Chapter Text
Mu Qing leaned back against the edge of the pool and cracked his back before settling deeper into the steaming water. He pulled the guan from his hair and let himself slip beneath the surface for a moment or two before coming back up for air. He rested the back of his head on the ledge and looked up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. He was exhausted.
Today had been… a lot.
He’d spent half the day trying to get right here, where he was now. One thing after another had gotten in his way.
He’d only been to the ghost realm a small handful of times, but that place—especially Crimson Rain’s cesspool—always left him feeling dirty in a way that was hard to describe. Like the air itself was putrid and corruptive, and it was still clinging to his clothes. The stink of ghost qi, perhaps. Upon returning to heaven, he’d wanted a bath more than anything in the world. He’d also wanted the chance to rest and think about who he had happened to meet in that gambling hall.
A ghost from his past, but one that yet lives and breathes.
It had been incredibly disturbing to see that face again after six centuries. His Highness’s soft voice still dripped with irritating sincerity, but his eyes had grown much harder than he remembered. Even more jarring, other than his garish attire, was the deflated physical state they’d found the Crown Prince in.
It shouldn’t have bothered Mu Qing, to see His Holiness so thin and pale. Mu Qing shouldn’t have to care about anything he’d gone through after his banishment. His Highness had made his choices. Mu Qing was no longer the prince’s attendant. It wasn’t his job to tend to him or try to fix his problems. He was not his friend. He didn’t even need to refer to him as “His Highness” anymore. Xie Lian’s spiritual powers were sealed, so really, he wasn’t even a fellow cultivator anymore.
Mu Qing looked down at his pruning fingers and the callouses there. His mind just kept drifting back to Xie Lian sitting at that gambler’s den table. The way the lighting had made his cheeks look so sunken. How thin his neck looked, and his wrists. He now knew why, of course, but it was hard to imagine that this was really the same person who had always made him feel so pathetic in comparison. It wasn’t right.
At the time of their meeting, Mu Qing had thought the world had just taken its toll on him. He couldn’t imagine how the perfect white lotus had ended up living in Ghost City of all places, but it couldn’t be good for one’s health. No doubt he was downtrodden after 600 years wallowing in the mortal and ghost realms, apparently as a lowly scrap collector, if rumors were to be believed. He more likely was still working as a street busker, using all the incredible skill and grace he’d been born with as a cheap performance.
Mu Qing had always known the prince was no better than anyone else. He’d had an auspicious birth, and that’s all. Xie Lian spent his early life prancing around and pretending he was the best because he could get away with it. Sitting across from him in that den of sin, Mu Qing thought that perhaps he had been properly humbled. Working at such a depraved place, working for someone like Hua Cheng, it was clear now that this white lotus had sunken into the mud once things became hard.
Feng Xin had been bent out of shape at his choice of employment, but not Mu Qing. Not really. Xie Lian was old news from a very tiny portion of his life. He was a stepping stone on Mu Qing’s path to godhood and that's all. Mu Qing moved on a long time ago. He was the one who now lived in a palace. Xie Lian probably swept the Ghost King’s floors. He didn’t care about him anymore.
So why had it stung so much to look at him? Why had his first instinct been to start fussing over him? Like old times. He’d held his tongue, kept up his front, but only barely. He might have overcompensated and acted harshly, in retrospect. Knowing what he now knew about Xie Lian’s circ*mstances, he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about his own behavior. He shouldn’t. Xie Lian didn’t even like him back then, and by the time they parted ways he probably hated Mu Qing.
I don’t care. I don’t care. I don't.
After that encounter at the Gambler’s Den, he’d almost wanted to break his cultivation and have a drink. He’d dragged himself back up to heaven, hoping to bathe first and foremost. He wanted to wipe himself clean of everything that had occurred there. His plans to go home and scrub Ghost City from his skin had been deterred once he reported their findings to Jun Wu, however.
Instead of dismissing him, Jun Wu had asked him instead to go collect the underling from the palace of Lang Qianqiu that was being investigated. It was time to interrogate him. Jun Wu was going to question him personally, so Mu Qing shouldn’t have to be involved further. Normally he’d be all over this kind of intrigue and insert himself into the situation, but right then all he’d really wanted was to go home. Collecting this individual should have been quick; half an incense time at most. He’d gone to Lang Qianqiu’s palace but the official in question was nowhere to be found.
Either he’d been tipped off or he already knew the writing was on the wall. He’d run off to the mortal realm and attempted to hide. Up to this point, this official had vehemently cried that he was being set up, but if this was the truth, running was a very bad call. It made him look guilty.
Mu Qing thought it must be him. There was no hard proof, but there was an overwhelming amount of circ*mstantial evidence. Most officials were more than happy to just accept he was to blame—he had a reputation when it came to his ambition and what he was willing to do to get ahead. He had very few friends.
In a way, Mu Qing could relate. If he was being falsely accused just because he was the most obvious choice for a scapegoat, then he certainly could relate. At that point, however, it didn’t look like it could be anyone else but him.
Mu Qing had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t Hua Cheng. Lang Qianqiu wasn’t in Ghost City, and they had no evidence to support a case where he was involved in any way. There had never been any accounts of the two of them interacting at any point. Though Hua Cheng was preferable to one of their own, just blaming Hua Cheng because he also seemed the obvious choice was also wrong. If it was him, it meant he had thoroughly set up that junior official, but why would he bother? Why not just take the blame? If it was him, he would be gloating about it.
No, it had to be the junior deputy.
Though he was already exhausted from the hours spent searching Ghost City, now Mu Qing had a whole other heavenly official to look for, and he could be anywhere in the world.
Mu Qing tried to contact Feng Xin through his personal communication array, and all he’d received was a curt ‘Not now ’ and no more responses after that. He was even more distraught than Mu Qing over seeing their old prince in the flesh. Well, someone had to be the responsible one. Mu Qing wasn’t going to let his own emotional baggage get in the way of his job. That’s why he was still a god.
It had taken him and the Wind Master almost three hours to track that official down, which wasn’t bad considering it could have taken weeks. Insights from his fellow junior officials had given them a more targeted area to search in. They hauled him back to Heaven and that should have been the chance for Mu Qing to finally take a breather and a bath.
Then, of course, at the last minute Shi Qingxuan had to say something about Feng Xin. He’d had to go and blurt out that he was probably in Ling Wen’s archive looking up prayers.
At first Mu Qing had stormed off towards home, annoyed at Feng Xin for putting his palace's matters first. Then, another possibility crept into his head. What if Xie Lian had prayed to him? If this had anything to do with Xie Lian, it meant Feng Xin knew something he didn’t about the situation they found him in. If he knew, then Mu Qing wanted to know as well.
Either way, he was still pissed at being blown off and he’d love to tell Feng Xin so before retiring.
He hadn’t bothered trying to contact him again with his private communication array. He was going to confront him in person. Punching distance. He’d stormed down there in a haze of anger, not at all expecting to find what he did: Feng Xin in probably the worst state he’d ever seen him in.
He’d just been sitting in the middle of the aisle, like a child, his eyes still red after reading the now dampened contents of a scroll. It was deeply disturbing to see him of all people like this. The tough and sturdy martial warrior, Lord Big Dick, wilted in impotent defeat.
Mu Qing hadn’t even had it in him to make fun. It had to be something really bad. It had to be related to Xie Lian, because who else could hit below the belt in such a way?
Mu Qing still was not ready for it. He’d braced himself, and still felt blindsided.
Feng Xin revealed that His Highness was trapped and starved for decades and that he’d prayed to them both in his desperation. He couldn’t die, but he was still entirely mortal. He would have felt all of it. That’s why he was thin and pale now. It wasn’t a side effect of making Ghost City his home. He had suffered something unimaginable.
After Feng Xin left, Mu Qing had rummaged through all of Feng Xin’s prayers, finding all that involved the Crown Prince. There had been many. They were very hard to listen to.
Then, like a masoch*st, he’d found his own shelf and went through his own prayers from that same decade. Despite his mounting exhaustion, he’d spent over an hour searching. There had only been three prayers total, one of which probably didn’t even count, as it was just his name whispered.
Of course, Mu Qing had probably been Xie Lian’s absolute last resort.
It made sense, but it also left him feeling incredibly upset at the difference between them. They’d both left him behind and reached for heaven. Sure, Xie Lian and Mu Qing left off on pretty sour terms, but it’s not like Mu Qing wouldn’t have reached out a hand in that kind of dire situation! He wouldn’t have just left him to that kind of torment out of spite!
Mu Qing had left the archive feeling about how Feng Xin looked. He hadn’t let himself cry, not over the old news that was Xie Lian. He wouldn’t let evidence of his aching heart show on his face. Mu Qing had then dragged himself towards his palace at last, weighed down now with sadness and fury, though he didn’t know what to do with any of it. It was far too late now.
He had been so ready for that bath. It was so late.
And then.
Rumbling. Crashing. The bell of heaven clanging so hard it sounded like it might shatter.
The streets had been silent and deserted moments ago. Now Mu Qing found himself running around with the other heavenly officials just trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. It seemed like an ascension was occurring, but no ascension had ever been like this. It was usually just a stroke of lightning or two, a thunderous crash, and then the joyous clanging of the bell to announce the arrival of a new god.
This was more like the arrival of a calamity. An invasion. That bell was shrieking in horror and warning. Mu Qing’s first thought was that Hua Cheng had come here in response to their intrusion in his city. His arrival last time had not been heralded by earthquakes shaking the very foundations, however.
The bell was swinging with twice the usual vigor, and of course Mu Qing had to be the one below when it swung itself from its perch and came crashing down. It had nearly landed right on top of him, but thankfully Mu Qing never went anywhere without his saber. He’d had to slice the thing in two in order not to be pulverized by it.
He knew Ling Wen would have something to say about that. If memory served, that bell had been hanging there since heaven was established.
After this, Mu Qing had completely forgotten about taking a bath at all. He, like all the other officials, needed to find out what in the world had just happened. Was that even an ascension? They all headed towards the ascension gate to see who could possibly be powerful or important enough to make such a remarkable and devastating entrance.
Mu Qing could not have been happier to be so far away when the new god arrived. He was glad he was preoccupied by that bell. It meant he was in the back.
What were the odds?
What were the odds that the very day he and Feng Xin had found their long lost prince, he had ascended yet again. It almost felt like somehow the two of them had unwittingly brought him back with them.
Xie Lian was no longer old news that Mu Qing could just put into the back of his mind and forget again.
The moment his eyes had locked onto Xie Lian’s thin frame and apologetic smile, Mu Qing had panicked and darted behind a large pillar. He wasn’t ready to face him again just yet. Not with his mad, desperate, sometimes furious prayers clinging to Mu Qing’s mind like a leech.
Mu Qing knew that it was not his fault that Xie Lian’s prayers hadn’t been answered. No offering: no audience. That’s how it worked. And yet.
And yet, Mu Qing felt like he was to blame for something. It was like he was a mortal again, standing in His Highness’s shadow, terrified of screwing something up or letting him down. Afraid to see Xie Lian’s disappointment in him, his judgment. He hated this feeling. He hadn’t felt this way once since becoming a god.
Others may not like him, but he had worked his ass off to be treated with his due respect. He’d never been made to feel lesser by anyone's mere presence, other than perhaps the divine emperor himself.
Instead of sticking around to watch the drama unfold, Mu Qing simply left. He didn’t want to look at Xie Lian right now and he didn’t want Xie Lian to look at him. He’d hear all about it later. That was fine. For once, he didn’t need to be on top of all the gossip. He didn’t need to linger in Heaven’s public communication array.
He’d slipped into the night towards his palace, and that long awaited soak in the tub.
He’d finally made it here.
He couldn’t relax at all, however.
He had manically scrubbed and scrubbed at his skin until it was bright pink. He’d washed his hair four times until it squeaked under his fingers. He hadn’t been able to wash away any of his tension. Hot water didn’t seem to work on his overactive mind.
Xie Lian is here. He’s really here in heaven. He’s a fellow god.
Mu Qing couldn’t imagine what he’d done in the past few hours to warrant an ascension. He didn’t especially care. It was Xie Lian, center of the known universe, after all. Heavenly Tribulations could be really bizarre things, so it didn’t really matter what specific thing had happened. The Wind Master ascended while drinking wine, for f*ck’s sake.
It was oddly humiliating that he’d have to welcome him back after centuries of feeling like he had surpassed him and left him in the dust.
Xie Lian, for all his gifts and talent, had made idiotic decisions. He’d only even been a god for a small handful of years before throwing it all away. He’d been one of the most powerful beings in existence, with follower numbers only rivaled by the divine emperor himself, but the fool put his own feelings above it all and jumped down to burn with his kingdom.
Mu Qing may not win popularity contests, but at least he had staying power. He knew how to play the game. He wasn’t a fool.
The question was why in the hell Heaven was so determined to keep bringing Xie Lian back here. Just what was so great about him? How could Heaven be fooled? Was it because he was that good with a sword? He couldn’t even swing one in his current state! Did he ascend through the sheer magnitude of his suffering? Did that warrant godhood?
Why am I getting so heated about this?
Mu Qing slammed his fist down into the water, causing a large splash as frustration rolled through him. He hated that Xie Lian’s claws were so deep in him after all this time—that he had, in fact, not moved on and put these petty feelings to rest.
He wished he could approach the prince like a stranger—impartial, uninterested—but god he was still bitter. Xie Lian’s mere presence still had the power to make him feel defensive. Inadequate. He was still ashamed of his actions back then, even if they still felt logical to him. He’d made the right choice in leaving instead of being dragged down with him.
Memory of that day was still fresh somehow. Their last moments together on that mountain. Sometimes it still felt like he’d never been able to wash those mud-stains off. He just had to remind himself that he had stuck around longer than most would have. He didn’t owe Xie Lian anything. He’d been his servant. That’s all.
Xie Lian's return would be so much easier to contend with if he hadn’t learned about the prayers though. The fact that Xie Lian had reached out to him and he never knew it was killing him. He hated that under all his anger was a solid layer of pity he couldn’t be rid of.
I wish I’d never followed Feng Xin down there.
Mu Qing sunk down lower into the water, only his eyes and nose hovering above its surface. He should have dried off ages ago, but getting out meant going to bed finally, and that meant facing whatever news tomorrow would bring. It meant he could no longer hide.
There was bound to be plenty of jokes about him sweeping up Xie Lian’s new f*cking palace. Well, if he could ever afford to have one erected. He’d probably have to pay for all the damages first. He had no followers so it wasn’t like he had access to any merits. That foolish prince really couldn’t do anything without causing himself problems, could he? Mu Qing almost wanted to laugh. Some things never change.
Sitting here in silence, nothing but the gentle sounds of lapping water, Mu Qing realized that there was also a little sliver of him that was pleased about all this.
A tiny little bud of something happy that he wasn’t sure he wanted to even address.
Relief, perhaps.
Relief that His Highness’s seemingly endless banishment had reached its end. That he’d apparently redeemed himself from whatever the f*ck had apparently occurred during his second ascension.
Relief that this person who had suffered, who had at one time actually been rather important to him, would be okay now. He wasn’t stuck working for that menace to survive, at any rate.
Mu Qing didn’t hate Xie Lian. He’d lost a lot of respect for him back then, but he’d never hated him. He liked for people to recognize that the Crown Prince wasn’t all he had been chalked up to be, but he would never want to watch him suffer and struggle. In fact, as he now realized, he might have even missed him just a little bit. He even hoped Xie Lian wouldn’t immediately f*ck it all up again and end up banished once more. Though in some ways, that happening would actually be hilarious, Mu Qing now wanted the chance for a new beginning.
He didn’t know how well they’d be able to get along, but it almost didn’t matter. Mu Qing looked forward to interacting with him god to god—as proper equals. He wouldn’t be talked down to now. He wanted to reforge their relationship into something new. Something that didn’t make Mu Qing feel small.
Mu Qing hoped…
He buried his steam-flushed face in his wrinkled hands. He didn’t even want to think about that. He didn’t want to admit to himself what he really hoped for.
He finally stood up from the water and reached for a towel.
Just then, a voice popped privately into his head. Shi Qingxuan, Lord Wind Master:
“Where the hell have you been? I know you must be lurking in the array. Can you believe that the new god is the villainous State Preceptor Fang Xin?!”
Mu Qing slipped, nearly knocking himself out on the pool ledge.
