Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s mid-autumn festival catastrophe

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/50149564.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Relationship: Fēng Xìn/Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú)
Characters: Fēng Xìn (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Mù Qíng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Xiè Lián
(Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Huā Chéng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Péi Míng (Tiān Guān
Cì Fú), Líng Wén (Tiān Guān Cì Fú)
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Games, Drummed Flower Passing, Stage plays,
Embarrassing Situations, clown to clown communication, Sexual
Content, Dubcon Sexual Content for a Moment, Alcohol, Swearing,
Bickering, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, mid-autumn festival
Language: English
Collections: FengQing Week 2023
Stats: Published: 2023-09-17 Words: 7,818 Chapters: 1/1
Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s mid-autumn festival catastrophe
by koburi

Summary

“Is everyone ready to be entertained?” Pei Ming called out.

The crowd cheered, eager to see which unlucky bastards would get caught with the cup this
year.

“Fill the cup! Fill the cup!” the crowd chanted, already smelling blood.

Feng Xin shivered. What was it about this game that brought out everyone’s worst instincts?

Pei Ming snapped his fingers and a deep rumble of thunder sounded overhead. He poured a
cup of wine with a flourish and raised it high in the air to the enthusiastic cheers of the
crowd.

Here we go, thought Feng Xin, it’s fine as long as I don’t get caught.
---
Or: Fengqing get caught with the wine cup in Drummed Flower Passing.

Notes

Written for day 1 of Fengqing Week 2023 using the prompt Games.

To avoid confusion the play content is in bold text.

See the end of the work for more notes

Feng Xin, Mu Qing, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng stepped into the festival grounds together, all
decked out in their finest for the heavenly capital’s mid-autumn festival.

“Ahh, it’s so beautiful,” Xie Lian said, looking around the resplendent garden. After glancing
around, he pointed to a rectangular table in a corner by a box hedge. “Do you mind if we sit
there, on the edge of the group? San Lang would surely draw a lot of attention if we sat in the
middle, and I think he’d be more comfortable keeping a low profile tonight.”

Hua Cheng smiled sweetly at Xie Lian. “Whatever gege says.”

Feng Xin shrugged, truly not caring one bit, and Mu Qing paused to side-eye Feng Xin
before saying “It’s fine.”

Mu Qing sat in the corner with Feng Xin next to him, followed by Xie Lian and Hua Cheng.

It had been three years since Jun Wu’s fall, and everyone had been so preoccupied with
rebuilding the heavenly capital that this was the first year the mid-autumn festival had
resumed.

After some heated debate amongst heavenly officials Crimson Rain had been allowed to
attend because he was married to a heavenly official who gave his absolute guarantee that he
wouldn’t cause any trouble. Even so, it was extraordinary that a ghost king would be allowed
to attend a festival in the heavenly realm under any circumstances, and some were unhappy
about it, so it made sense that Hua Cheng would want to keep his head down and avoid any
unnecessary scrutiny.

It didn’t matter much to Feng Xin. As long as Mu Qing was around to argue with he would
be happy. Things had been pretty good between them for the past three years; they might
even be said to be f-f-friends now. They still argued constantly, but the heat was somehow
taken out of it, replaced by something that might even be…playful. Familiar. Comfortable.

And if Feng Xin occasionally sat bolt upright in bed feeling panicked and confused because
he’d just had an erotic dream about Mu Qing, well, that was something he would just keep
buried deep inside where he could avoid thinking about it. At this point he was barely able to
admit to himself that his feelings for Mu Qing might be a little…complicated. Every time he
started to let himself think about it his brain just stopped functioning and he picked a fight
with Mu Qing instead.

But tonight Feng Xin’s heart swelled a little at the thought that Mu Qing didn’t mind being
stuck with him like this. With this seating arrangement he would basically have a monopoly
on Mu Qing all evening, and for some reason that made something inside him tingle.

Feng Xin glanced around contentedly. He had to admit they had put a lot of effort into this
year’s mid-autumn festival. Maybe everyone thought that if they were going to return to
business as usual they were going to do it with a bang.
There was a vast banquet of fine food, and the wine flowed freely. Candles flickered on every
table. Amidst the live music there was friendly conversation and laughter. The stars sparkled
overhead and colourful lanterns swayed in the cool night breeze.

It was a fine evening, and Feng Xin was feeling at ease. Xie Lian was in a good mood,
chatting happily to everyone at the table, Mu Qing seemed relaxed, even having a few cups
of wine, and even Crimson Rain was on his best behaviour, keeping to himself and
occasionally whispering something into Xie Lian’s ear that made the tips of his ears turn
pink.

Feng Xin had decided to make it his private game for the evening to see how many times he
could make Mu Qing smile. He hardly ever smiled openly, of course; he smiled slyly, like he
didn’t want to get caught doing it. The corners of his lips would turn up very slightly in a way
that he probably thought no one would ever notice—but Feng Xin noticed. He always
noticed. And tonight he was keeping count. The current total: Six.

Mu Qing poured both of them another cup of wine and handed one to Feng Xin. “Try not to
dribble it down your chin onto your shirt like last time, idiot. A toddler could have handled it
better,” he said, the corner of his lips turning up just a fraction.

Seven.

Feng Xin vibrated a little inside. This was fine. The night was fine. Mu Qing was fine.
Everything was just perfect. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else tonight.

He took the cup and lifted it to his lips, shooting a sideways glance at Mu Qing, who was
looking annoyingly handsome tonight. He was wearing midnight blue, which he knew suited
him perfectly, and a silver hairpiece that glinted when the lantern lights caught it.

Feng Xin’s eyes settled on Mu Qing’s hair shifting against his pale, slim neck.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Mu Qing asked suddenly.

Feng Xin startled. “Uh…what??”

“You’re thinking about something,” Mu Qing said. “You always get a stupid look on your
face when you try thinking. So what is it?”

Well, Feng Xin couldn’t very well say “I was just admiring the way the lantern lights were
shining softly on your stupidly pretty hair, and I’d very much like to slowly run my fingers
through it right now before grazing that tiny birthmark on the side of your neck that looks
like it’s begging to be touched,” so instead he said “What the fuck? You were being nice until
a second ago. I knew it couldn’t last for very long! What did I do this time?”

Indignant, Feng Xin pointed to his face with both index fingers. “What’s wrong with my face
anyway?? My face is just like this! I can’t help it!”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Stupid,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching up.

Eight, Feng Xin noted with a little thrill.

Suddenly a loud gong sounded.

Excited murmurs passed through the crowd as they realised that the time had finally come for
Drummed Flower Passing, the infamous game in which whoever was caught with a cup of
wine being passed around would have to watch a play that had been written about them in
the mortal realm—or forfeit ten thousand merits to skip it.

There had been some discussion amongst heavenly officials about whether or not to keep this
particular tradition as part of the festival. After all, the potential for loss of face was
enormous. Though no one wanted to be caught with the cup themselves, everyone took great
delight in seeing others embarrassed. Considering that the chance of actually getting caught
with the cup was slim with so many heavenly officials present, it seemed worth the risk to
most. As such, the game proved to be far too popular to drop.

Feng Xin wasn’t too happy about this. With his reputation as Ju Yang he knew damn well
what the content of plays about him would be—but what could he do? In the face of such a
wildly popular game he could only grit his teeth, do his best to avoid the cup, and hope luck
was on his side.

It had been decided that Pei Ming would take over the role of ringmaster of the game, seeing
as he was its biggest fan and he had paid his dues many times over the years, to the delight of
spectators.

“Is everyone ready to be entertained?” Pei Ming called out.

The crowd cheered, eager to see which unlucky bastards would get caught with the cup this
year.

“Fill the cup! Fill the cup!” the crowd chanted, already smelling blood.

Feng Xin shivered. What was it about this game that brought out everyone’s worst instincts?

Pei Ming snapped his fingers and a deep rumble of thunder sounded overhead. He poured a
cup of wine with a flourish and raised it high in the air to the enthusiastic cheers of the
crowd.

Here we go, thought Feng Xin, it’s fine as long as I don’t get caught. He glanced at Mu Qing,
who was looking on impassively, as if it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Feng Xin huffed. Such unfounded confidence! Was he really so unbothered about this?
Didn’t he have any instincts for self-preservation? Anyone with a basic survival instinct
would feel at least a tiny bit apprehensive at this point. Still, Feng Xin had to privately admit
that something about his nonchalance was kind of charming.

With thunder crashing overhead Pei Ming passed the cup to the nearest heavenly official,
who very quickly offloaded it onto someone else. And so it began, with the cup being passed
around quickly, as if it could explode at any moment.
Feng Xin side-eyed the progress of the cup as it made its way through the crowd but wasn’t
too concerned; it was far away, and there were so many people around. Nothing much to
worry about, then.

“I hope you’re prepared to lose the battle of the lanterns this year,” Mu Qing said.

The audacity! Feng Xin turned to Mu Qing and poked his finger into his chest. “Shut the hell
up! There is no way I will lose this year. I’ll beat you by at least a hundred lanterns—or, you
know, at least one! You’ll be eating your words soon, just wait!”

“Huh,” Mu Qing huffed. “That will never happen. You lost last year. You’ll lose again this
year. Better just get used to losing to me. What will you get me as a congratulations gift?”

Okay, this was actually getting annoying.

“Yes, I might have lost last year—”

“You did,” Mu Qing added helpfully.

Feng Xin sputtered “BUT!! But! That’s precisely why I will surely win this year. We always
end up tied in the end—we have for centuries now. It’s—it’s like some kind of universal law
that we will end up balanced in the end. So it’s your turn to lose.”

Mu Qing crossed his arms against his chest and snorted. “That’s not the way it works.”

“It fucking does! Well, in any event I—”

It happened too quickly for Feng Xin to process. One moment he was arguing with Mu Qing
and the next a hand seized his wrist and something was thrust into his hand. He felt his
fingers wrap around it instinctively before he glanced down only to confirm what he dreaded
the most.

That motherfucking cup of wine was in his hand.

For a moment he just stared at the cup, dumbfounded.

How the fuck had it come to this?? The cup was way over on the other side of the crowd just
moments before—and not only that, it was heading in the opposite direction! How was this
even possible? What the fuck?!?

His head snapped accusingly toward Xie Lian, who raised up both hands as if in surrender.
“Sorry! Sorry! I panicked!” he said sheepishly, flapping his hands around helplessly.

There were a few things Feng Xin wanted to say to Xie Lian about this, but they would have
to wait—there was a more pressing issue at hand.

According to the rules Feng Xin couldn’t pass the cup back to Xie Lian, and he sure as shit
wasn’t going to hold onto it for another second.
Feng Xin thrust it toward Mu Qing, who crossed his arms against his chest defiantly and
crowded himself further into the corner, eyes on the cup. “There is no way I’m taking that,
Feng Xin. Just keep it and we’ll all be entertained.”

As the thunder crashed overhead Feng Xin realised the horrible gravity of the situation. How
had he not seen the peril in his position before?

Since the cup couldn’t be passed back to anyone who had already touched it, that ruled out
both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, and being stuck in a corner there was no one else to turn to.

No one but Mu Qing.

“You’re taking this,” he said, shoving it against Mu Qing’s chest.

“Fuck no! Get that thing away from me! Give it to Crimson Rain!”

“You know I can’t! Besides, would you really want to sit here and watch an erotic play
featuring His Highness and Crimson Rain?!”

“I wouldn’t mind that, actually,” Hua Cheng said.

“Shut up! How hideous!” Feng Xin shouted over his shoulder before turning back to Mu
Qing. “I’d rather see what your believers think about YOU!”

Mu Qing glared at Feng Xin, refusing to budge. “I don’t care what you want! I’m not taking
it!”

With a low growl Feng Xin leaned into Mu Qing’s space. Using his leg to pin down Mu Qing
to the bench, he used his free hand to tug at his arms.

Mu Qing doubled down his defence, tightening his arms against his chest. “Give it up Feng
Xin, you’re fucked!” Mu Qing said with a smirk.

Nine, thought Feng Xin wildly.

“Just let everyone see what they came here for: a titillating spectacle featuring Ju Yang!”

“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin said in a low voice, “If you don’t take this cup right fucking now I’m
going to spill this wine all over your stupidly nice clothes.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mu Qing hissed, eyes darting down to the cup.

“Oh? Watch me,” Feng Xin said, tilting the rim of the cup toward Mu Qing.

On instinct, Mu Qing’s hand shot out. His fingers wrapped around the cup on top of Feng
Xin’s and for a moment the two of them struggled over it, Mu Qing trying to tilt it back
upright and Feng Xin trying to tip it over.

Mu Qing faltered as he suddenly realised the mistake he had made in touching the cup. This
meant that he couldn’t pass it back to Feng Xin, and there was no one else around. To get rid
of the cup he would have to leap over the table and run to some other table to pass it along,
and even if he wanted to do something that undignified he couldn’t very well do it with Feng
Xin pinning him down. He was doomed.

Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed and his hand squeezed on top of Feng Xin’s tightly so he couldn’t
pull it away. If he was going down, he wasn’t going to go down alone.

Feng Xin tried to withdraw his hand, but Mu Qing’s grip was too strong. Feng Xin frowned.
What was happening here? After trying and failing a second time his eyes grew wide as it
dawned on him what Mu Qing was doing.

And then silence.

The thunder stopped and a bright light was cast in their direction. The crowd craned their
necks to see what unfortunate soul got caught with the cup and their eyes locked on the sight
of Feng Xin in Mu Qing’s lap, both of them grasping the cup between them, faces just inches
apart and glaring daggers at one another.

“Ho ho,” Pei Ming said, and the crowd went wild.

Shouts and mocking laughter rang out through the festival grounds. General Xuan Zhen and
General Nan Yang caught with the cup together? How perfect was that? This was perhaps the
best possible outcome they could ever imagine—surely this was some kind of poetic justice,
payback for all the times they disturbed the peace by fighting recklessly all over the heavenly
capital. Who knew what treat was in store for them? Whatever it was, it was bound to be
good if those two were involved.

Feng Xin squinted into the bright light then looked back at Mu Qing, only then realising how
improper their position might look. He quickly scrambled out of Mu Qing’s lap and sat back
down, stunned, as the crowd laughed and pointed.

Mu Qing brushed off his jacket stiffly and refused to look at Feng Xin.

Oh no, thought Feng Xin, he’s furious.

Pei Ming’s voice called out over the crowd “So it’s decided: General Xuan Zhen and General
Nan Yang will face a play written about them.”

“No no no no no, wait!” Feng Xin cried. Better try to wriggle out of this shamelessly! “This
result is invalid! Only one person can be holding the cup. It should be passed around again.
Start the thunder again, let’s go!”

Pei Ming raised his eyebrows. “Though it’s true that this has never happened before, there is
nothing in the rules stating that only one person can be holding the cup. The result stands.
Nice try, though.”

Oh fuck, thought Feng Xin. This could be bad. Really fucking bad.

Mind racing, he considered all the options of how this might play out and was immediately
filled with a sense of doom.
After all, he and Mu Qing were both aware of the existence—particularly in the border region
between their territories—of temples devoted to them both, where their statues stood proudly
side by side and worshippers believed them to have an unshakeable bond of…let’s just say a
questionable nature.

They were both aware of this horrible misunderstanding, but neither ever addressed it. They
didn’t acknowledge it or talk about it, but they also didn’t do anything to put a stop to it. It
seemed that for both of them it was easier to pretend that these joint temples and joint
worshippers didn’t exist than actually confront that idea and what it represented. There was
an unspoken agreement between them that it was, quite simply, an off-limits topic.

But if one of those worshippers had written a play about them…

With a shudder Feng Xin realised that there was a chance this could end up being the most
humiliating round of Drummed Flower Passing ever played in the history of the heavenly
realm.

But, he tried to reassure himself, this wasn’t the only possible outcome. There were far more
believers who viewed the two as fierce rivals, constantly fighting over who should be
ultimate ruler of the South. Either you were on team Xuan Zhen or team Nan Yang—but
never both. That would be unthinkable.

Alternatively, it was possible that a play about them would have them cast as assistants to the
Crown Prince of Xianle, with Mu Qing as his servant and Feng Xin as his bodyguard. These
sorts of plays had been in decline over the past few centuries, but there were undoubtedly still
a few circulating out there, passed down and remembered by mortals.

If a play of that sort were performed it would certainly piss off Mu Qing to have a reminder
of his humble origins presented to the entire heavenly court, but all things considered it was
far from the worst possible outcome.

As the possibilities rushed through Feng Xin’s mind Mu Qing sat there quietly, his expression
unreadable.

Don’t panic, Feng Xin thought, it’s probably fine. This could end up being something totally
mundane and innocent. Perhaps annoying or a little embarrassing, but perfectly innocent.

Feng Xin was panicking anyway. Tightening his grip on the cup of wine, his eyes darted
around the crowd. Everyone was having the time of their fucking lives, pointing and
snickering behind their hands.

Mu Qing turned an accusatory glare to Feng Xin. “Why did you have to drag me into this?
We could have just watched a Ju Yang play. There would have been a couple of maidens with
heaving bosoms thirsting over your dick or some shit like that and then it would have been
over. You’re used to that sort of thing by now, right? It’s old news. Predictable. Who knows
what you’ve unleashed instead. So selfish!”

Well, Mu Qing had a valid point there, not that Feng Xin would ever admit it. “Selfish?! Why
shouldn’t I have passed the cup on to you? That’s how the game works! Think you’re special
and the only person here who is exempt?? Ha!”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes and huffed.

Feng Xin decided to ignore how endearing that was. “Ahh, yeah, you just can’t handle it,
right? I didn’t know you were so fucking delicate!”

Mu Qing rounded on Feng Xin and was about to retaliate when Pei Ming’s voice rang out
over the crowd.

“Time to drink up, Generals!” he said with a smirk. “Or are you prepared to forfeit a hundred
thousand merits?”

Feng Xin cringed. That was a lot. “A hundred thousand each, or a hundred thousand total?”
Maybe they could split the bill, so to speak.

“Each, obviously!” Pei Ming said with obvious glee, and the crowd backed him up, cheering
and shouting taunts of “Cowards!” Although it was always fun to see a god forfeit a hundred
thousand hard-earned merits to avoid embarrassment, there was a clear feeling in the crowd
that they would much rather watch the play.

Amongst the shouts and taunts Feng Xin and Mu Qing side-eyed each other, as if in silent
discussion about what to do.

Feng Xin was still quietly panicking, uncertain what to do, when Mu Qing suddenly leaned
toward him and seized the wine cup from his hand. “Who were you just calling delicate?” he
said with a sneer, lifting the cup to his lips and drinking half of it in one gulp, eyes locked on
Feng Xin in a clear challenge.

Ten.

Feng Xin had a whole-body shiver. Why was that so fucking hot???

Well, fuck. He couldn’t very well back out after that, could he?

Without breaking eye contact Feng Xin snatched the cup from Mu Qing and downed the rest
of the wine before slamming it down on the table, absolutely not thinking about how Mu
Qing’s lips had been on the cup just moments before.

Xie Lian laughed nervously as the crowd raised a loud cheer of approval. Beside him, Hua
Cheng murmured “This should be good, gege. Let’s see what their believers really think of
them.”

Seething, Feng Xin looked at Mu Qing. He was staring straight ahead, arms crossed against
his chest. He looked pissed.

Feng Xin took a moment to wallow in self-pity. He felt so aggrieved. It all seemed so unfair.
The evening had been going so well. Mu Qing had been in a good mood, and he had even
smiled eight times. Then in a few foolishly unguarded moments it had all gone completely to
shit. He should have paid more attention to that fucking cup.
Feng Xin’s heart twinged as he thought that Mu Qing would probably never forgive him for
this. He wanted to make light of it, punch him roughly in the shoulder, laugh, and tell him not
to take any of it too seriously, but reflecting that doing so might result in an actual brawl, he
kept it in.

“Let the play begin!” Pei Ming called out, and all eyes turned toward a large pavilion
shrouded by deep red curtains.

“Raise them! Raise them!” shouted the crowd excitedly.

It’s fine, Feng Xin tried to reassure himself, it’s probably fine…

Fingernails digging into his palms, Feng Xin braced himself for the worst as the curtains
slowly lifted.

The stage set looked like a dilapidated temple, all moss-covered stones and faded wall
paintings. A few torches lit the scene, flickering in the gloom.

Okay, so far so good, Feng Xin thought. Nothing too unusual here. He and Mu Qing had
dispatched ghosts in temples like this too many times to count over the years.

There were two tall, handsome, well-dressed men on stage. They stood with a regal air, one
wielding a sabre and one with a sword in his hand and a bow strapped to his back.

Feng Xin squinted at them, examining them critically from head to toe.

To be fair, he had to admit that they did actually bear a remarkable resemblance to him and
Mu Qing. Maybe the hair colour and style were slightly off, and maybe the height was a little
bit different, but there was no denying that from a distance it was actually pretty convincing.

Murmurs could be heard passing through the crowd as the audience took all this in.
Anticipation was building.

Feng Xin shifted in his seat, filled with apprehension. It felt quite strange to watch his body
double on stage, unsure what the situation was or what he was about to do.

“Tsk,” Mu Qing muttered. “Couldn’t they have found anyone better looking to play me?”

Feng Xin snorted at that despite himself and the play commenced.

Xuan Zhen flicked his sabre to the side, rancid blood splattering to the ground.
“Another malicious ghost dispatched—no thanks to you.”

“Ha!” Nan Yang retorted. “Typical of you to take all the credit. You wouldn’t even be
standing right now, nevermind bragging about getting in the last strike, if I hadn’t
defended you from that attack from behind!”

“I didn’t see any such thing,” Xuan Zhen said with a scoff.

“I know you didn’t! Your back was turned!” Nan Yang shot back.
“I can take care of myself! Perhaps you should pay more attention to what you’re doing.
Which one of us ended up injured, after all?”

Nan Yang rubbed one of his shoulders. “It’s just a scratch! It was bad luck, that’s all. I
had better form for the entire fight!”

“Oh yeah?” Xuan Zhen said, eyebrows raised mockingly. “We’ll see who has better
form!”

Feng Xin heaved a giant sigh of relief. In this play they were clearly just plain old rivals. This
was fine, absolutely fine. He could take this.

He glanced over at Mu Qing, who also looked relieved. The tension in his body appeared to
have eased, and he was watching the play intently. Leaning toward Mu Qing, he whispered
“What do you think?”

Mu Qing hummed. “Pretty accurate so far. Badly written, though. Surely we don’t really
sound this petty and annoying.”

Feng Xin said nothing. He wasn’t so sure about that.

Disappointed murmurs started circulating in the crowd. This sort of scene was a
commonplace occurrence in the heavenly realm. Actually, they had all witnessed fights
between them that were far worse than this. This was tame—way too tame! What a
letdown…

Feng Xin almost allowed himself to feel smug. You all wanted something more exciting,
huh? Well, tough luck! This is who we are! This is what we do!

Feeling quite satisfied, he settled back to watch the rest of the play.

Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang circled around each other, weapons drawn, each watching the
other’s movements and stance closely.

Nan Yang made the first move, lunging at Xuan Zhen, who did a nimble backflip and
landed on a partially-crumbled wall before jumping off and flying through the air,
sabre pointed at Nan Yang’s head.

The two of them fought like this for some time, running, jumping, lunging, and leaping
around the stage in an elaborate dance, each as agile as the other. Perfectly matched in skill,
speed and strength and perfectly in sync with one another, Feng Xin had to admit that this
play was more engaging than he expected it to be, and it was quite satisfying to watch.

Feng Xin was reluctantly impressed. Some of the deputies in his own palace might not be
able to keep up with these two.

“Give up this fight, Xuan Zhen. You’re nothing but a servant with ideas above his
station! Instead of clashing against my blade you should be polishing it!”
Feng Xin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hey, hey, let’s not go there, he thought, that was
totally uncalled for. But with a cringe he reluctantly had to admit that he really had said
something very similar to Mu Qing on several occasions…

He side-eyed Mu Qing, who had crossed his arms against his chest, eye twitching in
annoyance.

“Ha!” Xuan Zhen retorted. “I’d rather be a servant than a useless, arrogant noble like
you! The only noble thing about you is your stupid face!”

Feng Xin froze. Wait, wait, something about that didn’t sound right…

Feng Xin’s heart started beating faster. Just where was this chaotic play going?

“Besides,” Xuan Zhen said, “This lowly servant is still capable of kicking your stupid
ass!”

“Oh yeah??? I’d like to see that! Just because you’re handsome don’t think you can get
away with being uptight and rude! If you spent less time looking in the mirror and more
time training maybe I wouldn’t beat you all the time!”

“Such terrible dialogue!” Mu Qing scoffed. “Who wrote this trash?”

“It’s the dialogue you’re concerned about?” Feng Xin exclaimed, eyes wide. Something
about the mood here just didn’t seem right…why did it feel like things were about to go
seriously astray?

“The play isn’t too bad—though it would be better if they’d both just shut the hell up,” Mu
Qing said.

Beside him, Hua Cheng whispered something to Xie Lian, who laughed quietly behind his
fan.

Feng Xin glanced around nervously. The crowd seemed to be getting more interested in the
play now. The chatter died down as focus returned to the stage.

“You wish!” Xuan Zhen scoffed. “If anything, I come out on top more often than you!
Just because you have a notoriously big dick doesn’t mean you’re anything special!
Monstrous!”

That’s it, Feng Xin thought, something was DEFINITELY wrong with this play.

Suddenly filled with a rising sense of dread, Feng Xin peered at Mu Qing, who had stiffened
in his seat, looking like he was on high alert.

By now the crowd was riveted. All it took was one reference to Ju Yang after all, Feng Xin
noted with despair.

This had started off as a straightforward battle play—and a halfway decent one, at that. Just
what the fuck was happening here??
Nan Yang lunged wildly at Xuan Zhen. “That sounds suspiciously like jealousy to me!”

“As if I could be jealous of a vulgar beast like you!” Xuan Zhen growled, retaliating
with a side swipe, “Why don’t you just go off with one of your conquests and leave the
entire South to me? It would be in better, more capable hands!”

Feng Xin started to sweat. He had a bad feeling about this for some reason.

“Ha! You couldn’t handle it! In no time flat I’d find you in one of my temples praying
for me to return and help you!” Nan Yang shot back.

Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen threw their weapons aside and began to throw punches at
one another. They circled around one another, one coming in to try to land a blow and
the other dodging just in time.

Feng Xin flinched as Nan Yang on stage took a punch to the gut, and Mu Qing muttered
“Tsk, you can do better” when Xuan Zhen on stage caught a fist to the jaw.

Eventually they ended up in a clinch, grappling lawlessly while hurling insults at one
another. With a sudden side swipe to his legs, Nan Yang ended up falling flat on his back
with a loud thud, Xuan Zhen falling on top of him.

Roughly shoving one of his legs between Nan Yang’s, Xuan Zhen seized both of his
wrists and slammed them against the ground, holding them there with an iron grip. “As
expected,” Xuan Zhen said with a satisfied smirk, “I win. Do you yield?”

Feng Xin frowned and glanced at Mu Qing, who was watching intently, the corners of his lips
twitching up.

Eleven, thought Feng Xin with a little thrill, reluctantly turning his attention back to the stage.

“Never!” Nan Yang spat, glaring up at Xuan Zhen and struggling unsuccessfully to free
his wrists.

Xuan Zhen let out a short, mocking laugh. “So arrogant and defiant, even in a situation
like THIS,” he said, squeezing Nan Yang’s wrists until he flinched in pain.

“I hate you so much,” Nan Yang said, staring straight into Xuan Zhen’s eyes.

“I hate you even more,” Xuan Zhen said, before suddenly leaning down and capturing
Nan Yang’s lips in a brutal, violent kiss.

Mu Qing choked on the wine he was sipping and coughed uncontrollably as Feng Xin
jumped to his feet in a panic. “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS THIS????”

A deafening cheer erupted in the audience along with taunts of “About time, Generals!” and
“Now the truth comes out!”

Pei Ming applauded this development with a loud “Ho ho!”

Feng Xin didn’t know what else to do, so he patted the still-coughing Mu Qing on the back.
Mu Qing swatted his hand away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience, Feng Xin watched the stage in shock.

Nan Yang let out a loud whine and struggled as Xuan Zhen kissed him, his hands
moving in an obvious effort to free his wrists. Xuan Zhen held him down firmly and
deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Feng Xin fidgeted nervously beside Mu Qing, who
had stopped coughing and was closely watching the events on stage unfold, wide-eyed and
silent.

After a few more increasingly half-hearted attempts to free himself Nan Yang stopped
struggling altogether and his eyes fluttered shut. Xuan Zhen released his wrists, but
beyond all expectations Nan Yang didn’t push him away, but brought one hand up to
hold the back of Xuan Zhen’s head.

Eyes locked on the sight of himself passionately making out with Mu Qing on stage, Feng
Xin’s entire body suddenly felt hot and there was a strange tingling feeling crawling under
his skin. It was horrifying. It was hot. He couldn’t look away.

The kiss became slower, softer, deeper. Nan Yang moaned softly into Xuan Zhen’s
mouth, completely lost in the kiss. His legs relaxed and fell apart slightly.

“Mortals are so fucking scary!” Feng Xin cried with a shudder. “Where the fuck did they
come up with such wild ideas?!?”

“Oh, is this hitting a little too close to home for you guys?” Crimson Rain said with a smirk.

“Shut the fuck up!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing yelled simultaneously.

“Where did this come from, you ask,” said Mu Qing. “Clearly one of your perverted
followers wrote this play. Mine would have far better sense!”

Feng Xin bristled. “Is that so?? Well, you always said my followers were—what was it
again?—‘all brawn and no brains, just like their god,’ and now when it suits you they’re
accused of writing literature??”

Mu Qing gaped at Feng Xin. “You’d call this literature?!”

Feng Xin flinched. He had a point there. “Well, who was the one who said just a few minutes
ago that this play wasn’t too bad?? Huh??”

Mu Qing flushed all the way up to the tips of his ears. “That was before THIS happened!
This sort of scene has Nan Yang worshippers written all over it. Maybe it was written by the
same person who wrote that poem. How does it go again… ‘Friend of women—’”

“Shut up!”
“The secret formula—”

“Shut the fuck UP! Besides, that poem only mentions women, and you are obviously not one.
Where did THIS idea come from??”

Mu Qing sniffed. “Who knows. I guess they thought no one could resist the mighty Ju Yang.
Apparently not even ME. Ridiculous! And it just proves that your followers are responsible
for this atrocity. Mine would never think so little of me!”

“Well, there’s just no way that……” Feng Xin trailed off, eyes locked on the two on stage.
Things…were progressing.

Xuan Zhen trailed wet kisses down Nan Yang’s neck. Nan Yang bit his lower lip as
Xuan Zhen unfastened the front of his shirt and exposed his bare chest.

Xuan Zhen ran his hand down Nan Yang’s chest slowly…slowly…fingers roughly
passing over Nan Yang’s nipple. Nan Yang shuddered and his eyes flickered shut, his
breath coming out in short, hot huffs.

His hand dragged down Nan Yang’s chest…lower…passing over his abdomen…lower…
until it abruptly grasped Nan Yang’s clothed, hard cock.

Nan Yang’s eyes flew open and he gasped as Xuan Zhen gave him one rough, hard
stroke while sinking his teeth into his neck.

The crowd completely lost their minds at this development. The atmosphere was unruly, with
riotous laughter and mocking shouts filling the air. This play had truly exceeded everyone’s
wildest expectations. It was total pandemonium.

Feng Xin leapt to his feet again. “JUST—JUST HOW FAR IS THIS GOING TO GO???”

Mu Qing looked gravely offended. “This egregious misrepresentation of me should be

illegal! This is slander! If I was going to do this with anyone the last person it would be is
Feng Xin!”

Ouch was Feng Xin’s first thought, but he huffed indignantly and said “Oh yeah?? Think
you’re too good for me? What’s wrong with me, anyway, huh? Huhh? Huhhhhh?”

Mu Qing narrowed his eyes. “Everything, obviously!”

Feng Xin clenched his jaw. “Pei Ming, are you going to allow this…this filth to continue live
on stage?” he shouted over the crowd.

Pei Ming looked as if he had just been asked the stupidest question he had ever heard. “Yep.”

Feng Xin was getting desperate now. “Surely you wouldn’t let them go so far as to…ahem, I
mean, aren’t there any rules about decency in this game??”

“Nope!” Pei Ming said with a bright smile.

“Are you really going to let them….hnnnnnnn….” Feng Xin let out a pained whine, horrified
at what he was witnessing but also feeling strangely confused and more than a little turned
on, which was even more confusing. He was unable to tear his eyes away.

Pei Ming shrugged. “Who am I to censor a work of art?”

“ART??” Feng Xin and Mu Qing exclaimed simultaneously.

Pei Ming tsked. “This play is a reflection of your worshippers’ sincere thoughts and feelings.
Be respectful!”

Xie Lian cleared his throat. Fanning himself vigorously, he said “This play is really
interesting. I think that perhaps—”

“STOP THINKING!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing yelled at the same time.

Xie Lian looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He dared not say any more and
turned to focus his attention back on the stage.

“Pay these two idiots no mind, gege,” Hua Cheng said, taking Xie Lian’s free hand and
giving it a squeeze. “They’re beyond hope.”

“Ling Wen!” Feng Xin called out. “What the fuck is this play??”

Ling Wen unrolled a small scroll and glanced at it briefly. “My sources tell me it was first
performed in the border region between your territories and is titled The Passionate Secret
Love of Two Martial Gods: Forbidden Love Through the Centuries, Part Two.”

Mu Qing gaped. “Wait, there are more parts to this shitty play??”

Ling Wen cleared her throat lightly. “There are three parts. In part one Xuan Zhen and Nan
Yang meet as teenagers in the Kingdom of Xianle, forming a fierce rivalry that is rife with
intense yet unacknowledged sexual tension.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing stared at her, aghast, as Xie Lian quietly murmured “Oh…”

“Part two…well, you can see for yourselves. And part three shows the two martial gods
finally admitting their love to each other, the heavens, and their believers, getting married,
and ruling together over a united South,” Ling Wen concluded, tucking the scroll into her
sleeve.

Mu Qing made a little strangled noise and Feng Xin buried his face in his hands, speechless.
The depravity of mortals clearly had no bounds.

“Who wrote this play?” Mu Qing demanded.

Ling Wen looked like she was trying very hard not to crack a smile. “The author:
Anonymous.”
Mu Qing huffed. “Of course! Shamelessly throwing this filth out into the world then hiding
in the shadows! Coward!”

Feng Xin kept his face buried in his hands and groaned. This play really had turned out to be
the worst-case scenario.

He had always believed in “live and let live” and made allowances for the sometimes-
baffling quirks of mortals, but maybe he really should have put a stop to those rumours in the
mortal realm. Maybe he should have shut down those joint temples and haunted the shit out
of the dreams of any mortal who dared to cross that line and think that he and Mu Qing were
lovers.

Because now, sitting here in front of the entire heavenly court, he was having to face the
confused, half-realised secret he had wanted to keep buried in the darkest depths of his heart.
Right now it was playing out on stage for everyone to see.

Feng Xin lifted his head and looked at the stage. Thankfully they weren’t fucking…but the
mood had clearly changed.

Nan Yang’s eyes were closed as he and Xuan Zhen kissed slowly and deeply. Nan Yang’s
hands ran tenderly across the small of Xuan Zhen’s back and Xuan Zhen rocked
forward against Nan Yang gently.

Xuan Zhen eventually broke the kiss and hovered above Nan Yang. Nan Yang opened
his eyes and looked up at Xuan Zhen.

Feng Xin couldn’t recall the last time he felt this tense. The whole situation was
overwhelming. It was like looking through a dark mirror into an alternate universe that was at
once completely crazy and strangely plausible.

Feng Xin watched Nan Yang on stage staring up into Xuan Zhen’s eyes, his gaze soft and
unflinching.

He was looking at Xuan Zhen as if…as if…

Feng Xin’s thoughts jumbled together into an incoherent mess. He couldn’t go there. He
couldn’t.

He felt hot and cold at the same time. He felt like he was about to jump out of his skin.

He glanced at Mu Qing and was startled to discover that Mu Qing was no longer watching
the play. He was watching him.

Well, no one in the three realms had ever accused Mu Qing of being unobservant—if
anything he was too observant, and now those dark eyes were fixed on him in a cat-like gaze,
quiet and critical.

Feng Xin had never felt this exposed. He could feel that his face was hot. He could feel that
his hands were shaking. He felt that the carefully buried, barely-acknowledged truth about his
feelings was bubbling up through his skin, unstoppable, there on show for all to see—and Mu
Qing was quietly taking it all in with those stupidly beautiful eyes of his, his thoughts
unreadable.

Flustered, Feng Xin looked back at the stage and his stomach lurched.

Nan Yang was looking up into Xuan Zhen’s eyes with adoration.

Feng Xin didn’t know what to do. The look on Nan Yang’s face was too much to bear.

Nan Yang lay flat on his back looking up at Xuan Zhen, his gaze open and filled with
affection and complete trust. His hand came up to Xuan Zhen’s face and he ran the
back of his finger across his cheek gently before tucking a section of hair behind his ear.

Xuan Zhen peered down at Nan Yang, their eyes locked on each other. It was as if no
one and nothing else existed in the entire universe. Xuan Zhen smiled slyly, the corners
of his lips turning up slightly, and Nan Yang continued watching him silently, running
his fingers through his hair reverently.

Feng Xin felt himself begin to panic.

That look on Nan Yang’s face…he couldn’t stand to watch it any longer.

That look on his face…

It was so obvious, he just couldn’t…

That look on his face…

That look…

Nan Yang loved Xuan Zhen.

Feng Xin had a whole-body hot flash. Feeling Mu Qing’s eyes on him, he leapt up, his heart
pounding out of his chest. He couldn’t stay and watch this any longer. He needed to be
anywhere but here.

Feng Xin clambered clumsily over Xie Lian and Hua Cheng and stomped out of the festival
grounds to a loud chorus of boos from the crowd.

For a moment Mu Qing sat still, watching Feng Xin’s retreating figure.

“Ah, wait, that’s...” Xie Lian faltered.

“Mu Qing,” Hua Cheng said darkly, “If you don’t follow him I will beat you to death.”

Feng Xin made his way through the dim streets of the heavenly capital, the noise of the
festival growing quieter and quieter behind him. He was halfway to his palace before Mu
Qing caught up.
“Why did you run away?” Mu Qing said, grabbing Feng Xin’s arm and yanking him to a halt.
“It’s not like you to run away.”

Feng Xin spun around. “Isn’t it obvious why?? Do you have functioning eyeballs??”

“What were you thinking? Did the play break your feeble brain? After sitting through all that
didn’t you at least want to see how the story ends?” Mu Qing asked.

Under no circumstances could Feng Xin admit what that play had made him realise. “It
doesn’t matter what I was thinking—and does it even matter how it ends? The whole premise
was impossible to start with. No matter how it ends it would also be impossible.”

Mu Qing huffed out a little laugh. “I told you before that you get a stupid look on your face
whenever you try thinking, and I’ve never seen you looking stupider than I did just now—so
I’m asking you again: What were you thinking about that play?”

Feng Xin crossed his arms and said nothing. He just wanted to retreat to his palace, curl up
and die.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Even if I ask you a thousand times you won’t tell me, will you? So
stubborn.”

Feng Xin felt inexplicably nervous and fidgeted where he stood. “There isn’t anything to tell.
I just couldn’t continue watching it.”

Mu Qing paused for a moment, watching Feng Xin. “Nevermind, I think I understand,” Mu
Qing said with a huff. “You always were so fucking predictable and easy to read.”

“Huh??” Feng Xin said, really fucking hoping that he didn’t understand.

Mu Qing looked into Feng Xin’s eyes and his lips turned up at the corners.

Twelve was Feng Xin’s final thought before he felt Mu Qing’s lips press against his.

Brain empty, Feng Xin’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the kiss.

After a few moments Mu Qing pulled away, breathing heavily and with a pretty tint to his
cheeks. He took a step back before abruptly turning on his heel and walking away.

Snapping out of his trance, Feng Xin called out “Wait, Mu Qing???”

“If you want any more re-enactments from the play they’ll have to be inside my palace,” Mu
Qing called over his shoulder, not slowing his pace.

It took a few moments for the full meaning of those words to sink in, but when they did Feng
Xin moved as if a calamity were on his heels, scrambling after Mu Qing to the doors of the
palace of Xuan Zhen.
End Notes

EXTRA:

“So let me get this straight,” Pei Ming said. “You’re going to put them in a corner together,
and you want me to make sure they get caught with the cup.”

Xie Lian smiled sheepishly. “Yes, exactly. If the cup comes their way they will definitely
fight over who takes it. I think it’s a foregone conclusion that their hands will end up on it at
the same time. That’s your cue to stop the thunder.”

Pei Ming nodded slowly, the epic potential of this scheme becoming clear. “Ho ho, so
devious. I like it.”

Xie Lian looked a little ashamed. “My intentions are good, I promise! You know how
stubborn they are—”

“Gege means ‘stupid,’” Hua Cheng added helpfully.

“I think they just need a little…nudge, that’s all.”

“I’d like to nudge them off a cliff,” Hua Cheng muttered.

“Hahaha, now, now, San Lang, they’re my dearest friends and I just want them to be happy!”

“Gege is too kind,” Hua Cheng said.

“Anyway,” Xie Lian said, “I’ve heard that some of the plays about them have some…ahhh…
interesting content. Seeing such a thing play out right before their eyes might help them
understand a few things. So, Pei Ming, will you help us?”

Pei Ming rubbed his hands together, ready for the fun to begin. “Consider it done.”

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