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Feng Xin could count his friends on the palm of one hand. When he wondered which of them would receive four boxes of jars of preserves, he could only think of one.
One morning, as he returned from his training routine and walked toward his palace, he found one of his junior officers already waiting for him at the door.
"Report," Feng Xin demanded without pausing at the threshold, taking a handkerchief from his robes and wiping the sweat still dripping from the back of his neck. When he heard what his subordinate had to say, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him with wide eyes, snatching the scroll he'd been reading aloud seconds before.
Around noon, he changed into a simple cultivator and descended into the Mortal Realm, carrying only his bow on his back. The report said that, during the night, he had received more than 300 prayers from a village attacked by a giant, man-eating demon tiger; people prayed from their homes, begging for the monster that had roamed the streets since dusk the day before to disappear.
When Feng Xin appeared, people began shouting from their windows, crying and pleading:
"Master cultivator, help us, we're under attack!"
It took several hours, and the sun was already setting in the sky when the demon had completely dispersed. Once it was safe, he gathered the people in the square and handed out protective talismans from his palace; In return, they came one by one to leave jars with the traditional preserves of the village, deeply thanking and promising great offerings to the god who had sent a skilled master to save them.
Now he had five boxes of jars filled with all sorts of preserved foods, and he didn't know what to do with so much. To begin with, he didn't even need to eat: Gods don't have an appetite! What was he supposed to do with dozens and dozens of jars? All it took was a couple of them to satisfy him and accept the offering.
He first thought of Shi Qing Xuan. He was a great guy, and perhaps he and his mortal friends would appreciate such a gift. However, the unpleasant memory of her feminine gifts invading his personal space still prevented him from looking at his face without his blood boiling with shame.
Then he thought of Mu Qing. He was the closest neighbor to his palace, and in fact, since the Battle of Mount Tonglu, they were already on better terms. They sometimes took missions together in the Mortal Realm, and occasionally practiced hand-to-hand combat. Besides, they could already go for minutes without cursing each other. However, when he thought about what he would say when he appeared outside his door with a box of rustic-looking jars with unclear contents, Feng Xin became disheartened.
"What's this? Do I look like a peasant?"
Then he thought of the only man he knew who would happily accept food of any kind, regardless of appearance or origin.
So, the next afternoon, Feng Xin descended from the heavens with four crates in tow and calmly climbed Mount Taicang, heading for Xie Lian's ramshackle, simple cottage.
From previous visits, Feng Xin knew that His Highness enjoyed spending the evenings tending to his garden, fixing things, and feeding his pets in his old cabin. Sometimes he would go down to nearby villages to collect scraps and return before nightfall to prepare dinner, patiently waiting for his hellish husband to return so they could eat it together. He also knew that he had to arrive before they finished, as they were both spending the night in Ghost City.
After walking for a while, Feng Xin spotted the wooden cottage in the distance and saw smoke coming out of the kitchen window: Just in time! If Xie Lian was cooking, it meant that jerk Hua Cheng was probably still terrorizing someone somewhere far away.
It was when he reached the small fence that marked the grounds of the cottage's back garden, that a violent gust of wind shook the trees. The dust from the road rose so violently that it stung his eyes. Even the white robes Xie Lian had hung on long ropes beside the well were whipped against each other by the insistent buffeting of the air, swaying until one of them gave way and flew skyward, spinning and eventually catching on a high tree branch.
At first, Feng Xin had no intention of doing anything about it. After all, Xie Lian was more experienced at climbing trees than he was. But it wasn't so easy to just let the matter rest; after all, if he let enough time pass, the garment would be blown away by the wind, never to be found. In the end, he decided the most sensible thing to do was retrieve it himself: he put the boxes on the ground and looked up, calculating his movements in his mind.
With his martial god-like prowess, climbing the tree was no problem. In a couple of leaps, he made his way through the branches, climbing until he could reach out and grab the robe.
Gauging the distance from the ground, determined to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible, Feng Xin looked around.
From that tree branch, there wasn't much to see: the path he'd climbed, a bunch of similar trees, and, of course, Xie Lian's cabin. From the latter, the back window was visible, which Feng Xin recognized as the private part of the house. It was there that Xie Lian had his tea table and the bed where he dozed sometimes.
Feng Xin was ready to climb down when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of white and red; almost immediately, there was noise. He looked back to hear things falling to the floor and banging on the walls inside the cabin. Pants and grunts came from inside.
He immediately regretted looking back.
"Your Highness, Your Highness, you're so excited—"
Through the open window, the sight of two entangled bodies suddenly appeared. One, dressed in red robes, fell to the ground, sitting with his legs slightly crossed. He carried the other, dressed in white, on his lap, his limbs wrapped around him like a vine.
The one in red, presumably Hua Cheng, had his back to the window, his arms wrapped around the unmistakable figure of His Highness, whose face was uncovered to Feng Xin from that position. The Ghost King's hands circled Xie Lian's narrow waist, bunching the fabric of the undergarment that slid down his shoulders to the middle of his chest, revealing a stretch of golden skin adorned with furious red markings.
A scene of passionate affection was unfolding within those walls, with two actors unaware of an accidental bystander struggling between the fervent desire to flee and the paralyzing shock. In such a situation, anyone would have run away, covered their eyes, and pretended nothing had happened; However, the shock left Feng Xin unable to do more than blink and squeeze the fabric between his fingers.
"San Lang, stop playing around! Ah, just let me do it already-"
The sound of the infamous Ghost King's unbearable chuckle reverberated between them and echoed throughout the surroundings.
Xie Lian’s fingers tightened on Hua Cheng’s back as he was lifted by the hips; his golden eyes, narrowed with the haze of desire, regarded the other with determination before he thrust forward to meet Hua Cheng’s lips in a searing kiss.
His hand began to move as he gathered the fabric from the back of his own clothes, then dug into the red robes. After finding that something beneath the piles of clothes that sent a shudder through both of them, he shifted onto his knees, placing them wide at Hua Cheng's sides before sinking down with a cry of indescribable pleasure.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what that something Xie Lian had just sat on was.
What the fuck?
A constantly avoided fact hit Feng Xin like a heavy steel bar: Xie Lian, his Golden Crown Prince, THE Flower-Crowned Martial God who ascended immaculately, was being disgraced in front of his eyes. Probably not for the first time.
His Highness's lips let out growls of pure ecstasy, soft and wicked, dedicated to the most feared man in the three kingdoms. He rose and fell. Up and down, up and down on Hua Cheng's lap, his head lolling back between his shoulders, his long hair falling over his arched back.
In the past, Xie Lian's physical pleasure could only come from the use of a sword; he'd draw it and a smile would spread across his face, claiming that nothing in the world could bring him greater satisfaction. Now, with his brow furrowed slightly and sweat trickling down his temples as his body swayed up and down to the rhythm of sex, you'd think such a thing could never have left those lips.
His deeply flushed cheeks, swollen, moist lips, and eyelashes fluttering over his tear-stained cheekbones lent an air of false innocence to his features, making him look so pleased that he seemed…
"San Lang, San Lang, Oh, just like that, you feel so big inside me-"
... happier than ever.
After everything that had happened in the past, Feng Xin never believed anything like happiness was possible for Xie Lian. Centuries passed, and amid the satisfaction that came from his own ascension, sadness and guilt grew deep in his heart as he imagined Xie Lian wandering alone in the world, cursed and isolated by the Three Realms.
Hua Cheng, Crimson Rain Sought Flower -the fucking terror of the heavens- was in this world to make His Highness happy like no one else had ever done. At that moment, even though he was lost in his own pleasure, and though he seemed to handle Xie Lian at will -squeezing his waist and thrusting into him with furious desire- he seemed genuinely eager to make him succumb to ecstasy. He scattered kisses along his neck and shoulders, causing them to tickle, making him smile in the throes of pleasure.
Hua Cheng made him smile, and would bring down the moon with his bare hands just so his smile never fade.
After Xie Lian's third ascension, finding him alive undid a knot in Feng Xin's stomach that had been there for centuries. After the battle against Jun Wu, when he lost his San Lang, Xie Lian looked so different that Feng Xin couldn't understand how he had never noticed that, before Hua Cheng, he had seemed utterly lonely. In some rather strange and embarrassing way, seeing His Highness lost in unmeasured pleasure made him feel… quite relieved.
"Feng Xin"
The voice inside his head made him shudder and drained the blood from his face. He had been motionless before, but after hearing his own name, he went completely rigid.
From inside the window, Xie Lian's eyes were staring at him.
Neither the erratic movements nor the moans ceased. Xie Lian grabbed a handful of Hua Cheng's hair and dragged him until his head was deeply buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. As if looking at a shadow, Xie Lian stared at Feng Xin over Hua Cheng's shoulder, not a hint of surprise or embarrassment. If Feng Xin didn't know him so well, he wouldn't have noticed the almost imperceptible glimmer of worry in his eyes.
"If he finds out what you just saw, he'll kill you."
That was all he said before he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled Hua Cheng into a blistering kiss, as if signaling Feng Xin to flee. Feng Xin gulped and clutched the robe in his hands, nodding to himself.
When Xie Lian opened his eyes again a second later, there was no one on the other side of the window. When he went out a few hours later to look for clean clothes, there were some boxes of preserved food stacked under the tree, and his robe was carelessly folded on top of them. Amidst the mess of fabric, a handwritten note was found:
"It was an accident.
-FX."
The next day, Feng Xin received a bowl of soup at the door of his palace from Yin Yu. On it was a note:
"I know. I named this dish 'Eternal Apology Soup for Friends with Eyes Hurt by Past Mistakes,' I hope you enjoy it.
-XL"
When Feng Xin ate it and then fucking threw up, he thought he deserved it.