, did you do something?” The topic is changed quickly away from He Xuan’s own question and effectively confirms his theory that Haiqing is playing the part of the innocent ‘child’ that could do no wrong.
How annoying.
“No.” He pulls his cloak free from the basin and wrings it out over the dirty water. He picks up the basin and drags it to a cracked, rusted, street drain and dumps it. He Xuan pretends not to notice the fact that Haiqing seems to be following each of his steps while pointedly keeping himself a few feet away. If he wants to follow him then there’s no point in shooing him off - he’d just move further away to observe him. Instead he tosses the basin back at the wrath not caring if he catches it or if it clatters to the ground.
He Xuan starts his path back towards the temple as if he’s simply being drawn towards it. A second nature that is tugged towards Qingxuan’s distress despite the small probability that he was, in fact, the one to cause it. He can’t really rule it out when her moods have always been turbulent and ever changing as the wind.
“Soooo…”
“No.”
“Well you don’t even know what I was going to say!” Haiqing moves to keep pace with him and gives a petulant stomp as he glares up at He Xuan.
“I don’t care to hear it.”
Haiqing almost trips over his own feet at his response and gapes openly up at him. If He Xuan is correct it’s likely this child has gotten used to the coddling of the community and the gentle way they speak to him. He Xuan is an outlier in the behavior and doesn’t give praise to an individual for doing the bare minimum nor for simply believing his presence is a boon to the community.
“Well how are you going to cheer Ol’ Feng up?” Haiqing’s words come out like a grumble and he takes a few steps in front of He Xuan to force the Supreme to pause his steps and simply look down at him impassively.
His tongue clicks to the back of his teeth and he alters his path to walk around the other ghost to head back to the temple. “Who says I am?” Truthfully he’s only returning to get a grasp on the situation and to hang his cloak out to try while the weather is still relatively warm and the last light of the day still lingers in the sky. If Qingxuan is to the point of despondence then his presence won’t be welcome and space would be required so that she can work through her discomfort without him adding to it.
Haiqing doesn’t seem to have a comeback to that question and after a second or two He Xuan is blessed to hear that the footsteps that had been following him had dissipated.
He pushes open the doors that lead into the courtyard of the temple and he tosses his cloak over the railing that sits either side of the stairs leading up to the temple proper. Admittedly he does toss it towards the side that would represent the Water Master in a small, relatively petty, gesture. Hopefully Qingxuan doesn’t gather that the action was done intentionally when he sees it for if he asks he will have no choice but to offer another blunt and honest response.
He’d rather not have to take ten steps back on the progress he’s made.
“...”
He Xuan wasn’t sure what he truly expected to see when he entered the temple proper but this was certainly not it.
Qingxuan was standing in front of a small bronze mirror staring at her own appearance within it. Jade green silk is draped over his form. The hanfu that the courtesans had sent as a replacement had replaced the typical undyed robe and ku she had been wearing to do work around the community seems to fit naturally on his form as a second skin. Its white and green sash has been secured along her waist and mint tassels fall around her hips and stand strikingly against the white color of the skirt.
Fingers that were once delicate and now hold calluses along each digit gently strokes along the feathers embroidered along the long sleeves. A lotus is delicately stitched along his chest and serves as a centerpiece with it being the only part of the outfit that boasts a soft pink and despite its elegance it doesn’t seem to outshine the individual currently wearing it.
Qingxuan’s eyes meet He Xuan’s through the bronze mirror and teal eyes blow wide as he turns in a flourish of fabric towards him. His lips part to speak and they seem to quiver and try to shape around words before she sighs and casts her gaze to the side with a tinge of pink spreading across her cheeks. “You should really knock sometimes, you know? What if I was changing?”
“Wouldn’t have cared.” He Xuan says and simply lets his eyes glance over the delicate fabric, “You’re wearing it. Did you intend to go somewhere in it or is this simply for leisure?”
Qingxuan’s laugh is soft and tinged with a bit of bitterness, “Not really a place I can wear this out to without criticism. As lovely as it is, I don't fill out these kinds of outfits as I once did.” Her hands come up to press to her chest and then smooth down to her waist in slow motions. “If there’s one thing I miss about divinity it’s the leisure to swap between forms. If I go out now I’ll only be stared at or mistaken for a crossdresser; which, you know, isn’t really the case.”
There’s a faint twinge in He Xuan’s chest that doesn’t quite feel like guilt but doesn’t quite feel like anything else. It’s a foreign sensation that has been long since drowned since he had ascended as a king amidst ghosts. He exhales slowly through his nose and takes a few steps closer and circles around her form in slow steps. “I think you fill it out fine.” That’s about as much of a compliment as he can force out of himself currently.
“It’s not the same.” Qingxuan's arms come up to cross over her chest. “Before I put it on I was so keen on wearing it out. You know that Jiu Si we pass when we go to the apothecary? The one with the open air pavilion? I wanted to go to have a drink. I’ve saved up some copper coins and a bit of silver and could at least pay the entrance fee because Popo was adamant that I take some time for myself. But… the second I put it on it drained my desire to do so.” She sighs and fusses with her hair idly, “How far I’ve fallen that a bit of fabric can ruin my mood.”
He Xuan’s brow flits up and he gives a small contemplative hum. “I haven’t known criticism to stop you in the past. You shouldn’t let it stop you now.” He certainly wishes a bit of criticism would have caused at least one moment of pause or consideration from Qingxuan in the centuries he’s known her, but over something this trivial? It’s terribly out of place and rubs uncomfortably against He Xuan’s own mood. “I’ll go with you. I could go for a meal with seasoning.”
“Well you can go on your own! I’m going to take this off and go see if I can help with anything.”
He can’t stop the tsk that leaves him as his body moves to block Qingxuan from moving to the back of the temple. He Xuan meets his stare before looking away and closing his eyes in sheer disbelief of what he’s about to offer. “Do you want to wear this as you would have back then?” He mentally prepares himself for the begging by the former wind god to swap his form along with her.
When he raises his eyes to meet Qingxuan’s there is an almost brilliant sparkle to her eyes before her good hand reaches out to grab He Xuan by his collar and yanks him down some. “Are you offering to let me switch forms?” All dismay about her previous predicament - as well as most of the normal fear she’d have about being this close to him - is thrown out the window as she stares expectantly up at him.
His own mouth shifts into something of a grimace as his eyes widen just slightly from the intensity in that expression. “... Yes?” Well now he’s not so sure this is a good idea. This level of excitement and energy has been rare lately - as is the vice grip she currently has on his collar. She has swatted him, shoved him, slept with her head on his lap (unintentionally) and brushed past him. This is new behavior.
Her entire body seems to vibrate as she lifts her free hand while the other clutches him tightly, as if he might vanish into smoke if she lets go. It’s a silent expectation for her to receive spiritual energy, a gesture that they never needed to share in the past but is now a necessity.
He Xuan lifts his hand and gently touches his fingertips to hers and transfers over what would be needed - and then some - and waits for it to settle into her form.
Qingxuan’s posture seems to tense as the energy seeps into her before her body slowly starts to ease. The grip on his collar is released and her hand pulls away as she steps back and shakes her hands out slightly. The former Wind Mistress jumps a couple times in place on her good leg as the spiritual energy courses through and equalizes through each meridian.
And then there is a familiar blue-green light that coalesces.
The way Qingxuan changes forms is nothing like how he changes forms. Where he melts and sculpts the mask he’s using around himself she moves and glows like the very speckled light around her was bending to her will.
When her movements pause the outfit she is wearing has tightened around her chest and her face is softer. Her cheeks are a bit more plush, her eyes rounder, lashes longer, and lips fuller. Hands immediately comb through her hair and draw strands along her fingers before she catches the middle section of her hair and pulls it up to tie and gather it in a tie at the back of his head before it falls loose. “Mm.. forgot I don’t have a guan anymore.” Her lips pull into a pout and she searches through the sleeves for a tie.
He Xuan watches her before sighing and reaching into his own sleeve to pull out the guan he’d worn while he was ‘Ming Yi.’ He’d kept it as an impulse, a trinket of a successful plan - or at least that was the initial idea behind it. “Qingxuan.” He clears his throat and offers it out to her, “Since you don’t have one.”
She blinks at it a couple times and her face twists slightly. Brows furrow and hands press together as teal eyes stare down at the small cuff. Lips part as a breath is slowly pulled in and then purse as she lets the tension in her form be drawn out of her with the exhale. “Thank you.”
Her fingertips brush along his as she collects the guan from his hold and a jolt rushes through his veins at the small contact. His hand pulls back quickly and amber eyes draw down to stare at where they’d briefly touched. That was certainly… different. An abnormality. It’s his spiritual energy that was coursing through Qingxuan right now so it can’t be a reaction to him coming in contact with it. They’d just touched as well and there hadn’t been much more than a brief exchange of Qingxuan’s warmth against cold fingers.
If Qingxuan felt it she doesn’t react and simply pulls her hair through the guan and pins it into place allowing dark bangs to fall in around her face while the rest becomes tamed. He Xuan studies her features with an all too critical eye. She doesn’t look the same as she did in the past – there are pieces of it there, yes, but the expression she wears this is both pensive and yet pleased, the way she holds herself in a way that is assured but modest, and the look in her eyes as she watches him is both cautious but grateful all the same.
“You’re welcome.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
But some things don’t change.
They’d both snuck out of the little community to avoid the questions about the sudden change of gender and just who the dark hard man escorting the former Wind Mistress is. It’s only when they are on the main thoroughfare that Qingxuan looks back the way they came and lets out a little laugh.
“Heavens I feel like I’m sixteen again trying to sneak out for a drink without anyone noticing I’m gone.” Her steps are uneven as they walk but she’s doing his best to conceal the motion by walking slower and reining herself in to not rush towards the promise of drink and leisure. In turn, He Xuan had slowed his own pace to keep himself from getting too far ahead of her.
“Isn’t that essentially what we’re doing?” He raises a brow down at her meeting her eye before she averts away from his true face again. They still aren’t at the point where she can stare at him for extended periods of time without shying back away. It’s more than fine, he’s a patient man. He can wait until she’s comfortable before pushing to see her smile at him like she had in the past.
He can wait.
“Well I’m not sixteen anymore! In fact I don’t even think I’m two hundred and sixteen at this point.” Her hand presses to her chin as her nose wrinkles up. “I stopped counting after the first century. He Xuan, how old are we?”
“Sixteen.”
Qingxuan shoots him a side-eyed look. “Yes, very helpful. That answers my question perfectly. Thank you.”
He simply blinks at her before leaning down slightly towards her, “Lord Wind Master is boundlessly talented, Lord Wind Master is funny and carefree, Lord Wind Master is kind and righteous, Lord Wind Master is aged sweet sixteen.”
The moment Qingxuan placed together what he’s doing her face goes through many changes. Her nose wrinkles up a bit more, cheeks puff out, and the faintest bit of pink begins to spread along her features. “... You didn’t have to say the whole thing to make your point. Besides, I stand by all of that still. I am incredibly funny, I am boundlessly talented, which you have seen first hand in many different ways, and I am kind and righteous.” There’s a pause, “But we aren’t sixteen.”
“Hm.” He leans away from her and shrugs his shoulders, “If you haven’t counted the years then why would I? You were the one celebrating your birthdays.” He Xuan never needed to upon meeting Shi Qingxuan. Her birthday and his were the same day and he dragged her with him anytime they elected to celebrate it. Such celebrations usually involved far too many people, far too much alcohol, and a buffet of food. He stayed for the buffet and would leave the second he got tired of the crowd.
“Fair point.”
Her laughter and pouting had drawn eyes to them and far too many linger on her. He Xuan never in his life agreed with Shi Wudu - never had he wanted to, and the idea disgusts him to his core - but if he could… argue that his own view aligns with one of Shi Wudu’s it’s the fact that Qingxuan’s female form had always been a risk.
She’s beautiful, male or female. He doesn’t think there is any bias in that statement, it’s just an objective fact. Her face is approachable and sweet, her eyes doe-like and gentle, her skin fair and smooth. Even though she still lives in poverty and struggles for survival (less so now that he’s been aiding some) it has done little to dull her beauty. Any man would be lucky to have her and many would be willing to try their luck to do so.
But He Xuan is not unfamiliar with the horror of what men will do to obtain a woman and the consequences those actions carry. He’d rather not have to beat a man to death for dulling the shine of Qingxuan that he, himself, had already dimmed considerably and now was in the process of building it back up.
So when eyes land on Qingxuan he’s quick to meet the gaze of those that stare a bit too long. He doesn’t need to speak, doesn’t need to tell them to fuck off, just a look serves well enough for the average human man. If she were still a God this act wouldn’t be necessary to begin with. He's well enough aware that she could handle her own with ease if she elected to.
Without her power her words would likely scare most men off if they offended her or pushed too far; however, the probability of her bite matching her bark on those stupid enough to press further is exceptionally low. What choice does he have but to accompany her whenever she wishes to go out in this form?
He’d be happy to let her change now and again - not like he’s doing much else with his spiritual power - if not to selfishly allow him to see a glimmer of joy on her face.
He Xuan’s nose wrinkles at that thought and a wave of complex feelings washes over him. That thought was much too soft, a bit too honest, and disgustingly out of place. What had this individual done to him over the last three centuries to cause enough cracks in his meticulously crafted armor that feelings of concern, guilt, and care towards someone he had to break for his own revenge. Is he going soft now that he has nothing else to do and nothing left to make someone repent for? Should he find a hobby that isn’t hovering around the one person who is still - mostly - terrified of him?
Let it be known that these thoughts will never be voiced aloud, and that he would rather crush his own ashes than let someone drag them from his mind, but Hua Cheng was right. This is rather pitiful. He’d know, he waited eight hundred years for a man that didn’t even know who he was.
It vaguely registers in the back of his mind that Qingxuan has been happily talking about this Jiu Si in rapid, rushed, sentences. He’s catching the gist of it: guqin performances, story telling, singing, fine wine.
“If it didn’t take me away from the community so much I think I’d make a good story teller. Heaven knows I have some damning story about both myself and just about any other god there is. I’d need a chair though, most of those storytellers end up standing too long and I feel like my leg would give out on me halfway through.”
He Xuan’s gaze dips down to her legs before he swiftly looks away. He didn’t need a reminder at just how swiftly Qingxuan had inflicted that wound on herself.
Just once it would have benefited her to listen to him.
“Mmn.” Is the only response he gives her in turn lest he open his mouth and find something unsavory waiting on his tongue. Instead his gaze shifts to the young woman by the gated entrance to the pavilion and drops a few silver notes into her hand before Qingxuan can lean over and do it himself.
There’s an annoyed tug to his sleeve in response but Qingxuan blessedly doesn’t start fighting him in public about it.
Progress.
He slows his pace to walk behind Qingxuan as she flits about to find a seat that’s to her liking. To his dismay he does watch her hover by what appears to be a banquet table as if she’s ready to slide in amongst unfamiliar faces and immediately join the revelry – only for that feeling to fade when she picks a more secluded spot with only a few scattered faces around.
He’s barely in his seat before Qingxuan is waving down a server excitedly.
“I’ll take a bottle of something that isn’t going to break my wallet but isn’t too sweet.” Qingxuan says with a brilliant smile that would make most people pause, “And steamed pork buns please.” There’s a faint wiggle from Qingxuan that causes him to, unfortunately, exhale a puff of hair in a scoff that could almost pass for a laugh.
“And for your Xiansheng?”
They both choke.
The words had barely left this poor woman’s lips before Qinguxan is coughing around nothing and He Xuan’s breath catches and his head is turned to the side to avoid looking at either of them. His throat clears a few times as he bites back the rude comment that would not be beneficial right now.
It’s not the first time this has happened when Qingxuan has been in her female form, but it’s the first time it’s happened since they had ‘split.’
“A bottle of whatever is the strongest option and one of each dish.” He’s not going to sit and listen through options when he’s certain both he and Qingxuan now want this woman to leave - and quickly. There’s another choked noise of protest from Qingxuan at the size of the order and she gives the woman a small sympathetic smile.
“... He’s a big eater.”
Neither of them corrected her.
How could he? He paid the cover fee, he waited diligently for her to pick a place to eat, he waited for her to seat herself comfortably before sitting down across from her. In the eyes of the people around them they more than likely do look like a couple on an outing where his ‘wife’ is a bit unorthodox and taking the lead ahead of him.
It had just been a force of habit.
Qingxuan always picked where they sat in the past. Qingxuan always ordered first. The only difference is he shot his hand out first to pay before she could even think about it. The financial dynamic had shifted but everything else was a part of the status quo for them.
He immediately drops his head down into the table with a thud after the server had left and lets his hair fall all around him so that he could disappear for a while. The last time he felt like this was after eating Xie Lian’s cooking. That had been purely a physical reaction, this one felt like a mental attack - both nightmares to try and recover from but at least he’ll have a pick-me up when the food gets here.
There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and his head shifts to flash an amber stare up at Qingxuan without lifting his head. She’s fanning towards him with her hand and little gusts are winding free from her fingers to blow back his hair. She’s not looking at him, in fact she’s pointedly looking everywhere but him and has a hand covering her mouth likely choking back an awkward laugh. “It could have been worse.” Comes out in a muffled tone from beneath her hand.
He grunts and slowly pushes himself up and draws his hand over to push her hand away to stop the fanning. He barely touches her and there’s an instant reaction of a delicate hand snapping back towards herself and tucked beneath the table quickly.
“How could it have been worse, exactly?”
“Well, she could have called you uncle.” Qingxuan says flippantly and He Xuan’s eyes dip down to see the fabric of her sleeves being tugged and shifted beneath her hands. “Or worse, could have assumed you were my father or something.”
He Xuan’s face scrunches and he scoffs, “I don’t look old enough right now to be either. That’s like saying she’d call you auntie.” The eye roll goes unsuppressed as he turns his head towards the small garden that sits off to their right. A small pond is nestled by a small flowering plum tree that was losing some of its early spring blooms and letting petals fall down to ripple across the surface of the water.
“Perish the day I ever become an auntie.” Qingxuan scoffs in response and He Xuan feels a soft kick meet his shin from beneath the table.
At least she can bounce back fairly quickly still.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☽ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon by the time he’s cleared the majority of his plates and indulged a smidge in a bit of drink. At some point he’d slid a few rice dishes over to Qingxuan and they’d gotten through a few bottles of drink between the both of them. Turns out when she’s drunk she has an easier time looking at him without fear flickering behind teal eyes.
He Xuan had leaned back far enough in his seat that two of the legs of the chair had picked up off the ground. His eyes are following the slight sway to Qingxuan’s form as she hums along to a tune played softly on a guqin. Her eyes have closed with long lashes gently kissing her cheeks as the rest of the world is drowned out beneath the melody.
There’s a prickling at the back of his head as he takes the time to examine her form like this. A small sensation that seems to have difficulty understanding the strength this individual seems to have. Despite all that has happened to her she manages to blossom and bloom like a flower breaking through cobblestone. Her light had been dimmed, sure, but it’s still brighter than his had ever been and outshines most simply by her continued existence. She hadn’t managed to die and so she elected to live at her pace and to her wants.
And she surprises him.
After centuries of knowing her he still is finding out things about her. She had adapted to struggle without batting an eye, can cook, was a quick study with sewing, and had a natural nurturing side that he wouldn’t have expected the ever proud Wind Master to have in the past. Not to mention the fact that she still has her sharp tongue and will jump at the opportunity to defend the innocent.
She’s so good.
He’s nothing like her.
“I meant to ask.” His voice cuts through the music and leaves her eyes to flutter open as she forces them to adjust and focus on his form. Perhaps it’s cruel to be doing this when she’s drunk but what other time would present itself? Asking her while he’s showing his true face and presenting it as an acknowledgment that the majority of their secrets had already been laid bare is a mixed bag. He’ll either be met with avoidant terror or she’ll spend the evening unable to meet his gaze.
“Mmm? Ask what?” She leans forwards and props her cheek against her hand causing the plush skin there to puff up slightly and push her lips into a pout.
“You’re quite good at picking up skills. You do a decent job at cooking for the community and your embroidery has gotten better as well.”
There’s a small snort and she lifts her bad hand to give a little wag of her fingers, “That’s not a question, He-Xiong.”
He Xuan almost doubles over for the second time this evening from the added honorific to his name. It was unexpected and proves that she is more than drunk, but that doesn’t exactly soften the surprise of the blow. His heart twists uncomfortably and it feels like one of those cracks in the armor he’s put into place around his heart had just been ripped open. He brings a hand up and massages his knuckles against his chest in discomfort as his own eyes narrow in a grimace.
“You’re right, it’s not. I guess I’m just wondering how you pick up these things so quickly?” His voice sounds strained to his own ears but if Qingxuan notices she doesn’t say anything.
There’s a hum as teal eyes stare through him for a long moment before her eyes fall closed once more. “Beyond the fact that I’m centuries old and that it’d be shameful if I sucked at trying new things? I s’pose it’s because I used to spend a lot of time by myself growing up.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm. My parents died when I was ten and it was just me and Ge.” His brows furrow at that but he refuses to open his eyes while speaking. “We didn’t stay in contact with the rest of our family so I ended up being alone a lot when Ge was cultivating. I did most of the cooking so cooking isn’t really a new skill then I fucked up.” He laughs a little at that and drops his hand from his chin and elects to slump forwards and cover her face with both hands. “Then we had to adapt daily so I had to figure things out quickly.”
He Xuan’s brows raise slightly and his lips pull into a small frown. It was the inverse to his situation - Qingxuan lost almost everything early, he lost everything later. He knew some of it, of course, after consuming the Reverend but there were many gaps in Qingxuan’s story he couldn’t fill. Years worth where the Reverend couldn’t have eyes on her because it simply couldn’t find her. “I didn’t realize.”
“Haha, how could you? We didn’t talk about this stuff.” She lifts her head and teal eyes meet his and tilts her head some and lets a tired smile settle on rosy lips. “Ge really didn’t want me to talk about this. He was obsessed with a lot of things, image was one of those things. I know he did it out of love for me but it made it hard to make real friends sometimes. Felt like I was keeping a dirty secret.”
She was. She was and she hadn’t even realized she was. It was a scandal and even a crumb of that getting out would ruin both of their reputations in an instant. In turn Qingxuan became an accomplice and a victim at the same time - a middle ground as an imposter and innocent.
“I miss him.” Her hand shifts to press to her lips as teeth sink into her nail to gnaw at both it and the skin around it.
“I know.” His voice comes out quieter than he wants it too even as that angry part of him that fed on his revenge rattles in the internal coffin he’d put it in.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
There was no point in telling her not to apologize right now, not when he can see the way glazed eyes go glassy and tears settle along her lash line just waiting for the dam to break.
He pulls open the pouch of gold foils he’d been given by Hua Cheng and dumps a few on the table. In the same motion he snatches her wrist and tugs her out of the chair she’s in to drag her away from prying eyes. If she’s going to cry he’s at least going to spare her dignity.
She struggles to keep up with him as he drags her down the small flight of stairs to pull her out into the garden but she doesn’t fight the grip on her wrist. Qingxuan is, understandably, tense from the sudden grip but she’s not fighting to break free or recoiling away from his touch. He can’t find himself to acknowledge that as a step forward, not when she’s drunk and struggling to keep herself together while eyes can still see her.
He Xuan pulls her to the otherside of the plum tree so that the trunk would block her entirely from sight and only then does he let go of her wrist. She sways unsteadily and he clenches his fingers into his palms to prevent himself from snapping forwards to catch her. He already was abrupt with her, pressing his luck would only result in a bigger mess in the long run. A mess that he may not be able to undo if he’s not mindful of where the limit on Qingxuan’s tolerance is.
She dabs around her eyes with fingers to try and interrupt the flow of tears and lets out a laugh around a soft sob. Her good hand keeps moving to soothe out her hair, adjust the silk of her attire, anything to give her some dignity through her grief. She’d fallen apart in front of him several times now, he can’t blame her for wanting to avoid doing so again.
He turns to the side to avert his eyes off of her but he can’t bring himself to walk away. He couldn’t walk away in the past, either. When Shi Wudu’s blood was still on his hands, when Qingxuan was broken and devastated by the revelation that her Godhood had been stolen, he had stayed, he had sought Qingxuan out, he always winds up gravitating towards her tears.
At first he thought it was because he wanted to see her cry.
What a lovely delusion - a bandage to quell a hatred - in the beginning; an ugly truth - a bitter pill of recognized care - in the end.
He doesn’t want her to cry alone even if he is one of the reasons Qingxuan cries. Even if he is the biggest reason Qingxuan cries. It’s a stubbornness born out of being the person that brought her so much comfort in the past, a role he played for centuries and a role he can’t shake off even now.
Perhaps it’s a punishment for himself.
He really should get a hobby that’s not self-sabotaging punishment and torment for himself and the one person in his undead life to grant him kindness.
The sobs that leave her are not the wailing ones he heard in the Nether Water Manor. They aren’t the frustrated cries he heard in the Shi Palace. These are tired sobs laced with a touch of laughter of Qingxuan breaking under the pressure of their own grief.
His hands fold into his sleeves and his eyes flit over the wall of the Jiu Si, the grass on the ground and the scattering of petals, and silently endure the soft sniffling and distressed noises. His boot idly kicks into the ground scuffing up the soil and crushing those newly fallen petals beneath it. He Xuan closes his eyes and draws a deep breath in before he hits his limit on the sobs.
“Did you know I collect pets?”
The sobs abruptly get halted and there’s a confused, muttered, “What?”
“Mm. You’ve met them, but not exactly on the best of terms.”
A hand grabs his sleeve and yanks him forcing him to turn and meet Qingxuan’s wide eyed and wet stare. “The bone dragons?!”
“And the fish, yes.”
Qingxuan looks flabbergasted for a second and her brows scrunch, her nose wrinkles, her lips purse. The rims around her eyes are red from tears and her lashes clumped together - a faint flush is kissed upon her cheeks and ears from the alcohol and all of it combines together to make an oddly endearing expression. “But one bit you? You got poisoned!”
“Mmn. I did.” Seems dumping that random bit of information helped shock her out of the tears enough that her mind has found something else to focus on.
She tugs down on his sleeve hard enough that he has to lean down towards her in the process. “Are you telling me we got swallowed by one of your pets?!” Qingxuan demands as teal eyes narrow and frustration flickers across her features.
“Not swallowed, carried. I wasn’t going to let it actually harm either of us in a way that mattered.” He pauses for a second, “Besides if it swallowed us we’d just go through its ribcage.”
“I carried you after you got poisoned! For a while at that! That wasn’t a small trek you know and you aren’t light!” Qingxuan’s frustration mounts and she doesn’t let go of his sleeve instead she seems to grip it even tighter as he watches the wheels turn in her head - albeit slower than they should be thanks to the overindulgence of alcohol. “You wanted me to carry you.”
“... Your back is comfortable and easy to sleep on.”
Qingxuan’s mouth falls open in shock and there is a visible recoil, “Shameless! You are shameless! You-” There is a fumble of her words a few times over, “You had a hole in your chest and got up you- I- there were so many times I carried you over the centuries and you’re telling me it’s because my back is comfortable?!”
He Xuan gives a small shrug of his shoulder, “Partially. I couldn’t just get up and shake off most injuries, that would have just been announcing that I’m a ghost.”
She seems to finally be at a loss for words and releases the grip on his sleeve with a flourish of her own before crossing her good arm over her chest while the other stays at her side. Her cheeks are slightly puffed and her gaze is ripe with irritation. Her eye makeup has run slightly and gathered beneath her lower lids and her lipstick has been smeared from rubbing at her face to stop the roll of tears down her features.
His hand lifts to gently run his thumb under her eyes to wipe away the smeared makeup giving a small tut as he does, “You’re a mess.” She doesn’t shove him away immediately and instead he feels her eyes burrowing into his face with the remnants of frustration and grief. If Qingxuan wishes to then he will tolerate any outburst that comes from touching the other’s face - heaven knows she’s very particular about her face.
Fingertips trail down her cheek to lift her chin a touch higher in order to use his thumb to rub away the rosy pink lipstick that had gotten smudged off to the side of her lips. He Xuan pauses his thumb just beneath her lower lip with his nail pressing just slightly into the plush skin of it before his eyes finally meet the glare that was being burned into his face.
But he doesn’t find a glare waiting for him.
Instead there’s far too much clarity in teal eyes with pupils blown wide. There’s a bit more color on her cheeks than what he’d noticed previously with the blush having spread over her nose. It’s crept over the apples of her cheeks and her face looks almost soft now compared to the way it had twisted up before.
Has he seen this expression before? He’d seen her drunk an incalculable amount of times since they’ve met but he can’t recall seeing this one. It warms his chest and makes his stomach ache with a sudden onslaught of queasiness that leaves him pulling his hand back quickly. He Xuan immediately takes three steps back and averts his gaze back to the ground. “There. You’re not going to scare the townsfolk now.”
Qingxuan’s quiet for a long while before a little chiming laugh leaves her and He Xuan finds his space invaded as and arm links with him. “As if I’m any scarier than you. I mean if you haunt my nightmares I can only imagine the terror people will experience in the night after seeing you.”
He burrows his surprise deep in his chest and instead allows his body to be pulled back towards the pavilion at an uneven gate.
“So what are the bone creatures' names?”
“They don’t really have names.”
There’s an audible gasp as Qingxuan stumbles and nearly takes him down with her before she’s able to catch herself with the grip on his arm. “Surely you have to call them something?”
“Mmn. Yi, Er, San, Si-”
“Numbers do not count as names, He-Xiong!”
He Xuan breathes out slowly and turns his attention down to his hand to linger on the faint red stain that lingers on his thumb. His finger brushes along it slowly before he hums, “Would you like to name them, then?”
“Don’t pass your work off onto me! Give them a proper name!”
“Hmmm Heise, Huise, Baise-”
“Don’t just swap to colors because you can’t use numbers!”
"Why not? It works for Supremes."
The laugh that leaves Qingxuan after that is so boisterous and loud that it draws the eyes of the rest of the patrons as He Xuan leads her through the pavilion. That warmth returns in his chest and a sharp pressure seems to be pressing down on his lungs and gripping his chest. Their past was sordid, their present strained… But perhaps there is room in his heart to hope for a better future for Qingxuan.
And if she’s feeling generous perhaps that future can extend to him as well.
Notes:
Sorry this update took forever. I was stuck working on my midterms for my grad degree and hyperfixating on MDZS while working through it - beefleaf took a back burner for the sake of me making it through last week.
Rare He Xuan POV and some more healing being done between them both. Unfortunately that means He Xuan has a few more complicated feelings to work out about SQX but hey. As he's noted: progress
Chapter 7: Bite
Summary:
It’s only when he manages a few deep breaths does He Xuan finally relax his jaw and take a step back. There is an irritated flourish of his sleeves as he turns away. “Save your arguments for individuals that deserve them. If you stand for everyone then they will never stand for themselves.”
While it’s true that many Ghosts have no qualms in causing mischief or grief to others, that didn’t mean every ghost wished to live that way. Some ghosts linger out of devotion and love. Why couldn’t Haiqing be one of those?
People can change; why can’t ghosts?
Chapter Text
Cold water is splashed on his face once, twice, and then a third time for good measure. It’s as if no matter how many times he tries to wash his face he won’t be able to shake off that ghost of a feeling. It’s been a week since the ‘incident’ happened and he still feels that lingering touch. He’s never had his face touched like that, never had someone wipe his tears for him. His brother wasn’t the best at giving comfort - he tried, in his own way, and did have a gentle way of speaking to him when he was truly distressed.
But he didn’t really let himself be physically comforted. It’s second nature to shove people away when he’s panicked or distressed; a side effect of growing up in and around fear.
So what was that?
He’s been blaming alcohol for a great deal of the oddities with He Xuan in his life recently, but how much of it can truly be the alcohol? When does it stop being inebriation and start being some discrepancy in his mind as a part of trauma?
Because it has to be a trauma response, right? He went from panicking over He Xuan so much as looking at him to letting him carry him and gently touch his face. That’s not normal, that isn’t a normal way things go. What a whirlwind of emotions he’s been through with this one man in particular. Tentative and cautious at first that set the foundation for them to develop a relatively strong, familiar, bond with one another – even if it wasn’t entirely understood by those around them. They were quick to jab at one another but it led to better communication in the long run that created a synergy between the way they operate around each other.
Then he learned everything. Then he found out every single crooked, nasty, detail that allowed Qingxuan to succeed in the past. That led to a spiral of anxiety, pain, depression, and grief. There was never anger directed at him, it seems he skipped both that step and denial in the process.
It’s fairly difficult to have a denial phase when he witnessed it all-
He dunks his head into the water fully and just leaves his face drenched in the chill. He’s learned over the last few months that if he lingers on these thoughts too long it just leads to a panic attack and tears. If he cries then there’s a risk He Xuan touches his face again or gives him that strange, twisted, look. It’s a mixed bag that he’s not ready to open.
Nor should they open it.
He Xuan owes him no apologies and Qingxuan has run through every way of saying ‘I’m Sorry’ that’s in the book.
“... Are you trying to drown yourself now?” The words sound muffled over the surface of the water but there is no mistaking those deep tenor tones.
Qingxuan’s head snaps out of the water, sending water scattering all around the courtyard and leaving strands of dark hair stuck around his cheeks and forehead. He blinks away cold droplets that cling to his lashes and roll down over his cheeks. His good arm snaps up and he uses his sleeve to try and pat his face dry. “No, no! Just washing my face, haha, yeah. Just… was rinsing.”
There’s a tut and the mask of Yang Shui comes into vision and his good hand is shoved down and a small towel is placed in his hand instead. “Don’t use your sleeve for that. You’re just dirtying your face again.”
He stares at the towel and his wrist for a long moment before he gently wipes down his face in slow circles to scrub away any dirt his sleeve may have passed onto his face. Qingxuan gently rests the cloth on the rim of the bucket and uses his good leg to push himself up without having to use his hand.
It’s gotten a little easier with him favoring his leg and it’s strengthened with time spent rushing around the community and going on walks through the Capital with He Xuan in order to purchase food they can’t gather and medical supplies. Supplies that Qingxuan has been able to purchase using his own money - money he’s made from selling robes and trousers he’s stitched with the silk that He Xuan brought back with him.
They aren’t particularly special or of fantastic quality but his stitches are neat and the designs are simple and elegant.
He’s proud to say this is money he’s earned on his own without needing any tricks or divine powers. Plus he’s found that he’s quite the natural salesman! His clothing had been cleaner lately and of slightly finer make than it was a year ago and his smiles and cheerful tones have done wonders in drawing people over to at least take a look. Usually it only takes a bit of talk and compliments, always genuine ones, before a piece of clothing or a blanket is purchased from his small supply of it.
“Looks like your head has run off on its own again.” He Xuan scoffs and hovers a few feet away and keeps a stern eye on his form.
“I was just thinking about how far this community has come now that I can do a little more. My wrist still hates having to support the cloth while I work but it’s getting easier and the more I can make the more I can spend on the community.” Qingxuan turns and flashes a small smile to the other man before quickly looking away. “So don’t get the idea that every time I get quiet it means I’m about to get weepy. I am a thoughtful person, you know.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
Qingxuan turns his head to side eye him before rolling his eyes and averting his gaze. “Uh huh. So you just stare at me like you’re about to scold me for no reason now?” His fingers come back to comb through wet bangs and attempt to get them into a state of composure. He’s certain he still looks a mess but it’s not as if it’s matter. He Xuan has seen him in far worse states than this. He wouldn’t care, he didn’t care - but he did when he cried at the Jiu Si. Does that mean he cares about it now? Was that situation special?
“And you’re gone again.” There’s a soft sigh and He Xuan’s fingers snap forward to flick Qingxuan’s ear. The swift motion and slight sting of pain makes Qingxuan jolt and whirl around to meet his stare.
“What was that for?!” Qingxuan swats at his hand and takes a step back and away from him.
Amber eyes flutter and hardly conceal an eye roll behind the motion before He Xuan’s stare focuses on the gate. “Your thoughts are so loud, you radiate malaise the moment you get too lost in your head. You wouldn’t pull yourself out of it and I’d rather not watch you be a mindless corpse all day. It’s annoying.”
His thoughts are loud?! He didn’t think his face even shifted slightly and his hands were only fussing with his hair, he does that plenty! Stupid observant ghost. He grumbles under his breath saying nothing of proper sense just griping to gripe. “If you need something to fuss over then go fuss over the chores. Have you already checked the food supply?”
“Mmn, good for the week at least - two if we’re frugal.”
“... And the Ayi’s? How is laundry going?”
“They washed it, I laid everything out to dry. I finished it about two incense time ago.”
“And construction on the house-”
“Finished yesterday.”
Aiya had they really gotten so much done in the last week? They have been able to enjoy a bit more free time recently but he wasn’t expecting that their daily chores could truly be finished before the sun passes before its highest point. “You could always go and help Haiqing band-”
“Absolutely not.” He Xuan shuts that down abruptly and turns his head back towards Qingxuan, “I have no desire to help him and I have other matters to attend to.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times in disbelief, “What? Why not? Haiqing is a good kid, a bit mischievous for sure, but he’s been very helpful around the community.”
The disbelief on her face is mirrored with his own and she watches his brows furrow, nose wrinkle, lips part as he seems ready to snap and growl. Qingxuan’s back instinctively starts to tense and he can see the moment He Xuan recognizes that and immediately he schools his face and rubs his hand over his nose to ease the skin there. “Qingxuan I can’t tell if you’re being stupid or willfully oblivious. He is a wrath.”
“So?” Qingxuan’s arm protests as he crosses them over his chest. “You’re a Supreme.”
“... And I could topple a nation if I saw fit, but you know I have no desire to. While his devastation may not be so extreme he could still cause harm to this community and the city as a whole.”
Qingxuan’s fingers curl and a scowl settles onto his features, “He has done no harm and has shown no sign of doing harm. He was in need of a place and a purpose, he’s found it here. Besides what right do I have to shoo him off now that you’re here? It would make me quite the hypocrite. Who cares if he’s here for selfish reasons, aren’t you here for selfish reasons?” Ah the argumentative side of him, how he has missed being able to refute and challenge another based on his own sense of justice. Arguing with Pei Ming has never been the same as arguing with the man he once knew as Ming Yi. “And, while I am not necessarily able to defend the community, you are here and I refuse to believe you are so heartless as to let a wrath destroy what I’ve built when you had a hand in making it thrive.”
“Tch, don’t make assumptions. Will you be so forgiving if he starts lashing out? You’re so quick to defend someone who has only shown you one side of them.”
Qingxuan’s bad foot twitches in an uneven tap of impatience and all prior thoughts of confusing feelings and complicated thoughts long lost to irritation. “You’re being hypocritical. I would have made the same arguments for you once upon a time. If someone came to me accusing you, back then, of doing something awful then I would have argued for you. I make my own judgements and I will continue to do so when I feel so inc-”
His entire body jolts and it takes a long moment for him to register what’s happened. Teeth are currently sunk deep into his shoulder threatening to pierce through the fabric of his robe entirely. He can’t move his arms away from his chest as they are forced between his own and He Xuan’s.
When the shock fades he’s left scrambling somewhere between panic and disbelief. “What are you doin-”
“Shut up.” The words are muffled against his shoulder as his teeth refuse to release the vice on his shoulder.
“You can’t just bite someone when you start losing an argu-”
“Shut. Up.”
The second he parts his lips to keep arguing he feels those teeth sink in just a little bit deeper as if he is a deer struggling in the grasp of a tiger and the tiger is simply waiting for it to die beneath its maw. His fingers shake slightly against his own arms and his entire body is taught beneath the other’s lips and teeth. His breath picks up slightly and there is sincere effort being strained and tried to keep himself from devolving into a stammering panicking mess.
It’s only when he manages a few deep breaths does He Xuan finally relax his jaw and take a step back. There is an irritated flourish of his sleeves as he turns away. “Save your arguments for individuals that deserve them. If you stand for everyone then they will never stand for themselves.”
Qingxuan goes to speak but the words die in his throat. He isn’t wrong on that matter, but it didn’t feel right to allow He Xuan make claims on behaviors that haven’t even remotely showed signs of appearing. While it’s true that many Ghosts have no qualms in causing mischief or grief to others, that didn’t mean every ghost wished to live that way. Some ghosts linger out of devotion and love - a fact he’s now abundantly aware of due to the almost sickeningly sweet love that Crimson Rain Sought Flower shows to his dearest Xie Lian.
Why couldn’t Haiqing be one of those? He hasn’t shown anything more than mischief in front of him and he has no desire to judge someone simply because they are lingering after death. Even if he is a wrath, and even if he has killed in the past, why does that mean that he will do such a thing again?
People can change; why can’t ghosts?
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
The afternoon crests and begins to wane into the evening without incident. It’s only as the shadows grow longer and the warm air begins to lose some of its humid heat for a muggy stickiness does the day become interesting. A rather boisterous laugh echoes down one of the alleys from the community earning a few odd looks from some of the regular faces and a quiet insistence for Ol’ Feng to go investigate since ‘Yang Shui’ is currently missing.
He was expecting a neighborhood drunkard, maybe a group of kids playing a game that got out of hand, but certainly not the Crimson Rain Sought Flower half keeled over in laughter next to He Xuan who is currently looking up to the sky like he wants it to open up and kill him right then and there. Off to the side Xie Lian fiddles idly with his sleeves with his face stuck somewhere between a grimace and a laugh of his own, barely contained if the shaking in his shoulders is anything to go by.
“Your Highness? Did… something happen?” Qingxuan’s voice is hesitant and a touch concerned. If Hua Cheng is laughing that usually spells bad news for anyone that isn’t Xie Lian.
The laughter abruptly stops at his words as two sets of glowing eyes turn towards him rather suddenly - one red, one gold. Qingxuan freezes in place as cold terror shoots up their spine. Fight or flight? No, Qingxuan just froze like a deer startled by a flash of lightning. “Ahah… haha… uhm… hi?”
They have the absolute displeasure of watching Hua Cheng’s face twitch a few times as soft scoffed laughs seem to leave him. Hua Cheng lifts a hand and slaps hard enough into He Xuan’s shoulder that the poor man stumbles and seems to crack the cobblestone of the alley. Qingxuan flinches at that and lifts a hand to cover his mouth swiftly to keep the gasp from leaving him - or at least muffling how audible it’d be.
That had to hurt.
He watches as He Xuan lifts a hand to rub at his forehead and temple simultaneously before he starts walking off with a still laughing Hua Cheng hot on his tail. At this distance Qingxuan can’t make out what is being said, but whatever they were discussing was certainly amplified by Qingxuan’s sudden appearance. Surely they have better things to do than discuss and laugh about him, right?
Xie Lian’s face appears directly in front of his own and a cheerful smile is flashed. “Nothing happened, Qingxuan!” His eyes flit down to the tears of the cloth in his robe and then quickly back to allow honeyed hues to meet teal. “Is your shoulder okay?”
“Oh!” Qingxuan lifts his good hand up in a snap to cover the area with an awkward smile. “Mhm! Yeah it’s fine, just got the fabric caught on a branch this morning, nothing serious hahaa ahah…”
The look that he receives from Xie Lian is polite but clearly reads across his face that he does not believe the bullshit that just came out of Qingxuan’s mouth. To be fair, even he wouldn’t have bought that lie if he had someone use it on him. He lets out a small awkward chuckle and moves his hand off of his shoulder to brush his hair back from his face instead while offering a small polite smile of his own.
“Do branches usually pass spiritual power onto people if you get caught on them?”
“What?” Qingxuan’s smile freezes and several cogs start turning in his head before he gapes and looks down at his shoulder and pulls the fabric away from his shoulder to see the already darkening bruise blooming on his shoulder. With the skin exposed it’s quite impossible to call it anything but a bite mark with how the darkest part of the bruise creates a ring around a perfectly pristine white middle.
“Huh, he really did bite you…” Xie Lian mumbles and looks a touch thoughtful before shaking his head. “That’s one way to pass on energy.”
As if Xie Lian has any room to talk.
Qingxuan rubs at his own forehead and lets out a low sigh. “Your Highness, respectfully, but what you just did could be considered entrapment.” He mumbles and gives an exhausted look over to the now brightened expression Xie Lian wears - as if he didn’t just trick Qingxuan into baring a bite mark. He can’t remember if his Highness has always been like this or if Hua Cheng truly has started to rub some of his own mannerisms off onto Xie Lian.
“Qingxuan, are you okay with having him here? I know what happened in the past isn’t something that’s really easy to get over.” The teasing tone and thoughtful consideration seems to be gone as a serious look settles on his features. “If you want him gone you just say the word and I’ll ask San Lang to help get rid of him.”
Qingxuan quickly shakes his head, “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. We’ve already talked about it and if I want him to leave I just need to tell him. I’ve let him stay for the time being.” His hand gives an idle waving motion and he gives a reassuring smile towards one of the few friends he’s managed to keep from his descension. “And I’m not over it, not really. I’ve forgiven him, sure, but it’s not something I can just forget. I had several panic attacks when I realized he was living with me for about a month without me catching on. Well, okay, I had a feeling but I was hoping I was wrong… anyway! There are good days where things are relatively normal and there are bad days where I panic if I even so much as make eye contact with him. On the bad days he gives me space unless I seek him out.”
It’s a tentative agreement and the bad days are coming less and less but he recognizes that this isn’t something that will ever just disappear. No matter how much work they put into coming to some form of normalcy there will always be bad days. There will always be times where he looks at He Xuan and can only see his brother’s killer - justified or otherwise.
“Is he being kind to you?”
“Uh haha…” Well that’s not exactly the easiest question to answer, “Well Kind and Black Water don’t really go in the same sentence, but if you’re asking me if he’s trying to kill me or anything I’d say no. I think we’ve worked past the ‘oh I’m going to die by his hand’ phase.” Because it certainly was a terrifying prospect for a while there. “I mean he’s still the same asshole he was when he was Ming Yi.”
Really the only thing that’s changed is that there really are no lies being passed around between them, a name, and an ocean’s worth of trauma that is slowly being worked through.
Still the answer seems to satisfy Xie Lian who nods along to his words looking only briefly startled at Qingxuan casually calling He Xuan an asshole. “Well that sounds positive I suppose.” He sighs and looks off after where the pair of Supremes had disappeared down and then back to Qingxuan. “I have to go catch up with those two soon but I wanted to at least have a moment alone with you. You look like you’re doing better and it makes me really happy to see that.”
Qingxuan starts to smile again before it falls and his face furrows. “Wait with both of them? Is He Xuan going somewhere?”
“He didn’t tell you? I figured he would have mentioned something since he gave you spiritual power.” Xie Lian’s brows furrow to match Qingxuan’s own before he sighs and shakes his head. “San Lang needs his help with something and asked him yesterday if he could come along to handle a complicated matter that requires a spirit that Black Water consumed at one point apparently.”
He had said he had other matters to tend to this morning, right? Was he going to tell him he’d be heading out before they started bickering and before the bite? That seemed likely but he can’t know for sure since that conversation took such an abrupt turn. It’s more shocking that he hadn’t noticed the spiritual power being passed to him through the bite, or maybe the shock and rush of pain just suppressed his ability to recognize the exchange.
“Mm, he didn’t give me details.” He pauses and clears his throat, moving hands to fiddle with his sleeves. “Do… you have a general idea when he’ll be back? Just so I can give the community a general assurance that ‘Yang Shui’ isn’t gone for good and can give them a time frame. He’s been a big help around here and the older women of the community adore him.”
“Sorry, Qingxuan, I’m not sure. Knowing San Lang it likely won’t take that long. You have spiritual power right now so if it’s taking too long I’ll just tell you through the Communication Array, okay? I’m pretty sure I remember your passcode and if I don’t know it then I’m sure Black Water does!”
Oh he’s well aware that He Xuan remembers his pass code and there’s a flicker of a memory of the other night where He Xuan had taunted him about it before they entered the Jiu Si. A teasing that set a tone for the evening and led to gentle fingers gracing his face and brushing his thumb so sweetly over his features that he almost forgot that those hands could even do any harm. It’s as if that moment had been engraved into his memory even with the amount of alcohol that coursed through his veins.
“Right! Of course. Be safe, Your Highness!”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☽ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
A cold touch is wound around both of his wrists as his damaged arm protests with flashes of pain as they’re forced over his head. He can’t focus on that discomfort as if some otherworldly force soothed the pain in an instant and allows his mind to be distinctly drawn to the cold breath brushing along his own lips as gold eyes burrow into his face. A charged air had settled between them with Qingxuan sprawled across the simple straw mat and He Xuan hiking up his good leg and spreading it apart to settle between them. The visage is faintly hazy, like a fog creeping through his vision before the other man focuses into view allowing him to see how his skin is bared and body spread open for He Xuan’s enjoyment.
He holds him like that for a long moment before his head dips down and presses a tentative kiss against Qingxuan’s own letting his actions ask for permission rather than his words. He’d never been one for words, and to some degree Qingxuan can agree that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
His lips are chilled but slowly warm as they move with Qingxuan’s in a slow and languid manner, a lazy motion that is complimented by the slow tracing of his hand down his hoisted thigh. Even when he was a god he’d never gotten a chance to indulge in these sensations often and especially not with the man currently pressing him further against the mat. The slow motions are quickly becoming more demanding as He Xuan’s teeth sink into his bottom lip enough to make Qingxuan gasp and allow his tongue to slip past his lips.
It’s as if he’s a man starved. His tongue tracing along his own and trapping it against his own while his lips press harder into his own. That icy touch along his thigh suddenly tightens as he grips him tightly causing fingertips and nails to dig into his skin allowing a rush of pain to shoot through his form and causes a moan to echo from his throat. He Xuan seems to drink that noise down, fueled on from it as his chest presses down against Qingxuan’s own bare one.
The dichotomy of their temperatures has his brain swimming and the lack of breath from He Xuan’s crushing kiss has his body feeling pliant and weightless beneath him. He tries the hold on his wrists and doesn’t so much as budge the other man’s grip and only succeeds in making his arm twitch with discomfort from jostling the uncomfortable position it had just adapted to.
He Xuan finally releases his lips and instead lets his lips trail along Qingxuan’s jaw in a series of bites that are soothed by quick flicks of his tongue. He lingers along his pulse points letting lips press to skin there and teeth dig in as if he’s capturing his pulse beneath it and trying to stop his heart. Strangely Qingxuan can’t find himself to be afraid. Instead his head only lulls back to allow He Xuan to have free reign over his body - a permission he seems keen on taking advantage of.
His grip on his wrists relents and his leg is roughly dropped so that he can draw his hands to Qingxuan’s hips and allow fingers to sink into the plush flesh of his ass. It’s as if he’s keen on leaving his prints all over his form as a reminder of who it was that made Qingxuan’s legs weak and his breath catch in his throat. A reminder of who had managed to make him moan with just a few kisses and a pass of his tongue over skin.
Gold eyes watch him as he kisses lower along his frame pausing as his teeth graze along a nipple before biting down on it leaving Qingxuan jolting and bucking his hips against the hold on his hips. He swears he hears the other man growl as if delighted by how responsive he is but he can’t trust his mind right now. It feels both so full of everything and empty at the same time, rushing through thoughts of what he wants but being unable to focus on any one.
His legs are forced to spread further as He Xuan’s chest ghosts along Qingxuan’s length with how close he keeps himself to the other’s form. The faint friction paired with the torment of the other man’s tongue along his nipple, pressing and rolling against it, draws a whimper from Qingxuan as his body shudders. Slowly Qingxuan draws his hands down from their previously pinned position to gently card through jet black locks, brushing them back and out of the way for the other man.
The small considerate gesture is met with an exhale from He Xuan before a soft kiss is placed right next to Qingxuan’s poor abused nipple in what he assumes is a thanks.
It’s such a small, gentle, gesture that it causes a small laugh to break past his lips. A noise that is quickly interrupted by a squeak as teeth sink down hard into his abdomen. Teal eyes struggle to meet amber hues as a dark brow is raised up at Qingxuan, “What’s funny?”
“Just think it’s sweet that you went from being so… bitey to gentle just like that. Caught me off guard.” Qingxuan’s words sound warbled as if he’s both saying them and not at the same time. The sound registers as odd to his own ears but if He Xuan notices anything he doesn’t react. Instead he simply continues his path downwards along Qingxuan’s form.
Every new inch of skin he finds is met with teeth sinking in roughly into his skin leaving circular marks in a chain over his abdomen. It’s like he’s trying to eat him alive with each deep press of teeth into flesh, like any moment he’ll break skin and draw ichor free from his veins to paint pale skin with an ensanguined brush.
His lips and tongue ghost past his sensitive length as his body drops further down leaving Qingxuan to have to stretch his arms further to keep hold of the other man’s hair. Lips press soft kisses against his thighs while his eyes stay fixed and focused on Qingxuan’s own. It’s as if the other man can’t look away and his own fixation forces Qingxuan to hold his stare. Like his eyes have to stay on him, focus on him, see him - only him.
Qingxuan’s throat bobs as he swallows back a noise and lets out a shaky breath instead. His head swims as he watches He Xuan stroke his tongue up the expanse of his inner thigh. He Xuan’s teeth sink into the sensitive skin harshly as he reaches the top of his thigh. Qingxuan feels the skin break this time and freezes as He Xuan lifts his head to show the faint smear of red along his lips and chin. He waits for the panic to seize him, waits for his blood to run cold and for him to jolt away from He Xuan as fast as he can…
But it doesn’t come.
Instead his mind seems to appreciate the visual when it’s being presented to him in this context. As if the color contrast of such pallid skin splashed with red being framed by inky hair pleases some aesthetic want of his. Qingxuan’s breath comes out in a shudder and his flushed form seems to grow ever hotter.
The intensity behind that stare should be illegal with how it makes his stomach tighten and leaves him feeling so deeply entranced by the man between his legs. His lashes flutter for just a moment and when they open she sees his head now hovering now above a length but with his lips pressed along her inner thigh while his hand gently presses his thumb just above her own slick entrance.
That image seems to cause her mind to swim as the moans that leave her are higher pitched. Another blink pulls him back to He Xuan’s lips pressed along the base of his length letting his tongue lazily trail along the sensitive skin there. Another blink and his tongue is pressed between her folds. It’s like their mind can’t tell which they want more in this moment, both sides equally as tempting, both sides equally as wanted.
“Qingxuan.”
’Qingxuan’
His name comes out doubled from He Xuan’s lips and the images start to fade entirely, dissipating like sand as his eyelashes flutter and he whines as his brain rebels and tries to bring that image back. His entire body jerks back and forth and his good arm comes up to shove at whatever force is currently manipulating his body.
And then teal eyes fall open and meet amber eyes and a raised brow, He Xuan half leaned over his form with hands still on his shoulders. Qingxuan’s mind races trying to piece together what just happened as his arm moves to rub at his face and let his vision clear a bit more and focus on He Xuan’s face.
“You looked like you were having a nightmare.” He Xuan deadpans and releases his shoulders and turns away from Qingxuan to settle on his side of the mat. His hair is loose and slightly tangled at the ends, that earthen sea scent coming off him in more intense waves than it normally does. It’s almost assaulting Qingxuan's senses as his brain finally comes to terms with what just happened.
He’d been dreaming. More than that he was having a rather heated dream about the man now sitting less than five feet from him and completely oblivious to that fact. Qingxuan’s eyes are blown wide and he sits up suddenly on the mat as his hand snaps to cover his mouth in absolute horror. This is a new low, even for him. What is wrong with his brain that it can just decide to fantasize on someone that he has no right or want to fantasize over.
His stomach twists and his features blanche as he keeps his mouth shut lest his voice come out squeaked or strained. Not only had he been fantasizing about the other man but he had to have been having some sort of a reaction in the waking world that prompted the other to wake him. He doesn’t want to know what he was doing, he’s already mortified enough as is – he’d rather not fuel that shameful fire with coals and oil.
Qingxuan wishes he could just pluck that dream from his mind and toss it into a box and bury that box so deep that it can never be found again. How could he have such a dream? This man had been his best friend once and had taken the life of his brother leaving both the trauma of centuries of lying and horror of being a witness to He Xuan’s revenge to do damage that he’s still not recovered from. Even if those factors weren’t in play, even if they didn’t play a part, He Xuan had once had a fiancée that he loved, or loves, so much that he killed for her.
Guilt and disgust settles in his stomach and he slowly draws his knees up beneath him to stumble up to stand. Bile seems to rise in his throat from the sheer revulsion he has towards himself as he stumbles away from the other man towards the sliding door that separated their space from the rest of the temple.
He can feel He Xuan’s stare burrowing into him as he struggles his way through the door at a pace that is too hurried and rushed.
Outside.
He needs to be outside and ideally away from the man that is now, apparently, not just haunting him but his dreams as well.
Qingxuan doesn’t allow himself to go far and elects to sit on the steps of the temple and places his head between his knees and takes a few deep breaths in to make the nausea and shame pass. Each inhale burns and leaves his body shuddering as he tries to shake off the discomfort that seems to have dug its way beneath his skin and sink deep within his bones.
His mind is an awful thing. How vile of it to craft such an intricate scene, to leave him for just a moment so sure that he was not dreaming but instead entangled with the one who both vexes, comforts, and terrifies him all in the same breath. His brother would turn in his grave if he knew he had such thoughts about any man and would rip himself into undeath - as impossible as that is - if he knew those dreams featured He Xuan as the main actor upon its stage. He’d never be allowed to sleep again; really, maybe he should go ahead and take that advice now. He can stay up for a long while, right? He can just ignore this entire situation and keep himself awake for as long as his body can manage to punish both his brain and himself in repentance.
He can’t help the distressed laugh that rises in his throat and echoes far too loudly along the temple courtyard. He can hear the sounds of rats and other small creatures get startled from the sudden noise, hear the flap of wings as birds fly free from the safety of their nests from the cackles of a madman.
A hand rests on his shoulder and he recoils immediately away from it and shifts his body until his shoulder smacks harshly into the rail of the stone stairs. He hisses and grips at his arm as his breath comes out seethed and his brain is forced to focus on the pain rather than the nightmarishly lascivious dream it had presented before him.
For the second time today two sets of glowing eyes focus on his form - one blue, one gold. They both seem to be observing the unraveled state Qingxuan is in before He Xuan’s stare snaps and locks onto the movements of Haiqing. The little wrath had rushed over and tenderly touched Qingxuan’s shoulder before meeting his eye, “Ol’ Feng, it’s okay! Relax, it’s alright. You’re okay, it's just me.” Qingxuan doesn’t miss the fact that He Xuan had been conveniently left out of the equation.
Slender arms wrap around him and he feels himself be pulled towards Haiqing’s chest as a hand comes up to cradle his head tenderly. Qingxuan shakes his head almost immediately and unravels himself from the touch leaving Haiqing to stumble back with his arms still spread. His face is absolutely bewildered as if he couldn’t understand why Qingxuan would shake off the offered comfort.
When he calms down he’ll tell him that it wasn’t personal. He’ll tell him that sometimes touch is too much when he’s upset, especially if he’s upset with himself. He’ll apologize later and explain that he couldn’t find his voice in the moment to tell him to give him space. Right now though he’s desperately trying to just avoid looking directly at He Xuan looking across the courtyard, looking up to the sky, looking anywhere else that can possibly bring him solace.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Haiqing move to approach him again only for a rough hand to take hold of his wrist and drag him back away. “He doesn’t want your comfort. Fuck off.” That rich tenor that compliments such a nice voice - a voice that had deepened further in his dream - causes his stomach to twist once more. Qingxuan lifts his hands up to cover his ears to try and block the sound out as he tries to get himself back into a state of normalcy.
He’s not crying. Tears aren’t warranted here, he’s just…
Distressed. Confused. Overwhelmed. Disgusted.
“Looks like he doesn’t want your comfort either.” Haiqing’s voice sounds much too smug, even with the noise muffled by the hands clapped over his ears. He can feel the sheer tension in the air, energy rolling off both of the ghosts in his presence. “Maybe you should be the one to fuck off then. I’m more than happy to stay here with him. Didn’t you see how he reacted when you spoke? What did you do, hm?”
Haiqing’s tone is going to get him in trouble and his words are only going to serve to sign his second death warrant.
What’s worse is He Xuan is fully silent. Even with his ears covered he surely would have heard something from the other man, would have sensed him move, would have had anything to prepare him for the sight that he sees next.
Haiqing tumbles down the stairs in full force and cracks against the ground with a thud. His eyes follow a black robe cinched together with bone flow past him as he descends with languid steps down the stairs and stops with his boots directly in front of Haiqing’s vision. What had happened? Was something else said?
His hands fall away from his ears slowly as he sees Haiqing’s lips moving and only catches the end of the words, “you if you just upset him, huh?” Qingxuan’s brow furrows as he tries to puzzle together what the full sentence was. What was said before that would have instigated He Xuan to this point where he’d casually resort to violence? That’s not how he operates, at least not from what Qingxuan has seen.
When he acts it’s after a significant amount of thought is put into it. He’s never known this man to make any unnecessary action – that is unless Qingxuan is involved. He Xuan, even as Ming Yi, would take an additional step, turn into an additional form, and go to an area simply because Qingxuan asked him to. That spurns its own rush of negative feeling through his form as his mind starts mashing memories of the past with moments of the present, painting the same light of the dream over actions he’d considered purely normal.
“Get out.” He Xuan’s leg lifts as if he’s about to stomp down on Haiqing’s face and it spurns Qingxuan up from his seated position as he all but falls down the stairs himself in order to take hold of He Xuan’s arm before he can act.
His fingers dig hard into the sleeve and yanks as much as his body will allow and, surprisingly, does manage to yank He Xuan back just enough that his foot has to come back down to steady himself. “Enough!” He releases He Xuan as quickly as he can and averts his eyes from him once more. “Haiqing, you shouldn’t jump to accusations and assumptions when you don’t know the situation.”
Haiqing’s head dips some and he lets out a quiet ‘Right…’ under his breath.
“And you,” He turns his head just enough to make it clear that he’s addressing He Xuan for this, only sparing him a sideways glance before he looks away, “I’m not sure what was said that warranted that, but I would appreciate if you don’t do such things with me present.” He’d be proud of how steady his voice is when he speaks after watching He Xuan lash out at another. He’s only seen it once before now, and the parallels between Haiqing and his brother in that moment would have been enough to bring him into a warbling mess only a month ago.
Unfortunately it’s likely only dulled by the shame still sitting in his chest.
“I just had a bad dream and needed to get some air. I’m mostly fine now so while I appreciate you both coming to check on me it’s really not necessary to argue or fight about who is or isn’t wanted.” He turns away from the pair and starts slowly making his way back up the steps. “I’m going back to bed, both of you cool off and then go to sleep.” In reality he’s likely going to struggle to let sleep come back to himself, if anything he’s cursing himself to be lost in his own mind until day breaks and he can force himself to be busy.
Either way with the two ghosts present outside is currently not an option. If he storms off down the street he’s almost certain he will be followed if only for the fact that last time this had happened it led to Qingxuan sitting in ice cold water panicked and out of his mind.
At least he can spend tonight getting himself together enough to pretend that tonight never happened.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
He Xuan keeps himself still as Qingxuan makes his way back inside, not bothering to so much as breathe until he hears that door close with a soft thud. His eyes stay fixed on Haiqing who seems to be following his example and behaving himself until Qingxuan was no longer there to witness the Wrath’s true nature.
Blue eyes rise to catch his stare and he’s met with a curled lipped grin stretched so wide that it would likely hurt the face of a living creature. Haiqing slowly pushes himself up and dusts down his clothing with a nonchalant hand. Once he deems himself free of He Xuan’s touch he tucks his hands behind his back and pacing a few steps backwards almost impishly.
“What a shame, I was hoping I’d get to see your face when he let me comfort him. I didn’t expect him to be so avoidant about it.” Those words are spoken mostly to himself as Haiqing paces back and forth in the courtyard with a gleeful gate. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.” He sighs and lulls his head off to the side, “So complicated.”
He Xuan doesn’t grace him with a response. The only reason he’s even still out in the courtyard instead of following Qingxuan back into the temple is due to how the former Wind God had reacted to his presence. He’s not blind and he’s certainly not stupid - he can tell when Qingxuan is anxious and trying to avoid him. Though tonight it seems his avoidance goes beyond just himself but extends to others.
“You really should ask him what had him so spooked, you know? Since you’re hovering around so much I’m sure that information could benefit you greatly.” Haiqing’s voice comes out in a sing-song as he pivots on his heel and changes his movements from idly meandering to making his exit. It’s like watching a jester on a stage, purposefully cutting the curtain or harassing an actor as they try to go about their scene. “Must have been quite the nightmare.”
He doesn’t let his gaze leave Haiqing’s form even when he’s making it clear he’s leaving. Any detail, no matter how small, can be used later down the line and after tonight he’s more than certain this wrath will have to be put down for good. Consuming him would be easy enough but he has no desire to have even a remnant of this impudent man to exist in the world.
“Or don’t. You’re pretty smart, after all, I’m sure you already know he was dreaming about you.” The gate is idly kicked open and Haiqing swivels his head back around to flash that too-wide grin at He Xuan once more. “No? Not even a twitch? Not even a glare? What happened to all that anger you just had?” Haiqing sighs and for a moment looks truly disappointed. “How cold, you really don’t care that you make him so miserable, do you? So selfish. I really don’t get how he can even consider tolerating you.”
He Xuan’s finger twitches idly at that and even that small motion seems to light up Haiqing’s features in delight. “Aha.. so that’s your trigger is it? You kicked me earlier because I said something similar, no? So cold and yet so sensitive the second someone questions your care.”
His eyes narrow slightly and in a few steps he’s closed the distance on Haiqing, leaning over the wrath and invading his space just slightly.
Haiqing tenses and there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his features before he rapidly skitters around to the other side of the courtyard gate using it as an open barrier between himself and He Xuan. “Aha, remember you can’t kill me - he still likes me. Don’t give him more of a reason to hate you. It’d be so easy to undo all your hard work, wouldn’t it? One teensy accident can bring a house of sticks tumbling down.”
Despite his joyful tone and his taunting, He Xuan doesn’t miss the way that he seems to scramble away before He Xuan elects to find the end of his patience. He stares after Haiqing for a moment too long before he pulls the courtyard gate closed with a touch too much force leaving the hinges to creak in protest. He’ll check in the morning to make sure he hadn’t snapped anything or shattered any of the wood of the gate.
The rest of the night, however, will be spent establishing a warding array to keep out pests and negative energy that might seep in and feed on or enhance Qingxuan’s distress. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for Qingxuan but the residual spiritual energy that clung around the room while he slept certainly is. At the very least Haiqing has now played his hand in a way so brazen that it left traces of his meddling.
He isn’t a gambling man but he knows that those that get a taste of success tend to keep playing a chance to chase the feeling over and over again. Right now Haiqing thinks he’s won, that he’s managed to get a foothold in a game that he was never invited to play.
He Xuan only needs to wait for him to push his luck again.
Notes:
Fellas is it gay to get upset because some wrath says you don't care about the guy you literally couldn't move on because of
On the dream: while not extremely common there are several documented cases where an individual that caused severe trauma can also become an object of attraction to the individual that was traumatized by them. In this instance it’s important to note that there was prior chemistry between Ming Yi and SQX which made this probability higher. It was further influenced by Haiqing’s meddling (dw we’ll see what he’s up to eventually). I wanted to clarify this fact as someone that has worked with individuals that have experienced this phenomenon and as someone who studies it for my academic curiosity.
Also don't worry we'll get an update on their string of fate next chapter - but for now the drama is being stirred up
Chapter 8: Stitch
Summary:
Qingxuan frowns and presses his face harder against his brother’s shoulder as a sad little laugh leaves him, “How much longer is long, Ge?” He whispers, muffled and tired as it is, against him hoping that for once he can get an answer that eased his caged spirit.
“...A few more years.”
Years. That’s right, it’s always just a few more years. His entire childhood is melting before his eyes and occupied purely by isolation and fear and he had years to wait until he could allow himself to simply be.
“You’re still too fragile, Qingxuan. You’re like a budding flower on a tree - if someone brushes against you or the wind blows too hard your petals will scatter and leave you broken.” His tone is firm and unyielding in that stance. Qingxuan is the fragile one, Qingxuan needs to be protected… but what about learning to defend himself? What about learning to be strong himself? Doesn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t he be able to at the least try so that he’s not a liability to those he loves?
“Gege knows best…”
Notes:
There are a lot of retrospective moments and flashbacks in this one but I promise it's worth it so uhhh please enjoy this 10.1k chapter update
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
He can’t look at He Xuan’s mouth. He can’t look at He Xuan’s eyes. Every time he does he just finds his mind being drawn back to that dream state. Qingxuan hates it, it’s made it terribly difficult for them to continue on in a normal fashion. He’s trying his hardest to not be fully avoidant because, frankly, it really isn’t He Xuan’s fault. He’d been harsh with Haiqing but the Wrath hadn’t exactly been kind to him in turn. In fact the younger man had been very accusatory towards him with how he spoke.
Qingxuan doesn’t wish to push him away for his mind’s own creation. This is just… another unwelcome bridge to cross. One that has no guilty party and only serves to create victims. He Xuan doesn’t deserve to be given a cold shoulder when they have fallen into a balance between Qingxuan’s panic and the days he can see He Xuan as another person rather than the shadowed monster that his brain remembers seeing.
Though while he isn’t avoiding him he is trying to find activities that he can do on his own. The only one he’s truly found that doesn’t involve anyone else needing to hover near him tends to be stitching and repairing clothing through the community. It’s not easy work, and his wrist complains quite thoroughly about having to support the cloth and follow repetitive motions, but it’s better than letting it go stiff from disuse. It comes with the boon of being able to leave the community to work on it as well. He only needs to strap the basket of cloth onto his back with his supplies sat on top and he can take his work anywhere he so sees fit to.
And lately that had been places where every side around him was open and clear. Occasionally it’s out in a grassy field, sometimes it’s sitting on that rocky beach where he’d listened cautiously to words that needed to be spoken, and sometimes it’s beneath the shade of a tree tree that sits atop a cliff overlooking the ocean.
Today he’s elected for the cliff side. The shade of the tree blocks the worst of the sun’s rays and the sea breeze eases some of the humid, sticky, heat. When he closes his eyes and feels the wind rustling in his hair and brushing along his skin he can almost pretend that he’s weightless. Like the air currents had lifted him free from the earth and allowed him to float as he’d once had through a seemingly endless sky. There is not a single bit of him that misses being a god. He doesn’t miss the politics, he doesn’t miss the drama, he doesn’t miss the complex social circles that isolate others with a sense of entitlement. He doesn’t miss the responsibility of going on patrols and the piling of reports that always made their way to the hall of Ling Wen. He doesn’t miss the way both she and Pei Ming had watched Qingxuan’s every move and no doubt reported it back to his brother.
But he does miss the wind. Be they tempestuous or playful, influenced by his moods or simply wild and untamed. It was truly a blessing to be able to feel its caress in ways that no other person could comprehend. The wind was an extension of himself, an adornment to every outfit he wore, a friend that would soothe him whenever he called.
Being up so high, watching the horizon kiss the sea, his mind is allowed to wander to words shared of a time past.
”A-Qing, do you understand the importance of the role you’ve ascended to?”
“Of course! With the amount of trade that goes through the world I’m sure I’ll be asked to fill sails and bring them swift passage and soothe your temper, Ge.”
A soft swat of a fan to the top of his head makes Qingxuan’s nose wrinkle up and cheeks puff out petulantly as he meets the bemused, but ever fond, stare of Shi Wudu. “Commerce isn’t the only thing in the world, A-Qing. You’ll be asked for more than just a swift wind and I imagine your requests will be near as plentiful as my own.”
Qingxuan settles an elbow on the table before them and props his cheek against his hand. The other idly pours an almost crystalline wine into a bowl. “Then I’ll simply do my best to answer as many prayers as I can. Being busy isn’t a bad thing.”
“... You can’t help everyone, Qingxuan. There’s a limit.”
“Am I not a god?”
“God or not, you need to understand that not every prayer can be answered. You have to let some slip through the cracks.”
Qingxuan frowns as he lets the wine slip past his lips and soothe some of the discomfort of this conversation. They were here to celebrate his ascension, a random scolding and life lesson from his brother hadn’t been on the agenda for today. “And who are we to decide who does and does not deserve their prayers answered? We don’t get to value one person over the other, each prayer is deserving of deliberation. These are the lives of other people and if they’re praying for something then the matter is serious and impacts them enough to seek divine help.”
“A-Qing… you can’t run yourself ragged for those you do not know. Listen to the ones that are willing to give more, they hold weight that should be considered heavier than others.”
The bowl of wine is slammed down and there’s a flicker of irritation through them at that, “If they have the money to buy a thousand incense and beg with a thousand men then they are capable of answering their own prayers. It’s the ones that have little to give beyond faith and a single stick of incense that need to be heard.”
“Don’t be immature, Qingxuan.”
“Don’t be cold, Ge.”
The prayers were always so disparate. Some begged for swift winds, sure, but others asked for the seeds of their crop to spread evenly through their field. Some asked for their journeys to be unhindered by storms. Good weather, a respite from intense heat, a break in the bitter chilling winds of winter. The ones that always gave him pause were the quiet requests, usually only one small voice, wishing for the Lady Wind Mistress to allow the ashes of a loved one to be able to scatter across the world so they may see sights they never got to in life.
His winds were tail winds, assuring messenger pigeons are able to pass on important matters. His winds were updrafts that offered just enough relief from heat or cold to encourage the folk to not break beneath the day.
But they were plentiful.
And true to his words he listened to those soft voices, the ones that do not boom to him with demands but instead ask with such exhaustion and reverence for his blessing.
See my child has a safe journey.
Let my letter reach my love.
Let the cold of winter be mild so that we may survive it.
Now he grants prayers in a much different way, a more direct way that lets him see the faces of the people he helps. A way that lets him see the grateful way their eyes glitter when he passes a bowl of simple, but warm, food into hungry hands. A bright smile of a child twirling in a new robe and thanking him or asking him if they look pretty. The gentle grip of tired hands as he bandages or cleans the sick and the weak.
It is no less a responsibility, but it is a far more fulfilling and freeing experience.
And it isn’t lonely anymore.
He had been lonely growing up living in a small home while watching his brother disappear for hours on end and pretend he didn’t exist while the outside world carried on without him. A silent existence where he was neither seen or heard by anyone but his brother for years upon end. All while he handled domestic duties so that his brother, who worked ever so hard, could come home to comfort. Even after he was pulled to the middle court and given the ability to live without fear and more merit than he knew what to do with, chasing the bliss of life through drink and company, it had been lonely. The faces he met within a Jiu Si or Inn were only temporary friends fueled to stay around him thanks to the money he was willing to spend and the way he’d rise to their defense when there was conflict.
Friends were bought. They were fair-weather friends that only enjoyed his company when he was cheerful and generous but would never lend a hand when he was distressed or volatile in his moods.
Then there was a man. A man that tried to go unnoticed, who kept his head down and ignored those that tried to get close to him. A god who ate at banquets when other gods ignored food and favored only the drink. A fellow elemental master who was all but startled when Qingxuan had approached him with a bright smile.
”I think you and I are going to be great friends.”
“I don’t have friends.”
Tittering laughter is poured past lips as his arm wraps around a broad shoulder of the dark haired man. “Well that’s just not true, we’re friends now.”
He doesn’t miss the bewildered expression that had briefly crossed the Earth Master’s face before grey eyes had rolled and glanced off to the side with a scoff. “Don’t you have anything better to do? It’s the Lantern Festival, surely you'll have others to celebrate with.”
“Hmm, not really. Say, I noticed you like to eat - ah tut tu tut don’t give me such a scary look! I was going to offer to take you to my favorite tangyuan place.”
There’s a scoff and a half-hearted attempt to pull himself free from Qingxuan’s hold that falters when Qingxuan places his face directly in front of his. “My treat, my treat. At least come down with me and consider it, if you change your mind at any point I’ll let you leave. Okay? Say yes, please say yes!”
“... Fine.”
Qingxuan recalls that Ming Yi had complained that it was too sweet, scoffed at the red bean paste and looked flabbergasted when his teeth crunched down in a walnut mix.
But he ate it anyway.
His wrist pangs with discomfort and he has to place down the ku he had been sewing together to replace the ones he had worn down recently from running about the community. Qingxuan rolls his wrist idly and winces as a series of loud pops echo in the air around him. He’s starting to overdo it with his need to occupy himself with a reason without offending anyone around him.
With a bit of difficulty he manages to push himself up on a leg that had long since fallen asleep beneath his own weight while working. There’s a stumble as his shoulder, bruised as it is from being bitten and smacked into stone, settles uncomfortably against the bark of the tree behind him.
Discomfort is a constant in his life now but if discomfort is the price of freedom then he’ll pay it over and over again. The aches in his body are a reminder that he is alive, the bruises on his body a recognition of a choice he willingly made. Three hundred years of immortality is worth less than the roughly eighteen he has spent in a mortal form - and certainly less than the last year and so he’s spent from his descent.
His brother would have never agreed with that statement, he’d likely be rioting seeing the state he’s in now.
But this isn’t his life to lead, nor his decisions to make.
There’s a faint tug on his pinky finger that makes his head turn to look down at his hand and, for just a moment, he swears he sees that flicker of gold once more. He brings his hand up towards his face and delicately touches along the space he’d felt the movement and his entire body stills.
Smooth skin does not meet the stroke of his finger along the other digit. Instead he feels something coarse and knotted in an interlaced pattern. Hair falls over his shoulder as Qingxuan’s head tilts with a touch of concern mingled with curiosity. The remnants of spiritual energy that He Xuan had given them burns down his fingertips and touches at what he feels there.
Gold light blossoms and it’s as though a flower is unraveling and blooming along his fingertip. A single thread from its edge falls loosely along the side of the digit and droops towards the ground. It’s patchwork in color with patches of the string flickering carmine and fading to a bright aurum. The shifting colors are almost psychedelic in the way they seem ever changing between the two, sometimes appearing more yellow than gold, sometimes more orange than red. It stands out in a sharp contrast to the bright green of the lush mid-spring grass.
The chord sways back and forth in the breeze and shifts with every move of his hand seems to beckon him to follow it. Like an instinctual tug in the back of his head that assures that wherever this line leads it will be someplace safe, someplace worth taking refuge in. It’s a siren’s call, a temptation that plays on both his want to find a place to disappear to until his mind rights itself and his insatiable curiosity.
His first few steps are heavy as he starts to follow the path of the thread. Walking uphill is challenging with a damaged leg but going back down presents a different challenge entirely. Rocking back onto his heels to keep his balance on one good leg forces muscles that are hardly used to strain and tighten with each step. Qingxuan isn’t proud to admit that he feels rather ridiculous in each risky step, knowing he looks more like he’s walking a high wire rather than simply stepping down from the cliffside that he’d climbed up to.
He finds his groove eventually and each step becomes more assured the further he walks and it allows him enough of a security that he’s able to observe the string attached to his form. It seems endless and yet it leaves no drag behind him as he walks as if it is winding itself back into the knots that are intertwined on his finger. Additionally it isn’t just a smooth thin thread. It tangles in places, knots along itself, and there are a few sections where it looks like the line had snapped and was forcefully tied back together again.
It’s a mess. Filled with flaws and imperfections, filled with weak points that seem like a sharp tug could break it apart. Yet no matter how Qingxuan pulls on it all it does is stretch to accommodate the new distance. Shamefully he even brings the line to his mouth and bites down on it trying to sever the connection but all that manages is to send a small pulse of faint teal light down the bond that races off into the distance and disappears from sight.
Qingxuan follows the length of the string until he reaches the bottom of the cliff and dips into the forest that stands as a landmark between himself and the Royal Capital. The line had lost some of its slack and was growing tighter with each step and that’s enough of a sign that he’s growing closer to wherever it’s leading him.
Were he younger and a bit more able bodied he’d press through the discomfort in his legs and rush into the distance to see what waits him at the end of the line.
Unfortunately the back of his thighs ache and his calves burn and warn that if he even thinks too hard about doing such a thing that they’ll give out and leave him face first in the detritus of the forest floor. All he can really manage is to hobble around until he finds a toppled tree that’s wide enough to support his weight and sit upon it with a heavy exhale.
He drops a hand to gently rub along the back of his thigh in a slow circle to try and ease the irritated muscles there. It does very little to ease the ache but Qingxuan persists at the small motions mentally assuring himself that if he just finds the worst of the soreness that a few gentle motions could pacify it long enough for him to finish this miniature quest he’s set out to achieve. He’ll have to travel up and down that slope a bit more in the future to work that muscle back into shape. His body being damaged comes with its own limitations and struggles but he’s adamant about not letting it slow him down and refuses to become a hindrance that drags others down with him.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☽ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Qingxuan’s sobs echo out through the treeline as his vision goes blurry with tears. The buns his brother had tied his hair up into this morning had come loose and now hang messily around his face. His dress is ripped up the skirt and stained with mud and droplets of blood from a nasty scratch and scrape that traveled from his knee down to his shin.
He couldn’t stay inside anymore. He couldn’t. His brother hadn’t come home yet and there was only so much to do inside beyond stare at four walls and make up stories of nothingness in his head. Each passing conversation he overheard had become a new tale that Qingxuan had spun from snippets of information. Each name he hears becomes an imaginary friend that listens when loneliness overtakes him.
But that only can entertain him for so long before the walls feel suffocating around him.
Shi Wudu is training and is not to be disturbed. The neighbor kids could accidentally get his name from him and alert the thing that follows in the shadows and searches for Qingxuan – his personal demon that lies in wait. He’s doomed to be alone during the day and enjoying fleeting contact with his brother at night… but that didn’t mean he had to stay inside all the time.
It was only supposed to be a trip into the woods that scale the side of the mountain. His brother trains up on the mountain! If he gets scared or in trouble he could run all the way up there and hide behind his leg. He’d get in trouble for it, surely, but his brother would protect him. His brother always protects him. That was a constant that he’s clung to since his parents had died keeping close to his heart that if anything bad happens Shi Wudu would always be there. He’d always find a way to keep him safe.
Right now, however, he finds himself wailing out the same word over and over again “Gege! Gege! Gege!” Words mixed in between sobs and scared laughter as he cradles his own leg and wipes at the blood that keeps welling up along his leg with the muddied hem of his dress. “I’m scared, Gege, I’m scared.” He laughs as his tear stained face grows cold from the bitter wind whipping against his face and forcefully chilling them against his cheeks.
The sun was already beginning to dip beneath the mountain and it wouldn’t be long before he was left on the forest floor in the dark. Alone. He knows he has to stop crying, knows he has to stop screaming lest he attract ghosts or yao that get attracted to his agony.
Shaking hands tug at his own hair and twirl it around his fingers mimicking the way his brother plays with his hair when brushing or curling it up into different styles atop his head. It’s a small thing that brings him so much comfort when Shi Wudu does it at home and he hopes that it can help him stop crying now. He needs to be brave, he needs to be strong.
If he can stand up he can keep going up the mountain and maybe find his brother on his way back down towards the little house that they called home.
But each time he tries his leg complains and shoots pain up his body. Pain. He’s never really felt that, not like this. He’s been sick, sure. He’s had sore throats and fevers that offer their own kind of pain – but that was dull. This was a sharp sting that led to a bitter numbness down at his toes.
He shouldn’t have climbed the tree.
He shouldn’t have tried to get a better look at the forest around him.
He should have listened to his brother.
“Gege, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Something breaks free from the bushes all too swiftly and sends leaves and branches scattering all around his form. Through his tears he can only see a blur of black and blue with something billowing around its form. He makes out the warped vision of some form of hand, or claw, or maw reaching towards him and a scream rips free from his lips as he tries to scurry back against the ground leaving fallen debris to stick in his hair at odd angles.
“Meimei, shh it’s okay. It’s Ge, it’s Ge.” That familiar voice - ever stern but laced with concern and care - graces his ears and Qingxuan can’t help but cry harder. Even at nearly twelve years old he reaches his hands up towards the shape he can barely make out as fingers flex silently up at him to ask to be picked up.
“I’m sorry, Gege. I did something bad.” His voice warbles and wavers as he tries to explain but the same few sentences are all that can leave him in his panic. He wants to tell him that he was losing his mind, that he couldn’t take being alone anymore - that he’s big enough to be safe. Though that argument would be a lost cause after today. He’d be lucky to even be able to go to the market with his brother now that he’s found out what pain feels like.
There’s a small sigh before hands wrap around him and shift Qingxuan around until he’s sat on his back. He recognizes that he’s dirtying his brother’s robes, he knows that tears and snot will likely stain along his shoulder for the rest of the evening. Just another thing he’s done wrong, another mistake to be scolded at for later.
They’re Shi. They need to keep it together. They need to be strong. They need to be brave. They only have each other so they both need to be safe.
Qingxuan had failed to do even one of those things.
He’s jostled slightly as Shi Wudu starts the awkward walk out of the thicket to get back on the main path. His hand keeps moving to block branches or bushes from brushing up against his wounded leg leaving Qingxuan only to feel worse about inconveniencing his brother. “Meimei, we talked about this. You know you can’t go outside without me.”
Qingxuan can only nod against his shoulder.
“And now you’ve seen what happens when you do.”
Another small nod is given.
“I need you to listen for just a little longer, Meimei. We’re almost there and then you can go out by yourself now and again, okay?”
Qingxuan frowns and presses his face harder against his brother’s shoulder as a sad little laugh leaves him, “How much longer is long, Ge?” He whispers, muffled and tired as it is, against him hoping that for once he can get an answer that eased his caged spirit.
“...A few more years.”
Years. That’s right, it’s always just a few more years. His entire childhood is melting before his eyes and occupied purely by isolation and fear and he had years to wait until he could allow himself to simply be.
“You’re still too fragile, Qingxuan. You’re like a budding flower on a tree - if someone brushes against you or the wind blows too hard your petals will scatter and leave you broken.” His tone is firm and unyielding in that stance. Qingxuan is the fragile one, Qingxuan needs to be protected… but what about learning to defend himself? What about learning to be strong himself? Doesn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t he be able to at the least try so that he’s not a liability to those he loves?
“Gege knows best…”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Qingxuan is tossed unceremoniously onto the bed of their inn room by rough hands with a soft ‘oof.’ He immediately pushes himself up onto his hands as his arm is roughly grabbed and the sleeves he wears slip down to reveal a nasty bite that had been taken out of his forearm. It’s certainly an ugly thing with punctures still seeping blood and black malaise tainting the pale skin of his arm and turning it a brackish purple.
Ming Yi gives him a pointed stare and motions to the wound with sheer exasperation. “Can we have one patrol where you don’t do something reckless?” He snips at Qingxuan while pulling his black outer robe aside so that he can tear a clean piece of cloth free from his inner robe.
They had dealt with an outbreak of Jiangshi and in his attempts to block an attack for Ming Yi he’d taken a bite to his arm. In his defense it was either get bit on the arm or watch Ming Yi almost have his throat torn out and in his opinion he thinks he made the right decision. Unfortunately it came with its own slew of problems in the form of Corpse Poisoning that had already settled into his form.
He had been able to walk not even an hour ago but about ten minutes into their walk back to the small village his body had buckled and gone feverish. Corpse poisoning isn’t deadly to a god but it is most certainly obnoxious to deal with and can weaken one enough to make them vulnerable.
“Well I didn’t want you to get hurt, Ming-xiong! Mine’s just a little bite on the arm, but you would have passed out from both blood loss AND corpse poisoning.” Qingxuan huffs as Ming Yi takes his arm again in a far gentler motion to start dabbing at the still seeping wound. “And then I would have carried you back all the way to heaven and made a big fuss until a healer came and helped you. You’d have woken up around a bunch of officials you don’t know and I would have been really upset! What if my best friend in all three realms suddenly died on me? I would cry the loudest at your funeral so that you could hear me from wherever a soul goes when they pass on completely. Would you really want to deal with that, huh?”
Ming Yi just closes his eyes for a second and presses down a bit too hard against the wound to make Qingxuan yelp in surprise. “I was fine, don’t go making up ridiculous scenarios to justify yourself.”
“They aren’t ridiculous!”
Steely eyes lift to make eye contact with Qingxuan as a brow raises, “You wouldn’t kick up that much of a fuss for me.”
Qingxuan scoffs and lifts his foot to press against Ming Yi’s hip in a playful shove but the Earth Master doesn’t so much as twitch or shift in response. “I very much would make such a fuss over you. I would throw around thousands upon thousands of merits to make sure everyone came in a big hurry and that the very best officials worked on you so that you could be right as rain as fast as possible.” He huffs and turns his nose up at him breaking eye contact with the other elemental master.
“Stupid.”
“It’s not stupid! It’s what anyone should do when they care about someone! When you care about someone you fuss over them until they’re better and that means doing everything I could to make sure you’re okay. I’d even stay by your bedside and have a warm bowl of soup ready for you when you woke up because I know you’d be famished when you woke up - or at least you’d tell me you are so that I go away and fetch something for you, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for such obvious tricks anymore.”
Ming Yi’s hands do stumble at that statement and the brushing of fabric to clean the wound grows ever softer. “That’s a very detailed plan you have.”
“Obviously!” He lets out a sigh of relief as he feels Ming Yi’s spiritual power start to press into the wound and start drawing out the corpse poison slowly from his form. “Besides you fuss over me too so I know if I were seriously injured you’d do something similar! I doubt you’d make such a big scene but you’d hunt down a healer the second we got back to heaven and stare them down until I’m cared for. I bet you’d say something like ‘Fix Him.’” He tries to mimic the deep tenor of Ming Yi’s voice but it only comes out sounding like a childish mimicry.
“No.”
“What would you do then?” Qingxuan frowns and leans towards him, invading more of his space while he works.
“Exactly what I’m doing now.”
Qingxuan gasps and lets his mouth fall agape for a moment as he registers the other’s words. It takes a second before he shakes his head and causes dark strands of hair to whip about every which way. A few strands smack against Ming Yi’s face and earns a heavy sigh from the other man. “No way! Why wouldn’t you take me back to get seen to?”
“Don’t want to deal with the Water Tyrant.”
Well, okay. He can’t fault him for that one. All of heaven knows how protective his brother is over him and the fit he’d kick up would be infamous. Qingxuan shuts his mouth at that and just quirks his lips to the side as he lets the rest of the poison be drawn free from his body and contained and dissipated by Ming Yi’s spiritual energy.
“Don’t put me in a situation where I have to do that.” Ming Yi’s voice cuts through again as he winds the cloth he’d torn from his robe around Qingxuan’s wrist.
It’s his own way of telling Qingxuan to be careful and it immediately causes teal eyes to brighten as he leans forwards and grabs Ming Yi’s shoulders. “Hah! I knew it! I knew it! You do care about me. Mhm mhm, I knew I could break through that thick shell of yours eventually.” He giggles and pulls Ming Yi towards himself so that he can drape both arms around his shoulders in a light embrace.
The Earth Master plants his hands either side of Qingxuan’s hips to prevent him from going face first into his chest only to leave it hovering far too close to Qingxuan’s own. He scoffs again and Qingxuan feels the rush of heated breath touch his own lips and gently caress over his cheeks. For a moment he freezes up entirely as Ming Yi rolls his eyes and averts his gaze to the side. His fate has already been accepted and he’s elected to stay like this until Qingxuan lets go. It wasn’t the first time this has happened and wouldn’t be the last.
But this position gives Qingxuan a bit of pause as he examines Ming Yi’s face up close. The avoidant, but relaxed, expression. The way his lips have just ever so faintly curled up in a half-assed smile. The brush of dark hair over one side that blocks the world out on one side of them.
Something stirs in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling that feels all too warm and all too comforting. “Ming-xiong…” He whispers his name out simply out of habit, a name he calls when he doesn’t understand something or feels afraid. A name that has slowly been called more than ‘Ge’ over the last few decades.
Dark eyes turn towards him and he catches the faintest flicker of confliction behind them. The stare is piercing, revealing, as if everything about them had just been stripped bare. Breaths intermingle for a moment before Qingxuan drops his arms and allows Ming Yi to push himself away from the bed. Something had rattled between them both, pounding at a locked door that had been chained up and barred by Qingxuan since he was young.
A different form of care, a different affection than he’s used to.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
He doesn’t notice the line slowly tightening and growing further taught as his mind wanders through memories of the past. The pain in his head had drawn back two separate times when those he cared for had tended to his wounds, had wiped away his blood, had gently tried to soothe him in their own unique ways. Slowly he’d learned to get used to ‘Ming Yi’s’ brand of care rather than his brother’s. Both came with their own brand of scolding, both came from some variant of care, but ‘Ming Yi’ never told him how to act or how to be.
Both forms of care still crop up in his life. Shi Wudu’s brand appears when Heavenly Officials fall from their high towers to offer a hand down to Qingxuan and tell him he’s above the life he’s made for himself. ‘Ming Yi’s’ brand shows up in the form of the man that had unraveled every lie in his life and extinguished the life of the liar.
He has resentment towards his brother’s care and yet accepts the care of the one he should resent. His head bows slightly as he quietly mutters a small apology to his brother under his breath hoping that if they ever meet again in the afterlife it’s enough to soothe some of his ire. Qingxuan knows it’s wrong but it’s how he wishes to live and it’s the kind of care he seeks to surround himself with.
He brushes away the skirt of his robe and runs his thumb down in a line along the back of his thigh down to the junction of his knee. He doesn’t hear the sound of twigs snapping or leaves rustling beneath the sound of footsteps.
But he does notice when that same shifting gold and carmine appears attached to a pale hand that gently lifts leg up by sliding it beneath his knee.
“Did you fall?” A rich tenor sounds near him and Qingxuan’s head turns to see He Xuan with his head dipped to try and examine his leg. His fingers gently prod at the tense muscle before shifting to press his thumb down just hard enough to cause the skin of his thigh to dip. A warmth spreads from that point as spiritual energy is passed into him and soothes away the pain in a wave of relief.
Perhaps there are some things he misses about being a God, being able to heal minor injuries and muscle strain certainly came in handy in the past.
Qingxuan only watches as He Xuan eases away the ache in his form allowing himself to be quiet and simply sit with the mixed sensation of emotions he’s feeling. There’s still an underlying guilt and shame about the dream lingering at the forefront of his mind but it’s intersected with a sense of thanks for all the years that care had been given to Qingxuan. He didn’t need to be caring towards him, he could have been like every other fair weather friend and only linger around him to have his life funded by a man with more merits than he knows what to do with them.
Qingxuan’s silence seems to get to He Xuan some as his face twitches and claw tipped hands pull away from his thigh. A graceful step is taken away from him as his sleeve moves to cover the length of string attached to his hand as if trying to pretend that it’s not there at all.
He allows himself to watch his posture and mannerisms while gathering his own thoughts. He Xuan is stiff and uncomfortable, his eyes refuse to meet or linger on Qingxuan’s for long, and his weight is on his heels as if waiting for Qingxuan to start screaming, crying, and shooing him off. A product of all the traumatic responses he’s had towards He Xuan since he’s been here. In some ways it is comforting to know what He Xuan will truly leave if Qingxuan decides he can’t handle his presence - albeit how far he goes is to be seen. He’s not convinced He Xuan ever fully leaves the little community he’s built and instead just lurks from shadows or through the eyes of puppets.
“No, I just picked a poor place to sew today. Much as I’m trying to be independent it can take me a little longer than most to come down from a high place. The air is just really nice up there and the light allows me to keep an eye on my sti-” Qingxuan lifts a hand to his lips as he gasps, “My pants! I left my basket with my sewing supplies and the ku I was working on at the top of the cliff.” His hand moves up from his mouth and rests against his forehead.
“... How do you forget something like that?”
“I got distracted.”
There’s a snort, “By what?”
Qingxuan just blinks in disbelief and lifts his hand to show the yellow string tied neatly around his pinky and uses his other arm - that makes a horrible popping noise when he moves it - to motion towards it. “I was seeing where this leads. Seems I could have saved myself the trouble if I waited a little longer. How long have you known about it?” He deadpans and watches as He Xuan grows a touch more uncomfortable now that he’s on the back foot.
“Since winter.”
Air seems to catch in Qingxuan’s throat and he starts choking on it as his hand pounds at his chest to try and get his lungs to cooperate. “And you didn’t think to tell me about it?”
“Can we hold this conversation until I come back with your supplies?” There is a pleading note to his voice that Qingxuan has never heard before. It gives him a long moment of pause as he occasionally sputters out a small cough while his lungs finally find a relatively normal pattern once more.
“That’s fine. I have something I need to talk to you about anyway.”
He’s given only a grunt of agreement in response before He Xuan takes to the path Qingxuan had just walked. Teal eyes follow his retreating back noting the pointedly languid pace he’s taking as if trying to stretch time as long as he possibly can. It’d almost be funny if it didn’t bode so poorly about the conversation that was yet to come. If he’s dragging his feet about this then there is a reason for it and one that he’s certain that Qingxuan won’t like hearing. Maybe in another life he’d have already ripped the bandaid off and bluntly told Qingxuan his feelings on it when pressed, but that was then.
This is now.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Wine was flowing freely between them as Qingxuan leans over to pour another bowl for Ming Yi as the Earth Master seems to be trying to block out the world around them that’s devolving into revelry. Countless bowls of food were already stacked up along the table from their shared indulgence and he’s certain more will join the pile before Qingxuan is ready to leave.
They’re sitting side by side as Qingxuan idly watches actors dance across the stage while heavenly officials titter about with each other. This entire event is a rare occurrence, a celebration thrown as an anniversary date of one of the younger God’s ascension. They were a regional God of Music that had ascended after playing a tune that had encouraged an army and gave such a morale boost that they attributed their success to him. He had invited half of the heavens and in turn half of heaven attended.
Shi Qingxuan had been invited, as had his brother, but only the Wind God showed his face. Instead of dragging the Water Tyrant with him he elected to drag Ming Yi out with him on the promise that he could stay out of sight and keep to the shadows if he didn’t want to interact with anyone.
He begrudgingly agreed and in turn Qingxuan has been the one up and about grabbing bottles of wine and stealing dishes off of trays to bring back for their low table.
“No.” Ming Yi murmurs and presses the wine back towards Qingxuan as he turns to face into the corner away from the party. Seems he had finally found the other man’s alcohol limit! Which is strange since it had only been… ten bowls? That’s not that much, right? He drinks triple that some evenings, if not quadruple! Wine is like water when the Wind Master is drinking and he is keen to let it flow freely through his veins.
Qingxuan allows himself to watch the sprightly forms flit about as their host boasts about his story of ascension while strumming idly on a pipa. He has to admit, the man is a natural performer. He’s all charisma and charm wrapped up in a bow of being naturally gifted with musical arts. He’d almost be envious of such an innate skill if it weren’t for the fact that his ascension story trumps very few others and sits amidst the four famous tales. The Crown Prince Who Pleased the Gods, Crown Prince of Xianle who descended long before Qingxuan’s time. The General Who Broke His Sword, Pei Ming who unfortunately is well acquainted with thanks to his brother’s unfortunate interest in the man. The Princess Who Slit Her Throat, The Rain Master who he personally has visited and greeted as a fellow elemental master - she’s a pleasant woman who he finds to be a comforting presence. The Young Lord Who Poured Wine, Qingxuan himself who had ascended defending another by pouring wine upon the perpetrators head.
In comparison his ascension story isn’t as glamorous or inspiring, but it is unique.
He hears the shuffling of Ming Yi behind him before he feels him press his forehead into Qingxuan’s shoulder. He turns his head to glance at the mop of dark hair that spills over his own shoulder and gives only a glimpse of Ming Yi’s features.
He places the now empty bowl of wine down on the table and brings his other hand up to gently press to the side of Ming Yi’s head. “Are you tired?” He questions softly and finds himself unable to stop the warmth spreading over his cheeks and the giddy smile stretching over his lips. Oh how inhibition is so terribly lowered when alcohol flows.
“We’re leaving.”
Qingxuan blinks a few times before laughing and shaking his head some, “You can go, Ming-xiong, I’m going to stay a little longer, kay?”
“We are leaving.”
He doesn’t get a chance to respond before Ming Yi’s arms are around him and he stands. In turn Qingxuan is forced to stand with him as they both waver at the sudden movement. His hands immediately snap to the ones covering his own waist to steady them both as his mind works through roughly twenty different responses to the decision suddenly being made for him.
He’s backed up slowly with Ming Yi holding him and it’s suddenly revealed why Ming Yi had shuffled around as he steps down on an array and turns to look at Ming Yi whose lips had curled up ever so slightly. Seems this choice had been made several minutes ago without Qingxuan knowing the plan had already been in motion.
It takes only a blink before the dark hall of the Earth Master’s palace becomes visible leaving Qingxuan’s eyes to momentarily be blinded as they try to adapt to the sudden darkness. “Ming-xiong, a little warning next time.” His sleeve is lifted to rub at his eyes as he feels hands slip away from around his waist and listens to the quiet click of shoes against the hard wood floors.
“I gave you a warning. I said we are leaving.”
Ming Yi doesn’t even make it to the bedroom and proceeds to drop himself down on a low seating platform with a puff of fabric and a thud of his body hitting it. It takes less than a second before his breathing slows and eyelids no longer flutter or shift.
Qingxuan is unable to take his eyes off of the man as he sits flabbergasted for a moment. His shoulders start to shake before a laugh leaves him and is forcefully muffled against his hand. Fabric of his robe trails around his legs as he moves to flop down next to him on the platform and lays so that he can watch Ming Yi’s face. A soft touch is pressed to the Earth Master’s cheek before digits trail to tuck back bangs away from his face in a lingering motion.
“Rest well, Ming-xiong.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
A basket filled with clothes and sewing supplies is placed next to him alongside an ivory cane, purposefully crafted to be slightly higher than the average so he can slot the forearm of his damaged wrist and hand upon it. The problems he had with canes before was how long he’d have to keep his grip on it to properly make use of it, often leading to not only causing hand aches but leaving him with one hand unable to hold other items or even sling light baskets over his wrist.
He’d been preferring to just hobble on his leg than limit himself further than he’s already limited.
“What’s this?”
“You weren’t using the wooden one, I figured this would be a better design for you.” He nods to it and then sits further down on the fallen tree to still give Qingxuan space.
“What’s it made of?”
“Bone. Yi shed a tooth, I carved it from that.”
Yi, one of the names of one of the bone dragons that Qingxuan begrudgingly agreed to because He Xuan adamantly said he had too many pets to keep track of their names. He picks up the ivory cane and turns it over in his hand and gives a small smile - how fitting that the dragon that shed this shares a name with a dead man he’d been so attached to in the past.
“So, the string?” He gently places the cane back down and turns to look over at He Xuan keeping his face neutral and at ease. His wandering thoughts had made this encounter… easier. He can at the least look at his face again without recoiling into himself and going through a slew of insults at himself for a dream. “Is this how you’ve been keeping track of me? If so, I'd like for you to remove it.”
He Xuan’s brows furrow and he gives a faint incline of his head, “I didn’t put this spell on you.” His tone, cold as it is, holds a faint note of confusion that most people would miss. “It appeared in winter, I kept it concealed.”
Lips twitch slightly and Qingxuan sighs gently, brushing his finger over the knot and watching as it sends a vibration along the thread to resonate with the one along He Xuan’s own finger. “Well I’m certainly not capable of doing such a thing so… I suppose we will have to take this as fate feeling a bit mischievous.” He gives a reassuring smile and pulls on the thread to bring it in front of his eyes to examine it closely.
The tug causes He Xuan to extend his arm as the string refuses to stretch or give any form of drag with them so close. Qingxuan blinks at it twice before dropping his hand to pat the spot next to him and offer permission for the Supreme Ghost King to sit closer to his form. He does move a bit closer at the offer and there’s another flicker of confusion that dances across his features before he schools them back to careful neutrality.
“I’ve never seen a color like this. It keeps changing and fading between a few, and the line is tangled in a few places. Have you ever seen anything like this?” Qingxuan nods to it as he keeps stroking along the ever shifting colors along it, “Gold and white, some orange and red, it’s so strange.”
He Xuan stares at it for a moment, “The only one I know of is the one that connects Crimson Rain with His Highness and that one is solely red. I’ve been trying to read into it in my spare time but there is very little documentation on the strings in general let alone any of the color variants. The most common one is red and signifies a romantic tie.”
They both go quiet for a long time at that and both of them can’t seem to make eye contact about that little detail. The red along the thread is faint but it is there and impossible to miss now that the meaning is clear enough.
“About that,” Qingxuan starts and clears his throat awkwardly. “Ahah… uhm.” That certainly gets He Xuan’s attention as he feels his stare burrow into the side of his head like it’s an arrow aimed at it rather than a simple gaze. “That thing I wanted to aha… talk about uhhhh.” Qingxuan stammers over his words as he physically tries to make himself smaller to avoid the other’s gaze. He didn’t have to be so intense about it.
“So I had a dream about you.”
“The nightmare, yes. I figured that is why you’ve been avoiding me.”
Gods above and Ghost below he wishes it was a nightmare, he’d have long since recovered from a nightmare if that’s all it was. Maybe it was supposed to be a nightmare but the intended effect did not happen and Qingxuan learned far too much about himself because of that. “Well I actually haven’t been trying to avoid you, I’ve just been processing some things. Ahaha.. Haha… you see, it wasn’t a nightmare.”
And there it is, there's the mortification.
“You see uhm, this time I needed space because of what I did and not because of anything you did.” He groans and pulls his good leg up so that his face can be placed against his knee. “The dream I had about you wasn’t scary, it was extremely uh ahah… haha..” He’s going to drop dead here, right now, his heart is going to give out from embarrassment and anxiety. “It was lascivious.” It comes out muffled into his knee and he prays his hair is acting as enough of a curtain to hide himself entirely from He Xuan.
“And I really wanted to say I’m sorry about it, and I’m terribly embarrassed because I made a whole scene about it - but it’s worse than that! I feel… I feel really guilty. You told me about Miao-er a few months ago and you spoke really fondly about her and it’s clear you really love her and I shouldn’t ever be dreaming things like that, that’s just not something I do ahah..” He’s rambling but the words just keep coming without fail, “And it feels so disrespectful to Miao-er and to you and I mean you even woke me up because I was- no don’t tell me what I was doing I don’t want to know. It’s a vile, horrible, awful thing to do to someone and I am very sorry. I have been trying to bleach my mind from it entirely out of respect for your fiancée.”
Silence.
Oh Heavens the silence. Not even the birds dare to chirp nor woodland creatures dare to move. The only sound that can be heard is Qingxuan’s heart beating out of his chest and his stuttering breaths as he tries to calm himself down.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Why is he so quiet? Had He Xuan hated that so much that he lashed out and Qingxuan is now dead? Had time stopped and these are his final moments curled up pathetically on a fallen tree lamenting that he had a sex dream about his ex-best friend turned brother’s killer turned friend(?) again.
He dares a peek through his hair to get a look at He Xuan’s face.
Or well a look at the man hunched over, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands in a pose that’s way too similar to Qingxuan’s own. Claw tipped hands brush his hair back from his face and there is the faintest bit of color that ghosts over the apples of his cheeks. “That was extremely unexpected and no amount of warning would have prepared me for that.”
Qingxuan immediately places his face back against his knee and prays that he disappears once more. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to say anything but I felt really awful about it and it didn’t seem fair to keep it a secret. I know how much she means to you and I felt like I was sullying that somehow.”
He Xuan sighs in a purely exasperated way and the weight along the fallen tree shifts some as the scent of salt air and turned earth invades his senses. “You’re right that I love Miao-er. I love everyone I’ve lost, Qingxuan. There will always be a place in my heart for her and that will not change.”
Qingxuan nods against his knee a few times, “I understand that and I’m sorry that I-” Claws brush away strands of his hair so that amber eyes can be seen through the newly parted curtain. Qingxuan immediately shuts up as he is met with soft honey rather than cold indifference. He Xuan’s lips are slightly lifted at the corners and his attention is unwavering.
“But if we are talking about being guilty of such things then I will take some of that guilt as well. When I was Ming Yi, when I hibernated, there were times where my dreams were less than innocent in nature. The first time it happened I felt much the same as you do now.”
The circuits that fire through Qingxuan’s brain that make him capable of thought all go off at once and seem to not be able to comprehend what was just said. He looks both at and through He Xuan at the same time, unable to process any of what just was said. His mind starts cycling through all the times ‘Ming Yi’ had let Qingxuan get too close. Shared spaces while sleeping, letting him rest his head on his lap, leaning into him while bandaging his wounds.
Not to mention the times ‘Ming Yi’ had willingly put his hands on Qingxuan’s body as well. Wrapping his arms around him to drag him through arrays, gentle stroking over his form when he’s injured, hoisting him around like a princess or on his back like it was second nature.
Had he been flirting accidentally? Was that flirting?
“Oh.” Well it makes him feel a little better that between them both they had both experienced this odd phenomenon. About each other. Apparently multiple times in He Xuan’s case. This is an entire mess and a half that he can’t exactly just sweep under the rug and say it’s all clean. “I… well. I don’t really know how to respond to that if I’m being honest. That’s more to process than I think I was ready for and now I’m just really concerned that I may have been leading you on accidentally. I don’t think I was but also we spent three centuries together so now I’m not really sure.”
Qingxuan slowly unravels his body to sit upright and tries to make eye contact with a Ghost King who seems entirely unbothered by his confession. “Why aren’t you mad about this?”
“I’ve already apologized to my Miao-er. I’ve already done the reflection. I will never forget her nor what love I have for her.” He leans back against the log and stares down at Qingxuan with a conflicted expression, “Even if anything we did in the past came close to a romantic connection it wouldn’t be a replacement of her. She would still be in my heart; she just wouldn’t be the only one that is.”
That’s all… extremely logical. Not that he’s an expert in these things. If he had loved someone and they passed away he’s not sure if he would or wouldn’t feel the same. His reference to love is familial love with his brother, platonic love with Ming Yi and His Highness, but there had never been a real romantic bond for him to note. However he’s seen romantic love in others, specifically Crimson Rain and His Highness - their love story is truly one for the ages with centuries of waiting to find each other again. That’s a level of devotion that he associates with love.
But can the same be said about He Xuan and his fiancée? She never became a ghost and has long since moved on from the three realms. He Xuan doesn’t have any way of waiting for her, nor can he ever hear her voice or see her again. It’s different but also not? He had gotten his revenge; he could have rushed to meet her wherever someone goes when death takes their spirit. He didn’t. He’s here.
The only thing he can trust is that He Xuan seems unbothered by this and, hell, even seems to be guilty of it as well. A shared experience spread out over three centuries. The dream doesn’t fully sit right with him still, but he’s not sure if it’s guilt or the fact that he had never really put thought into doing that in the past. Sure he knew a great deal of people indulged but it never felt like a priority or need for Qingxuan to. He’d been raised under strict supervision and under a brother who would likely try to, and likely succeed, in killing someone who even thought of Qingxuan in such a way.
“It’s my turn to ask for a selfish request.” Qingxuan’s voice is very quiet as his leg drops back to the ground and his fingers soothe down his robes in a soothing motion. “Well, I guess not that selfish but it’d make me feel better if you’re willing to talk about it?”
He Xuan only gives a hum of acknowledgement.
“... Could you tell me more about her? She loved you and you love her. I’d like to know her too in my own way and offer a proper apology to her – not just for this! For everything that has happened. I want to know them so that in the present I can offer my own prayers to them as well and in the future, when I’m gone, I’d like to be able to recognize them so that I can tell them stories about what you did in the time you’ve been stuck here.”
It’s a form of repentance, one that will take a while to fully complete but one that feels necessary nonetheless.
He Xuan’s easy expression seems to harden for a moment as shoulders tense slightly. There’s a twitch to his brows and a faint set to his jaw as he seems to look far deeper into Qingxuan than is comfortable. He feels like his soul has just been laid bare, like He Xuan is seeing something that Qingxuan cannot. There’s a faint click of claws together as He Xuan taps them against one another.
A slow breath drags in and parts He Xuan’s lips as he exhales. “Alright. What is it you want to know?”
“As much as you want to tell me! What did your parents do for a living? What was your sister's name? What made you fall in love with Miao-er?” The questions keep pouring from his mouth as he seems to brighten at this little insight further into who He Xuan was before Shi Wudu’s interference and each question is answered dutifully.
He learns that his parents ran a restaurant and that they frequently made tangyuan as a specialty and adamantly swears that black sesame is superior to red bean paste by a significant margin and that walnuts are not a texture he enjoys added to them.
He learns that his sister was sprightly and filled with energy that often makes up for his lack of energy. He confesses that she often interrupted his studies to drag him outside to race through the woods until they got to the lake and would exert herself swimming until he had to carry her back.
He learns that Miao-er was ever gentle and couldn’t help herself when it came to sneaking food to those that needed it - an action that his parents turned a blind eye to and even encouraged by leaving out extras to pass out after business hours had passed. He learns that she loved to sing and would often hum or sing gentle lullabies to help both he and his sister sleep on nights where they were restless. That they had met when they were younger and connected almost immediately and spent many years interlocked as close friends.
It’s the most that Qingxuan has ever heard him speak and each bit of information is taken in with a small smile and a nod to continue. It doesn’t ease the guilt he feels about the situation nor does it lessen his regret towards his brother’s actions… but as He Xuan shares the details of his family to him he can’t help but feel a fondness for them.
A recognition that if he had passed through Fu Gu as a child, if he had nothing to fear and his brother had allowed him to wander on his own, he thinks he could have loved them all too.
Notes:
I'm going to say it with my whole chest here
He Xuan will always love Miao-er but over the span of 300 years he's also found that there are others (SQX) that are just as deserving of care and love and likely did start developing feelings of attraction - had he not found out that SQX was the one that had his fate it's very likely those feelings would have fully bloomed
he's a loyal man, though, and i don't think it's a decision he'd make lightly - and given SQX's sheltered upbringing it's likely he never considered it an option
Chapter 9: Envy
Summary:
He Xuan is hungry.
Notes:
Some small trigger warnings for this chapter
TW: Possessiveness, Signs of Obsession, Non-consensual kissing (brief), blood, minor dacryphilia, awkward inexperience (it's a little cringe), and as per usual with these two: arguing over everything
This chapter is a giant crash out and this is the only warning you all will get for He Xuan being a bit of a freak (affectionate)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The heat of summer swelters through the city bringing with it humid heat and long days. Ever since they talked amidst a forest floor and tangled in gold thread, He Xuan and Qingxuan had managed to find a pattern of consistency. Their mornings are peaceful for the most part with panic being a rarity rather than the consistency it had been in the past. They occupy themselves with their own tasks respectively with He Xuan focusing on more manual labor while Qingxuan delegates, cooks, cleans, and sews.
Recently it’s been busier than it had been in the past. Qingxuan had an epiphany that the houses they’d been rebuilding should be actually owned by the common people here and turned into a proper district in its own right. She wants to make sure there can be a public bath with adequate drainage, housing no matter how simple and meek, and a shelter for those that need help getting back on their feet. It’s truly an ambitious dream but so terribly fitting for the former Wind Master. A dream that, unfortunately, costs more money than He Xuan has ever actually owned (debts not included).
And he was currently in the process of obtaining borrowing that money from one Crimson Rain Sought Flower. Amber eyes blankly watch as his debt goes up in real time before his eyes. Each clink of a gold foil, each chunk of silver, each rustle of notes, each copper coin is another tick up on the ever mounting debt. He’ll pay it back, every single copper coin. He may be broke but he is not a cheat.
The only issue is now the timeframe. He intends to pay it back within Qingxuan’s lifespan so that when she passes on he can dissipate himself without any lingering ties. He’s kept everyone waiting for ages and he’s tacking on a few more decades to his belated reunions. He Xuan had kept his family waiting for centuries for revenge, but there is nothing to avenge for Shi Qingxuan… he won’t leave those he’s lost along for too long once he’s gone.
They had each other wherever they went; Qingxuan would only have him.
His life has been lonely enough and he dares not allow his death to be lonely as well. If anyone is deserving to be surrounded by care, love, and adoration it is Shi Qingxuan. He won’t do them such a disservice by abandoning them in whatever waits beyond a true death.
“I’m not going to complain, but this is a rather hefty debt you’re accumulating for this. You sure you want to be doing this?” Hua Cheng says idly as the seemingly endless bag fills ever more with currency. Every single bit of the loan had to be calculated out to assure the final number was accurate.
He Xuan turns his head to glance at Hua Cheng momentarily before letting his eyes return to following Qingxuan - unseen but not unnoticed by the former Wind Mistress - from the perch he’s selected. She’s been enjoying the leisure of switching forms again thanks to his presence here and the past few days she’s been keen on staying in the more feminine of her forms rather than the masculine ones. The community had hardly batted an eye on it and the only real reaction had been momentary shock before compliments of how beautiful she is came in waves from the ayi’s and children.
He’s happy to give her this bliss but had given it under the condition that she always stay within line of sight of someone trustworthy - i.e. him - to avoid attracting unsavory characters.
“I’m sure.”
For once it seems Hua Cheng doesn’t have anything quick witted and sharp to say and instead allows the conversation to fall into a beat of comfortable silence. It only lasts for a few moments before he hears the faint jingling of Hua Cheng’s boots approaching him to drop the bag in his lap. “What changed? Before you enacted revenge you were certain you’d dissipate right after. Now here you are years later watching over her like you’re afraid she’ll be the one to disappear.”
A breath is drawn in slowly as he tucks the bag into his sleeves in a mindless gesture. “We changed. I acknowledged the change that had been done to me while recognizing the change I’d done to her.” And that is the only truth he can accept on the matter. Over three centuries Qingxuan had found a way to get through his armor in every little way. Not by force, no, by gently coaxing the armor to fall on its own. Every gift she had given him, every meal she had treated him to, every smile she’d given him that was filled with nothing but adoration and care, and even the smart comments she’d hurl at him when they bickered. Everything had accumulated into a touch that was so soft that it let some of the weight fall from his shoulders.
Even if he denied it time and time again.
He can feel Hua Cheng’s stare bore into his head before a soft laugh passes his lips, “Right, I think you still have some more ‘change’ to acknowledge.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Hadn’t he already gone through months upon months piecing together his own thoughts and feelings about Qingxuan and what she means to him now? How very bold for Hua Cheng to assume that he’s missed something along the way? He’s spent damn near every day around Qingxuan, he’s seen the bad, the good, and the in-between – he’s seen it all. What more was there to discover?
“Oh?” There’s a faint jingle as Hua Cheng shifts and points down towards where Qingxuan stands. “Now who is that? Seems your Wind Mistress still has her knack of making new friends.”
There is no possible way to keep the scowl on his face from spreading as He Xuan takes in the sight of the man jogging up to Qingxuan. His clothing is of fine make, his dark hair is pulled up high into a ponytail that is held by an intricate guan allowing the strands to along his back in an organized manner. His face still has some softness to it from youth and his eyes are like ashen coals that seem to alight when he sees Qingxuan.
“Some lordling.” Not that he could truly forget the man’s name. Hao Yichen, a charming man from the upper crust of society that gives face by slumming it around struggling communities. A man that had, quite literally, bumped into Qingxuan while she was out one day and nearly toppled her to the ground.
And who had beaten He Xuan in catching her.
“They seem quite close.” Hua Cheng muses idly but He Xuan knows well enough that the other Ghost King does not speak just to say things. The words are meant as a prod, a way of judging He Xuan’s feelings about this man’s presence, and he’d like to think such a feeling is well written along his face and in his body language.
Simply put: he does not like nor trust Hao Yichen.
That isn’t saying much as he typically doesn’t trust others easily; however, he’s certain this time is a different case. An instinctual dislike, a curdling of his stomach, a threat that hides behind smiles and sweetness. Qingxuan is a magnet for them. First Haiqing, a demon that uses mischief as his guise to stir trouble - now Hao Yichen who uses charm and compliments to get her to laugh and gently swat at him with a fan.
A fucking. Fan.
Since this man appeared in the community Qingxuan had taken to using a fan once more. It’s not the Wind Mistress’s fan, not by any means, it’s a simple thing He Xuan had made on a whim crafted from bamboo stalks and sturdy paper. A fan that he begrudgingly spent a few hours painting a tranquil scene of a crane in flight surrounded by plum blossoms. It had been set on display beneath her statue for ages and yet now it’s whisked off from its spot and used to cover her smile and laughter.
“... hardly, he’s only showed up recently.” He scoffs and flicks his fingers idly causing a few pebbles on the ground to make their way into his boot. It’s petty, yes, but at the least his every step will be an inconvenience until he takes them off.
While the lordling didn’t notice the action Qingxuan certainly did. With his spiritual energy coursing through her she’s been more aware of his presence and gained back some of the sharp senses she had lost upon descending from the heavens. Her head turns just slightly in a search and after a moment her gaze flits up to the rooftop both he and Hua Cheng were currently occupying. That fan flicks out in a snap as she covers her mouth and mouths a ‘stop’ up at him.
He Xuan only gives a half hearted wave of his hand, no point in denying it’s him – there’s only a few people that’d be capable of quietly utilizing a bit of energy to inconvenience someone. Unfortunately Hua Cheng doesn’t care and Haiqing isn’t present so that leaves only him to be the perpetrator.
Qingxuan shifts the fan and flutters it towards him. A few seconds later a breeze buffets his face and causes chestnut locks to rustle and get tangled in the wind. Despite himself he can’t help but to crack the faintest of smiles.
A smile that immediately drops when he sees Hao Yichen lean towards Qingxuan to pull her attention back to him. His nose wrinkles up slightly and amber eyes narrow in on his motions. Fingers tap in annoyance against the rooftop before he pushes himself to stand and prepare to make his presence known and remind the little lordling that Qingxuan’s personal space was not also his.
Hua Cheng’s soft chuckling graces his ears and He Xuan’s head turns slightly to glance at him. His gaze steels as it meets with Hua Cheng’s amused expression, “You’re jealous. Oh my, Black Water, are you afraid this little mortal is going to take your spot? Ah I can already hear it now, ‘Lordling-xiong!’”
“Shut it.” He snaps out and flicks his sleeves out as he steps towards the edge of the roof to drop down out of sight of the rest of the community. He swears he can hear Hua Cheng’s laughter follow him as he draws himself free from the shadows to approach the pair currently chattering away happily in the cobblestone streets.
Her hands are so animated as she waves towards one of the crumbling buildings closest to the wall. “So this is near the old Wind and Water Temple, right?” Qingxuan’s voice is cheery as her fan frames beneath the building, “It’s got the ability to have drainage directly into the underground waterway, so I’d think a bathhouse would be really good here. It could be a public space, not private, it’d give not just this community but surrounding ones a chance to improve hygiene which would reduce disease.”
Hao Yichen is nodding along eagerly but tenses up slightly as his ashen eyes lift to meet He Xuan’s amber ones. There’s a faint shift to his stature as he rocks back onto his heel when He Xuan plants himself directly at Qingxuan’s shoulder. The lordling tries to flash him a friendly smile but quickly averts his gaze back to Qingxuan, “I can look into getting a permit for you! That seems like a great idea - a real boon. Haha…” His eyes flick back to He Xuan and then to Qingxuan’s once more.
He Xuan feels the smack of wood hitting his chest and his eyes glance down to the fan that currently rests against it held in a delicate hand. “Yang-xiong. Don’t be cold.” Her tone had lost some of that cheer and there was an intense light to teal eyes as they glower at him. So bossy. That was a return to normalcy now that panic had subsided for the most part, she quite enjoyed snapping back at him now.
“I’m just standing here.” He turns his head down towards her and shrugs slightly. He hadn’t done anything besides place a pebble in his shoe, if Hao Yichen is scared of him it’s purely built on his own inadequacies. Saying such a thing, however, is a recipe for being swatted several times by a fan and given a verbal lashing that he doesn’t have the energy for today.
Qingxuan meets his stare for a moment before puffing out a breath and rolling her eyes away from him. “Apologies, Hao-gongzi, Yang-xiong is like this with everyone. He means no offense by it.” An elbow is shoved into his side at that and He Xuan tilts his head away from Qingxuan to look up towards the rooftops to keep his eyes from rolling. “Isn’t that right, Yang-xiong?”
She’d used that excuse every single time ‘Yang Shui’ and ‘Hao Yichen’ were in the same space so he’s certain the little lord was well aware that the coldness is a part of his nature… especially around him.
“Now where were we!” Her hand moves away from his chest and hands clap together to hold the fan between them, “Right! Permits! I’ve actually already spoken with the city planner about it with Yang-xiong. We’re waiting to hear back but the overall consensus is that it’s a good idea and what prominent figure doesn’t want to look good and appeal to the common folk?” This had been Qingxuan’s way of paying for something without spending any money - appealing to someone’s image was certainly one of her forté’s.
Hao Yichen nods along excitedly only wavering slightly when he hears that ‘Yang Shui’ had been the one to go with her rather than him. ‘Yang Shui’ is a nobody that lingers around with the embodiment of all things sunshine and good, a shadow cast by her brilliance - to this little lord it’s probably quite confusing as to why he’d be selected to accompany Qingxuan over him. He has about three centuries of friendship over this man, even if they were still repairing that friendship.
Still he’s quick enough to recover and flashes Qingxuan a bright smile in turn, “I’m glad to hear that! Now I wanted to surprise you but,” He pulls some documents out of his bag and presents them to Qingxuan, “I know you hate being surprised.” They were deeds to the surrounding houses, likely bought from the city for cheap given the state of disrepair some were in. “Before you tell me you can’t accept it I’ve already thought of a way that you can pay me back.” Hao Yichen turns his eyes to He Xuan for a moment before he focuses on Qingxuan fully.
Still the former Wind Mistress seems a bit conflicted as her lips purse together before relaxing, “Alright, let me hear it.” She unfolds her fan and idly starts to wave it at her face, taking on the air of a displeased Shizun who just experienced a disciple stepping out of line. It’s a level of confidence that had once faltered and yet has returned in full force now that she could simply enjoy being herself once more.
“Buy me dinner. These didn't cost that much given the state this section of the city is in so a nice meal would cover the costs of it entirely.”
It was Qingxuan’s turn to tense slightly as her body shifts ever so slightly towards He Xuan, “I’ll be honest, Hao Yichen, I wouldn’t be able to afford the luxury meal you’re probably used to having. I’ve been scrimping and saving for medication for the community and selling my products only makes me so much.” His income had improved over the last few months when he started selling candles as well as what outfits and blankets he had made – though production is slow due to Qingxuan’s wrist and forearm frequently locking up. Candles, at least, He Xuan could help with but they hardly went for much.
“No matter! I will also accept payment in Shi-mei’s cooking.” He smiles brilliantly at her and Qingxuan returns it in kind. “We could make our own restaurant and enjoy a meal by the coast-”
“Not the coast.” Qingxuan shuts down quickly and quickly tucks her hands into her sleeves, “We can have a meal in the Wind and Water Temple-”
“No no, you don’t get out nearly enough. How about a picnic by the river-”
“The temple.” Qingxuan doubles down and her expression becomes a bit more strained but the smile doesn’t leave her face.
“What about a trip to a lake where-”
He Xuan decides to spare Qingxuan this man’s ignorance, “She said the temple so it’ll be at the temple.” Qingxuan only seemed to tolerate being around water when she’s alone or if He Xuan is nearby. Being with a stranger around water was risky since neither she, nor He Xuan, can tell when an episode may strike and leave her panicking when wracked with memories of the past.
He also wasn’t keen on leaving her alone with this man.
Ever.
Hao Yichen’s eyes squint on the edges causing the faintest bit of wrinkling to the skin around them. He gives a stiff nod and then bows his head to Qingxuan, “The Temple works for me then. Forgive my insistence, I was simply thinking Shi-mei would appreciate being able to take a break from the same surroundings.”
He keeps his expression composed but he can’t help the way his lower eye twitches. That is a load of fabricated nicety to give reason to getting Qingxuan away from a comfortable group of people. Disgusting. In his three hundred and some years of life and ghosthood he has found that most nobles are the same. Qingxuan is smart - far smarter than she looks - and for it there are often good ideas that fall from her lips that benefit the world around her. Most nobles are snakes and wish to have those ideas for their own to increase their standing amongst the people and give them self more propriety and face. Qingxuan is also beautiful and currently showing her female form more regularly than the male form. A young, seemingly piteous, thing that is unmarried and poor yet draws eyes no matter where she goes.
If a lord wants to get good with those of the lower status marrying someone from the community helps to accommodate that… but it also is a point of intrigue. A diamond in the rough that when presented to high society could be displayed as whatever her husband wished her to be. A foreign dignitary, a renowned seamstress, the missing heiress to some illustrious clan of legend - fabricated stories to make a man look good while his wife becomes a trophy.
He Xuan vaguely listens to the niceties Qingxuan exchanges while setting a date for this impromptu dinner. It’s only when he watches Hao Yichen give a respectful bow to just Qingxuan and turn to be on his way that he bothers even to speak again. “I don’t-”
“You don’t like him, I know.” Qingxuan sighs and snaps the fan open to idly blow at her own features, “Honestly he’s just a helpful young man. If you scare everyone off that tries to help then we’ll be stuck doing this all on our own.” Her head shakes letting strands of dark locks flow around her form. “Having the deeds allows us to continue working on the houses we’ve already started and get proper shelter in place. This summer heat is a killer and I don’t have enough in me to provide a pleasant breeze and can’t keep draining you to play god.”
We.
He’s been allowed back into her future - at least for now. They’re doing this together now, she lets him stay, he helps out. It’ll always be tumultuous, it’ll always be rocky, but at least they have found ground to stand upon and they’re standing upon it together.
That should be enough.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Hao Yichen is a plague. He shows up and Qingxuan runs over to him. He smiles and she smiles back. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it gratefully. He puts his hand on her back and she doesn’t flinch away. He tucks her hair back behind her ear and she hides behind her fan. He touches her cheek and she doesn’t cry.
It’s not fair and yet what he deserves. Even now after everything they’ve built, the time they’ve spent together, he isn’t the one she pulls her eyes to anymore. He knows he’s ungrateful to want it, he knows it’s selfish to seek out that attention when he was the one to throw it away in the first place.
But he is a glutton and this was bound to happen eventually. He’d been spoiled by her attention in the past, spoiled by the fact that she always sought him out if he made himself available. He’d gotten a taste of it again over the last few months - the honesty she’s shared, the touches that have been allowed, it almost feels like they’re close once more.
Hell he’s even earned the right to be called He-xiong and he silently drank that feeling up like a man starved.
He thought he won.
He thought he was being picked first, that he was becoming a priority of hers. That when she thinks about something he becomes included in the thought.
So why does she look at him with such bright eyes? So why does she laugh so loud when he jokes? Why does she fan herself and offer shy smiles? It’s like he’s being forgotten and he loathes the feeling, not because he wishes to be remembered but because he refuses to be forgotten by her. She should pick him, choose him, see him - he’s been transparent, hasn’t he? He’s made it clear he wants to be in her life and that he wishes to be in hers, that he wants to be closer, that he wants to support her and for her to know him better.
She requested he stay outside while she has this meal with Hao Yichen, but that doesn’t mean he won’t observe - and observing is exactly what he is doing.
He’d left the window to the backroom open just enough to let the summer breeze blow through and air out the space, enough that if he sits at the rooftop across the way and angles himself just right he can get a clear view of the pair of them. It’s the best he can do for a view, the best vantage he can grant himself without her noticing. It’s too far but it is what he’s currently allowed to keep him from ‘scaring off’ a man who has no right to sit where he normally does.
He Xuan taps a pair of chopsticks together as he watches the pair within the temple enjoy a meal that she made for him. His own bowl lies empty in his lap, teetering dangerously along his thigh as if a wrong breath could cause it to careen down to the street below and shatter into a thousand pieces.
He’s still hungry.
Fingers shift the chopsticks to hover over Qingxuan’s seated form as if he’s clasping them within his hold. As if he could just pluck her from her seat and eat her smile, her laugh, her breath. The chopsticks draw back towards his lips and teeth quickly bite down into the wood with a harsh clack as the grain splinters against his lips.
He’s still hungry.
When everything he’s ever had has been snatched away, played with, and broken, a repulsion to sharing builds up over time. Those smiles had once been reserved for him, those smiles exclusive to his eyes, and that laugh unabashedly given just to him. Now he can’t even have those things for himself and yet she gives them away so easily.
Hua Cheng is right, he’s jealous – more than that he’s envious. He wants what she’s giving to him to be returned to who it had initially belonged to. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, he knows it’s selfish to want it, but he enjoyed the times when she burned like a million suns and showed sides of herself that only he was privy to.
This time should be different, she had been considering his feelings this time – recognized that he has them and that they need to be taken into account just as much as her own. He’s not extremely expressive, he knows that. He’s easily irritable, he knows that. He doesn’t smile much, he knows that. That doesn’t mean he feels nothing at all, his emotions get tampered down but they are there and they ebb and flow no differently than the tide.
Teeth sink down harder against the chopsticks until they split in twain and leaves him spitting the broken wood from his mouth.
He should be satiated with what he has, what he’s earned back, but he simply can’t be. His hunger has always been a yawning abyss since he gained sentience as a ghost. It’s always been a beast that has a mind of its own and drags him to indulgence, to eat his worth no matter how long it takes to fill that ache.
From this distance he cannot hear but he can read Qingxuan’s lips, can see her body language. What Hao Yichen says is unimportant nor can he see his face to even grasp what he may be asking and saying to her. He’s caught small phrases when her lips move slow enough to be read and aren’t hidden behind that fan. He’s seen her say ‘You’re too much’ with a smile following suit, he’s caught snippets of talks about the bathhouse she wants to build and plans for the community. She shines the brightest when she speaks about the community but it doesn’t seem to dull when another topic comes up, it just leaves her scintillating and brightens the whole room with her glow.
The food lays predominantly eaten on the table and the conversation seems to still be flowing back and forth between them. Idle chatters, nothing of note – at least until Qingxuan suddenly snaps the fan shut. Even at this distance he can see the flare of color on her cheeks and can all but hear the awkward laugh that makes shoulder shake and causes teal eyes to go askance. His entire body shifts forwards as if it’ll help him read the next few words that leave her lips.
’I’ll think about it.’
Think about what? What would she need to think about that causes her cheeks to flare with color and cause her to look so shyly suspicious about this man’s words?
He Xuan watches Hao Yichen nod in understanding and extend a hand to help her stand. A hand that she takes without so much as a flinch and allows herself to be leveraged upwards without a fight or a fuss. That hand isn’t released immediately and instead it is raised slightly so that he can bow and press his lips to her knuckles.
The bowl, the chopsticks, and tiles along the roof around him crack as a rush of displeasure rolls free from his form. A few weeks and he thinks he can touch her skin with his lips? How indecent, how disgusting. If he had any doubts about his intentions before they have all been burned away by that one exchange.
He wants her and she is considering it.
The last time a noble had walked into his life and took away someone important from him he had to learn that one was beaten to death for not submitting and the other had killed herself out of grief and to avoid a similar fate. He’s lost too many people to interfering parties that seek to take and lock away what meager connections he has with others.
He’d lost his Miao-er and his meimei because of one man. He is not losing his Qingxuan as well to the same fate.
Hands fall beneath him to push himself to stand ready to drop himself directly into the room and tell the other man to fuck off. Broken tiles crunch beneath his feet as he takes two small steps down the slope and then finds himself faltering. Steps slow and fingers curl into his palm to let nails press into the skin.
What if she wants to go? What if she willingly agrees to disappear away from here to be by his side? He’d have to let her go - he can’t cage her up and it’s not his place to make decisions for her. Qingxuan has every right to make a choice that makes her happiest even if he doesn’t agree with the choice. Ultimately it comes down to what she wants to do and he’s long since learned that no amount of pushing and arguing he does will keep her from going down the path she wishes to walk.
It hurt the first time she picked someone over him, would it hurt again this time? Would it cause an ache to sit like a permanent scar on his heart, or would it simply be a bitter pill of recognition that he won’t ever be the first choice?
He Xuan draws in a heavy breath and holds it for a long moment as he forces that line of thinking to halt.
Firstly, Qingxuan is not his. That thought process was ripped from some deeply self-serving place that has marked what remnants of a connection he has with someone as ‘His.’ Secondly, he understands that Qingxuan would not so easily give up what she has built here nor would she abandon it to chase after someone else. The biggest concern about her potentially abandoning these people comes from the destructive nature of the episodes she has and how she disappears into dangerous situations when panicked. A simple person could not be enough to rip her away from the good she’s doing here. Thirdly, he could be misreading the situation. He can recognize that Hao Yichen clearly has interest in Qingxuan but the reaction to his request had been one of discomfort. She had dimmed considerably even if she didn’t fight him holding her hand or pressing his lips to her skin. She’s polite, or at least tries to be, to people that haven’t done anything truly wrong.
His amber eyes follow the movements of the man exiting the shrine. She hadn’t walked him out nor seen him to the gate. She wasn’t waiting at the door to see if he had left. Loathe as he is to admit it he does feel a sense of satisfaction to know that she hadn’t extended that courtesy to him.
In an exercise of patience he waits until the little lordling has disappeared down the street and joins the nameless faces that make up the city nightlife before he deems to drop down from his perch. His guise is dropped the moment he’s in through the door as if he’s removing his coat or cloak after a day around town - the mask is for the public eye at this point so that Qingxuan gets the most honest version of himself behind closed doors.
When he steps into the rear part of the temple that at this point has been turned into a small, but functional, apartment he finds Qingxuan in his male form. Dishes had already been rinsed in a basin and set aside in the small cabinet that He Xuan had made, the table had been wiped clean, and the only trace of Hao Yichen that remains is the faint scent of sage and incense.
Qingxuan’s sash had been loosened to let the feminine top of their robes droop slightly and expose collarbones and their shoulders. His body is reclined by the still open window and that delicate fan is slowly brushing back dark locks to shoo away the sticky summer heat. The dying light of sunset paints half of Qingxuan’s features in gold while the other side is shadowed - like this he almost looks like a painting. A snapshot of humanity displayed in a dichotomy with each stroke lovingly drawn along their form.
Teal eyes turn towards He Xuan and a small smile curls at Qingxuan’s lips, “Welcome home.”
“Whose home?” He scoffs but there is a faint tilt to the corners of his lips as he eats up the sight of Qingxuan rolling his eyes and gesturing rather rudely at him with his fan. Like a moth to a flame he creeps closer to the former Wind Master and reaches past him to pull the freshly washed bowl from the shelf. “Is there anything leftover?”
Qingxuan scoffs and folds his fan closed to tap at the rim of the bowl. “Didn’t you already eat? I made sure to make enough congee for the community and I pointedly made an extra portion of noodles, broth, and meat for you to eat. I didn’t have to do that, you know? That was supposed to just be for me and Hao-gongzi.”
Ah.
Of course, that name had to be brought up again when he’d just settled himself down. The bowl is promptly placed on the cabinet and hands placed in his sleeves lest he ruin another set of dishware and utensils today. “I could always eat more.” He deadpans and lets his gaze focus in on Qingxuan’s face, “What did you two talk about?” He can’t just outright start denouncing the man more without knowing the full situation, but the way that question pours past his lips is a bit too rushed and harsh around the edges.
He watches as Qingxuan’s smile tightens slightly and his back leans slightly further into the wall. “It was just a friendly chat. You know, haha, Hao-gongzi has been a massive help since we’ve met. Honestly it was nice to chat about poetry and hear about his goals! We talked about his family business a bit and really who knew there was so much money to be made in paper making! His family has a mill a few towns over that they use to source everything and we briefly discussed the process of making it.” There goes his mouth a mile a minute talking about every inconsequential detail of their conversation. Had he not been observing the conversation from afar he’d have been more than happy to accept that answer of it just being a ‘friendly chat.’
“And are you going to accept his proposal?”
“I told him I’d think about- how do you know about that?” Qingxuan’s face freezes and his brows twitch before pulling together some, “Were you listening in to my conversation? I told you that nothing would happen and that you didn’t need to do that, He-xiong. Besides it’s not exactly like you need to know everything about what I do with others. Can’t I simply enjoy a meal with a friend.”
He Xuan’s own expression is kept as neutral as possible as he holds Qingxuan’s stare, “I wasn’t listening, but I was observing. Can’t say what I saw really seemed like a simple friendly gesture.” He tuts and lets his nails dig into his arms slightly while refusing to let Qingxuan avert his gaze. Every flick of teal eyes away from him is met with He Xuan shifting just enough to draw them back to his form.
That fan taps impatiently against Qingxuan’s own chest for a moment before he groans, “Okay, sure, it wasn’t just friendly - but who cares? Who cares if someone wants to be charming towards me or tells me something sweet? It’s nice to be treated gently and it’s kind of nice being wanted by someone without having to throw money in their direction just to build a friendship with me! Am I not allowed to flirt? Am I not allowed to be flirted with? Who cares if I explore my options?!”
“I care.” He snips back before he can bite down on his tongue to stop himself. “I am begging you to pay a bit of attention to the nature of those around you. He’s using you, he wants your ideas and he wants you and at some point he may not be willing to take no for an answer, did you consider that?” He scoffs and his amber eyes roll before focusing back on his face. “And what if he decides that you can’t come help the community anymore and takes away what freedoms you have earned for yourself?” He shouldn’t have to point out the obvious, he shouldn’t have to be practically shoving Qingxuan’s face in it for the other man to put two and two together. It has barely been a few weeks and this man had been spoonfeeding Qingxuan honey and sweetness while listening intently to Qingxuan’s ideals for the community.
Even if he doesn’t snatch Qingxuan away from everyone he more than likely will steal the credit of all of the former Wind Master’s work.
The exclamation that he cares seems to have bought him a few moments of consideration from the other man as lips try and curl around words but ultimately fails. Lips eventually pull closed and settle into a frown as his nose wrinkles up causing the skin between his brows to scrunch. “I don’t think it’s like that!” Qingxuan huffs and lifts his fan to prod it into He Xuan’s chest softly, “You’re thinking too much about this.”
“You’re not thinking enough about this.” He counters back and lifts a hand to grab the wrist that currently holds the intruding fan. “Does he even know you swap forms? Does he know you have a male form? You’ve only ever greeted him in a female one, after all.”
Another pause and another sigh earned from He Xuan. Amber eyes close as he raises his free hand to rub at his eyes and forehead in exasperation. Qingxuan’s silence says more than enough about the extent of this situation. Most mortals wouldn’t respond keenly to the idea that someone can switch forms at will. Men have such a fickle standard of attraction, most of the time they only look at the shell of a person and decide to love the outside - the inside is moot.
It’s as if they’re picking up an opalescent conch shell and admiring its shape and color without ever finding out how delicious the insides are.
Qingxuan’s lips tremble ever so slightly as he’s placed on the back foot and lashes fall and kiss his cheeks as he draws his eyes downward. He Xuan finds himself unable to rip his attention away from the slight fluttering of lashes and the way Qingxuan’s jaw tenses as he thinks through his words. “Is it so wrong to want to have options?” His voice is so quiet and unsure, faltering as he’s confronted with the brutal honesty that He Xuan presents without even attempting to filter or lessen the blow.
Unshed tears of frustration bud along Qingxuan’s lash line and cause lashes to clump together and a jolt goes through He Xuan’s spine. These tears are different. They aren’t born from grief and they aren’t paired with distressed sobs. They’re limpid and lingering, held back by Qingxuan’s force of will as his fist curls tighter around the fan and causes the wood to creak beneath it. He feels like his entire body has both gone numb and much too warm at the same time, wrapped up and entranced in whatever spell Qingxuan has put him under.
“You have better options.”
“Like who-”
He Xuan is a weak man. A man built on a foundation of hunger and gluttony that has felt starved since the moment he reawoke. He’s hungry, he’s starved, and he’s been living with a meal dangled in front of him since Qingxuan had confessed his shame. If another man will only stare at the shell and collect it for its beauty leaving the creature within to slowly die in captivity, then he will be the one that cracks open the beauty and devours the flesh beneath to savor all of it, not just the casing.
And Qingxuan’s lips are soft. They warm the cold flesh of his own as he swallows the gasp that leaves the shorter man. His body crowds into Qingxuan’s space as he presses him closer to the wall and drags the wrist he holds to press into the wall next to his head. He can feel the tension shoot through his body and the faint whine of having his arm twisted to accommodate the new position.
He hated having to use his words so frequently with Qingxuan. He wishes that the other would just linger his stare on him and read his face or his body language and see just how irritated he was by the presence of a lordling asserting into his space. Even though he had used his words to warn and caution about the predators that lurk in the water waiting to snap him up they had been left ignored. So what else can he do to make him understand? He understands he’s one of those lurking shadows himself, he knows that his bite is far stronger than those around him.
But he wouldn’t lock him away.
If Qingxuan shuts this down, if he tells him to fuck off, then he’ll let him walk this path and explore his options. He’ll let him learn the hard way, let him feel another sting of betrayal from those around him that abuse and thrive beneath his kindness. He’d rather not, he’d rather protect the barely healed heart of the man currently pinned against the wall. He Xuan is tired of the grief stricken tears, he’s tired of the sorrow, he’d much rather see them flushed with frustration and anger - he’d much rather see them spill out of joy or exertion.
Sorrow had no place here anymore.
The overall shock seems to wear off when his lips gently coax Qingxuan’s apart to allow his tongue to slip past plush lips. A faint noise escapes from the former Wind Master as He Xuan lets his tongue roll against his and tries to lure it into brushing against his own, to stop being so stiff and indulge with him.
Teeth bite down hard into He Xuan’s tongue and he snaps his head back as a flood of red pours from his lips. He doesn’t get a chance to say a word as Qingxuan lifts his arm and slaps it into his cheek. Despite it being his damaged wrist he put enough spiritual force behind it to cause He Xuan’s head to be pushed to the side.
He gathers the blood into his mouth and spits it towards the ground so that each word he speaks won’t be paired with the dripping of red down his chin and neck. He’ll clean it up later for now he turns his head back to Qingxuan to meet an infuriated stare. Teal eyes search him for a long moment, studying his face and furrowing his brows further. His breathing is slightly faster and a pink blush is dusted over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. “Give me warning next time.”
He Xuan’s hands had started to loosen its grip on Qingxuan’s wrist but they still at that sentence. There’s the faintest twitch of his ensanguined lips upwards as he lets that ‘next time’ sit between them. He watches them shift slightly within his grip as the hand that slapped him settles against He Xuan’s chest with quivering fingers. He’ll have to take a look at that later to make sure Qingxuan hadn’t hurt himself in that impulsive slap. He watches as those digits twitch involuntarily before they curl into the fabric of He Xuan’s robe and drag him down slightly.
When soft lips delicately press against his once more he finds that his hunger no longer gnaws so harshly against his form. Satiated by the taste of copper and the honeyed sugar of Qingxuan’s all too shy and chaste presses of their lips together. It held none of He Xuan’s hunger and only offered him trepidation.
Qingxuan parts his lips and tries to deepen the kiss on his own and only ends up clacking their teeth together and leaving him wincing and grimacing as he pulls away. His head turns to the side quickly and that blush spreads down to his neck and his fidgeting ticks up a notch or two. “I’m not good at this kind of thing. So… warning, please give me warning so I can ahah…”
A quiet scoff of a laugh leaves He Xuan and his free hand comes up to gently draw a finger beneath the shorter man’s chin. His claw presses ever so slightly into the soft skin beneath Qingxuan’s chin as he pulls his attention back to him with a bit of insistence.
He may not be a gambling man but if this is the one gamble he takes in his afterlife then he’s happy to say he’s won it. He doesn’t quite understand what the feelings swirling around him are - there’s the hunger, sure, but there’s also a sickly warmth and a chilled numbness that leaves his insides twisting and prodding at him. It could never be so cut and dry with Qingxuan, he can never have a simple explanation of any such emotion when the man is before him and yet he’s learning to weather the storm and simply see where it drops him at the end of its turbulence.
“We’ll see.”
Notes:
He Xuan got tired of talking and i don't blame him tbqh. He's a man of action even if those actions are vaguely concerning and ripe with miscommunication purely for the fact that Qingxuan intentionally puts on blinders and pretends not to see it.
Brain rot meme inserted here:
HX: I think I'm in love with Qingxuan
HC: ...
HX: Any thoughts?
HC: And prayers, you're going to need them.
Chapter 10: Anchor
Summary:
He knows the tropes inside and out. A woman in distress falls for a gallant hero that removes her troubles or otherwise saves her in some way. Starcrossed rivals meet on the battlefield and find themself in a sordid love affair where the risk of their love being found out only fuels the flames of their passions. Best friends that met when they were young and were separated by war or conflict only to meet years down the line and find themselves enraptured by a young budding love.
It’s all so poetic.
Notes:
This chapter contains a great deal of smut that is extremely explicit but also extremely tender, please proceed with that in mind
TW's for this chapter: blood, dacryphilia, awkward conversations about gender, and minor character death
you have been warned
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The energy around them has changed considerably after two simple shared kisses and Qingxuan feels as if he’s ripped open a box that was once triple sealed and tied in barbed wire, marked with plaques written in bold font that says ‘Do Not Open.’ It’s not as though he’s fully ignorant on the topic of romance - if this can even be called that. When he was still just a minor heavenly official he had an infinite amount of free time that he spent idling the day away drinking, enjoying performance art, and reading any piece of material he found interesting.
That media tended to lean towards the more romantic side.
He knows the tropes inside and out. A woman in distress falls for a gallant hero that removes her troubles or otherwise saves her in some way. Starcrossed rivals meet on the battlefield and find themself in a sordid love affair where the risk of their love being found out only fuels the flames of their passions. Best friends that met when they were young and were separated by war or conflict only to meet years down the line and find themselves enraptured by a young budding love.
It’s all so poetic.
Unfortunately there is not a romance novel that encapsulates the trope of ‘best friend that you knew for centuries betrays you and reveals a dirty secret that your family kept from you for the same amount of centuries who then kills your brother and then tells you to get out of his sight only to reappear later on and essentially stalk you until he reveals himself to you that you get strange levels of attraction towards and then end up kissing him.’ Not really a popular genre for the youth and ayi’s of the world to read and kick their feet in giddy joy to.
In fact it’s almost like a horror story. Afterall, most people can’t really fathom the idea that ‘killing a family member’ doesn’t mean a complete stop of contact. Which, admittedly, it should have caused a stop in contact but alas he cannot control a Ghost King that seems to have his own whims to indulge in.
A low sigh leaves him as he idly waves his fan towards his own features while watching ‘Yang Shui’ fit a beam into place of the soon to be constructed bathhouse. He’d thrown his shirt off his shoulders a while ago leaving a bare chest as a way to combat the summer heat and, unfortunately, Qingxuan has eyes. While this isn’t his true form it’s not really the body that has his eyes following his form as he moves around, it’s the knowledge of the man that’s currently disguised himself beneath the mask.
It’s not like this is the first time he’s seen ‘Yang Shui’ shirtless. They’ve bathed together in the past but at the time it wasn’t like Qingxuan knew who he was, nor was there any unresolved tension and attraction between them. In a few months the idea of being alone with him in any state of undress went from ‘sure it’s fine we’re both men’ to a slurry of flustered thoughts that devolved faster than he’s welcome to admit.
Do Ghosts even get hot? He’s almost certain that, thinking back, he’s never even seen Ming Yi sweat when they were traveling together, but that could be because he always kept a nice breeze around them when dealing with particularly harsh heats. If they don’t sweat then He Xuan is putting on a hell of a show of blending in with the other men around them, keeping a down to earth persona that’s sturdy but closed off to friendly conversation.
Qingxuan isn’t complaining, per se, but it’s certainly been a distraction that’s kept him from getting any other work done today. At the very least he can blame the heat for his lethargic behaviors and can simply make an argument that he’s overseeing the construction progress.
Not that he needs to. He Xuan spent three centuries pretending to be a God of Craftsmanship essentially. He designed the plans, the blueprints, figured out what materials would be the best for it and had it shown to Qingxuan all within a few hours. Even if he was never really the Earth Master he certainly studied well for his role and it shows in the efficiency of his work. Frankly if it wouldn’t earn the ire of the Ghost King and raise so many suspicions on who he is he probably could tell everyone else to go take a break and have He Xuan do all of this on his own.
Fortunately he has started to develop a new skill called ‘common sense’ that tells him that is probably not the best idea in this situation. People may be amenable to him being a God prior to his descent but explaining the presence of a Supreme Ghost King casually living around them is a different story.
“Excuse me!” The every pleasant voice of Hao Yichen graces his ears as he stops before another familiar form.
Haiqing stares down the other man for a moment before plastering a cheery smile on his face, even from where Qingxuan is sitting he can tell it’s terribly forced. “What can I do for you, dashu?” His tone is too sugary and he tucks his hands behind his back as if he hadn’t just called a man that is, at most, twenty five an uncle.
Hao Yichen blinks a few times as if momentarily too stunned to reply right away before he laughs it off with a strained laugh. Even Qingxuan can’t help but to cringe internally at the awkwardness of that greeting - it’s riddled with disrespect and harsh around the edges, all things that he knows for a fact Hao Yichen isn’t used to.
“I was looking for Shi- ah, Ol’ Feng is what I think she tells you all to call her…” He rubs at the back of his head and scans the area around them, his eyes casually ghosting over Qingxuan’s seated form and looking further down the street.
“Eh? You go blind or something? Ol’ Feng is right there.” Haiqing scoffs and thumbs over to where Qingxuan is sitting with his fan still idly blowing a faint breeze over his cheeks and stirring up his dark locks. “How can you miss him, frankly.” Haiqing looks over at Shi Qingxuan and gives a cheerful wave towards him, giving a much brighter and friendlier smile his way.
Now that He Xuan has pointed out the oddities of the men around him he has certainly been able to catch them a bit better on his own. Haiqing is standoffish to most men that aren’t over the age of fifty and tends to hover around Qingxuan a bit too closely moments before an accident happens.
And Hao Yichen? Well.
Hao Yichen sure is a man.
Qingxuan lets out a resigned sigh and moves his fan to his other hand to let it rest there while he raises his hand to give a little wave in return. It’s an actual marvel to watch Hao Yichen stare at him blankly for a second before confusion flashes on his features. It’s like watching him go through an entire journey, first confusion, then concern, then more confusion, before finally settling on a smile as he starts striding over at a hesitant pace.
“You’re a man?”
Teal eyes fall closed and his fingers slowly curl around the bamboo eaves of his fan to pull it closed before opening them again. “And good morning to you too.” He says with a smile that feels a bit too forced on his face.
Hao Yichen places his hands together, brings them to his lips as he stares at Qingxuan, and then extends them forwards towards the former Wind Master in a motioning gesture. “But you had…” His hands unfold and move to make a cupping motion.
“Breasts?”
“Yes. I… didn’t know crossdressers could do that?” His entire world seems to have been rocked by the simple fact that Qingxuan doesn’t always have breasts - that he designed himself thank you - on his chest at all times. He’s not even sure what’s the best way to go about explaining this entire situation to him without sounding unhinged or insane. He’s fairly certain the other man will not believe him if he opens his mouth and says ‘yeah actually I used to be a god and growing up I had to dress as a woman so it’s comfortable for me to swap between forms and I’m able to do that because a Supreme Ghost King lives with me.’
Qingxuan glances over to where He Xuan is working and finds that amber stare already watching the exchange. He flashes the other a pleading look and is met with a scoff and a mouthed ‘I told you.’
He did, in fact, warn him that this was a potential outcome but he truthfully was hoping for a bit less shock and accusation and moreso… questions. Questions are easier to address than confused declarations of the obvious. Regardless what was once a problem for later has quickly turned into a problem in the now as he turns back to meet the open mouthed stare and searching eyes of a young lord that has likely never experienced something like this before.
“In the cultivation world women have stronger yin energy. Turning into a woman in order to utilize more spiritual power isn’t uncommon.” It’s not exactly common and, admittedly, in the last few centuries only he and ‘Ming Yi’ had utilized a female form as opposed to fighting in male forms… usually the change goes the other way around.
That answer seems to placate the majority of the concerns and allows the other man to simply consider it a strange cultivation art rather than digging into the complexity of Qingxuan’s identity. Hao Yichen gives a nod to signify he’s at least trying to follow along with the general idea before he elects to continue this line of questioning, “But you’re a woman originally, right?”
Qingxuan isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry at the way this man’s mind works. “No, I was born with a male body, I just prefer to be a woman sometimes.” He speaks very slowly to enunciate his point as clearly as possible.
“I… see.” There is a heavy sense of doubt on if he does actually understand the concept he’s laid out but at the very least he seems to accept the fact that, at least currently, Qingxuan is male. “So… Does that mean you’re a cutsleeve? Not that there’s anything wrong with cutsleeves, my uncle is a cutsleeve you see and we’re all really supportive of him.”
The fan he’d folded is now tapped quietly against his knee as he fidgets his way through this horribly uncomfortable conversation. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything at this current moment.” He says with that smile maintained on his face with only the faintest of twitching to the corner of his lips as it strains under the force to keep it there. “Did you need anything specific today, Hao-gongzi? I was actually getting ready to write you a thank you letter for expediting the permits to build here and I’m glad you get to see the progress in person.”
Any attraction he may or may not have had to this man has currently shriveled up and died, bittered to the roots with no chance of ever being rekindled. There were a lot of ways this conversation could have gone and this is pretty far up there in the ‘extremely awkward and uncomfortable’ category.
“Oh! I… yes! I wanted to see how construction was coming along.” He turns away from Qingxuan and looks towards the bare bones of the bathhouse. Unfortunately that also draws Qingxuan’s gaze back to ‘Yang Shui’ and how seemingly effortlessly he lifts a beam up onto his shoulder to carry it over to a marked section on the ground. Carrying around a giant chunk of treated wood like it’s a bunch of feathers in a bag.
Heaven help him, he is turning into a monster worse than Pei Ming with how long he’s staring at this man. A few kisses shouldn’t open the flood gates this wide and granted him access to ideas he’s never allowed himself to consider before out of propriety and lack of knowledge. Is it really his fault that he’s imagining being tossed around like he weighs nothing at all? Is it truly a crime to be curious about what that might feel like? It might be a bit difficult to truly engage in that fantasy when the bed he’s been sleeping on has been, well, straw even when he’s gone out of his way to make xi for others that they can roll onto simple support structures.
“It’s coming along nicely!”
Hao Yichen’s voice snaps him out of his fantasizing and Qingxuan practically chokes on air as he composes himself, unfurling his fan to cover the slight flush on his cheeks. It’s the heat that caused that, absolutely the heat, it’s a sweltering day after all so it makes sense.
Right?
He fans perhaps faster than he needs to in order to ease some of the heat on his face and it allows loose strands of dark hair to whip about and get caught along the damp skin on his cheeks or along his neck. “Yes it is, Yang-xiong’s design is excellent and he’s been very confident that it’ll hold up over the years with minimal maintenance needs.”
An arm is thrown over his shoulders as Hao Yichen pats at his shoulder confidently, “Hah, certainly the right guy to have around. Seems like you two really have this whole thing under control. I dare say I’m barely needed.” He flashes a slightly awkward, but friendly enough, smile down at Qingxuan.
The sudden touch is… odd. It’s like the other man is trying to figure out how he should engage in this friendship now that he knows Qingxuan was born a man. They’re too close to abstain entirely from physical contact, but not quite close enough that he can simply touch as he pleases either. Without the barrier of his feminine form it seems that Hao Yichen is far more keen on touch than Shi Qingxuan is used to.
He doesn’t stop fanning himself but does move the fan a few inches to the left so that each movement inwards would scrape along the fingers lingering around his shoulder in a subtle demand to let him go. “I wouldn’t say that Hao-gongzi, your help has been very appreciated in helping us deal with the legalities of things. I didn’t realize how many laws and legislations went into building something. I admit my initial idea was far more ambitious than I originally thought and I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
“Ahah Shi-mei, ahem, Shi-xiong is too kind, too kind.”
Yes, Hao Yichen certainly is a man.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☽ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Qingxuan all but drags himself back into the temple after tolerating several draining conversations with Hao Yichen through the day. The questions ranged from genuine curiosity to borderline disrespectful as he made a genuine attempt to try and understand Shi Qingxuan. On one hand he wasn’t outright freaking out about his shifting forms, on the other it had become very clear that he has never had a friendship with a man that had any solid foundation.
He pauses in the door frame to see He Xuan still in his Yang Shui mask, still shirtless, and casually lighting several candles beneath the Wind Mistress statue. He blinks blankly at him for a moment before walking over and yanking free the tied shirt from his waist and throws it over his shoulder. “Put a shirt on, I do not have the energy right now to dissect,” he waves a hand over the exposed skin on display, “this right now.”
He glances over his shoulder at Qingxuan for a moment before rolling his eyes and shrugging on the shirt and letting the mask fully fall away. At this point he’s more than certain he stayed in this form, shirtless, just to mess with him and there’s just too much there to unpack. Even if it was some form of manipulation to keep his eyes on He Xuan it… admittedly was kind of effective.
Qingxuan loosens the sash on his robes and lays himself out on the straw mat lifting his fan up to send bursts of air over his face to chase away the sweat clinging to his skin. Even using the diminished spiritual power that He Xuan has gifted him using any of his former magic would still be too dangerous inside any building and there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t create a wind tunnel that ends up sucking the oxygen out of the room. That does, unfortunately, mean he has to cool himself down the old fashioned way over and over again.
Honestly at this point his arm is starting to ache from how much he’s needed the relief of a gentle breeze today.
A cold hand comes and rests against his forehead and earns a sigh of relief as he tilts his head back more to stare up at the, now seated, form of He Xuan near him. “Mmn. That feels nice, keep your hand there.” The chill is enough that he can slow the movements of his hands and just let his eyes fall closed to savor the feeling. Why hadn’t he done this sooner?
“Bossy.” He Xuan scoffs but does as told and keeps his movements limited to gentle strokes of his thumb along his temple. The movement causes the clawed tip of his thumb to graze along his cheek idly in a way that causes goosebumps to prick along his skin. It’s an odd sensation, but not an unwelcome one and done carefully enough that he can’t find it in himself to be worried about those nails sinking into his skin.
“How’d your impromptu talk go?” He Xuan’s voice is lilted faintly with a tinge of amusement and it leaves teal eyes peek open to focus up and meet amber eyes.
Qingxuan’s nose scrunches up and a scowl pulls at his lips in distaste. “How much of that did you end up hearing?”
“I tuned in around the time you said the word ‘breasts’ and tuned back out when he started rambling about his uncle.”
A disgusted noise sounds in Qingxuan’s throat and his tongue clicks against the back of his teeth. “So most of it then.” He drops his fan to the ground and uses his arm to push himself up slightly so that he can scoot back and place his head directly on He Xuan’s lap, effectively turning his thighs into Qingxuan’s personal pillow. “Even after he got over the initial shock it was incredibly awkward. He’s definitely bolder around men but has no clue how to talk to people. It’s like his entire life was built around building connections with women and fumbling through talks with men when they aren’t fully related to business.”
He grabs He Xuan’s hand and places it back on his forehead in a quiet demand to soak up more of the other’s icy touch. “I felt like I was being dragged around like a doll.” He mutters and lets his eyes fall closed once more as he enjoys his personal ice block.
“You could have told him to fuck off.” He Xuan’s words are casual and he keeps himself still as Qingxuan gets comfortable across his lap.
“He didn’t do anything that warranted me outright telling him to leave. Besides, he has been extremely helpful over the last month. We’ve been able to get people homes and we’re building a community. I think that warrants a little bit of leniency, don’t you?” His hand lifts and he blindly feels around up along He Xuan’s chest until he reaches his face to give a small pat to his cheek. “Before you immediately say no, try to look at things from my point of view, okay?”
There’s a moment of silence before he feels He Xuan’s head shift against his hand and lips press almost delicately against Qingxuan’s palm. “He exceeded his leniency.” The words vibrate along his hand and send a jolt and shiver through his form. It’s so firmly, but earnestly, said that it forces a moment of pause between them.
A few seconds tick by uninterrupted before Qingxuan finally sighs, “Maybe. I didn’t think he meant any harm by it so I guess I was feeling more considerate than I should have been.”
He feels the way He Xuan’s lips pull slightly against his skin in a small smile before teeth graze along skin in a faint brush. “You’re learning, congratulations.” And the soft rumble of laughter that shakes through his form is felt more than it’s heard. The entire gesture, this entire exchange, is far too tender for what it is. Even with the taunting comment it just comes across as fond rather than jeering and a pang of longing shoots through Qingxuan’s chest.
He wants more of this. He wants more of these quiet moments where they talk and give each other simple affectionate touches. They’d gotten close like this in the past before everything soured under blood soaked stone and revenge, but it wasn’t quite like this. It was softer then, more tentative and unsure, where now it feels like two parts of a puzzle interconnecting after being kept apart and lost amidst a sea of other pieces.
Shi Qingxuan shifts and pulls himself up to turn towards He Xuan as his hand settles on his shoulder for support. He can’t quite place the emotion that seems to be flickering in amber eyes but he allows himself to stare at it as he sees himself reflected back in those irises. He inches forwards before pressing a kiss against He Xuan’s jaw only to trail his lips higher to press another to the corner of his lips. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him today, but he doesn’t find himself wanting to shy back away from this. He’s seeking this on his own accord, chasing more of that closeness and attention that has been slowly dripped to him at his own request.
There’s only a flicker of hesitation before he presses his lips to He Xuan’s.
It’s tentative at first, only a breath of contact between them as Shi Qingxuan tests the new extent of this budding boldness. Yet neither of them make any move to inch away or part from one another. Instead he feels He Xuan shift to draw a cold, but steady, hand along his waist to ground them together in this moment. It’s a quiet gesture, a silent nod of permission that tells Qingxuan that he can continue at his own pace.
He deepens the kiss ever so slightly, his lips soft and searching and unhurried. The touch of He Xuan’s lips in return is patient, almost reverent, as if they’re both learning the depth of adoration for someone that they’ve always known and yet never allowed to touch like this. The scent of the salt air and turned earth overwhelms him as the grip on He Xuan’s shoulder tightens allowing fingers to dig into the loose black fabric and press against the skin beneath.
Breaths mingle between them as He Xuan shifts his head ever so slightly to press their lips together with a gentle insistence. The dam was already cracked and fractured but it seems to shatter entirely beneath that silent demand. Icy fingers trail up from his waist in a slow stroke that draws claws to catch along jade green fabric until they dip beneath the crossed section of his robe to press into his chest.
A soft laugh echoes against Qingxuan’s lips causing the former Wind Master to pull back and rest his forehead into He Xuan’s. “What’s so funny?” His words are all but whispered, spoken for He Xuan’s ears and his alone.
“Your heart is pounding so fast.”
Heat flares up to his cheeks and he moves to pull back only to find himself drawn back into He Xuan’s form. That hand is insistent in staying against his chest allowing the ghost king to feel the way his pulse rapidly thrums beneath his palm. It’s a wild, uneven, rhythm that seems to pound loud enough that even if He Xuan couldn’t feel it, Shi Qingxuan is certain he could hear it.
“It’s not like I can control that.” He grumbles as he catches the faint quirk of He Xuan’s lips in a small smirk. That little change of his expression is both a balm to his nerves and a spark that causes the heat on his cheeks to deepen and spread down his form settling in his heart in a way that is foreign and yet not unwelcome. “It can’t be that fascinating that you need to keep your hand there…” He huffs and turns his head to the side to let some of his hair fall to curtain his face.
He Xuan’s other hand moves to pull at the hand Qingxuan had rested upon his shoulder and draws it down between the loosely parted fabric along his chest. The skin there is smooth and cool as he pushes Qingxuan’s palm to be flat against it. Shi Qingxuan’s rapidly beating heart can be felt all the way down to his fingertips and yet that’s the only beat he can feel. Beneath his hand there is no heartbeat to be felt from the ghost king.
“It’s not that it’s fascinating.” He Xuan’s voice is filled with something fragile and soft as he leans forward to press his forehead into Qingxuan’s hair so that their heads can rest together. “I’m just savoring it. That’s all.”
Shi Qingxuan lets out a soft laugh of his own as he hears the other’s words. To savor something so simple as a heartbeat is such a modest desire. It causes Qingxuan’s chest to tighten as he soaks in the warmth of the action. His lips part and his tongue gently wets his lips as he wavers on the words that threaten to spill past his lips. A shy hesitance that leaves him dallying as he contemplates on if he should let them be spoken into the open air.
“... Then savor me, He-xiong.” The words are spoken out in a breath and he feels He Xuan pause beneath the brazen nature of those words. Qingxuan turns his head before he can get embarrassed by his own boldness and swallows that feeling by pressing his lips to He Xuan’s once more.
All hesitance is thrown out the window as He Xuan’s hand guides the fabric along the fallen god’s form to fall down his shoulders and show more of his skin. Claws draw shallowly against his skin causing red lines to rise in their wake until he’s able to get a hold upon Qingxuan’s waist to pull him directly onto his lap. The slight prick of pain causes Qingxuan’s lips to part in a gasp that is swiftly swallowed by another kiss, one that’s deeper and more certain than the last.
Years of sheltering and denial of something so human is peeled apart with the touch of He Xuan’s tongue against his own. It’s not as hungry as the kiss they shared once before but it is overwhelming, claiming, in its own right as each allowed touch seems reverently enjoyed by the Ghost King. The curl of his tongue catches and lures Qingxuan’s own to press with it, guiding, pressing as he cherishes this contact – treating Qingxuan as if he is something precious that he’s kept himself from until now.
The warmth of Qingxuan’s body pressing to He Xuan’s frigid form makes him shudder with the contrast and yet it only further spurns and stirs the budding fire that starts smoldering in his form. It’s as if two threads that had only ever run parallel to one another had finally been caught in the same needle and stitched into the same piece, intertwining them explicitly and making it impossible to unravel from the other.
He Xuan breaks the kiss first to draw his lips along the curve of his jaw and traces the hollow of Qingxuan’s throat. Soft kisses are pressed along every inch of the exposed skin leaving a chilled path down his neck. Each kiss is measured, placed with such intentional precision that it all but burns the memory of his touch into Qingxuan’s mind. Lips part and allow teeth to trail back up to the delicate skin beneath the former Wind God’s ear. They press down along the pulse point there earning another soft gasp as warm fingers curl and press against a frigid, still, chest.
Breath ghosts along his ear as he feels He Xuan exhale against it while claws drag along his stomach until they reach the sash tying his robes together. “Doing alright?” His voice had dipped to a deeper tone, something more raw than it’d been mere moments ago and Qingxuan has to bite down hard on his lower lip to keep down the little noise that almost squeaked out at the combined sensations.
“Yep!” He squeaks out after a moment before clearing his throat and drawing his hand away from He Xuan’s chest, “Yep,” He tries again in attempts to make his voice sound more even and level than he currently feels, “You can keep going, I’m alright.” His own hand starts gently pulling at the front collar of He Xuan’s shirt to draw it apart and let it hang loosely from his elbows.
Teal eyes briefly flick down to get a glimpse of the exposed skin before they quickly avert away as a newfound fluster settles through him. He gives a harsh swallow and draws his hand quickly away from the ghost king’s skin to tangle through inky black locks instead. He curls strands along his fingers to lock himself to the other man while he anchors himself to the man in order to keep himself from chickening out.
“Mn. If it gets to be too much just say something.” He Xuan keeps his voice low but it rumbles with a restrained intensity. Still his fingers, despite the threat of claws, move carefully and trail along the edge of the sash in a delicate reassurance.
It takes a moment for Qingxuan to find any semblance of his voice and even then all he can manage out is an unsteady and all too soft, “I will.”
There’s a hum from He Xuan to signify he heard him but he doesn’t part his lips to speak again. Instead they resume their path downward following the expanse of his neck. They linger against his collarbone, punctuating the start of a new path by dragging his teeth over the thin skin there. Qingxuan’s hand tightens unconsciously in He Xuan’s hair and a shaky breath is ripped from him with a faint lilted noise wavering from his lips.
He feels the way He Xuan’s lips pause for a moment as a smile stretches along Qingxuan’s shoulder. It’s as if each new noise from Qingxuan is a new morsel to be savored and drunk down by the other man, tasted on his tongue and enjoyed before he can continue on his path forward.
Measured kisses are placed slowly over the bared curve of his shoulder that is left vulnerable from where robes had fallen loose. Teeth sink down into the skin where He Xuan had bitten him once before and Qingxuan’s body jerks as a tempered moan is ripped from him. The rush of heat that rockets through his form leaves his head swimming for a moment as it seers his veins before curling down low in his core. His thighs tremble around He Xuan’s hips as his hand tenses and graze along the supreme’s scalp in a vain attempt at retaliation from the sudden shock.
Claws finally dig just beneath the sash and languidly start pulling at the linen until it begins to give beneath his insistent touches. It loosens slowly as the faint sound of claws sliding along fabric fills the spaces of silence between Qingxuan’s gasps and the faint press of He Xuan’s lips to his skin.
He releases the fabric when it falls free and pools down around Qingxuan’s hips leaving his chest fully revealed. He Xuan’s fingers curl so that claws are kept away from skin and cold fingertips take their place in tracing along Qingxuan’s abdomen. Each new space of skin that is brushed by their touch tenses every so slightly before his body relaxes and softens as it grows used to the new touch.
“Qingxuan.” The way his name falls so amorously from He Xuan’s lips causes his entire body to quiver with a newfound anticipation. A rush of icy air is exhaled along his shoulder as He Xuan sighs, “You’re shaking.”
A soft nervous laughter leaves his form as his free hand comes up to idly fiddle with the edge of He Xuan’s sleeve. “Hah... I’m just not used to this. It’s a lot to process at one time.” His words are barely a whisper as he lets his head drop. With his head lowered long locks fall free and curtain most of his face leaving it hidden from view. “I’ll get used to it.”
There’s a breath where all movement and ministrations seem frozen in time.
Claws trail along his jaw until his chin is cradled tenderly by slender, elegant, digits. The grip tightens ever so slightly as his face is guided back upwards and turned towards the supreme so that their eyes can meet.
He Xuan’s expression holds a tenderness that barely conceals the simmering want as he draws his gaze along Qingxuan’s features. He traces his thumb up along his chin until it presses softly to his lower lip and delicately brushes along his lower lip in a thoughtful and apprehensive motion. “We don’t have to rush this. I’m content with what you’re able to give, regardless of how it’s given.”
Despite the considerate words Qingxuan can’t bring himself to turn a blind eye to that molten want hiding behind a clear amber gaze.
Shi Qingxuan exhales as he makes an attempt to ease some of the tension in his form. He hasn’t felt pressured in this situation and each step forward has been met by pause and consideration from the man currently cradling him. There are still nerves that gnaw at him that stem from anxiety built on inexperience, but that feeling can only be cured by plucking away every learned bit of innocence that has sheltered him from bodily wants.
“No I…” He tries to turn his head away and finds that grip on his chin unrelenting and forcing his expression and flushed features to remain seen. “I want to.” It’s hardly a whisper and he draws in another breath to try again. “I want to, He Xuan.”
The stare that’s leveled on his face is intense and unwavering for a moment as amber eyes narrow ever so slightly. There’s a long moment of pause before He Xuan pauses and leans forward to press a soft, lingering, kiss to Qingxuan’s lips. “Mn. Just tell me to stop if it becomes too much.”
Qingxuan can only manage a shallow nod while he’s pressed so close to the other’s form and fingers gently start carefully untangling from He Xuan’s hair. It’s a small thing, a thing that should be normalized when sharing affection, but having that ability to be able to drag everything to a halt is reassuring. It allows some of the tension in his shoulders to ease away as he turns his head and presses his cheek into He Xuan’s palm.
It’s like having a safety net spread beneath him waiting to catch him lest panic rises and he ends up in a free fall. A promise that the fallen God still has some control over the situation and gets the final say on what he is or is not willing to do.
He Xuan gives a final stroke of his thumb along Qingxuan’s chin before his hands dip down to start rolling the linen fabric off of Qingxuan’s arms until he can slide it fully from his form. He takes a moment to fold it up into a neat square and shifts back to lay it on the mat.
Amber eyes rake over Qingxuan’s form with a heat damn near emanating from just that stare alone. It pulls another small laugh from Qingxuan as he draws his arms slightly over his form and leaves his fingers to trace down along the mess of scars that span from his elbow down to the knuckles of his left hand. There’s no sleeve he can tug to try and cover the marks that have yet to fade, no way to hide the jagged edges of a pain that once consumed him.
A clawed hand pulls his own away and he finds his arm lifted so that He Xuan can press a kiss to the skin that holds every proof of his mortality upon it. Qingxuan’s body is shifted backwards until his head falls to press into folded linen and leaves him laid back with the Ghost King between his legs. His arm aches at being held up like this as it’s stretched out more than the permanently damaged bones and joints wish to be. It earns a faint grimace from Qingxuan as he tugs softly at the grip until it’s released from the loose grip that He Xuan kept on it.
His arm falls to the straw mat with a soft noise while Qingxuan tries to adjust to the new position he’s in. Hips shift slightly and brush along He Xuan’s and the jolt of contact earns a heavy gasp that catches in his throat and leaves him scrambling and clenching his thighs around the other’s hips sub consciously.
It becomes blatantly aware to Shi Qingxuan just how vulnerable he is now that he has He Xuan above him like this. Arms cage around him with fingers splayed wide and black tinged claws pressing into straw - it’s like being loomed over by a tidal wave that is mere moments from crashing down into his form. He feels as though he’s being suspended in some moment of peace while his body processes that the only thing separating them is a few layers of clothing that are all too easy to remove.
His throat bobs once in a hard swallow under the intensity of the stare leveled upon him. He’s being devoured with a look, consumed by a deep seated hunger that has been lingering just below the surface of dark waters. It’s a look that makes his entire body feel flush and makes his heart pound like it’s trying to beat its way free from his chest.
He Xuan’s fingers brush along his cheek before claws catch on a few strands of hair, lifting them up and smoothing it into place amidst the rest in an act of reverence. “You’re beautiful like this.” They’re spoken with such an unabashed assurance that it causes Qingxuan’s mind to briefly forget the situation he’s found himself in. Instead lips can only part around half formed words that fumble and come out in a garble of noise that is somewhere between protest and a startled laugh.
“You can’t just-” He starts and stops three more times before finally finding his ability to speak once more, “Don’t just say things like that!” He presses a hand to He Xuan’s chest and gives a half-hearted shrug as if trying to shove away the compliment entirely. He’s no stranger to being praised for his looks and not afraid to soak them up to fuel his own ego; but they’ve never been leveled on him in such a manner, never been offered between shared breaths and the close intimacy of someone that truly knows him.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. Embarrassing beyond belief and yet so terribly longed for.
There’s a soft scoff before he’s curtained by inky locks as lips gently peck at his own, “As you wish. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.” His words are laced with a taunting challenge, as if silently probing the other man to see how long he can last without praise being lavishly given to him. “Still doing okay?”
Qingxuan groans and lets his hand catch on the sash that had been only loosely tied along He Xuan’s shirt and pulls it free with a sharp tug. “Just pull the bandage off already before I change my mind.” He grumbles and turns his head away from the other man in a petulant huff. He appreciates the other man being slow with him, appreciates the tentative dip into each new position and each new action, but the longer he draws this out the easier it becomes for Qingxuan to talk himself out of his own want.
A snort sounds and he watches as He Xuan pulls himself back and tosses it aside, “Bossy.” There’s an unmistakable gratification that laces through his words, “If I’d known impatient looks this good on you I’d have started teasing you like this a century or so ago.”
A huff is given from Qingxuan but he promptly keeps his mouth shut lest he open it and wind up saying something ridiculous or feeding this cruel enjoyment that He Xuan is getting from his internal suffering. He’s barely holding on to his dignity as it is and if he makes a fool of himself further he may just curl in on himself and try to escape from reality for a while.
Instead he tries to focus on the feeling of the claws ghosting over his ribs and down his abdomen, tracing along every line and curve of Shi Qingxuan’s chest as if he’s trying to map out every inch of his body. It causes his body to tense instinctively as those frigid fingers cause a prickling buzz through his form that contrasts against the coiled heat in his form that already feels like it’s going to consume him whole.
His body shudders as a wet swipe of He Xuan's tongue traces along his sternum and breaks into kisses that ghost over his nipple. There’s an involuntary jerk of his hips forwards, impatient and caving to want beneath such a simple ministration. He Xuan’s breath chills along his chest in a scoff of a laugh before teeth sink down hard around sensitive skin.
A moan is ripped from Qingxuan’s throat and the hand along his abdomen presses him down to keep his hips from being able to rise without risking claws piercing into soft flesh. The reddened flesh from that heady bite is soothed by a swipe of a tongue that encircles his nipple and only serves to draw a whine from the former Wind God. Every action feels like it’s been amplified by ten sending bursts of heat through him as lips and teeth mark a path down to the simple pants that hang from Qingxuan’s hips.
He Xuan’s body shifts down the mat until his head is settled between thighs. Teal eyes are treated to the sight of amber eyes staring up at him as lips hover along the dip of his hips and all thoughts empty from his mind as his lips fall open. All he can focus on now is the image before him and the soft brushing of breath along his heated skin causing his body to jerk slightly and hips to squirm against the mat.
Hands hook up along his thighs as the ghost between them leans back and starts drawing the fabric free from his form and exposes the untouched skin of his thighs. He Xuan makes a note to give more support to his injured leg as he pulls his legs free from the confines of his pants and leaves him bared and fully on display for the other’s eyes to sweep across.
Every part of Qingxuan’s form tells him to drop his hands or pull his thighs together but he stamps down that feeling. Instead he lets his body be viewed in a way that makes him burn with anticipation and want. There’s a sense of pride in the way He Xuan draws a breath in and curls his nails into his thighs as he stares down at him. He doesn’t miss the faint sweep of his tongue along his lips before the ghost king steels himself and closes his eyes in an attempt at restraint.
“I’m giving you the warning now that this is going to be uncomfortable at first. If you don’t want to deal with that I can give you a bit of energy to shift into your female form.” His eyes stay closed as he speaks but there is a faint tremor to his hands as claw tips break skin and cause the scent of blood to fill the space between them.
Qingxuan starts shaking his head before he lets out a small laugh, “No… no it’s alright, I want to stay like this for the first time.” First time, as if he’s already accepted that this indulgence will happen more than just this one experience. As if he knows that once they step over the edge that there is no going back to what once was.
This is a door that can’t be closed.
“If you’re sure.” He Xuan guides his hips back down to the straw mat and pulls himself free from Qingxuan’s form as he stands. It allows Qingxuan to get his first glimpse at how their actions had impacted the other man as he unabashedly eyes the bulge that strains against He Xuan’s pants. It causes his own length to twitch against his chest and his legs immediately close now that there isn’t a ghost king between them to keep them open.
He follows He Xuan’s movements around the room as he starts searching through cabinets until he pulls out a bottle from the very back of the shelf. A bottle that Qingxuan can’t recall seeing before now and his brows raise up. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see, don’t think too hard about it.”
He Xuan pulls the ties free of his own pants and leaves them off to the side and Qingxuan is quick to turn his gaze directly to the ceiling. His cheeks burn as a newfound warmth spreads across them. How embarrassing that he can’t even bring himself to glance at He Xuan’s full form without wanting to hide his face and wiggle with distress like he’s some flustered teen.
“Qingxuan part your legs before I do it for you.” He Xuan taps at his thighs and draws a fingertip along his inner thigh. Teal eyes flick down and stare at the small motion and there’s a faint furrow that pulls at his brows as he realizes that the other man had masked his hand so that it no longer had curled, sharp, claws.
There’s a click of tongue to the back of teeth before his thighs are grabbed and pulled apart as He Xuan slots himself between them once more. It draws a flustered scramble of words from Qingxuan and he throws his arm over his eyes to hide some of the flush on his features.
“I warned you. Drop your arm.”
He doesn’t budge as he presses his head back further into the folded linen clothing that currently served to support his head.
“Fine.” Fingers wrap around his wrist and it’s drawn down from his face. There’s a flurry of movement as Qingxuan feels his body lifted up and his arm forced beneath his own lower back and pinned in place by his own body weight. “Don’t move your arm from there.”
“And if I don’t listen?” The command in He Xuan’s tone draws out a bit of indignance from the former god as he shoots him a glare that barely has any true heat behind it. Said glare is met with an indifferent expression before He Xuan rolls his eyes and picks up Qingxuan’s sash from the floor and picks up Qingxuan’s other hand and starts winding the fabric along his wrist. Once he’s certain it’s secure he gives it a yank and forces his arm up causing a surge of pain to shoot down his arm.
“I’d rather not have to tie your hands beneath you, but I will.”
Oh.
Oh.
Well that is certainly a new feeling that rushes through him as his length gives a little twitch against his stomach. A movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by He Xuan as his lips curl up and flash a bit of sharpened canines from beneath his lips. “Unless you want me to, that is.”
“No no no no, haha ah… this is fine! I’ll keep my hand right here, no worries at all ahah.” He doesn’t have time to unpack the feelings that smile and the promise to be tied up has on him but he’ll figure it out at a later date. For now it’s probably best he puts a pin in it to address at a later date.
He Xuan just gives a shrug and lowers Qingxuan’s hand back to the mat before sliding down between his legs and uncorks the bottle he brought with him. A shudder goes down his spine as he feels the drip of something slick and cold slide between the cleft of his ass and seeps over his entrance. Teal eyes blow wide as he looks down at He Xuan lips already parted to ask a question before he promptly shuts them as digits drag through it and circles around his entrance.
The touch is soothing and slow but it does little to ease the tension that’s caused Qingxuan’s thighs to press hard into the other man’s shoulders. Lips press to his thigh and ghost over the skin as He Xuan speaks, “Relax. You’re alright.” His tone is strained and rife with an almost lascivious rumble within each word.
Shi Qingxuan may not make it out of this situation alive if He Xuan keeps talking to him like that. It’s both comforting and terribly alluring and Qingxuan isn’t sure if he should fall apart or melt. Either way he is not keeping it together through this, if he can still form a coherent thought when this is done it’ll be an actual miracle. Still he does his best to relax as he feels kisses pressed to his thighs and focuses on the occasional catch of teeth on flesh that is soothed over even as red marks start blooming along pale skin.
A single finger finally presses past his entrance and Qingxuan’s thighs press hard against He Xuan as a noise of discomfort comes through clenched teeth. Movements still immediately as He Xuan’s other hand strokes up along his outer thigh and along his hip to give a soft squeeze of reassurance.
He gives Qingxuan a few ticks of patience before he presses that digit further into him and curls it to drag along his walls as he keeps his pace slow. Qingxuan meets his eyes as his breaths slowly start to ease, letting the discomfort start to fade as he watches He Xuan be surprisingly gentle with him even as he quickly finds himself out of his depth. It’s only when his little huffs of discomfort fade into shuddered breaths being drawn in through parted lips does another finger press in alongside the first.
His stomach tenses again but that rush of tension fades quicker as his body seems to accept that the feeling isn’t unwelcome. He still flinches slightly when fingers spread in him but when fingers curl and press against a spot inside him it quickly erases any of the pain from his mind. A moan leaves him as his back arches slightly off the mat and his head and shoulders press down against the linen supporting him.
Hips start rolling to meet his hand leaving the other’s strokes to slowly pick up speed as an obscene slick sound starts to echo in time with Qingxuan’s drawn out moans. He finds himself gasping between moans as He Xuan adds another finger and stretches him apart further soothing each new sting with a pointed press against that bundle of nerves in him that makes his rolling hips jolt and walls to clench around his fingers.
Reassurances are muttered against his thigh as hips start to stutter and moans become fragmented. He can’t keep his body from squirming as the sensation starts to become overwhelming leaving his neglected length to drool with precum. Noises roll one into another as he groans and shakes his head out as he feels something winding tighter within him leaving his freed hand to scramble and reach towards He Xuan in an attempt to find something solid to grab.
He feels like he’s dying, like there’s some dreadful anticipation that’s consuming him whole as his body races towards a swift end.
Fingers suddenly pull themselves free from his form and the whine that leaves him at the sudden stop of stimulation sounds far too lewd for his liking. Long dark lashes are wet from unshed tears as he lifts his head slightly to meet He Xuan’s eyes with brows furrowed in confusion. All he manages out is a quiet ‘Why?’ as his heartbeat pounds in his ears and his body seems to be forced out of that budding high.
Instead of answering, the hand that’s on his hip shifts back down his thigh to hike it up onto He Xuan’s shoulder as he pulls himself back up to lower himself over Qingxuan’s form. His leg protests at the sudden flex and his leg twitches as his knee gets hooked along the expanse of his shoulder leaving the lower half of his leg to press along his back. Kisses are peppered on his neck with lips sealing along pulse points and teased with tongue and teeth until they rip a noise from Qingxuan’s lips.
He Xuan’s hand moves between their bodies and his hips shift slightly until Qingxuan can feel the head of his cock press against him. “I know this is a big ask for you but try not to make too much noise. The people here aren’t deaf and these walls aren’t that thick.”
Qingxuan gives an insulted gasp in and his unpinned arm comes up to tangle in inky locks ready to pull at He Xuan’s hair and curse every single vile word he knows at the other man but that plan is rapidly thrown out the window. Teeth sink down hard into his shoulder as He Xuan presses into him and his fingers quickly grip into He Xuan’s hair for dear life as lips part around a silent moan. There’s no breath in his lungs, no ability to force air into his lungs, and instead he just feels as though he’s suddenly much too full.
A few stray tears trail down his cheeks as the pressure that had been building in him finally cracks and leaves his body to tremble and try to adjust to the feeling of the other man within him.
He tries to focus on He Xuan’s face as he lifts his head, eyes flitting down to the blood on his lips before teal eyes trail up to meet the other’s eyes. He Xuan’s pupils are extremely dilated leaving only a ring of amber to be seen around them before they constrict down. “Qingxuan, I’m really going to need you to not cry right now.” He breathes out and drops his head so that their foreheads press together.
“Ahah... what? Sorry- does it bother you?” He stammers nervously around his words as he closes eyes and tries to will away the tears. He can’t help it, his mind and body both are overstimulated and this is the result of it.
“The opposite. Get yourself together.” It comes out harsh and out of place compared to the gentle treatment and reassurances he’d been given only a few moments prior. Qingxuan, however, can’t find any heat behind it and instead catches the way He Xuan’s jaw is clenched and feels the way his hand is gripping along his thigh as if clinging on to a thread of patience.
“Sorry I don’t know… haah if I can do that right now.” His walls clench around him as nails bite further into his thigh pricking new little crescent marks that quickly beads crimson around fingertips. “It’s not something I can just turn off.”
There’s a growl of impatience as He Xuan rolls his hips forwards and presses fully into Qingxuan in one motion. His hips are hiked up slightly to change the angle as he draws himself back slowly. Bloodied lips press along Qingxuan’s jaw until he captures his lips in an ensanguined kiss that leaves the leaves the taste of copper on his tongue. His mind recoils slightly at the way the scent and taste of blood invades his senses but he can’t find it in himself to even begin to panic as He Xuan presses back into him with a snap of his hips.
A moan is punched out of Qingxuan and is caught on the lips of the ghost king as he sets a punishing pace. Qingxuan can’t even begin to try and move his hips to keep up with the motion and instead can only grip harder on dark locks as he tugs at the strands roughly. He can vaguely hear himself crying out ‘He-xiong’ in rapid succession in an attempt to plead with him, but the pleas only come out as strangled moans.
The quick pace and harsh slap of skin to the back of his thighs does nothing to stop the tears as they fall down his cheeks. He clings tightly to He Xuan as he forces his head up to press his face into the other man’s shoulder as he muffles his moans against his shoulder as the cool skin soothes some of the heat on his face. At least like this he can keep the noises that keep from getting too loud and risk anyone overhearing him.
He Xuan’s body shifts to press harder down on Qingxuan’s form leaving his leg to stretch further and the new angle strikes directly against that spot within him. Pathetic noises fall from his lips in time with each thrust and vibrate against He Xuan’s skin. His walls clench tight around him as he feels that sense of foreboding creep up his form as his body tenses. This time He Xuan’s actions show no sign of stopping and instead keeps hammering into that spot that’s sending sparks through his body.
And with his inexperience and denial of amorous vices it’s like sparking a flint into dried kindling. It causes a wildfire in his entire being that makes his eyes flutter and his spine to arch him forward in He Xuan’s hold.
Try as he might, even biting into He Xuan’s shoulder does nothing to stifle the noise that leaves him as he teeters over the edge. He feels a warmth spread along his chest staining both he and He Xuan with it causing the skin that touches there to be smeared with it. His entire body alternates between tensing and gripping along He Xuan’s length and a satisfied feeling that urges him to go limp and simply savor the feeling.
But He Xuan keeps a tight grip on him as his movements slow and he draws Qingxuan back slightly to watch his expression. He’s sure that he looks a mess, his hair mused and eyes unfocused with lips puffy and red from repeated kisses. His skin feels slick and sticky at the same time and far too flushed and hot that is only slightly eased by the chill that radiates off of the ghost king’s form.
His hand comes up to brush a few stray tears from his cheek as his thrusts become uneven, slower but no less tormenting as each movement makes Qingxuan ride out the orgasm that has left him feeling boneless. There’s one more harsh thrust before He Xuan lets out a soft moan around a stuttered breath then stills leaving Qingxuan’s body tense as an uncomfortable sense of fullness settles into him once more.
They stay like that, a mess of sweat slicked skin and heavy pants that mingle with each other’s and unfocused eyes gazing almost blankly at each other. A soft kiss pressed to Qingxuan’s jaw breaks some of that daze as He Xuan moves to guide his leg off of its perch on his shoulder and pulls the hand free from his hair. There’s a genuine attempt to get the former god as comfortable as he can against the straw mat but as the daze fades it’s hard to find comfort in anything.
He feels sticky, gross, and sore all over. The places that He Xuan had dug claws and teeth into pulse with a new ache that is only eclipsed by the discomfort between his legs. A discomfort that is worsened when He Xuan pulls back and he feels empty and embarrassed by the feeling of slickness spreading along his thighs.
He Xuan runs a hand through his hair and slowly stands up moving to snatch up his discarded pants and top and throws them on. “Stay here, I’m going to go get some water and a cloth.”
Qingxuan’s head tilts to the side to glance at He Xuan with a lidded gaze, “Yeah I don’t think you have to worry about me running off right now.” He deadpans and gives a soft laugh, “I don’t think I could move right now even if I tried.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He Xuan flashes a saint smile before he makes for the door, fixing his attire slightly and pulls up the guise of Yang Shui once more leaving him to look as though nothing happened in the back of a former temple.
Horror settles in Qingxuan’s form as he finally processes what he just did and where. His eyes clench closed and his nose wrinkles up. This has to be some form of sacrilege, right? There has to be some rule against sleeping with someone on what was once a holy ground. He can only hope that whatever afterlife he goes to when he dies is understanding and gives him a pass because this temple was partially his own.
He doesn’t want to think about who the other half of the temple was dedicated to right now. He doesn’t need another note of shame hanging over his head.
He Xuan isn’t gone long as he returns with a basin filled with water, a bar of soap made with pine sap, and two cloths. Qingxuan cracks an eye open to look at him as he leans down and places the towel in the warm water before slowly dragging it over his skin in an all too tender motion. He’s not quite sure what to say to him now or where all of that has left them, but the need to fill silence hangs awkwardly in the air.
“How are you holding up?” He Xuan breaks it for him and offers a sidelong glance before he continues working the cloth over his body pausing to alternate between rewetting the cloth and sliding the bar of soap along his skin.
“Everything hurts.”
“Mn. Sorry about that.”
Qingxuan laughs tiredly as he turns his head to hide his smile against the folded robe beneath his head, “It’s okay.” He pauses a moment before he looks up at He Xuan through lashes that are still wet and clumped together. “So about the crying thing?”
“Let’s stop talking for a while.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ☼ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
A scream cuts through the air the next morning forcing Qingxuan to shift and stir, leaning back against the cold form behind him. His eyes blearily blink open and he glances down at his now dressed form with a black clawed hand thrown over his waist in a gentle hold. His face scrunches up as he tries to shift and feels his body ache in response.
Memories of last night flood back to him and Qingxuan’s hand comes up to press to his face as his brain scrambles between embarrassment and giddy happiness.
Those mix of feelings don’t last as another scream pierces the air and activity picks up outside the temple. Several voices rise one over the other with several different voices calling for ‘Ol Feng’ echoing back to him. He turns his head towards the front of the temple and his elbow jerks to hit He Xuan in the stomach. “He-xiong.” He turns his head to see the other man has barely cracked his eyes open. “Honestly how can you sleep through people screaming? Get up, help me up.”
He’s met with a soft grunt before He Xuan pulls himself up and drags Qingxuan up to his feet. His face is scrunched up with distaste, clearly displeased about being awoken before he truly wished to start the day. Teal eyes roll in disbelief as he limps - in a way that’s a bit more pronounced today than it normally is - towards the front of the temple.
His eyes squint as the mid morning light hits his eyes and noise assaults him all at once.
“Ol’ Feng! There you are! Hurry hurry.”
“Ol’ Feng there’s been some form of accident!”
“Get the children away, get the children away!”
He Xuan is by his side helping him down the steps with a hand as his back, already composed and masked for the day. He hesitates about halfway through the courtyard and his head turns slightly towards Qingxuan before he releases him and mutters a soft ‘stay here’ before slipping between bodies that had been waiting outside.
Qingxuan’s lips purse at the sudden shift in his demeanor and elects to follow after him bumping into frantic bodies that seem to be taking shelter in the temple or moving further down the street to avoid something near the entrance to the street the community occupies.
He finds Popo standing a bit away from the group and he pauses, placing a hand to her shoulder, “Popo what’s happened? Why is everyone panicking?”
She turns her head to him with a pained expression spread across her features. “Ol’ Feng, I’m so sorry.” His brows furrow slightly hearing those words lips already parting to question her before she continues, “It’s Hao Yichen.”
He smells it then, that familiar coppery scent laced with something sweet and vile all the same. Like a piece of meat that had been left out in the sun too long and was already swarmed with carrion birds. He hobbles towards the end of the street leaving Popo by herself as he catches up to where He Xuan is standing staring at something that sat directly in the middle of the cobblestone pathway.
Shi Qingxuan reaches a hand out to grab his sleeve as he steadies himself against his form and turns his attention towards the sunbleached stones that are now peppered with splatters of rusted red.
His pupils shrink as he catches sight of fine cloth sullied and stained and flesh that had been torn down to bone and shredded leaving muscle exposed.
A hand grips his shoulder and his entire body is turned leaving his vision to fill with black cloth and brown leather. “Don’t look.” He Xuan’s words come out stern as he keeps his gaze focused on the body that was already rotting beneath the summer heat. Even with his head turned towards the ghost king he can still smell the bloom of rot and hear the faint buzzing of flies that swarm the remains.
“Is it…?”
“Mn. It’s Hao Yichen.”
Qingxuan’s shoulders start to shake as he leans into He Xuan slightly to press his forehead against his chest and wills himself to breathe in the scent of salt air and earth in attempts to drown out the other scents that haunt him. It couldn’t have been He Xuan, he’d been with He Xuan the entire night and had been quite occupied with one another in the process. Hao Yichen also hadn’t done anything worth being slaughtered over, especially not in a way that leaves him torn to pieces and left on display for the entire community to see.
He Xuan wouldn’t put on that much of a show for a petty kill.
“It wasn’t me.” He Xuan says sternly and gently gives Qingxuan’s form a soft squeeze.
“I know.”
Notes:
It only took 80k words for them to actually resolve the sexual tension
also rip Hao Yichen probably the least favorite character that has ever spawned from my head
Small Update: Unfortunately and accidentally sent part of the smut in this chapter to a publishing house as a profile piece. Got hired. Hiring Manager if you search up my sample piece and find this I'm so sorry.
But hey, failed my way into a job
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