Chapter Text
Feng Xin is hiding something, and he is going to find out what.
Mu Qing has had enough of the other Southern God avoiding him, refusing to come close during assigned missions to strategize or work together, and disappearing as soon as they are back in the Heavens. He’s gone over it again and again if he’s done something to anger or drive Feng Xin away, but nothing out of the ordinary comes to mind.
Enough overthinking. How’s that, Feng Xin? I’m taking your advice. It’s time for action. Since he can’t approach the elusive bronze man without seeing a wake of dust, it’s time to turn to more drastic measures. Something that will ensure Feng Xin will speak whatever he’s bottling up.
A potion.
A truth potion to be precise. Mu Qing sneers in disgust as he looks at the ingredients and spell required to make this low-level potion. I would much rather just beat it out of him, but here I am trying to use ‘tact’.
It’s a strange potion that he acquired and has never used before, requiring goats’ milk, poppy seeds, and a rose bud, carefully blended along with a burnt page of the spell under a full mortal moon. He feels the refreshing night air rustle through his long ebony locks, freshly washed per the spell instructions, and his simple but delicately embroidered robe fluttering in the breeze.
Chanting the words as he burns the page, Mu Qing pulls the image of Feng Xin to mind. His auburn hair roughly framing his face, pulled up in a loose or braided bun. Feng Xin’s golden eyes with their specks of orange dancing in them when he laughs. His permanent scowl, deepening as his anger grows and his teeth clench – surely, he has a jaw issue by now? – His lone earring dangling and drawing the eye, making one want to reach…
Mu Qing coughs and opens his eyes. Looking around almost guiltily, his cheeks high with color, he carefully readjusts his posture before returning his focus. Though he calls up Feng Xin’s image again, he keeps his head cool and reminds himself, he’s an idiot, over and over again.
As the liquid turns clear, Mu Qing siphons it into a bottle, the truth potion complete and ready to use. A slow smirk creeps across his face.
Now I just need make him drink this…
“Fuck! Why won’t these damn things stay down?” Feng Xin shouts as they fight against a swarm of lesser demons, gangly and gaunt with the need to mash their teeth into the living bodies before them.
Every limb chopped still wiggles and seeks to carry out its task to merge with a lifeform, and the main bodies moan with craving for the yang energy so nearby. A stench rises from the desecrated ground and layers over the gods fighting their way through.
Quan Yizhen grunts, neither confirming nor denying Feng Xin’s outburst, as he hacks through the pack before him with determination. Though the creatures don’t put up much of a fight, they outnumber the gods significantly, and any loss of attention will result in a bite or scratch.
Mu Qing rolls his eyes as he watches Feng Xin piercing through with his sword before swinging his own Zhan Madao saber around and down to slash a swath through the swarm. “Maybe if you used a bigger sword, we wouldn’t be here all night,” he taunts the bronze man while giving a quick look up and down him.
“I – don’t – use – fucking – swords,” Feng Xin grinds out between each strike at a demon. “Fuck! – Bows! I – need – high – ground. And – some – damn – space!”
Steading his feet again to chop with his saber, Mu Qing orders, “Then get to the top of the – damn hill, Ju Yang.”
“Stop – fucking – calling – me – that – asshole!” Feng Xin spits out as he uses an energy pulse to create a path for him up the hill.
Quan Yizhen steps handily into the gap left by Feng Xin, battle-focused, and swings his blade down to sever more limbs with a methodic rhythm. Never once looking up to make comment or react to the exchange between the two Southern Generals.
After a grueling few hours with Feng Xin raining down arrows while Mu Qing and Quan Yizhen work side by side to brutally chop down the demons, they finally find and eradicate the source of the nest. Smelling like rotten eggs and stewed meat left too long in the sun, they sit heavily on the rocks, eyeing the pile of unmoving limbs now that they’ve destroyed the possessed heart that was guiding the demons.
“Shit,” Feng Xin says in disgust. “Next time, call out General Tai Hua or a handful of your deputies. You don’t need me for this.” He kicks one of the bodies lying in a pile next to him, regret instantly coloring his face as a putrid cloud billows up from under the body.
Mu Qing shakes his head – Still looking for ways to avoid me? – and sneers, “Talk to Ling Wen if you want off tour duties. But I didn’t take you for lazy and irresponsible.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Feng Xin grimaces, standing up.
Panicking, realizing he’s losing his opportunity to interact with Feng Xin, Mu Qing does something out of character. He apologizes, “I’ll talk to her about appropriate division of labor.”
Feng Xin’s brows fall down in a stern line, “You seriously expect me to buy that after you just called me lazy? No, I’ll deal with it.”
Rolling his eyes in frustration, Mu Qing tries again, “Before you go, at least have a minor herbal remedy for the wounds we took in battle, so they don’t fester.” He digs through his pack for herbal remedies for all three of them, when he realizes now would be an excellent chance to switch out one with the truth potion.
“I don’t need…” Feng Xin begins.
“If you finish that, I’m going to report back that you denied basic wellness procedures and have them drag you to the medical gods for a full checkup,” Mu Qing threatens as he pours the truth serum in with one herbal remedy while his back is to the group.
Feng Xin swears, turns around in a tight circle, and then comes to stand tense at Mu Qing’s elbow. “Fine. Give me the damn remedy,” he holds out his hand in impatience.
Mu Qing hands over the doctored remedy to the snarly man and a regular one to Quan Yizhen. As they each drank their herbal concoctions, his heart races in anticipation that he has finally managed to get the truth potion to Feng Xin.
As Feng Xin again turns to leave, Mu Qing hesitantly calls out, “Feng Xin…”
The archer pauses but doesn’t turn around, “What now?”
Struggling to come up with something, anything, Mu Qing’s mind blanks as he stumbles on, “Really, I know you have a bigger sword.”
Seeing Feng Xin’s neck turn red as he stomps away, blustering over his shoulder, “You fucking asshole,” was worth the brain freeze in Mu Qing’s opinion.
Mu Qing paces in front of his desk, debating the approach he’ll take shortly to see the results of his efforts. Impatience courses through every movement and turn he makes. After eight hundred years, how is one lone day taking so long to pass?
The spell needed one day to take effect, a requirement he hadn’t originally seen any issue with. Now, as the time drags on, Mu Qing dreads the answer he might hear.
What if it’s not something ridiculous that’s gotten into him? Maybe he hates me again. I did something and he can’t stand me but because of His Highness, he doesn’t want to cause any strife? He nibbles on his bottom lip, not paying attention to his actions as he swirls around in another lap.
Was it because I didn’t get him something for his birth celebration? … I just couldn’t find the right time to deliver it… but he seemed strangely disappointed. Or when my deputies mistakenly messed up his juniors’ mission? I apologized for them and took care of the matter directly… though that only seemed to infuriate him further? Something about taking on too much myself?
Mu Qing shakes his head in confusion, drawing blanks as he goes through the list of possibilities. As he draws out a leaf of paper to begin making a list of most likely versus least likely causes, a deputy knocks and announces her presence.
“Excuse me, General, we have a guest at the gate. General Ming Guang is requesting audience,” the deputy informs.
Mu Qing groans internally but adopts a merely curious gaze as he looks over and nods, “Bring him to the Cloud Parlor and have some tea and rice wine prepared.”
Greeting the unexpected guest in the lounge room, Mu Qing serves wine to Pei Ming and tea for himself before directing conversation to the other god’s reason for coming here.
“That you feel I need a reason to visit a beauty wounds me, Xuan Zhen,” Pei Ming teases. Seeing the anger flash across the fair face before him, Pei Ming lets a light laugh chase his hand up as he quickly continues, “In all seriousness, I’m here on Heavens’ business. There’s been an increase in cases of people gambling their souls away to the ghost realm for pointless things: extended life, riches, love, a few more days of health, smiting their enemies, those sorts of nonsense.”
Mu Qing scrunches his face up in confusion before settling back to his icy look of indifference, “You will always have people who are idiots. Why bring this to me and not Xie Lian or that smear he keeps by his side directly?”
Cocking an eyebrow, Pei Ming smirks at Mu Qing’s description, “We would, however, Crimson Rain Sought Flower has agreed to reduce our debt if we solve such cases without involving either him or, especially, His Highness Xie Lian.” With a shrug, tossing his hair to reveal his tattoo by his temple, he gives a ‘what-can-we-do’ expression.
Shaking his head, Mu Qing sips his tea while he thinks. If it’s not yet a major issue, this is certainly worth pursuing to reduce our debt. But damn… it’ll be a headache dealing with the ghost realm undercover.
“That explains why you’re not talking to them about this. So why are you here?” Mu Qing looks up, unhappy that Pei Ming may be trying to dump this on his lap.
“It just so happens that we’ve found a pattern in the ghost gambling habits… and the next region will either be yours, or General Nan Yang’s,” the tattooed man leans forward with a glint in his eyes. “If we could have the two of you work together, we’d likely be able to stage a sting and capture the group of ghosts and their ringleader.”
Mu Qing laughs, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his mirth, annoyance, and all the frustration of the last few months merge into a raw and full laugh. “I don’t – haha – know if you’ve – heh – noticed…” Mu Qing says as his laughter dies down, “but working together hasn’t been great for us lately.”
Pei Ming is taken by surprise and leans back, staring at Mu Qing with eyes wide as he’s caught off guard by Mu Qing’s laughter. “I’ve gathered…” he says. “I was wondering why you weren’t. Are you…” Pei Ming fidgets, an interesting sight for Mu Qing and he can’t help a giggle slipping out at the sight after mirth already being so close to the surface. Pei Ming raises his eyebrows but continues, “Are you fighting with him over something?”
Mu Qing takes a second to reach in deep, pull his calm back up and coat over his emotions, stuffing them back away in the vault he keeps. Blinking his eyes back open, he shakes his head, then shrugs, “I don’t know. He’s the one avoiding me.” He says this without inflection, without any confusion, pain, or frustration leaking through.
Pei Ming tilts his head and frowns, “That’s unexpected. But…” His eyes unfocus before he shakes himself out of it. “He is an idiot on these matters, so it makes sense,” he mutters.
“What matters?” Mu Qing pounces, hungry for information.
Waving his hands, Pei Ming changes the topic, “Nothing, nothing. Consider working together and how we can use the Southern territories to capture this ghost ring. I’ve not talked with General Nan Yang yet; I’m heading there now.”
“Let me,” Mu Qing says before he can think. The time for the spell to be active is nearly ready.
Pei Ming looks quizzically at him.
“We need try to work together anyways, right? Let me go with you to tell him the information,” Mu Qing amends.
Thinking it through, Pei Ming nods before saying, “You can tell him without me, can’t you? Or are you both in that bad of state?”
As nerves suddenly race through him, Mu Qing shakes his head, “No, I can tell him. If you have other pressing needs, I can take care of this myself.”
Pei Ming smirks but takes his leave with only minimal teasing on the way out. Mu Qing barely waits for the door to shut before he’s checking his attire and making his way to the Southeast Palace.
“Our General is busy and not accepting… guests,” one of the newer juniors trails off quietly under Mu Qing’s frosty stare.
“Did I ask if he was busy?” I don’t have time or patience for imbeciles today. “Where is Nan Yang? If you don’t want to answer, I can sear-”
“He’s in the training courtyard,” a seasoned junior bows as he interrupts. “Greetings, General Xuan Zhen. Apologies for this one’s lack of welcome.”
Rolling his eyes, Mu Qing moves past the juniors, giving a slight nod to the seasoned junior in return for his manners, and heads to the courtyard. He ignores the sound of the elder coaching the newbie, overhearing, “We announce everyone but General Xuan Zhen, unless he’s in an agreeable mood. Just point him in the direction and let them figure it out.”
So… they have rules to deal with me? He would scoff if his mind wasn’t already on the task ahead. How should I ask my question? When will I know when the spell has taken full effect? As he rounds the corner of the path to the courtyard, he sees various juniors training and his thoughts race as the moment arrives.
Elegantly weaving his way through the grounds, he ignores the juniors that not-so-subtly stop training and begin making their way off the grounds to other pursuits. When he spies Feng Xin sparring with a few of his juniors, showing them tactics for hand-to-hand combat, he pauses.
It’s not to admire the way his muscles bunch or the sun glides over the bronze, slightly dewed skin as Feng Xin has taken his tunic off from the heat. Nor is it to trace the shape of arms as they cage a junior or the way his waist turns in a twist. Definitely not to see his face light up in a laugh as he tosses his bangs back and helps the junior up, eyes dancing with light, as his voice trails across the courtyard.
Mu Qing shakes himself. He’s such an idiot. Who goes around half naked for everyone to see? Annoyance and confusion mixing in with his frustration, Mu Qing stomps his way to the sparring area.
“Playing around half naked isn’t going to teach them how to fight,” Mu Qing sneers.
Feng Xin’s head whips around, eyes wide a moment before they drop into a scowl, “Who the fuck let you in?” He moves to grab a towel and begins wiping the sweat off his chest, down his arms, over his abs…
Mu Qing drags his eyes back up with a snap. “I did. It seems the only way I’d have what passes for a conversation with you is to barge in, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me.”
The sparring juniors that had already been in the process of a subtle retreat, pick up pace and hastily scurry away at the challenge presented in just a few sentences. A few brave juniors find places near the edge of the grounds to hide, hoping for some juicy gossip to share over wine and food later.
“The fuck you going on about?” Feng Xin tosses the towel haphazardly on a table, then grabs his tunic to drag it over himself. Mu Qing almost regrets saying anything… almost. “I’ve not been fucking avoiding you.”
“Is that so?” Scoffing, Mu Qing thinks of every time Feng Xin has darted off as soon as feasible to not be in his presence. “Then you’re just so busy that you can’t stay to chat or have drinks anymore?”
Feng Xin quirks a brow while he jeers, “I didn’t realize you cared. Is that what you came here for, Mu Qing? A drink?”
Startled, realizing he’s said too much, Mu Qing’s heart races as his eyes flicker before narrowing. “As if I’d barge in here for something so pointless. No, I’m here on official business,” he evades, using Pei Ming’s mission as a handy excuse.
Feng Xin frowns, “Then why the chit chat? What business?”
Rolling his eyes, Mu Qing explains about the ghost gambling ring collecting people’s souls after staking life, wealth, love, and revenge. If the Heavens can solve it without involving the retired couple, they will clear some of their debt, a very enticing motive. He goes on about the pattern of operations showing the ring to next operate in one of their territories, and Pei Ming wanting them to figure a way to break and capture the ring and operator.
“Shit. This is the best they can give us?” Feng Xin scrubs a hand over his face. “A sting operation and we’re supposed to figure it out together? Like hell that’s going to work… can’t they narrow it down any further? Which territory will they hit, what region? For fuck’s sake, it’s not like I’m asking them to name the village, though that’d be damn helpful.”
Mu Qing agrees with some of the points but is irritated that Feng Xin doesn’t think they can figure it out together. “Any good operation isn’t going to advertise until they’re already set up and running in their new location, with an exit strategy in place. You and I will have to figure out how to find them and then what kind of trick we want to use to root out the leader.”
“Undercover?” Feng Xin shakes his head. “You fucking suck at undercover work.”
“As if you’re much better,” Mu Qing tosses back. “And stop trying to avoid working with me! I don’t know what has you so upset, but I’ll toss your words back at you: talk like a human!”
“I’m not avoiding you,” Feng Xin restates. “It’s… fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, loosening it even further from the messy bun that was falling after the sparring session. His ribbon slips free, and Mu Qing instinctively reaches up to catch it, only to have his arm knocked back. “I thought…” Feng Xin begins.
Whatever he was going to say is cut off as Mu Qing swings his other in straight to those bronzed-now-covered abs. Feng Xin, caught off guard doubles over while bringing up his guard against a kick aimed for his nose. He quickly rights himself and jumps forward, aiming to tackle Mu Qing.
They spar, fighting hard with fists pumping and legs kicking out, as they pant with exertion. Mu Qing feels the adrenaline race through him, a familiar thrill he’s not felt in months, and is both excited and all the angrier that Feng Xin won’t admit he’s been avoiding him. When does that damn spell work?
Using his anger, he trips Feng Xin, and tosses him over his shoulder. Mu Qing quickly follows the archer to the ground, pinning him down and notices his bun has come loose, spilling all that auburn hair around him, and framing his face.
“Yield!” Mu Qing seethes between breaths.
Feng Xin tries to buckle, to kick Mu Qing off, but is well-pinned by the slimmer man. He grunts and stills, staring up at the victor before jerking his head in a nod.
Not getting up yet, Mu Qing quizzes, “Why have you been-”
“Your eyes…” Feng Xin mutters.
“My what?” Mu Qing pauses, focusing on Feng Xin’s own eyes as he realizes he’s being stared at by honey-gold. “What about my eyes?”
“N-nothing,” Feng Xin stammers, turning his head away as his ears turn red.
Mu Qing puts more body weight down on the shoulder he has pinned, hearing Feng Xin groan slightly in pain. Why that sound causes him to feel heat race to his gut, he doesn’t understand, but thankfully, Feng Xin replies, “Purple… they have purple specks mixed in with the gray.”
Mu Qing backs off slightly but tilts his head in puzzlement. What does that have to do with anything? “So? They’ve always been that way. Dull gray and dark purple. Anyways… why-”
“They’re not dull,” Feng Xin turns to look back at him, into his eyes, his face a study of serious and sincere. “They’re like swirls of clouds that change with your emotions and now I just discovered there are hidden jewels … too… I mean… fuck… can you get off me already?”
Mu Qing, stunned, slowly sits up as he stares at Feng Xin as if he just grew a second head. Clouds? Hidden jewels? Has he been practicing poetry? He’s terrible at it… adorable… idiot. “What was all that?”
“Nothing,” Feng Xin says as he tries to fix his bun. He looks around for his ribbon and awkwardly accepts it from Mu Qing with a curt nod. “Just… ignore what I said.”
Mu Qing watches as he makes one, two, three attempts to fix his bun and then knocks his hands down. “Let me, idiot. I can’t believe you still can’t do a simple updo without a mirror,” Mu Qing scolds lightly.
“Yeah, yeah. Not all of us spend our time perfecting how to look pretty,” Feng Xin taunts back.
However, after the comment about Mu Qing’s eyes, it sounds more like a compliment and less like an insult. Mu Qing squirms, unsure how to respond. He notices Feng Xin’s shoulders tense but ignores it as he runs his hands through the auburn locks, untangling the mess Feng Xin made of it.
“Will you hurry and just put it up?” Feng Xin calls back. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“It’ll be done in just a second,” Mu Qing returns. “I just need to get these tangles out. Why are you so impatient to send me off?” He takes a few extra moments to card his fingers through, just to feel the soft hair against his hands. When Feng Xin shivers, Mu Qing is called back to his task and begins winding the hair into a braid to then wrap as a knot on top.
“I’m not… just finish up…” Feng Xin says.
Scoffing, Mu Qing debates arguing with Feng Xin but instead wraps his nerves with the ribbon and carefully asks, “Are you going to tell me what I did wrong this time or are you just going to continue acting like that?” There. That’s communicating like a human. It comes out stiffly with an edge to the tone, but the effort to understand is sincere.
“What the fuck?” Feng Xin turns around, tugging the ribbon out of Mu Qing’s hands. “What is your problem?”
“That’s what I’m asking you!” Mu Qing hisses back, staring at gold eyes heating up in annoyance.
“I don’t have a problem,” Feng Xin says as he stands up. As he steps back, Mu Qing steps forward, refusing to give any ground. Feng Xin’s frown deepens. “Would you give me some space? I can’t think with you so close.”
Feeling the pain of those words strike, Mu Qing holds his ground while his fists clench by his sides. “What is there to think about? Just tell me, what have I done wrong this time?” Mu Qing demands.
“Nothing!” Feng Xin turns to leave but Mu Qing tackles him from behind, refusing to let this chance go by until he gets an answer out of him.
Damn that useless spell! “Why – are you – avoiding – me then?” Mu Qing grunts between his efforts to re-pin the broader god.
“I just – need space!” Feng Xin retorts. Trapping Mu Qing beneath him this time, he breathes heavily onto the back of Mu Qing’s neck. “I just need a little time… to sort some things out. Fuck. You’re more needy than a concubine.”
Mu Qing cringes at the comparison and struggles to buck Feng Xin off but only manages to roll them over so Feng Xin is on his chest instead. “And how many concubines have asked you for sons, Ju Yang?” Mu Qing taunts back.
Feng Xin winces and dips his head, “Fuck you. You know damn well I hate that they crowd me.” His fists tighten around Mu Qing’s wrists behind the slimmer god’s back, a warning to not pursue this line of jest.
Mu Qing shifts slightly and manages to free a knee. Using the opportunity, he attempts to break away, kicking at Feng Xin’s leg, but only manages to knock the bronze god off balance so he lands fully on him. Feng Xin gives a groan that mixes with Mu Qing’s grunt. As he shifts again, he feels Feng Xin stiffen.
“Don’t – move,” Feng Xin hisses between clenched teeth. “Don’t fucking move.”
Confused, Mu Qing stops. Did he hurt Feng Xin with that little kick? They’ve fought harder before. “Why…?”
Feng Xin tilts his head up so their eyes meet. Honey amber meets misty gray, and Mu Qing swallows hard as he feels all thoughts melt away and his stomach quivers in anticipation. Anticipation… for what? Why do I feel like I’m floating but am paralyzed? His eyes… they’re “Gorgeous.”
At first, Mu Qing thinks he’s spoken his thoughts out loud, only to realize Feng Xin is the one who had spoken. As color floods Mu Qing’s cheeks, he squirms in embarrassment, forgetting the recent order to not move. A hiss of breath comes from above.
“Shit. I told you not to move,” Feng Xin abruptly sits up, rolling himself off Mu Qing and to the side with his back to the saber wielder. Adjusting his clothes, Feng Xin bends his knees and leans forward with elbows on knees. “Just… do whatever,” he casually waves a hand.
Still flushed from the strange compliment, I did hear that right, yes?, and the odd atmosphere, Mu Qing slowly sits up. “Feng Xin… why have you been avoiding me?” He tries once more.
With a scowl over his shoulder, Feng Xin grouches, “Would you leave off already? I don’t want to answer.”
Oh. That’s… truthful at least. I wasn’t expecting the spell to be defeated by truth. “No. I’ve put in too much work to get you to admit the truth. Tell me why, Feng Xin.”
Scrubbing his face, the archer simply shakes his head.
Mu Qing knee walks over to where the other man is sitting. Ignoring the way Feng Xin’s breath catches as he leans his body weight on those upright knees and invades his space to put their faces close, Mu Qing seethes, “Tell me why.”
Feng Xin swallows once, twice while his eyes shift, looking for some place to land. Mu Qing only narrows his eyes in confusion. Is it that hard to say? Did I do something so terrible? “What have I done, Feng Xin?” His worry comes out icy, dripping in cold anger.
Grabbing Mu Qing’s shoulders, Feng Xin tries to push him back without success. “Nothing! Fucking nothing! Would you back up? My heart can’t take this pounding much longer.”
While the shoving was ineffective, Mu Qing sits back in confusion and worry at Feng Xin’s comment. Is he ill? “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’ve been ignoring me because you’ve got some illness or curse.”
“What? No,” Feng Xin dismisses. “I just… today, you’ve been so close. And all these questions. What the fuck is up with you?”
Squirming guiltily inside, Mu Qing looks away, “If we’re going to work together, we need to sort out any issues going on.”
“No, you don’t,” Feng Xin chides. “What are you hiding? Don’t try to play innocent now, I recognize that look.”
Mu Qing shrugs, “I’ll answer if you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Fuck,” Feng Xin slides his hand through his bangs and over his recently fixed top knot. “Fuck. Fine… I didn’t mean to avoid you… Things just changed so suddenly and… I needed time to process. I didn’t think you’d notice,” Feng Xin shrugs sheepishly.
Nearly eight hundred years we fought, hated, and then suddenly we are supposed to be friends again? That’s a lot of change, yes… but to push me out while he processes? How is that different than before? “Of course, I noticed,” Mu Qing grudgingly mumbles. “I assumed you were mad and would be over it soon enough. Until you kept at it for months.”
“Has it already been months?” Feng Xin startles. “Sorry…” He studies Mu Qing, “You cared enough to confront me though.”
Embarrassment tingles through Mu Qing and he waves away what Feng Xin is saying, “Don’t think too much of it. I just noticed you being different. You’re like a dog… you have your tricks, but you don’t learn new ones without a reason.”
A surprised laugh escapes Feng Xin, “A trick dog? And who’s my master? Anyways, I get to hear now…what’s up with you today? What are you hiding?”
“Didn’t we sort that out?” Mu Qing evades. “I noticed you being different and confronted you about it.”
“Uh huh. I think that’s what it started as,” Feng Xin agrees. “But then you kept pushing. You usually back down and try a different approach some other day if one fails. So… what’s with the change, Mu Qing?”
Having agreed to the exchange of information, and feeling guilty for bespelling Feng Xin, Mu Qing’s eyes flicker before landing on Feng Xin’s earring. “I used a truth potion,” he states succinctly.
“A truth… on who?” Feng Xin asks. Then he realizes why Mu Qing would be so demanding questioning him today. “On me? You used a truth potion on me! Fuck!”
“You wouldn’t talk to me, and I needed to be sure to get the answer…” Mu Qing trails off as he sees the darkening of Feng Xin’s expression.
“You didn’t have to drug me to get the answer. We could have just sparred and talked it out like we did today. Fuck,” Feng Xin emphasizes. “I don’t feel any different. Are you sure you got the potion right? When did you even give it to me?”
“Yesterday. I mixed it with the herbal remedy,” Mu Qing admits. “And yes, I’m sure I got it right. I followed the instructions for the spell exactly, mixing goats’ milk, poppy seeds, a rose bud and then enchanting it-”
“The fuck did you just say?” Feng Xin interrupts. “That’s no truth spell!”
Confused, certain Feng Xin doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Mu Qing counters, “Yes, it is. I brokered with a trustworthy source for this spell, and I got the truth out of you, didn’t I?”
“You moron, I spoke the truth because I wanted to,” Feng Xin admits. “That’s a fucking love potion!”
“A lov- a what?” Mu Qing exclaims, eyes round in disbelief. Narrowing them again, he crosses his arms, “You can’t trick me, Feng Xin. I would never use such a dirty and underhanded potion like that.”
“I’m a fucking sex god, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin confidently says, still sitting on the ground with his knees bent. “I know a thing or two about love potions. You can ask Ming Guang if you need to confirm. Any potion that uses goats’ milk and a rose bud is a love potion or variant thereof.”
“But… I asked for a truth potion…” Mu Qing mutters in bewilderment. “Maybe they have similar properties?”
“I don’t fucking know?” Feng Xin rubs a hand over his face. “I’m not a knowledge god. I would have thought you’d know that better than me.”
“What? Why would I know better?” Mu Qing asks.
Feng Xin cocks an eyebrow, “Aren’t you more knowledge base as your secondary godhood ability?”
Mu Qing feels a strange mix of bitterness and humor that Feng Xin doesn’t know what his secondary godhood ability is. However, as he doesn’t advertise his for the world to know like Feng Xin with Ju Yang does, he buries the feeling. “No. I got the truth spell to use against a knowledge god,” he admits.
“Oh, then what… who were you planning to use it against?” Feng Xin changes tact.
“Ling Wen,” Mu Qing states.
“You were going to give a love potion to Ling Wen?” Feng Xin’s glower returns. “Is she your type?”
“Why would I give a love potion to her?” Mu Qing asks in confusion. “I was going to give her the truth potion. When she defected from the Heavens, I expected we would need to interrogate her but that she wouldn’t answer easily. However, things… escalated quickly and I never got a chance to use it. Until now.”
“Until now,” Feng Xin repeats. “Only it’s not a truth potion, it’s a love potion, and you dosed me.”
“I don’t agree with you,” Mu Qing says. “How can we be sure it’s not a truth potion? Maybe they have similarities, and you just don’t know it.”
“Fine,” Feng Xin lifts his fingers to his forehead and connects to the communication array. Mumbling the password, he asks after Ling Wen and makes sure Mu Qing can hear the conversation. “Ling Wen-Jun, I have a quick question regarding spell craft.”
“Yes, General, what can I assist with?” Ling Wen replies.
“What are the main ingredients in a truth spell or potion? How would one recognize one was cast?” Feng Xin asks.
“Ground obsidian, sage, and red talisman paper are the foundational ingredients for all truth spells and potions. Someone who has been subjected to such a spell would feel an irrational need to say every true thought and word that came to mind, whether asked or not. The strength of this need depends on the level of the spell and the ability of the caster,” Ling Wen informs. “Is there any further information you need?”
“Would a truth spell ever use goats’ milk or a rose bud?” Feng Xin follows up, just to be certain.
“It could… but that would be a very unique truth spell. It would still require the foundational ingredients, otherwise, you would be looking for a love spell. Goats’ milk and a rose bud are foundational ingredients for love spells and are more common in that realm. I can bring Pei Ming into this conversation if you need further information along that line?” Ling Wen offers.
Feng Xin declines, “No, that is everything I needed to know. Thank you.”
Disconnecting he stares at Mu Qing, who has lost color since Feng Xin first went into the communication array.
Mu Qing’s mind races. No. No – no – no. I did not give a love potion to Feng Xin of all people. I couldn’t have. This isn’t happening. Wait… it’ll only last for a short while. He just has to ignore it for the time it’s effective. That shouldn’t be too hard?
As Mu Qing opens his mouth to suggest this, Feng Xin finally speaks, “I know you didn’t mean to douse me with a love potion… but this should teach you not to push potions on anyone against their will. You never know what will go wrong.”
See. That’s not love at all. We’re fine. Nodding, guilt wrapping up uncomfortably with shame and embarrassment, Mu Qing stands up and dusts himself off before offering a hand to Feng Xin. “I recognize this was not my best decision,” he apologizes, again out of character. “The spell should only last a few days… just ignore it and everything will be back to normal.”
“Normal?” Feng Xin asks as he rises to his feet, his face near Mu Qing’s. He places Mu Qing’s palm against his chest, where his heart races. “Can it be normal when my heart races at the sight of you?” As he leans to the side, his breath caressing over Mu Qing’s cheek and ear, “Or when I have thoughts of wanting to hold you? Keep you close and watch your skin change shades as your emotions rise?”
Mu Qing’s breath hitches as he feels the flush overtake his face. He tries to back up but is caught off guard when Feng Xin’s free arm snakes around his waist to his lower back. A surprised yelp escapes before Mu Qing can bite his lip, refusing to let Feng Xin win this game. Whatever this is.
“Can it be normal when I want to ask you to stay and not go?” Feng Xin pulls his head back and takes his hand off the one holding Mu Qing’s to his chest. He strokes hair back from Mu Qing’s face, taking in impossibly wide eyes. “When I want to kiss you-”
Mu Qing shoves his way back, nearly knocking Feng Xin off his feet in his desperate bid to put distance between them. Face flaming red, he stammers, “J-just a f-few d-d-days.” Then he turns and flees the scene, ignoring the low hum of laughter he hears behind him.
He slams past his waiting deputies, shouting, “NOT NOW!” when they try to ask something of him, making it to the sanctuary of his inner chambers to shut out the world with a slamming of the grand doors. What was that? What in damnation was that? Still feeling an echo of Feng Xin’s touch, his breath on his ear, and the heat from his words, Mu Qing shivers.
Just a few days. That’s all. Then we can work on Pei Ming’s mission. Together. After a … gods. What have I done? How could I make such a stupid mistake. I bespelled Feng Xin.
With a love potion.