#wonder if that was when feng xin started spending more time in the mortal realm

[wy-01]

IN THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING DAWN

FANDOM: TGCF PAIRING: feng xin/mu qing Crossposted from Twitter! Based off Chapter 14 of the manhua.

p r e v i e w

His eyes sweep over Mu Qing's bloodied robes again, as if Mu Qing hasn't already assured them of his lack of injury. It's more endearing than annoying, and the fondness that floods him almost catches him by surprise.

There's something about the smell of an early-morning forest that never fails to lift Mu Qing's spirits. He breathes in deeply, the cool air refreshing as it always is. Mist hangs in the air like a thin veil as he walks, enjoying the rare moment of quiet. Sunrise shivers through the thick cover of tree leaves, light falling to the soft earth in dappled circles.

It's been a busy night, and the little inconveniences everywhere have ruined what could have been an exhilarating fight.

Not to mention Night-touring Green Lantern's specialty hanging corpse forest... It's not so much alarming as it is annoying. Mu Qing is covered in coagulating blood, tangled his hair and soaking through his robes and drying on his face. It reeks. Disgusting.

Despite the peace around him, the adrenaline thrumming under his skin is slow to dissipate as he heads back to Ming Guang Hall.

Dead leaves crunch underfoot, still glistening with morning dew. Mu Qing picks up his pace as he approaches the old temple's wall, well aware that he's taken longer than expected to return. He rubs half-dried blood off his face with a sleeve; either way, this set of robes will have to be disposed of after they return to the Heavens.

From the outside, General Pei's temple walls look like something out of an ancient scripture, all crumbling tiles and mossy, vine-covered walls. Once-vibrant red glaze has faded to a dull brick colour, and the words carved into the walls have long lost their golden shine. Mu Qing pauses for a moment to stare at the leaves crawling over a particular engraving by the side-door. It's meant to ward off evil and danger, no doubt the mortals' way of making themselves feel safer. As if writing words on a wall will keep a building safe from the monsters that roam the world.

(Note about the engraving: I wanted to say it's a 贺语, but there's no English translation that I could find, so I described its purpose instead.)

He sighs, pushing past the heavy metal doors to enter the temple. Two rows of corpses greet him, covered in the fresh red of marriage robes. Mu Qing glances past them, to the sunlit sight of Feng Xin and His Highness, watching him with twin expressions of shock and worry.

Needless, especially now that they're all immortals. It's not as if a little bit of blood will kill him. He studiously pushes away the blooming warmth that pools in his chest at the alarm on Feng Xin's face.

"You're injured?" Xie Lian blurts out, at the same time that he says, 'It's not my blood.'

Feng Xin is silent. Mu Qing bites back a smile.

"Where did you go that you ended up like this, then?"

Mu Qing can't help but roll his eyes at the memory - irritating, like everything else about this trip down to the mortal realm. Feng Xin is still staring at him with a strange expression, brows furrowed, his hazel eyes soft in the morning light. His eyes sweep over Mu Qing's bloodied robes again, as if Mu Qing hasn't already assured them of his lack of injury. It's more endearing than annoying, and the fondness that floods him almost catches him by surprise.

Beside Feng Xin, Xie Lian is like a beacon, red robes glowing in the sun, his face pale like a ghost and lips red like a woman's. His hair is gold in the sunlight. Mu Qing, frankly, has had enough of wedding-themed colours for the day.

"I went north after exiting the temple gates, in hopes of leading those demon brides away, but I ended up encountering a corpse forest."

Feng Xin's eyes widen and his eyebrows do something funny - like they're trying to rise up to his hairline and furrow down over his eyes at the same time. His voice, when he speaks, is hurried and harsh, halfway between a whisper and a shout.

"An upended hanging corpse forest?!"

His Highness' confusion is palpable.

xxx

By the time they return, the sun is high in the sky, and the scratches Mu Qing received from the demon brides have all but healed completely. He needs a bath. The stench of blood clings to him like the ugliest kind of lotus paste.

(Disclaimer: I love lotus paste. But it really is very sticky sometimes.)

Feng Xin trails after him, all the way back to his palace.

He pauses at the gates to glare at his - friend? rival? comrade? - only for Feng Xin to stare impassively back. It's been their routine for years. Go on a mission, return triumphant and high off the thrill of battle, clean up afterwards. Sometimes they do it together. Sometimes Feng Xin can't stand Mu Qing's eye-rolls and they part with bickering that's long become more familiar than malicious.

"You got injured, didn't you," Feng Xin says. His lips are set in a stubborn frown.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes.

"So you can see through clothes now, is that it?" When Feng Xin doesn't rise to the bait, he turns and heads towards the bathhouse. (Feng Xin doesn't need any cue to follow. They've walked this path too many times for him not to know what happens next.)

The halls of his palace are silent but for their footsteps, faint shadows trailing after them as the wind ruffles the gauzy curtains that keep out the heat. Neither of them speak.

When Mu Qing chose the location of his palace, he'd wanted a location that was self-sufficient enough not to require many servants. This meant: a flowing stream, adjacent to a hot spring, was the source of his bathwater. His bathhouse was built directly atop it, and water was pumped up into a small pool, which was drained into the gardens after every use. Mu Qing thought it was a work of art. Feng Xin took every chance to mock it.

This time, they are both uncharacteristically quiet. Xie Lian's return has Mu Qing thinking about the past again, the way they fell back into old habits so quickly. It has him thinking about whether the three of them have a future together, still, even after all this time.

Hell if he knows what goes on in Feng Xin's head, though.

xxx

They're already naked, Mu Qing gingerly scrubbing the dried blood from his face, his back turned to Feng Xin, when one of them starts talking again.

"Do you ever wonder what we'd be like, if not for His Highness?" Feng Xin's voice is close, almost right at his ear. His words are only slightly louder than a whisper. They don't quite echo in the dimly-lit bathhouse, but where his volume increases, words carry over the water's surface, too loud in the sudden silence.

Do you ever wonder, he asks, as if Mu Qing doesn't count his blessings and think about what to do with them every day.

We, Feng Xin says, as if they're anything other than two people who can't stand each other at worst and unwilling acquaintances at best, as if Mu Qing doesn't hold him at arm's length. Even if Mu Qing holds everyone else a sword-length away, the distance still exists. It still means something.

"Shut up," Mu Qing says.

It's no surprise when Feng Xin grumbles and insults him, and this- this is familiar territory again. An introspective Feng Xin is not one he wants to deal with right now, or ever.

Feng Xin's past, and Mu Qing's future, are things that they don't talk about. They meet in the present, fight together and eat together and spend their time together and, sometimes, clean up after battle together. But that's the limit of their relationship; transient, two people whose worlds collided by coincidence, who continue to exist in tandem by coincidence. Mu Qing doesn't quite want to hope for anything different.

He startles when Feng Xin's hands find their way into his hair. A protest is on the tip of his tongue, but then Feng Xin's fingers dig gently into his head, and soap is being massaged into his scalp. His hands move in slow, circular motions, pressing at random pressure points. Mu Qing lets out a slow, quiet breath.

It isn't the first time Feng Xin has washed his hair for him. Mu Qing can't deny how comfortable it is to have someone else run their fingers through his hair, rub oils into it once it's clean.

When Feng Xin's touch slides down to his shoulders, Mu Qing allows it. He lets Feng Xin wash his back with his warm, calloused hands.

Like a servant, Mu Qing insists in his mind, though he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

They don't do anything other than bathe. Usually there would be some sort of verbal exchange, or a stupid competition, but today there is only the sound of running water from under the floorboards and the steady hands on his back, pulling gently on his arm, smoothing over his chest.

Mu Qing closes his eyes.

He can feel Feng Xin's presence like a rock, unmoving. Feng Xin's warm breath puffs over his skin when he leans in too close. A thumb brushes over a freshly-healed patch of his skin.

Who cares about fate, he thinks. Since we've met already, isn't whatever happens from now on our choice?

He blinks his eyes open; Feng Xin is staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Mu Qing finds Feng Xin's hands and pulls them away. He takes a step back.

"Are you that eager to become one of my Junior Officials?" he murmurs, trying for condescending and falling short.

"Do you let all your Junior Officials do this with you?" Feng Xin's expression darkens.

"No," Mu Qing says, turning away. "No, only you."

END

#fengqing #tgcf #mu qing #feng xin #hob #heaven official's blessing #ff