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The almost black, gnarled branches shook in the crisp air, shaking away its tiny petals as red as rouge, flying down upon still heads of silver and brown. With one pull at the golden crown, the silver hair came undone, cascading down shaking shoulders and tumbling into a pile on the base of the smooth, crystal flecked stone on which the two gods sat on. A tentative hand reached out, holding the fine strands as if they were a baby they could simply crush with hands as large as his, and with bated breath, began sifting it through fingers; an attempt to comb the hair without a jade comb, as it was.
Pristine and elegant as they may seem to the mortal eye, their forms were stiff and unsure, unlike the confident martial gods they were on the outside, in all their reverence and supremity.
Thick lashes trembled on a face that was near the color of snow, but the tip of his nose and tips of his ears were bitten pink by the harsh cold, or more likely from embarrassment. His hand reached out to cover the lower half of his face to hide the biting of his pale lips that would be dark by the time he removed his hand. His jaw was locked in place, and he looked ahead until he could feel his face feel as if held over a flame and shut his eyes tightly, busying himself by picking at the callouses on his fingertips. Maybe he had picked at them too harshly as he soon felt something wet on his fingers, the rustling and soft ping of armor and cloth, and the harsh intake of breath behind him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Mu Qing didn't bother to turn his head and dropped his hand. He coldly retorted, "What do you think you're doing? Playing with my hair, wasting my time- just what game do you think this is, General Ju Yang?"
He hated the hurt that seeped into his voice. He hated how it had cracked at the last three words as if he was almost on the verge of tears. His tone spoke the truth, though, as he felt his cheeks glow hotly, the pain in his heart a thousand more times heavy than what he had to bear as the disliked personal attendant of Xie Lian. Spat and kicked on, he had dealt with much worse before as the only provider of his elderly mother, but what could compare to the longing in his chest when he felt the need to exchange fists fervently with this man and have it end with the most meaningless and vilest of curses, bodies bloodied and bruised, both walking away with heads set in stone?
Feng Xin sputtered, "What game? There's no game I'm playing with you- as if we have ever played games with each other." He tipped his head up to the plum blossom trees, his golden eyes searching for some sort of guidance in the gray sky, though he was an important god himself. "I did mean what I said, Mu Qing. I do want to talk." His voice sounded genuine, but Mu Qing couldn't quite believe it yet. He refused to.
"Then talk right now!" Mu Qing hissed holding back an overwhelming sniffle. Allergies were what to blame. Damn them! "You could've spoken instead of sitting down and offering to 'fix' my hair when there is nothing-"
"This is what I wanted to avoid!" Feng Xin snapped, releasing Mu Qing's silver hair and snapping a strand off. It felt heavy now without someone holding it. "I don't want to speak like this anymore. J-Just- look at me."
Mu Qing swallowed thickly, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. His breathing quickened, and he subconsciously began to fan his face with his hand, suppressing the moisture that would line his eyes for another minute or so.
"Mu Qing, please look at me," Feng Xin pleaded, and Mu Qing had never heard him use that tone of voice towards him. It was terrifying to be spoken to like this. Mu Qing didn't want to hear it again, but he cursed a thousand times internally for not having enough courage to twist his head around and look obstinately over his shoulder at the other god.
He was just scared.
Feng Xin had to be lying. He probably tailed him as he descended to this ancient clearing of trees; a forest of plum blossoms, incomparable to any forest when winter came by and painted a picture to behold with your eyes forever.
Feng Xin probably followed him down to here, to comment on his softness for pretty things; to tell him he could never be a gentle god with a face and mouth like that; to berate him into thinking he could never have something so precious even close to a thousand years of living, informing him that his hands are the equivalent of dirt and should he touch a single blossom, he would taint a being that held more worth than his status.
Mu Qing slapped both hands against his mouth as his breathing became even more rapid, but could it even pass as breathing anymore? It felt like he was no longer a god but a small, tiny mortal, who was dying from lack of air on a snow-peaked mountaintop where no one would find him, where even he hoped no one would, just so he could avoid the humiliation of being seen.
What even were these feelings? Were they supposed to initiate fight or flight responses, telling him to say whatever was on his mind and instead of feeling satisfied, he would feel stinking piles of regret? Were they the reason as to why he always appeared wherever Feng Xin was, along with the faint sense of happiness before he automatically steeled his heart as customary? Most importantly, were these feelings the reason for him to seek out such a secluded place where his emotions would no longer be in turmoil but a river that would just not stop until the sun dropped and the tendrils of night bled through?
Why could he hate everyone else that looked down on him because he was once a lowly servant and not him?
And it didn't make any sense.
Nothing ever made any sense.
"MU QING!"
His dark eyes flew open as he finally registered the tan hand that gripped him tightly on his left shoulder and immediately jumped up, tearing the large hand away with his slightly smaller one.
"I'm leaving!" Mu Qing announced in the strongest voice he could muster. He placed a fist over his chest as if that would help disguise its rapid fluttering. His wretched face felt frozen in place as he said more softly and brokenly, "I knew you wouldn't keep to your word...!" He gasped for breath, baring his teeth in self-disgust, and whipped his hair around. "W-Why did I..."
Feng Xin stared in shock at the red that rimmed the other martial god's dark grey eyes that shone darkly in contempt, half-lidded with tears that rained down his cheeks and watered the cold earth. His face was as red as the plump cherries he had once picked for the beggar children so long ago; his long silver hair disheveled, loose, and swinging freely out behind him; his outer robe crumpled from where he had held it too hard on his chest; the hand that held it a dark red.
Mu Qing was all sorts of beautiful, Feng Xin didn't deny, but he didn't want to see this. Sadly, he could only watch helplessly as the one who unknowingly caused heartache to the man still trying to get a grasp on his words, his face flushing deeper as time passed.
A petal fell from his head, blown from the wind. From afar, Feng Xin swore he could hear a clock ticking, but the sound slowly became hidden under the fluttering rains of falling red blossoms.
"If you wanted to say whatever, then you should've said whatever!" Mu Qing coughed loudly, keeping his eyes wide open. He put a hand over his mouth, taking deep breaths until he felt he could speak again. "Don't tell me you want to talk but never tell me what you want to talk about! If you want to yell at me, then you can! If you want to fight, then n-not here!"
His voice raised an octave, uncaring of the volume or his appearance.
"If you want to say you hate me, you can just say it! Just don't lead me on, don't tell me to sit down, don't tell me you want to comb or braid my hair!
"Who the fuck do you think you are to treat me this way?
"Do not speak as if everything can be solved with just a word of yours! Do not tell me you've 'thought this through' for a long while and claim you want to be my friend by following me all the way here! What a load of bullshit. Quite a massive load, coming from you who has always hated me since I caught the attention of His Highness!" His voice cracked. "Get off your high horse, Ju Yang!"
Mu Qing would've grinned at the expression Feng Xin was showing, but only a sob broke through. It sounded so ugly, he even paused in his breathing to cringe, wiping away at his wet eyes again before looking up at the Martial God of the Southeast with exhaustion and hopelessness in them.
"Why does everyone have to hate me when I did nothing wrong?" he cried, looking down at the ground with both hands over his mouth. He felt like a child huddling in his mother's arms again, asking why none of the boys his age wanted to talk about swords and avoided ever crossing paths with him. All she had said then was that he was different from those boys.
~
"But Ma! I don't want to be different."
"Everyone's different."
"If I'm different, then no one would like me."
"Everyone's different, Qing-er." A thin hand reached out and affectionately stroked a lock of short silver hair. It soon fell to the child's face, who leaned into it, his dark eyes pooling in self-deprecation.
"I... I still don't want to be..."
"Everyone's different. Being different from those little boys does not mean you won't fit in. It just won't be them you'll spend the rest of your life with... and those people in your future, whoever they are, or whoever it is, they'll always stay beside you, okay?"
"Promise?"
The woman sighed, gazing at her son through slitted, tired eyes. She curled a strand of silver hair around her finger. "It's hard to promise those things, Qing-er."
"I don't understand."
The woman laughed breathlessly. "You'll understand, my son. Just not today."
~
Other than Xie Lian, there was no one else that would miss him when he was gone.
And Xie Lian was not the only person he wanted to grieve for him or to stay with him, no matter how impossible it sounded...
"Why does everyone assume the worst of me when I'm trying to be the littlest bit helpful? Is it because of my appearance? Is it because when you look at me, all you see is a peasant who takes what he can take, lying about a mother who you have never even seen?" His voice fell away, weak and vulnerable, sure to be made fun of if Feng Xin decided to describe this interaction to the other gods.
What a massive round of laughter that would make, and maybe he would laugh along with them, too, as his fragmented heart shattered into a billion pieces didn't matter anymore, and he could blithely sweep them away.
He just wished his hands were so much more deft in sewing such a complicated piece back together.
"If you hate me, you can say you hate me as you have always done, indirectly or not," Mu Qing continued hoarsely. "I don't want you to lie to me, and I hate thinking this so much but- do you think it's fucking hilarious to give me false hope for something that will never happen? Taking advantage of feelings, even of mine, isn't that just t-too cruel, huh? Isn't it, Feng Xin? Isn't this too cruel of you, j-just so you could hurt me when we could actually be fighting where everything would h-hurt less? W-Won't you say a-anything to me that I can believe, Feng Xin, so I could at least have s-s-someone that I-I can listen to without always t-thinking y-you're going to l-l-l-leave me to rot someday? Can I not h-have something? Even with H-His Highness and Crimson Rain being h-hap-ppy together... can I at least have peace of mind, if not happiness?"
"Mu Qing..."
"Go back to your ghost wife; go back to your ghost child; go back to the people who want you!" Mu Qing screamed, voice growing rasp. He settled on lowly whispering, "Go back to the people who you care about. It's not like you give a shit about me... or that I feel any different towards you."
He laughed bitterly. "It really is impossible to be friends with someone like me..."
"Mu Qing."
The silver-haired god still felt cold as strong arms wrapped around his torso and pressed the back of his head into a firm chest, but the tears that flowed from his eyes were real. And warm. And wet.
"Why..." Feng Xin paused to laugh, regret rolling off of his voice. Mu Qing kept his eyes open as tears blurred his vision. "...why is it always you who puts unwanted words in my mouth?"
Mu Qing gripped Feng Xin's copper-colored robes tightly, afraid he would pull away. Fortunately, Feng Xin's hands didn't even twitch against his back. His chin eventually rested on top of his head, his exhale containing a little bit of nostalgic amusement.
"Who put these thoughts into your head?" Feng Xin asked softly, unexpecting of an answer. "Who told you I hated you... Have I ever said I hated you?"
Mu Qing remained silent. He felt immensely selfish for the bounce in his heart at being so close to Feng Xin and closed his eyes, suffering swimming in his heart.
"Who said I took joy in hurting feelings and taking advantage of people? What kind of joy is that?"
Mu Qing could hear the smile in the barely taller god's voice.
"Mu Qing..." His tone was reluctant, but Feng Xin still rubbed Mu Qing's back in slow circles. "...I loved Jian Lan once, and I cannot lie that I loved her with all my heart during those dark days... but she loves me no more and has moved on, and I..."
Suddenly, Mu Qing wished he could go deaf before hearing Feng Xin's next words.
"...have also moved on, moved on to way better things in my long life," Feng Xin finished with a sigh, but no remorse was laced within. He could never feel remorse for choosing to love someone so stubborn, someone, who undeniably had a good heart if you could see past his well-built defenses. "Because... who have I spent most of my life with, shared my fights with, but we still stood on the same side together?"
Me, Mu Qing wanted to say but was afraid he would be wrong. Luckily, Feng Xin didn't expect an answer and exhaled quietly into the chilly air.
The answer was already so clear.
"I can't hate you, no matter how much I try," Feng Xin admitted, voice dropping low. "You left His Highness and thought poorly of him, but I really can't hate you."
"But you dislike me," Mu Qing finally whispered.
Feng Xin's answer was instantaneous: "And I don't have to dislike you if you would give me a chance to be your friend."
Despite how everything that went down today could be used as blackmail in the future, Mu Qing chuckled, his chest feeling light. He wrung his fingers together behind Feng Xin's back, showing no sign of letting go.
How he wished he could listen to these words and not think that this was all a lie, but had... had Feng Xin ever been cruel to him? He fell for a man of confident words that jabbed at every place in his heart, but this man of sharp words was also kind, with a large heart that was open to many, and a gentle smile reserved to the people he really cared for.
Someday, Mu Qing wanted to see that smile directed towards him. Not only him, but for him. He wasn't that selfish.
"I don't want you -out of all people, even His Highness- to dislike me..."
Feng Xin's voice was almost fond. "Idiot... didn't I say that I would like a chance to be your friend in order to not dislike you?"
Childishly, Mu Qing pressed his cheek against Feng Xin's chest, drawing out an embarrassed grunt from the other, relishing the warmth of hesitant happiness. At least his words didn't sound like it was from a nightmare anymore. He believed it, and though it wasn't with all his heart, he still believed it because no one could be so cruel. Not even in 800 years.
"I heard you the first time, old fool," Mu Qing said, his voice gaining strength. He tipped his head back to look at Feng Xin's handsome face etched in confoundment, only to glance the other way with a huff. "And you do get a chance..."
The sudden laugh that escaped the other god's lips only made Mu Qing fall deeper in love, and his shimmering eyes fleetingly caught that wide smile before darting to his feet.
The two martial gods left separately, but Mu Qing didn't leave without having a few red blossoms braided into his silver hair with inexperienced hands. He didn't unbraid his hair until the very next day, not until it was time to meet up with a strange new friend, still smelling of plums.