Chapter Text
Feng Xin ran. Around him hot molten stone spout and little rock’s flew around him as he got out of the way as quickly as possible to make space for his Highness, finally freed from his cursed shackles, to fight the Emperor. He dropped on his knees next to a crumbled figure with disheveled silver hair breathing unsteadily.
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“… I … very much wanted … to become your f-f-friend.”
Feng Xin had almost thought he had misheard. Mu Qing only wanting to be friends with his Highness the whole freaking time?! It was unimaginable. Laughable. After all, all My Qing had ever done was showing how little he cared about anyone besides himself, always cold and arrogant, using his Highness as a latter to climb the ranks, only to abandon him afterwards, leaving him lying in the dirt - and Feng Xin with him.
That’s what he thought right before he stepped around the corner, looked up and saw his Highness standing close to the edge of a broken bridge, desperately trying to throw Ruoye towards the person standing in the centre of the crumbling stone plates - Mu Qing. His silver hair falling out of his ponytail, clothes torn and singed and hands glowing with whatever reserves of spiritual energy he had left, already visibly burned. Feng Xin could make out some of the giant angry-red and probably immensely painful blisters covering his life-long rivals usually pristine skin as he attempted to keep the all-consuming flames away from his shaking body. That sight alone was enough to root him to the spot, but as his eyes automatically snapped up to Mu Qing’s face, the look on his face made him suck in a sharp breath. It wasn’t an injury - in fact, compared to the rest of his figure, Mu Qing’s face had to be the least injured part of his body. No. It was the look in his eyes that made Feng Xin’s chest go tight with something he wouldn’t admit was panic. Despite only having been witness to few of Mu Qing’s facial expressions (mostly Agee and annoyance, occasionally smugness) he could easily distinguish pain, fear and despair in them. The rock gave a indismissable crunch and the stone plate Mu Qing was standing on sunk remarkably further. “Mu Qing!!”, his Highness cried out, yet again throwing his white silk band in vain. And Feng Xin suddenly saw another emotion bloom in the depts of Mu Qing’s eyes before he tightly shut them and slowly raised one glowing hand to his temple -
Feng Xin moved without further thinking, jumping, grabbing Ruoye with one hand and swinging towards Mu Qing, smacking the hand he wanted to spare himself the pains of being burned alive with and securely wrapping his arm around his waist. They tumbled back against the hard wall of the cliff, the rock Mu Qing had been standing on only seconds ago having been completely swallowed by the searing lava few meters beneath their feet. “YOUR HIGHNESS, PULL US UP!”, Feng Xin yelled, releasing the breath he didn’t know he had been holding, eyes not swaying from the man he pressed to his chest, so close he couldn’t distinguish whose heart beat he was feeling the against his rib cage, who stared at him with wide confused eyes. But the danger hadn’t been over until his Highness had pulled them back onto the edge, forcing Feng Xin to shoot arrows at the ascending fire spirits with his mouth. While doing so he whispered over and over into Mu Qing’s ear: “Don’t do that again, don’t you ever do that again!”
As they ran down the path, Mu Qing piggybacked by Feng Xin, who had since started to reconstruct his opinion of Mu Qing (after all he had risked and almost sacrificed his life for his Highness, not that Feng Xin had wanted him to, but of course he couldn’t keep thinking of Mu Qing as cold and selfish now because what he did showed exactly the opposite. Feng Xin still couldn’t believe that Mu Qing had almost got himself killed. It made his chest churn painfully), he couldn’t help but tease: “So, you’re going to be our f-f-friend from now on?” To which his Highness giggled and Mu Qing hissed a “Shut up!!”, then mumbling something incoherent into Feng Xin’s shoulder.
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And now, during the fight with Jun Wu, Mu Qing had continued to fight until the awful shackle around his wrist started draining his blood and energy and he had collapsed to the side of the battlefield. Feng Xin crawled over to him to find that he was conscious, eyes open and rapidly scanning him up and down. “You … your … shoulder, it’s …”, he gasped hoarsely. Feng Xin couldn’t help but scoff upon looking down his own arm and rest of himself. “It’s only a few cuts here and there unlike yours. Have you not looked at yourself?!” Mu Qing parted his lips as if wanting to say something but in that moment thunder struck and the ground beneath them trembled. Feng Xin’s Head whipped around only to see his Highness come flying towards them. Or more accurately towards Hua Cheng, who stood a few meters away from them arms widened to catch him. “He did it”, Mu Qing said softly. “Yeah”, was all Feng Xin could answer.
But suddenly his Highness anguished cry (“San Lang!”) echoed through the volcano as the latter sunk to his knees. Turning their heads away a bit, Feng Xin and Mu Qing allowed their old friend some privacy as the love of his life burst into a hundred butterflies right in his arms.
They end up dragging themselves out of Mount Tonglu, both Mu Qing and Feng Xin supporting a completely devastated his Highness and all of them so exhausted that they tumbled right onto the snowy ground. “What if he never comes back?”, his Highness sniffled quietly, “What if … I couldn’t …!” Feng Xin’s Heart ached at seeing his Highness like that. He felt helpless, not knowing what to say.
Mu Qing was lying in the snow on his side, next to his Highness. He timidly reached out his hand from where it was lying next to his head and gently put it on his Highness wrist. “X-Xie … Lian”, he whispered. His breathing had become significantly more unstable, Feng Xin noticed, but all that came out if his mouth was: “Don’t call him that.” The only reaction he got was a weak glare before Mu Qing turned his full attention back to his Highness. “Xie … L-Lian”, he begann again, “Crims-s-son Rai-Rain is one of the … of the toughest … b-beings there are. If anyone … will be able to … to come back … it will be h-him.” Mu Qing’s half-lidded eyes fixed his Highness’s with an intensity that made Feng Xin feel warm even though they weren’t directed at him. “He l-loves you to obsession. H-he will … return for you.” He paused. “Don’t t-tell him … I said … that.” His Highness’s had lifted his face during Mu Qing’s little speech, something akin to hope crossing his features. “Yes. Yes! You’re right”, he said, “San Lang is … very strong. I should believe in him more.” Mu Qing huffed weakly. “Of course I am right”, he breathed. That statement sounded highly exaggerated and Feng Xin had already opened his mouth to protest (just out of principle, not what Mu Qing had said before, he reluctantly agreed with that), as he heard a faint barely audible whisper: “Th-thank you … for being my f-f-friends.”
Something in Mu Qing’s voice made his eyes that had rested on his Highness snap back to his face where he spotted that one haunting emotion on Mu Qing’s face that he had seen right before the other had tried to end it all by blowing himself to pieces; acceptance of his fate, acceptance of death.
“Wha-!” Suddenly Feng Xin became hyper aware of Mu Qing’s state that had been, of course, worsened since they escaped from the falling bridge. The burn blisters on his hands were scraped open, revealing shiny pink flesh. His clothes were even more torn than before but slightly covering the deep gashes the former Emperor’s sword had inflicted. Feng Xin gasped as he noticed that beneath Mu Qing’s body a small puddle of blood had formed.
At his gasp, his Highness took in Mu Qing’s state as well, worry and fear blooming on his face as the latter’s hand slipped from where it had grasped his wrist. “Mu Qing?”, he asked. Mu Qing opened his mouth to reply, but as he did, all that came out was a gush of blood that had him heaving and curling in on his side.
His Highness and Feng Xin simultaneously scrambled closer to him. Not knowing where to put them to help him, Feng Xin’s hands hovered above Mu Qing’s shoulders while his Highness with shaking but firm hands shifted his head to keep his airways free. “He’s unconscious, damn it”, he heard him say, which alarmed Feng Xin because his Highness rarely ever sweared. Feng Xin grasped Mu Qing’s wrist. The cursed shackle was gone but he could barely feel any energy in his meridians. ‘No wonder’, it echoed in his mind, ‘he must have completely depleted it in the bridge and in combat.’ He shifted his fingers. Next to his meridians he could feel Mu Qing’s already slow pulse slowing. And that could only mean …
“No!”, he whispered, “No, no, no, no!” His Highness looked up at him questioningly. “We have to get him to a medical god immediately. He’s dying!” His Highness clasped his mouth shut with his hand and let out a strangled noise before jumping to his feet and hastily drawing a distance-shortening array into the snow around them. “Do you have enough energy to call for a medical god to prepare for us in the camp?”, he called out to Feng Xin who hadn’t let go of Mu Qing’s wrist, trying to transfer the bit he still had into the body that was steadily shutting down before him. ‘He can’t die’, he thought, not when they had just somewhat reconciled somewhat and he had seen some of the Mu Qing behind that cold mask of indifference and anger he had looked at the past 800 years.
Without disrupting the transfer he lifted two fingers to his temple and opened the communication array. “We made it out of Mount Tonglu. General Xuan Zhen is heavily injured. We need to have a medical team ready upon our arrival!”, he called out into the array. “We’ll have it arranged immediately, get him here as fast as possible”, Pei Ming’s unusually calm voice floated into his head. “What the hell do you think we’re doing?!”, he snapped at him and cut the communication just as his Highness finished the array.
Feng Xin noticed that despite his efforts more life seemed to have seeped out of Mu Qing. He could feel his eyes getting hot. “Hey idiot, hold on, okay? You’ll make his Highness super sad if you die, you … you’re not allowed to die here, do you understand?!”, he whispered. He vaguely registered picking up the dying god’s fragile form (Why had he never before noticed that Mu Qing could be this fragile?) and cradling him to his chest. Pressing his face to the crown of Mu Qing’s head, holding his tears he added: “You would make me super sad too”. His Highness activated the array.
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