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aidoftheservant · 1 year

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Lament of Xuan Zhen

Some four hundred years after his ascension, the Middle Court finally noticed the morose ritual that overtook some villages in the Southwest once every few years. The people would avoid certain shrines, dress in white, and mostly spend their days in solitude, embrace whatever regrets they may have, and abandon their wits through alcohol come dusk.

It was such a strange celebration—strange because it was considered a celebration at all—that it took another century for the literature gods to officially associate the event with Xuan Zhen’s descent, which always occurred at the same time.

Mu Qing is a ruthless official in the celestial court. So much so that he schedules his breakdowns to take place away from the other gods.

Mortals are the first to notice, followed by the heavens, and then Xie Lian learns that Mu Qing is to blame for the renowned day of mental anguish.

Read on AO3 + view warnings/tags Keep reading for full fic on Tumblr.

Gods often have a plethora of associations. One of General Xuan Zhen’s lesser known attributes was that of lament.

It wasn’t something widely known or even acknowledged. It was more of a cultish belief than a generally accepted gnosis. However, Xuan Zhen never corrected it, which he is known to do if something ever displeases his character, so the association had some loose validity.

It wasn’t that the general broke the laws of the heavens. He never appeared before a mortal and always secluded himself in abandoned shrines. But the sheer waves of maddening grief that only increased as he rose to higher positions of power did cause some whispers of discontent among the gods of the heavens.

Because when the people were too engulfed in waves of sorrow, they increased their efforts to appease their martial god with greater boons and prayers, abandoning their local and major shrines temporarily.

So, though the event, as it were, wasn’t ground for reprimand, it certainly caused grievances among the southern gods.

The cultish practice was at least contained within a minor area and only lasted a single day, so the gods couldn’t lose face by complaining too much. Even if more devoted pilgrims would travel to these villages for the celebration specifically.

It was also good that the general refrained from tainting the heavens with such foul tension, so everyone begrudgingly let it be.

Xie Lian was a little surprised when he heard Ling Wen mention the celebration. He had heard of it; he had collected scraps in the area after all, but he had always fled far away long before the day arrived. He never attended.

But he still bit his lip as Ling Wen, per his request, dutifully recited some specifics about the rituals being performed that day. Xie Lian had avoided so much information about the event that it had entirely escaped him that the day was associated with Mu Qing. It didn’t immediately make sense to him, and Ling Wen only shrugged when she was questioned.

Ling Wen was cordial with most heaven officials, and this included Mu Qing. She was aloof and refused to say anything on the matter that was not confirmed.

The next person he approached for information would usually be San Lang. But as he walked to descend the heavens, he instead found himself in front of General Nan Yang’s palace.

The attendees easily allowed Xie Lian to enter, as they made him wait in a comfortable room while someone fetched their general.

Feng Xin entered the room with a solemn expression. Though his disposition toward Xie Lian was warm, Xie Lian wasn’t blind to the hesitation that he saw in the man’s eyes at that moment. “Your Highness,” he said.

Xie Lian smiled sheepishly and greeted him in return. Feng Xin definitely wasn’t pleased to see him, and it made Xie Lian regret coming over.

“It’s about the festival, right?” Feng Xin waited a moment before taking a seat in front of Xie Lian. A servant had silently served tea and left the moment the general entered the room.

“... I was unaware of it until just a few moments ago.” Xie Lian finally managed to say. What happened ? he wanted to ask. Why is Mu Qing’s grief a source of both veneration and celebration? What did he grieve so much over that it was an event?

Feng Xin looked him in the eyes for a moment before lowering his gaze. Even now, the habit of treating the Crown Prince with a respectful distance remains in their interactions. It made Xie Lian miss Nan Feng, who was much more likely to be free around him.

Nan Feng was free of the past in a way that Feng Xin never will be.

Xie Lian closed his eyes as he let out a breath. He always avoided the celebrations in the regions because of his own regrets. He feared being in the presence of a mourning heavenly official would set him off. To think that it was Mu Qing, of all people, who caused the commotion was uncomfortable.

Feng Xin was never afraid to be loud if he so desired. His actions, in turn, could be equally loud. So to have the man drink the tea while seated as stiff as a proper general with his expression carefully neutral, it made Xie Lian want to claw at his own seat from the anxiety it caused.

Xie Lian kept smiling, with a tad of appropriate sadness. Like he was discussing the regrettable but unavoidable passing of a beloved pet.

Feng Xin sighed into his cup. “Right,” he said. Because you’ve been gone so long, there is no way you are aware of every official’s oddity around here , is what he didn’t say. Xie Lian heard it anyway.

The general continued, “There’s really not much to say.” He frowned before schooling his expression back into neutrality. “Mu Qing descends to the mortal realm, stays there for a day, and then returns. The heavens hardly notice nowadays.” The frown returned, and Feng Xin’s efforts to smooth it out were unsuccessful.

"After all, even if he disappears for a moment, Xuan Zhen is never late to fulfill his duties," Feng Xin explains. “So who could complain?”

Xie Lian blinked at that. “How could they?” he wondered. “In a single day, work can’t pile up to the extent that it warrants complaining.”

“It can,” Feng Xin grumbled, his tone turning somewhat bitter. “Because on this day specifically, everyone sends in all their piling-up requests and minor inconveniences to Xuan Zhen’s palace. The paperwork would set the establishment back for a while if it weren’t for Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun’s tireless efforts to settle all matters within their deadlines.”

It wasn’t uncommon for gods to forgo rest so they could attend to their duties. It happened often enough and was treated as a matter of course for most.

But the idea that officials would put a greater burden on Mu Qing on the day that the mortals below celebrated his mourning seemed downright cruel. Xie Lian winced from it, and his eyes remained squinted shut for a brief moment.

He tried not to think about how Feng Xin may or may not have participated in this act of disdain, and he feared to ask. Feng Xin’s distant, painful expression said enough.

But, “I fear Mu Qing is rather shunned,” Xie Lian still let slip.

Feng Xin tilted his head a bit, alerting that he disagreed with Xie Lian and was debating on how to bring the news.

Xie Lian smiled wryly again. He missed Nan Feng.

“Not more so than plenty others,” Feng Xin hedged vaguely. He shook his head, thinking better of it. “Socially, he is disliked,” he corrected himself. “Professionally, he is seen as reliable. Truly, this tradition was once started to force him to refrain from causing a ruckus in the southern regions, but now it’s almost a day of convenience to the heavens.”

Mu Qing always had been disagreeable, and Xie Lian had equally always found great comfort in allowing the servant to take care of various tasks that sometimes were or weren’t appropriate for Mu Qing’s low upbringing.

In the Upper Court, Mu Qing was the same. Disliked by his peers, but undeniably capable.

Xie Lian always regarded that part of Mu Qing with anguish. He had hoped the boy would warm up to someone. If not for him, then maybe he’d be friends with Feng Xin. It was partially his intention back then, and it had begun to work. Before everything.

They were immortal, but that never meant that time was on their side. Even now, amidst all the turmoil, Feng Xin and Mu Qing mostly kept each other at arm’s length unless they hit one another.

Xie Lian tried to make himself as small a part of their lives as possible, so to catch himself going to Feng Xin for some support for something he himself didn’t understand felt wrong.

But San Lang couldn’t fix his problems here, just like Xie Lian could do little to alleviate San Lang’s burdens but simply be there for him.

Xie Lian couldn’t help his smile from saddening even more. He had San Lang now, at least. But neither Feng Xin nor Mu Qing seemed close with anyone except maybe the officials under their care.

“I went once,” Feng Xin said suddenly. He spoke quickly, as though he had meant to say it for a long time. He spoke without hesitation or breaks, as though it had been rehearsed. “Mu Qing selects a shrine at random and stays there for the day. His presence scares everyone off, but the village nearby would see it as a blessing to be chosen.”

Feng Xin glaringly failed to mention why he decided to go in the first place.

“I never saw or heard him. I didn’t approach.” Feng Xin’s expression soured to something close to anger. “As the legends go, Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun’s misery is enough to drive people mad if they come too close. They say one cultivator lost his mind for close to a year before he returned to his senses.”

Xie Lian drank his tea and said nothing.

So, Feng Xin continued unprompted. “The day is celebrated because the lands of the surrounding shrine were miraculously left fertile. They say that the general does this because he is grateful for the people's hospitality. Naturally, many of the shrines have since moved to secluded areas near farms for that reason. In the case that the general comes to their village’s shrine, the following harvest is guaranteed to be bountiful.”

Feng Xin muttered a curse under his breath and looked away. “The gall of that man.”

Xie Lian understood the anger and helplessness so apparent in Feng Xin’s expression.

After all, Mu Qing was not a god of the earth and couldn’t bless the land with fertility. The reason the land sprang to life was because a heavenly official had left some of their spiritual essence behind.

A bit of blood would usually not have that effect. Mu Qing, however, was an impressive cultivator in his mortal life, and as a martial god, he still kept to his vows. Though Mu Qing was a martial god, it couldn’t be forgotten that he was also one of the greatest cultivators of the heavens.

With that in mind, if a little more of this spiritual essence was left behind, it’s not impossible for it to affect the lands around it.

And if Mu Qing’s grief was as oppressive to the mind as Feng Xin implied, then it was also not unimaginable that some blood would be spilled while the god was in solitude.

Of course , this explained why Mu Qing’s grief was so celebrated. It explained why the people would send extra prayers of gratitude to a martial god instead of the gods that protected their lands and brought the rain.

Of course , this is why the gods would be displeased and bully Mu Qing on this day. Only for them to turn around and find the situation not entirely unpleasant when they’re appeased by Xuan Zhen’s efficiency.

Xie Lian had finished his cup but brought it to his lips again anyway. If only so, he’d have just another moment where he wouldn’t have to speak.

Eventually, he could only sigh. “I see.”

The years passed by without Xie Lian thinking much of the celebration in the Southwest. He speaks somewhat regularly with Mu Qing now, like he does with Feng Xin.

Sometimes he’d risk meeting with both Feng Xin and Mu Qing in a shared space. The attempts left him less likely to risk it again, but sometimes fate worked against his wishes. No matter how large the lands or how vast the heavens, they always met one another on a narrow road.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing both visited Xie Lian. On rare occasions, they’d end up visiting on the same day. Their interactions could be as simple as stiff greetings or exchanging information that rarely necessitates a face-to-face meeting.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing had taken it upon themselves to keep Xie Lian in touch with Heaven's business so that future meetings would go smoother than the ones before.

Once more, Xie Lian relied on them to keep him informed. He was grateful, but none of them could simply let kindness go. Every word, every silence, was loaded with grievances and hurts that not even centuries could dull.

Theirs was a tentative peace that reeked of things left unsaid and opportunities lost to time. Xie Lian wasn’t yet entirely sure if their situation was beneficial for any of them.

He would be happier if he could forget they existed, but the thought of never seeing them again was unbearable.

San Lang sat with him on days when Xie Lian would rather run away from these remnants of his past. It wasn’t ideal. Hua Cheng had his own pains associated with the generals, especially Mu Qing.

Xie Lian would sometimes refuse San Lang’s offer to come along. Both because an argument would become inevitable and because Xie Lian refused to become a package-deal.

San Lang found the idea very amusing but easily took it in stride. Xie Lian wasn’t as likely to simply disappear from his life as he used to be.

He did offer to become his package-deal often enough, which helped Xie Lian feel lighter each time.

Their peace was put to the test when Feng Xin showed up in the same manner as usual. But when he opened the door to his shrine to welcome him in, Xie Lian had to do a double-take.

Feng Xin wasn't disguised aside from masking his spiritual presence, but the simple white robes he wore made him look so wrong that Xie Lian didn't recognize him for a terrifying moment.

"I'm going," Feng Xin said.

Talking was something the three of them had started to learn to do more often, but it was true that some things didn't need to be said aloud.

Xie Lian smiled with sorrow. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. He didn’t need to prepare; he always wore white, after all.

Even with the short distance teleportation talismans, Xie Lian and Feng Xin only arrived at the correct village when the sun hung low in the sky.

The villagers indeed all wore white, so for once, Xie Lian didn’t stand out.

The robes were modest, some already dirty at the bottom from walking over the sand roads.

Xie Lian immediately noticed the discrepancies between reality and hearsay.

All the tales he heard from Ling Wen said the celebration was quite beloved and sought after by cultivators.

As if reading his mind, Feng Xin let out a bit of a wheeze. “Mu Qing chooses the village he goes to on a whim. Locals know their village is chosen when shrine owners inexplicably have tears running down their faces as they go about their duties.”

Xie Lian sighs. He didn’t like it. Not for the first time, he wondered what Mu Qing was up to with all of this. In a way, it was a relief that the south saw this spiritual torture as a blessing, but Xie Lian still felt conflicted.

“If it’s any consolation,” Feng Xin added with a scratch to his chin. “It’s seen as sort of a comedic thing. None of the owners described feeling sad.”

Though this day was meant to observe General Xuan Zhen’s lament, it was impossible to keep children from running in the streets in their mourning robes, toys in their hands, and laughing loudly.

Parents huddled together, watching their children with some exasperated amusement. They will have to wash their robes when the day is over.

When they disparaged, they hung their heads low. They were acting properly morose. Truly, it was just a ceremony before they got to drinking tonight, after the children were put to bed and had fallen asleep.

Feng Xin and Xie Lian entered an inn, and they weren’t alone. Celebratory intoxication would start at dusk, but the place was already lively with the unmarried. Young men and women who didn’t have many responsibilities or were already done with their tasks were now free for the rest of the day.

They still wore their mourning clothes, but they seemed eager to be done with that part of the ceremony.

“This doesn’t seem like such a grieving event,” Xie Lian commented.

“No,” Feng Xin criticized. “It’s all decorative.”

But when they sat at a table and the owner asked if he could provide them with anything, their confusion was cleared.

“Oh, Daozhang!” The owner respectfully addressed them both. “I fear this must seem disrespectful to you. Truly, we mean no offense.”

The man gestured vaguely. “The mourning is done near the shrine. That’s where the devout are, and that's where cultivators like yourself usually gather. If they find the right town on time,” he added sheepishly. Then he shook his head. “Us commoners with nothing to add to the grief shouldn’t be there. We’d taint it with our insincerity. Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun allows us to express our pretense in the comfort of our own hometown. Very gracious,” he praised.

Feng Xin ordered some local dishes for both of them. Xie Lian had long since forgone any sense of embarrassment over having someone pay for him and gratefully thanked him.

“That settles it, then,” Xie Lian said lightly. “We missed the genuine ceremony. This is for the people to end the day on a brighter note.” Out of habit, Xie Lian mentally tutted at his own bad luck that he felt caused their delays.

“It would seem so,” Feng Xin said, unknowingly agreeing with Xie Lian’s hilarity.

They silently agreed that trying to go into mourning now would be a wasted effort. It was already dusk, and the villagers without children started their first round with a cheer.

“Weird, now that I think about it.” Feng Xin watched the men and women make merry. These people had obviously grown up together, as tight-knit as they seemed. “That Mu Qing would have them drink,” he elaborated.

Xie Lian almost chuckled. Then he remembered that Mu Qing had been a bit flustered the last time Xie Lian laughed when he was around and decided to honor that. Xie Lian raised his voice and laughed softly.

Feng Xin also had a funny response to that. His scrunched up nose brought back a memory that Xie Lian could almost describe as warm, if not for the undertone of regret that just didn’t seem to leave him alone.

“Feng Xin,” Xie Lian smiled into his own cup of wine. He didn’t drink much but still took a sip. For Mu Qing. “I think we’re seeing only the fun parts of the actual ritual.”

And Feng Xin understood. He downed his cup. “Damn that bastard,” he grumbled. “I’m not caring for him if he’s hungover tomorrow.”

Xie Lian and Feng Xin both knew that Mu Qing would, as usual, work twice as hard tomorrow to make up for the influx of requests from the heavens. It really never mattered whether Mu Qing was feeling well or if he were injured.

Whether it had been when he was still the Crown Prince or after he’d ascended, Xie Lian had never seen Mu Qing take a break, unless strictly mandated. He put down his cup. He didn’t want to indulge tonight.

They left early while the party was still going strong.

General Xuan Zhen was as admirable as always the next day. Not a hair was out of place, his expression was cold, and his voice was steady.

It was only after their third failure to attend the genuine mourning ceremony that Xie Lian and Feng Xin managed to arrive in the right village before dawn.

Feng Xin missed the signs of the second Lament and only heard about it after the fact. The third Lament, Xie Lian and Feng Xin couldn’t find the correct village in time.

Where Xie Lian believed it was his bad luck, Feng Xin insisted that Mu Qing was intentionally throwing them off his scent.

Either way, it left them with the impression that this time they only found the village because it had become too tiresome to keep them away. They didn’t feel welcomed, but the fact that they were there at all was enough to put them in a relatively good mood.

Until they neared the shrine and the tension soured significantly. They found the shrine owner seated against a tree, his head leaned back with his eyes closed. Even so, tears were streaming down his face.

Xie Lian wondered if he should disturb the man when he opened his eyes and smiled at their presence. The sight of such a friendly expression with tears pouring down his face was rather disturbing.

“Daozhang,” he said as he got up. “Wonderful to see you. Are you here for Lament?”

Xie Lian nodded with a gentle smile.

“That’s right,” Feng Xin said. “I fear we may have to trouble you for some directions.”

The shrine owner was not yet old, but he certainly neared that age. “That’s why I’m here,” the man said with a nod. He gestured ahead of them. “It’s a bit further down the road. You’re lucky you’ve arrived so soon. Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun himself has not yet appeared.”

He stretched, and Feng Xin had to look away to keep himself from laughing when they heard his back pop.

The almost-old man did chuckle a bit and continued: “There’s no right way to go about this. I only ask that you not approach the shrine itself or disturb whoever gathers. We all have our reasons, you see?”

Xie Lian and Feng Xin respectfully went onwards until they found the two people the shrine owner was talking about.

The place was secluded, but on top of that, there were small room separators spread out for whoever wanted a bit more privacy.

As Xie Lian bent over them to inspect their quality - which was all over the place. It was likely that the locals had temporarily loaned them for the occasion. He was surprised to see they had been supplied with silencing talismans.

Feng Xin let out a whistle. “Pilgrims to this area sure are generous.” And very capable, but he didn’t need to say it for Xie Lian to hear it.

Usually, cultivators didn’t pay much attention to the heavens and were often less superstitious than commoners. Which is why it was a bit odd to have so many cultivators interested in anything concerning a god.

Then again, Xie Lian reconsidered that. Mu Qing always took great pride in his cultivation. His determination to pursue it even after ascending would be an inspiration to mortals seeking immortality.

Xie Lian had to hide his smile behind his sleeve. The court always had something to say about Xuan Zhen’s unusual followers. Just as in the areas selected, most of Xuan Zhen’s devotees were poor and of low standing. But apparently, cultivators didn’t mind mixing in this group.

That, along with the fact that Mu Qing absolutely despised it whenever a shrine or temple dedicated to him was anything less than aesthetically pleasing, made for a humorous crowd to be sure.

Xie Lian glanced in Feng Xin’s direction. Perhaps Ju Yang ’s followers were just a tad bit odder.

They respectfully ignored the person behind a screen. They could see an outline of the person, who was seated on the ground, facing the direction of the shrine. Waiting.

Beside him, Feng Xin shivers. Xie Lian had to stop himself from doing the same.

They set up a screen for both of them, and they sat. Xie Lian, who was most familiar with talismans like these, inspected the wards to make sure they worked properly.

They did.

With some airy movements, Xie Lian lowered himself to the ground. He sat comfortably. If there were no rules, then there was no reason to kneel respectfully.

Feng Xin did the same, but much more stiffly and with reluctance.

Apparently, as the shrine owner had mentioned, they had arrived even before Mu Qing. Knowing him, he’d likely make sure everything was in order in his palace before taking his leave.

Xie Lian enjoyed the calm of the landscape as they sat in a comfortable silence. When he saw the first lights of dawn curling through the trees, he had to stop himself from falling over.

With a gasp, Xie Lian let out a small cry. A single tear spilled over and fell to the ground. He quickly looked up again, and his eyes darted towards Feng Xin.

Feng Xin, with his stiff posture, hadn’t so much as twitched. His eyes were wide open and staring at Xie Lian. “Fucking. Mu Qing.” Tears streamed down his face, and he fruitlessly tried to wipe them away.

Xie Lian got the impression that himself and Feng Xin were spared the worst of the waves of turmoil that crashed into them, thanks to their divinity. Even so, they couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Xie Lian hadn’t felt this specific type of low in a very long time.

He needed a moment to gather himself. When his mind proved itself to be in too much disarray to allow for proper concentration, he started reciting mantras he found particularly calming.

It didn't take him too long, and soon enough he even managed to stop the unprompted crying. He turned his attention back to Feng Xin.

He sat neatly with his eyes closed. Undoubtedly, he had been listening intently to Xie Lian’s muttering. He had calmed down as well.

Instead, Feng Xin seemed angry. “So,” he said, “ this is how he stays composed all the time.”

Xie Lian hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean?”

Feng Xin sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which somewhat messed up his hairdo. He didn’t seem inclined to fix it right now. “I’m not sure how to put it, exactly.” He genuinely seemed reluctant to bring up the subject. “I’ve seen you sad,” Feng Xin said instead. “You’ve seen me sad.”

Xie Lian looked to the ground. “We’ve never seen Mu Qing sad.”

“Right,” Feng Xin nodded. “And now he’s making it everyone’s business.” He waved his hand. “It’s a celebration even. How dramatic can he be?”

Xie Lian’s smile became a bit forced. He knew that Feng Xin was just upset, but he still didn’t appreciate the implications for Mu Qing. Especially not when he wasn’t here to defend himself.

“It’s not sadness,” Xie Lian said eventually. “Not only sadness, but I think that most mortals would feel that first.”

“The bastard is angry as hell, even when crying,” Feng Xin agreed. He massaged his temples.

They waited for a while longer but ultimately decided to leave. Except, when they’d walked away far enough, Feng Xin grabbed Xie Lian by his arm and turned them around.

With a detour, Feng Xin was leading them towards where they assumed the shrine was. The closer they got, the heavier Xie Lian’s heart grew. His breath hitched sometimes with quiet sobs that he didn’t mean to let out. Feng Xin fared no better.

Xie Lian wished he was a better person and had tried to persuade Feng Xin out of this idea, but he also wanted to get Mu Qing away from here. To get him out of the mental state he'd created for himself.

They neared the shrine. It was indoors, and its presence was deeply oppressive.

An unexpected presence thwarted their scheme.

Feng Xin stopped and stumbled from shock. He quickly adjusted his appearance and gave a polite, if not dripping with suspicion, greeting.

“Ming Guang Jiang Jun.”

Xie Lian quickly did the same, only a second later. He doesn’t see Pei Ming as often as Feng Xin does, so he hadn’t recognized the martial god right away. While wearing mourning white was unusual for Pei Ming, his appearance was not sufficiently humbled by the robes.

Even when disguised as a mortal, it seemed Pei Ming still cared as much about his upkeep as Mu Qing did. The only thing that would have marred his face would have been the trails of tears that trickled down his face.

But, no, it somehow made him appear a bit tragic and ethereal.

Xie Lian was greatly amused. He also wondered if Feng Xin was regretting not fixing his hair after messing it up.

“Xianle Taizi Dianxia, and Nan Yang Jiang Jun. Good morning -” Pei Ming leisurely glanced at the sky. “Ah, but it’s already noon, isn’t it?”

“General,” Feng Xin began, but said nothing after that.

There was no way to misinterpret the scene. Pei Ming was guarding the shrine.

But why ? Xie Lian wanted to know. Did Mu Qing ask him to protect him? Or, rather, does Mu Qing even know Pei Ming is here?

And, because he seemed to read them like an open book, Pei Ming echoed the shrine owner from earlier that day: “We all have our reasons, you see?”

For a moment, even their voices sounded similar, which made a few things very apparent.

Pei Ming is very familiar with the ceremony. Pei Ming will not tell them what he knows. Pei Ming will not let them enter the shrine.

Xie Lian and Feng Xin left.

Xie Lian could cry.

Fu Yao approached their table in the evening of their fifth attempt at trying to understand what this day meant to Mu Qing.

The junior official was energetic and devious, but even without Mu Qing's oppressiveness, this Fu Yao right now looked wretched.

Still, he greeted them as any junior would, with the familiarity of someone who had worked with them before and had found it not entirely intolerable.

“The general had business in the area,” Fu Yao explained his presence. “If this one may be of service, I would volunteer.”

Feng Xin had a complicated expression that Fu Yao seemed to take some sadistic delight in.

Xie Lian spoke up before Fu Yao and Feng Xin started a rumor of disagreement between the Upper and Middle Courts. “Thank you,” he said with sincerity. He lifted his cup. “If you are off duty, would you join us?”

Fu Yao took a seat. With the festivities in full throttle, he was served a cup without delay. He frowned at it. “Why this one?” he grumbled.

“Not to your tastes?” Feng Xin teased mildly. He was the senior of the two right now, so he could not throw the same biting commentary he usually would with Mu Qing.

Xie Lian wondered sometimes if Fu Yao felt safer like this. Unburdened by the past, and feeling less likely to receive a knife in his back for looking at someone wrong.

Without exception, Mu Qing was suspicious of others to a detrimental degree. Xie Lian tried to understand, but Mu Qing was often unapproachable to him. Even more now than when he first met him in Xianle.

Fu Yao was like a peace offering. An attempt to meet halfway.

Xie Lian and Feng Xin had come time and time again. Now, Fu Yao took the risk of reaching out just a little, too.

Feng Xin understood that, so he reeled himself in. For a second, Xie Lian worried that Nan Feng would show up, too, but he was relieved to see that Feng Xin wouldn’t leave him to be alone in the burden of their past tonight.

“Not that,” Fu Yao grumbled. “It’s not their specialty. Did they change it?”

“Ah, you must have visited before, Daozhang!” The server couldn’t help but overhear.

Having three cultivators at their establishment was a great sign for the village. It was only natural that most eyes were on them, to make sure they’d be tended to properly.

“This is from the harvest after a previous Lament. It’s been aging for nearly two decades, so we almost had to open the bottles without a proper reason to. Truly, Xuan Zhen Jiangjun blessed us once more just in time!”

“...” Fu Yao looked away. The server continued his rounds.

Xie Lian laughed into his fist, not even bothering to pretend it was a cough. “Did the general lose track?”

Feng Xin also looked incredibly amused.

“Maybe,” Fu Yao grumbled eventually. “As I understand it, the choice of the area isn’t entirely random, but certain details escape my general, when it comes to these days. That’s why I’m here. To help out.”

Feng Xin seemed to strain himself to keep from frowning. If his thoughts were anything like Xie Lian's, he must be seriously doubting the implied excuse that Fu Yao was able to make arrangements that a High Court official couldn't.

Fu Yao reached over the table and picked something out of a side dish that seemed interesting. It was the first and only thing that Fu Yao would eat that night without ample prodding.

They talked about heavenly business and commented on the villagers with respectful tones befitting of seniors and a junior.

Xie Lian noticed, however, that Fu Yao looked increasingly miserable as the evening progressed. He drank more and more, but only got quieter as a result. It took Feng Xin increasingly more effort to get his attention and drag him into thinly veiled arguments that lacked any heat.

Wanting to show mercy, Xie Lian was about to suggest they retire for the night.

It was the exact moment when Fu Yao couldn’t take it any longer, and Xie Lian regretted not saying anything just a breath sooner.

Fu Yao suddenly lowered his cup and rose to his feet. His face was a little flushed from the alcohol, and his speech was slightly slurred. Xie Lian had never been drinking with Fu Yao or Mu Qing, for that matter, and he was unsure how drunk Fu Yao actually was.

“I think I’ve kept my general waiting. Thank you for the hospitality,” Fu Yao murmured to Feng Xin and Xie Lian. He reached into his sleeves and placed a prepared pouch of coins on the table. Its size and the sound it made when connecting with the table suggested that it contained more than enough coins for every drink Fu Yao had and every few bites he’d been peer-pressured into eating.

Xie Lian winced. Of course, Fu Yao would never allow his general to be indebted to anyone. He made it clear that he believed receiving gifts without providing a gift in return or having someone else pay for Xuan Zhen was unacceptable.

“Thank you,” Fu Yao said again, as if he’d forgotten he’d already thanked them. Xie Lian briefly caught his eyes, wet with tears, before he looked away to respect the junior’s privacy.

Apart from the appropriate formal farewells befitting his rank, Fu Yao avoided lingering too long and essentially bolted out of the inn.

Feng Xin, who was tipsy himself, emptied his last cup with a deep sigh. “Fucking depressing,” he said.

Xie Lian agreed in silence.

Most would describe Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Xie Lian as courteous nowadays. Whereas arguments between Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen used to be frequent and amusing to the gossiping gods, they were now a rare delicacy. They fought their fights in private, with only their palace attendees as unwilling witnesses.

And Xie Lian. If he bothered to stay around. Xie Lian could be proud of himself for how he ended up dealing with their bickering. Gone were the days he thought himself obligated to keep them from coming to blows. He valued his sanity more.

To say they were friends was to misjudge the situation. Though they experienced some of their most uncomfortable moments when they were together, as Xie Lian had anticipated, the thought of living without the others was intolerable.

They were family in a way Xie Lian hadn’t experienced before, with how he left things with his father, how his temperament aggrieved his mother, and his cousin -

He supposed that didn’t fit either.

Xie Lian once found himself standing next to Mu Qing as he was taught peasant recipes that would have come in handy in his centuries as a scrap god. ( Time passes so fast, especially for immortals. It seemed they were always late for something . )

Mu Qing was tirelessly efficient. His movements were simple and precise.

Mu Qing had looked a little impressed at the end of that day; Xie Lian had accidentally managed to deviate from his instructions so subtly that he hadn’t noticed. Even so, under his supervision, Xie Lian made something edible.

San Lan liked all his cooking, and praised him the same way he always did. Xie Lian had to keep himself from laughing as Mu Qing took that insult the hardest.

At one point, when Xie Lian visited Feng Xin, he was surprised to see Mu Qing already there. They’d been seated together, talking at an appropriate volume. Mu Qing excused himself when Xie Lian was directed into the room by a palace official, but his departure was natural, and Feng Xin hadn’t been awkward about it.

Feng Xin also spoke more to Ling Wen and her attendees through their friendly relations with Xuan Zhen palace. It certainly wasn’t beneficial for Nan Yang’s reputation in the heavens, but Feng Xin seemed deaf to others’ criticisms.

Xie Lian could say their tentative peace was growing stable, but Lament always returned.

Perhaps Feng Xin had been right, after all.

After that last time, Xie Lian and Feng Xin were successfully locating each new village for the next Lament. It became likely that Mu Qing had indeed been trying to shake them off before but could no longer be bothered to go through the effort.

Fu Yao didn’t always show up, but he was around most of the time now. That didn’t mean he was always amicable. The first time was very calm, compared to other occurrences.

It was now late at night, and Fu Yao was almost incomprehensible. Sometimes it didn’t even seem like he was conscious that Xie Lian and Feng Xin were there at all.

“Of course I get it,” Fu Yao said into his cup. “In the end, we fought over it. I won. I always do.”

Xie Lian placed some more food in Fu Yao’s overflowing bowl. He hadn’t eaten anything that evening.

At the very least, Feng Xin had been smart enough to move them all to a more secluded table. It was late. Most people were blackout drunk. Some odd commentary from Fu Yao was normal.

Xie Lian was terrified. He hoped Fu Yao wouldn’t get up and leave. He didn’t want him to be alone right now.

Fu Yao did move, all of a sudden, which startled Feng Xin enough to have him reach out to try and keep the junior from falling over.

Another arm steadied him.

Feng Xin looked at Xie Lian, but Xie Lian looked at Pei Ming.

Fu Yao had moved, as if it were second nature, to accommodate Pei Ming joining their table. And Pei Ming, with equal ease, had his arm around Fu Yao’s shoulders.

Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Pei Ming were all the same height and taller than Xie Lian. Fu Yao was just about as tall as Xie Lian now, however, and fit only barely in Pei Ming’s arms.

“Whoa, there.” Pei Ming patted Fu Yao on the top of his head clumsily.

Xie Lian paled at the sight. Pei Ming seemed as drunk as Fu Yao, but he desperately hoped it was purely for show.

He was relieved to be proven right when Pei Ming threw them a questioning look.

Feng Xin raised his two fingers to his temple. Xie Lian glanced at Fu Yao, but he seemed out of it and wasn’t paying attention to his company.

Xie Lian found himself in a communication circle with Feng Xin and Pei Ming.

Pei Ming took the lead. Tonight seems like a particularly bad time .

Yes , Feng Xin grumbled. He had also downed a few drinks before Fu Yao burst into the inn and zeroed in on their table. He was probably regretting that now.

Can we take him somewhere? Xie Lian looked at Fu Yao with worry.

If Fu Yao was aware they were having a conversation behind his back, he didn’t show it. He was, instead, deeply engrossed with looking past Pei Ming and at the crowd laughing with abandon.

Some patrons were leaving. Fu Yao looked like he wanted to leave too.

Pei Ming nodded, making Fu Yao lazily glance over to his face. On nights like these, I bring him to Ming Guang palace or Ling Wen palace. It really depends on who’s available. Me, or Noble Jie.

Feng Xin rose from the table. So, where to?

I’m available, clearly. Pei Ming prodded into Fu Yao’s side. “I’m kidnapping you.”

Xie Lian muffled a chuckle.

“No.” Fu Yao slurred decisively. “My general said no.”

Feng Xin sighed as his shoulder drooped. “Don’t be difficult, come on.”

Fu Yao surprised them by reaching for his cup with the clear intent of throwing it at the general’s face. Pei Ming firmly grabbed his arm before he could, and gently lowered it to the table.

Pei Ming looked pained when he did, and Fu Yao’s expression twisted into something fierce.

“Traitor,” Fu Yao hissed, his voice soothing and ceremonial like Mu Qing’s but dripping with venom. “Stop already!”

Pei Ming sighed but didn’t seem startled by the hostility. I’m getting him out of here. Crown Prince, General, until the next time we meet.

Xie Lian blinked, and the two were gone.

Feng Xin didn’t sit back down and instead continued getting ready to leave. “Heh,” he said, in a vicious tone. “Fu Yao forgot to pay!”

Xie Lian quickly shoved the pouch of coins into his sleeves that Pei Ming had tossed him. Feng Xin saw it, though, but didn’t comment on it. The general left without another word.

Seeing as, technically, San Lang paid for their meals and drinks this time, Xie Lian would give the coin pouch to him.

He sighed and wondered why Mu Qing thought it was alright to have Pei Ming pay ahead for him, but not Xie Lian or Feng Xin.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were sincere, even if the tone was rather flat. Xie Lian had come to understand that sometimes tone wasn’t the most important, if you could trust that the person speaking was being genuine.

It was Lament, again, but seeing as this time they were joined by Mu Qing, Xie Lian was more than willing to accept the man’s apology.

“Like we’re not used to it.” Feng Xin grumbled.

“I was talking to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, could you not butt in?” Mu Qing lightly bristled.

Xie Lian raised his hands. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Come, let’s not argue.”

They were used to Fu Yao joining them, so it was odd to have Mu Qing as their company. Xie Lian was quietly delighted.

Mu Qing looked uncomfortable, in his own pristine way. Fu Yao would often appear like a mourning ghost, but Mu Qing was infallible.

Mu Qing eyed a patron in the corner of the room and pulled a face. Xie Lian wondered if the man was someone Mu Qing had seen before, many years before. It was startling, sometimes, to see traces of time when they were unchanging.

Most gods rarely descend. Xie Lian, Mu Qing, and now Feng Xin too were considered uncomfortably eccentric by the heavens for spending as much time in the mortal realm as they did.

It warmed Xie Lian’s heart that, in a way, Mu Qing and Feng Xin weren’t too bothered by being lumped in together with him in some ways.

As Mu Qing once explained to him, “I have a name for myself now,” which still haunts Xie Lian sometimes.

Feng Xin seemed to thrive under heaven's scrutiny. It was as though he was indulging, more willing to embrace unfortunate rumors if he still had a little control over the situation. The whole Ju Yang debacle was a sore spot, still, but Feng Xin seemed to find it hilarious that he was becoming somewhat of a confusing mess among the gods.

It didn’t interfere with his duties, and it never affected his reputation. It actually increased his relationships with other palaces because he was easier to approach.

Feng Xin was always prone to laugh at the silliest things, so even the lightest allusions or worried looks about his behavior seemed to brighten his mood. He had discovered a new niche of inside jokes that Xie Lian didn’t understand, despite being part of it.

Mu Qing pretended to understand just fine, but Xie Lian knew he was just as clueless.

Feng Xin threw some food into Mu Qing’s bowl, who just sighed at it. He gingerly ate a few bites. He looked vaguely nauseous, but Feng Xin was very pleased.

Xie Lian would almost forget that none of them actually needed to eat. All of this was just comforting gestures. Echoes of their mortal lives. One Xie Lian always enjoyed and which Mu Qing and Feng Xin seemed to have been roped into by him over the years.

Xie Lian wasn’t drinking tonight. He didn’t feel as down, even with Mu Qing sometimes spacing out, curled into himself, and a displeased expression.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing were arguing, with the former insulting the shrine Mu Qing had chosen this time. Apparently it was one of Mu Qing’s favorites, so he had risen to the bait with an explosive anger that amused Feng Xin greatly.

Lament wouldn’t end for a long time. The frequency of the event didn’t lessen, either. Xie Lian was just glad that his time with Feng Xin and Mu Qing wasn’t as painful. That slowly they could reach out and patiently get to know each other again.

Xie Lian got home a bit later, in the early morning of the next day, and sneaked up on San Lang, who graciously entertained him by pretending he hadn’t noticed him. The ghost always waited for him, held him if he needed it, and laughed at Xie Lian’s misfortune when he could take it.

San Lang buried his nose in the crown of Xie Lian’s head, and he hummed in response with a smile.

San Lang lightly brushed his arm. “Good morning. Welcome home.”

#tgcf #tgcf fanfic #mu qing #xianle trio #fanfic #tian guan ci fu #mu qing fanfic #tgcf au #word count: 7k #*mine's: fanfic

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